Page 20 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“What?”

“Three nights in a row he’s dropped her home at the time I’ve got back from performing. In a big, posh black car. You need better antennae.”

This wasn’t good. Stuart had only seen the car once and had assumed the attraction of Audi man was on the wane. He struggled to keep an expression of neutral disinterest.

“Anyway, the good news is that she said she was going to finish it. Something about Audi man not getting on with the old lady. She described him as ‘one of those men who lack human depth’. She was quite earnest about it all, as though she really wanted me to get the message.”

Relief and fear. Stuart’s heartbeat increased. The football had been passed back to him and he had another chance at the goal.

“Reading between the lines, I think what she really wanted, was to make sure that I passed the facts on to you. Ask her out.” His lodger was looking at him triumphantly. “She’ll say yes. I guarantee.”

Florence obviously thought asking Jayne out was something he was capable of and something which would receive a positive response. But he still had to find the right words and an appropriate opportunity and brace himself for possible rejection . . . He couldn’t explain this to Florence, so he ignored her last sentence and headed for a shower.

In the bathroom he peeled off his cycling gear and looked at himself naked in the full-length bathroom mirror.

How did today’s women like their men? Rounded or curved? Cycling had kept him slim. Perhaps verging on skinny? Was skinny good or would he get the proverbial sand kicked in his face? He adopted a Mr Universe pose, arms at shoulder height and bent at the elbow, feet apart, knees softened and flexed his muscles. Not bad, and probably better than most men his age. His eyes travelled down his body and he wondered again about the question of sex. Would he be dreadful or was it like riding a bike?

Another voice burst into his head, making him jump.

You’ll catch your death standing around naked like that! You did mend the lock on the bathroom door before Florence moved in, didn’t you? Otherwise she’ll be in here ravishing you.

Stuart grabbed the bath towel and wrapped it around himself. “Go away! You’re my sister. You shouldn’t be in here.”

OK. OK. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’d be useless at advising you anyway, never having had the opportunity for a sex life myself. But, given the chance, I think I might have been rather good at it.

“Too much information.” Stuart closed his eyes, focused his mind on the darkness behind the lids and counted to twenty. When he opened his eyes and relaxed his thoughts, Sandra was gone. He dropped the towel, fiddled with the temperamental dial on the shower and stepped into the flow of hot water.

The decision about if, when and how to approach Jayne bounced around his head.

Chapter Thirteen

Stuart waited until Florence had left for that night’s performance before taking Jayne’s number from beneath the change jar. Without giving himself time to think or to kick the football out of play, he picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Jayne, it’s Stuart, from next door.”

“Stuart! I’m just going to move into the kitchen. Mum’s got the telly on and I can’t hear you properly.”

The clever words that he’d been playing on a repeat loop inside his head since composing them in the shower disappeared like music on a mangled cassette tape. He fumbled in his head for a dynamic conversation opener. Nothing was available and he resorted to the mundane. “How’s Lillian? Florence said she seemed subdued when she saw you earlier.”

“Not good.” Jayne’s voice dropped. “Even with the TV on, I can’t talk about that over the phone. But it would help to discuss it. Do you fancy going out for dinner tomorrow? I could book a table at the Italian for seven thirty?”

This was too easy — there’d been no need for a rehearsed but casual speech about how they should catch up for old times’ sake. She’d even picked the same restaurant he was going to suggest but, unlike him, she’d probably eaten there; Stuart had run his finger down the Eateries Directory page in the free paper.

“Sounds good.” His heart was thumping but he tried to keep his voice nonchalant, as though going out for a meal with an attractive woman was a regular occurrence in his life. “Shall I call round for you at about quarter past?”

“I’ll look forward to having some proper conversation for a change.”

Stuart put the phone down and raised a triumphant arm. Something close to euphoria swirled within him. He closed the curtains against the darkening sky and dug out an old Blackberries cassette tape from his student days. He and Dad had never upgraded the 1980s hi-fi encased in smoked glass, which took up far too much space. It was hardly used and Stuart was amazed when it actually produced sound.

He had no muscle memory of the moves that Florence had shown him earlier but he tried to let his body feel the rhythm of the music, the ebb and flow of verse and chorus. His attempt at solo dancing probably looked moronic but was actually enjoyable. Stuart wondered if dancing only worked when you were feeling happy or, if the opposite were true and dancing could make you happy and confident. Had the latter happened to him this afternoon with Florence?

* * *

“Any plans for this evening?” Florence had chosen to perfect her stage makeup standing in the draught by the hall mirror, rather than using the one in the bathroom, her bedroom or the dressing room where the band were gigging tonight.

“Not particularly.” If he mentioned Jayne, Florence would act like a teething puppy with a slipper.

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