Page 32 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“Absolutely not. I promise. She’s got problems with her daughter and I was just trying to cheer her up.” He kissed Jayne on the lips.

“The dancing was your idea?” For a moment the upset on Jayne’s face was wiped away by amazement.

“Yes.”

“You are a dark horse, Stuart Borefield.” She ran her fingers down the side of his cheek.

Stuart kissed her gently again.

“Come on, lovebirds.” Florence bustled in. Stuart kept tight hold of Jayne’s hand.

“How long has she been gone?” he asked as they stood beneath umbrellas on the pavement, looking up and down the street.

“Since lunchtime. Most of the time she’s as right as rain. Only has momentary lapses. But not today. I went to work and phoned her about noon. She said she was meeting Nora, her friend, for lunch at the park café. That’s why I went to yoga — I knew she’d had some company earlier in the day. When I got home at six thirty the house was empty but I thought she might have gone back to Nora’s house. At seven I started to worry and phoned. Nora said Mum never turned up at the café. Nora tried phoning Mum at home but there was no answer. She assumed the lunch had slipped Mum’s mind and she’d gone elsewhere.”

“That poor lady, out in this downpour.” Florence shivered and pulled the zip on her jacket higher.

“Have you called the police?”

Jayne shook her head. “I didn’t know how soon you’re allowed to call them.”

“The park’s too big for the three of us to search in darkness. We need dogs and a proper plan.”

“Sniffer dogs! You don’t think . . .”

“I don’t think anything.” Stuart put an arm around Jayne’s wet shoulders. “Except that we need to find Lillian quickly. Let’s go back inside and call the police.”

Jayne was crying too much so Stuart called, emphasising Lillian’s vulnerability. Within an hour, a team of officers was at the park. Stuart and Jayne tried to guess the route Lillian would have taken from home to the café and back. Florence waited in Lillian’s house in case the old lady came back.

Nothing was found walking the main tarmacked paths but the undergrowth couldn’t be tackled until first light when the dogs would be available. Jayne and Stuart went home to Lillian’s. They sent Florence next door to bed.

When they’d dried off, Stuart made cocoa and tried to shoo Jayne upstairs to sleep while he sat by the phone.

“There’s no way I can sleep knowing that Mum is wandering around out there,” she protested. “You sleep. I’ll sit by the phone.”

In the end, they sat side by side on the settee, cupping mugs of hot sweet liquid. Anxiety made Stuart reach for biscuits but Jayne refused. Eventually she rested her head on his shoulder. He held her close. There was a faint whiff of coconut from her hair. It made him think of Bounty bars covered in chocolate.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Carl was never supportive. He always moaned when I said Mum was coming round for her tea.”

Stuart’s heart grew full. “Lillian’s always been good to me and my family. There’s no way I’d abandon either of you.”

They didn’t talk much through the night. The silence was like a warm swaddling blanket. Stuart couldn’t remember ever feeling this content. Perhaps being needed by another person was a basic human necessity. Jayne’s breathing slowed and she was asleep. He wondered if he could move her from his shoulder to lying down on the sofa so she didn’t get a crick in her neck. But he was frightened of wakening her and so they remained close together. Stuart risked raising a hand and gently stroking her hair. She shifted slightly towards him and, even with the worry about Lillian, his heart swelled and his spirits rose.

He thought about Jayne’s birthday. He wanted to spoil her but a lack of money and a lack of ideas hung in his way. The last birthday they’d celebrated together had been Jayne’s eighteenth and he’d had the same problems then. In the evening there’d been a house party. Jayne’s parents had gone next door to eat fish and chips with his dad, leaving the house to the youngsters. But the best bit of the day had been earlier. He and Jayne had cycled up to the old quarry. He’d bought a four-pack of cider, a chocolate cake and a single candle. The cider had erupted when they’d tugged on the ring-pulls and they’d tried to catch the golden liquid in their mouths.

“It’s like champagne!” Jayne’s face had been alight with happiness.

He’d opened the boxed cake and stuck the candle in the top. Jayne had looked expectant and then he’d realised. “No matches.” He’d made a big show of rubbing two sticks together and Jayne had held her stomach with laughter. Then she’d elaborately blown out a pretend flame and they’d broken the cake into pieces with their hands because Stuart had forgotten a knife and plates as well.

He looked down at Jayne’s sleeping face and wondered if she remembered all the gorgeous details with the clarity he did. Eventually the natural light seeping in through the curtains woke her and she went for a shower. Stuart gathered cereal and bread for breakfast. He glanced at the clock and his heart lurched. He was expected at William’s. It was the day of his daughter’s visit. The old man wanted helping into his best clothes. If Stuart cried off at such short notice, Veronica would play hell. A carer’s job could be a matter of life or death, or, at the very least, you were leaving someone in grave discomfort. And the person who would find William in that discomfort was his daughter, Andrea. Stuart could lose his job.

“Do you think Florence will mind the house and phone again while we go to the park?” Jayne had wet hair and reddened cheeks from the shower. Dressed in a fresh blouse and jeans she looked more composed than the night before but her voice still faltered over her next sentence. “I’d really like you with me today.”

“I’m sure she will but . . .” He wanted to stay with her more than anything but his conscience was pulling him towards the duty of his job. The police would find Lillian without him but Jayne needed him here. The future of their relationship, his bright new future, might depend on what he said next. Even if he called Veronica now, it wouldn’t be possible to send another carer for a few hours. He couldn’t leave William to wet himself. “Mr Rutherford can’t get himself to the toilet or make a drink.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll be gone two hours max. I can meet you at the park.”

“I thought . . . never mind. It’s just after the other night we . . .” Her voice was emotional and she turned away from him. “I can’t eat any breakfast. My stomach’s churning.”

“I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.” He felt like a rat. An unreliable, slippery rat. One minute he was offering to help her and the next he was turning his back.

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