Page 39 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

He hoped the relief didn’t show on his face. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She waved him away.

As Stuart pulled up outside William’s house, he felt powered by adrenaline. It was imperative that he be back at Florence’s side as soon as possible. He fumbled the numbered buttons in the key safe and was forced to take a breath and proceed more calmly.

William immediately grasped the need for speed but in Stuart’s eyes the old man ate, drank and moved in slow motion. He wanted to wind him up or put in new batteries to make him go faster. But William’s limbs continued to bend with difficulty as they were manoeuvred into armholes and trouser legs. In contrast, the minute hand on William’s wall clock went at speed, emphasising the length of time Florence was spending alone with her grief and anxiety.

“I’m sorry,” William said for the twentieth time. “For Florence’s loss and my inability to get out of first gear.”

“Really, it’s no problem.” Stuart typed his notes while William ate porridge.

“You go.” William stopped eating and balanced his spoon on the edge of the dish. “It plays havoc with my digestion if I eat too fast and I can manage to feed myself without your beady eyes urging me on.”

For a second Stuart tussled with the guilt of abandoning his client and friend against the regret at leaving Florence at home alone with her grief. Florence won but he’d make it up to William later. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this.”

“Another day we’ll get your bright new future sorted. I think its path is becoming clearer.”

Already in the hall, Stuart barely registered the old man’s words. All that could wait.

When he got home, Florence once again had her bag packed. She’d covered her tiredness with makeup and wore a loose beige blouse made of silky material instead of one of her trademark bright close-fitting tops. Her trousers were black and tailored, not clinging; they were more the classy sort that Jayne would choose. In front of him was an ordinary grandma, not the fun, feisty Florence.

“You look more . . .”

“Respectable?”

“Less bold.”

“That’s the idea. I’ve got two motherless kiddies who need some loving. They don’t need a self-centred, star-struck bit of mutton dressed up as lamb. I’ll be going with Jacob to talk to teachers and social workers; the last thing we want is the children snatched into care because of a dodgy granny who, if you half close your eyes, looks like she might be on the game.”

This new, sedate Florence looked like any of the middle-aged women who wandered round the supermarket or gathered in the windows of coffee shops. From nowhere came the sudden realisation that he preferred his lodger bright and bubbly, even garish, breezing into the house and bringing bounce and life into the place.

“Station?” Stuart asked, dangling his keys.

“Please. But give me a hug first.” She looked calm but when he looked closely, her eyes were too bright and there was a small tear on her right cheek.

She clutched at him like she’d never let go. He held her tight, not wanting to let her go. Eventually she pulled away.

“None of this will be easy,” she said. “And of course Jim will be there.”

“Jim?”

“My husband.”

He’d forgotten she was still married.

Or maybe you’ve got selective amnesia, bro.

“Shall I come with you?” The words came out before his brain had processed them. “To support you?”

Florence looked shocked. Then her face broke into a smile. “I like you, Stuart, because you are open and honest. You’re not like other men.”

She took both his hands in hers and when she looked into his eyes, he felt like he was the only person in the world that mattered to her. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have at my side right now. But it wouldn’t work. Jim would be pissed off. Jacob would be weighing up your influence on his children. I’d be worrying about whether or not you were OK. There’d be nowhere for you to sleep. Besides, what about William? And Jayne?”

Florence was far more sensible than the ‘frantic Florence’ she’d first described herself as.

“Station, then?”

When she’d gone, the house was flat. Flat used to be normal. Now the flatness was obvious and unwelcome. He lingered so much on his lunchtime and teatime visits to William that the old man almost had to throw him out. It didn’t make sense that the flatness in the house was affecting him so badly.

---