Page 50 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“No, John. I won’t be coming again. I don’t enjoy public speaking and I have no need to practise the skill for my career or anything else. Thank you for the experience and I wish you well with the club and your job hunting.” He held his hand out to his former pupil. “No hard feelings?”

John looked disappointed but he shook his hand. “No hard feelings. But if you ever change your mind . . .”

“I won’t.”

Wow, bro! You stood up for yourself. When was the last time that happened? You might not be a great orator but you’ve certainly grown in confidence.

* * *

Robert and George gave Stuart twenty-four hours’ notice that they were coming to inspect the house.

“It’s what landlords do. It’s to protect you as well as us. It means when you move out there’s no nasty surprises and we don’t ask you to fix any damage done when Dad was still alive,” Robert explained on the phone. “And you muttered something at the funeral about getting a lodger to help with the bills. At the time we were too emotional to think it through. We’ve thought now and we are disallowing lodgers. A lodger means additional wear and tear plus problems when we want them out so we can sell.”

“Oh!” Implications were crashing around in Stuart’s head like a busy day at the dodgems.

“We’ll be there about ten tomorrow.”

Florence was having a late, slow breakfast in the kitchen in her pink fluffy dressing gown. Her gig the previous evening had been further away than usual and she hadn’t got back until the early hours. Stuart was tired too. He found it hard to sleep when he knew she was still out, consequently William had found his carer subdued this morning.

“Would you be able to make yourself scarce tomorrow?”

“Jayne again?” Mischief danced across her eyes.

“An inspection visit by my brothers. And they won’t allow me to have a lodger.”

“Oh!” Her expression switched to panic. “I don’t want to ask Jim. It will give him too much satisfaction.”

“I’m not throwing you out.” He paused, surprised by how strongly he felt about not throwing her out. A few months ago he would’ve bowed immediately to his brothers’ request but he’d changed since then. He wouldn’t be trampled anymore. However, his transformation didn’t stretch as far as having the guts to actually admit to having a lodger. “But I don’t want them to find out about you.”

Florence grasped the situation and glanced at her watch. “OK. We leave at six for tonight’s gig. Until then I will clean this house until it sparkles and pack my stuff so that it can go in the loft — or will they look in there too?”

It was more likely that his brothers would investigate the loft for forgotten treasures rather than rootle through drawers and wardrobes in the spare room. “No need to pack, just clear away all visible evidence from the surfaces and strip your bed in the morning.”

They both worked hard for the rest of the day, Stuart with the lawn mower, shears and spade, and Florence with a duster and mop. He wondered how she had the energy to put on a bright, professional face and perform when he was absolutely shattered.

“The audience gives me energy,” she said, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before leaving. “Applause and hearing people singing along to our big numbers is pure adrenaline. There’s nothing to beat it. That’s why people love doing karaoke in pubs. I’m going to get you doing that one day, you’re already part way there. I heard you humming over the cooking the other day.”

“If I ever do karaoke, you’ll have to do something very major, like putting yourself up as a candidate for the local council.”

“As if they’d elect an empty air-head like me.” With that she was gone.

The next day Florence was up at seven, looking as though she could do with another couple of hours sleep. Stuart was on his way out to see to William.

“I’ll be gone before you get back,” she said. “Make sure you open all the windows so there’s no lingering smells of my perfume or Tibby’s accidents. I’ll take her with me and put Slowcoach in his box in the garden.”

Despite Tibby’s mastery of the cat flap, she still had a tendency to prefer dark corners of the house as her toilet. Florence put it down to some trauma from her life with Shirley and Stuart didn’t have the heart to refuse the cat a home for Florence’s sake. His lodger still had very many down days when she dwelt on her bad mothering and why Shirley had ended up as she had.

When Robert and George arrived with their wives, they sat in the kitchen with coffee and biscuits.

“We’re not trying to push you out early,” Robert said. “We promised you a year and a year is what you’ll get. But we want to be able to hit the ground running with estate agents and house viewings. We don’t want any last minute, nasty surprises.”

“It’s a bit chilly in here,” Theresa interrupted, “with all the windows open. Do you mind if I close them?” She was already on her feet and reaching over the sink to pull the biggest one closed.

Cindy glanced at Stuart. There was no choice but to nod his agreement and Cindy, the taller of his two sisters-in-law, stretched to close the smaller, higher windows.

After a couple of minutes Theresa frowned and flared her nostrils. “Can I smell cat wee?”

Stuart’s brain raced to find an excuse. “There’s been a stray hanging around. Big fat ginger thing. If I’m out in the garden and forget to close the door it’s straight in here.”

---