Page 66 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

As he leaned against the wall Stuart felt his toes begin to tap and his shoulders move from side to side. The urge to properly lose himself in the music grew. He glanced sideways; the man next to him was absorbed in his pint and phone. Everyone else was focused on the performance.

Stuart took a step away from the wall and began to transfer his weight from foot to foot. His arms went forwards and back. Memories of discos from his youth flooded back. His torso was moving and he felt his lips curl into a smile. A sort of happiness grew in his chest. He was kind of dancing and he liked the feeling.

The track faded out and applause filled the room. Stuart glanced backwards. The man had put his pint down. He gave Stuart a double-thumbs-up and a look of enthusiastic approval. Stuart couldn’t judge whether this stranger was making fun of him or offering genuine encouragement. The curtains of self-doubt swished closed. The next song had started but Stuart leaned back against the wall and didn’t meet the other man’s eyes. He didn’t attempt to dance again.

Finally Double Berry Black tried to leave the stage. The audience wouldn’t let them go. They were on their feet shouting for more. After a moment’s hesitation and a glance to his left, Stuart raised his arms above his head and clapped too.

Florence walked to the front of the stage, gesturing with her hands for quiet. Gradually, the crowd obeyed and Florence began to reprise the most popular song. It started quietly.

“She’s knock-out, that lead singer, isn’t she?” The man standing next to Stuart raised his pint glass and gestured at the stage. “The rumour is that she’s split up from her husband. He’s the one on the drums. Someone said she’s got a new man but he’s never been seen.”

A new man. He hadn’t expected that. Not so soon and not with everything else going on in her life and not with the way she kept looking at Jim. The sound and the beat of the encore song was growing. Jim brought it up to a crescendo with a dramatic drum roll. Did he know about the new man? Did he care? The combined noise of band and audience was deafening. Everyone was up on their feet. Stuart’s foot tapped discreetly. Now the man next to him was slurring the lyrics as if he were on the stage.

In Stuart’s head the noise receded, drowned by thoughts of Florence with a new man. She deserved to be loved, after all the affection and kindness she had freely dispensed. He tried to imagine her going home to this new man. Did they dance around the kitchen? Did he love Slowcoach? Perhaps he drove her to gigs and picked her up afterwards.

Stuart became aware of applause, like the thunderous bangs of a battlefield. Then there was a gradual reduction in volume and the lights brightened. A scrum surrounded the bar and he was forced to relinquish the safety of his patch of wall. Florence’s face filled his mind. Her beaming smile, her bobbed platinum hair gone slightly skew-whiff with the energy of the performance, a sheen of sweat across her forehead picked up by the lights and the visible energy bouncing from her. He couldn’t go home without seeing her face to face. Without asking her about Tibby.

Seeing her face to face. I agree that’s the important thing, isn’t it? Making sure there are no loose ends.

“Exactly. No loose ends,” Stuart muttered under his breath. “And she can’t ignore me if we’re face to face like she can a text message. If her grandchildren are expecting to have their cat back, I can’t take it to a rescue centre.”

Enjoy!

After a protracted elbow battle, Stuart reached the bar. He didn’t want a third cola but it was a small price to pay for information about Florence. He put his glass on the bar. “Where do the band make their exit?”

“What?” The barman frowned; the place was still noisy with conversation.

“Is there a stage door? I need to speak to one of the singers.”

“You’re after Florence, aren’t you? Join the back of the queue, mate. She’s no spring chicken but in the sex-appeal ratings she’s up there.” He raised one hand above his forehead.

Stuart didn’t like that all these men were ogling his . . . Stuart’s mind paused to frame the right word.

‘Ex-lodger’ is the word you should be using.

“I know. I know.”

The barman gave him his change. “They usually park their van around the back. They’ll be loading up for the next twenty minutes or so.”

“Thanks.”

Stuart abandoned his drink on an empty table and went outside. He’d parked at the front of the club but the car park continued around the side and rear of the building. Following the barman’s directions, he found a white transit with its lights on and rear door open. Two men in jeans and dark fleeces were carrying bits of drum kit from an entrance at the side of the club to the van. The silhouette of a woman emerged from the doorway with a small suitcase on wheels and a large shopping bag. As she moved into the light of the open doors of the van, her black-and-white fake-fur jacket became visible above the curves of her bottom, accentuated by dark leggings.

Stuart’s heart leaped but his feet had forgotten how to move forwards. His brain panicked about what to say to her. He stayed hidden in the shadows. The drum kit was stowed. The two men exchanged words that weren’t loud enough to carry. They were both slim. One of them, Stuart couldn’t tell if it was Jim or the other one, nodded towards Florence. She returned a thumbs-up sign and closed the door of the building. The loud thud and clunk of wood and metal reached Stuart. The man, who was possibly Jim, went over to Florence and gave her a hug. A long hug. Stuart took a step backwards, deeper into the cover of the building. The barman had got it wrong. There was no ‘new’ man—Florence was back with her husband. Stuart half ran back to his car. He couldn’t take the humiliation of being discovered lurking around his ex-lodger. Tibby’s future would have to be sorted some other way.

Once in the car he barely paused at the car-park exit to check for traffic. Florence would recognise his registration. She would know he was there for her.

Coward! Exactly how important are these loose ends and moving into your new life next door?

“You know how important the future is to me. You also know I’m more tortoise than hare. Stop prodding me forwards too fast.”

* * *

“You wasted a whole evening when we could’ve been together, plus the cost of a ticket, and you still didn’t get this cat thing sorted out?” Jayne didn’t look happy. “Is it that on some level, you want to keep the connection with Florence?”

“Of course not.” There was no point in striving for a connection with someone who didn’t want to know you, however much you wanted to know them.

Tibby was sitting on the floor in front of them, staring at the occupied sofa. She crouched, ready to leap onto Stuart’s lap. Stuart moved his hands to make space for her. He liked the comforting warmth of her weight and the soporific effect of her purring.

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