Page 76 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

His fiancée’s face lit up, giving him the same warm feeling as the children’s drawings.

The tiny diamond took a significant chunk of Stuart’s savings, but the look of happiness on Jayne’s face made it worth every penny. Fleetingly, he wondered how life would’ve turned out if Carl hadn’t snatched her away and he and Jayne had married thirty years ago. Would they be cooing over their own grandchildren now?

With the ring on her finger and excitement buzzing, they booked the registry office for the 31 March, the date that Stuart would lose the right to his brothers’ house.

“Only four and a half months away!” Jayne gave a little joyful jump when they were back outside in the sharp November sunshine.

Lillian insisted on giving them a lump sum to pay for the wedding.

“Call it an advance on my will,” she said. “I know you’re as poor as a church mouse, Stuart, and Jayne’s capital from her bedsit is a safety net for the future. This money is my gift to both of you. But Jayne will have to get it out of the computer.”

“Mum doesn’t have as much money as she thinks,” Jayne told him later. “I’ll draw some money from my savings but please let her keep her dignity and think she’s paid.”

Stuart nodded and tried not to feel that his dignity had been stripped away by his fiancée paying for the wedding. “I’ll pay you back,” he promised. “Veronica’s pleased with me, so I’m a hopeful for a pay rise.”

They arranged a small reception in a local restaurant for family, a couple of Jayne’s work colleagues and a few mutual school acquaintances. It would be tactless to suggest inviting Florence, and William wouldn’t be able to make the excursion.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Gradually Eunice and Shayne lost their pale, wan appearance. Despite the December weather they ran about in the garden and spent time with both Florence and Stuart at the swings in the park. On Saturday mornings, all four of them went to the playground together.

“Going to the park again today?” William asked over his porridge one Saturday morning.

Stuart nodded as he put the duster around the room.

“I thought so. The whistling gives it away.”

Stuart hadn’t realised he was whistling. He went silent.

“Don’t stop. It cheers my day up. And there’s little else positive in my life now.”

Stuart’s mood lowered in sympathy but when he was in the kitchen washing the cereal bowl and mug, he started thinking about the morning to come and the whistling was an unconscious by-product.

“Have a go down the slide for me,” William said as Stuart was leaving. “I wish I still had the boundless energy of a child instead of this constant lethargy.”

“How about I phone the surgery and get a doctor to call?” Over the past weeks William’s spark hadn’t returned, and he often seemed in discomfort as Stuart helped him onto the commode and when he moved his limbs to gently wash him. Interference couldn’t be a completely bad thing if it made the old man more comfortable.

The old man waved a hand. “I’ve had my fair share of life. No point spending money to prolong it artificially. Better that effort is put into a kiddie or a young person with a life in front of them. I know how strapped for cash the NHS is.”

Stuart worried over whether he should call a doctor anyway or if he should talk it over with Veronica. But most days, before he could dissect the dilemma in too much detail, his own life reached out and dragged him in. And Saturday mornings were the best example of that.

On arrival at Stuart’s house, Shayne had been a quiet, self-effacing child with wide eyes that followed Stuart around the room with a combination of curiosity and fear. But as Shayne sat on a swing now, all trace of caution disappeared.

“Higher, Uncle Stuart! Push me higher!”

By the end of the morning, Stuart’s arms and shoulders would ache from the effort of continuous pushing.

“I’m flying!” Shayne would call. “I’m flying like a bird!”

In the meantime, Eunice would be up the ladder to the slide and then shooting down its shiny metallic surface. On each outing she’d start off feet first and then, after a few confidence-building goes, she’d turn around and come down head first.

Despite the winter weather, the four of them would finish the morning buying ice creams with strawberry sauce and chocolate flakes from the little kiosk. There was great contentment in walking home with a cone in his hand and the milky, sweet taste of ice cream on his tongue, with Florence at his side telling him about her plans to visit the job centre now the children were on an even keel, and Eunice and Shayne ducking and diving between them, their dirty hands and faces smeared with chocolate and red sauce. Sometimes Florence would turn to look at him, a look that got right inside his soul and made him want to keep her there. When that happened, his heart soared, his toes curled within his shoes and he felt lucky to be able to share in this family, even if only on a temporary basis. They had both avoided any further electrically charged hugs.

Saturday afternoons were a slow descent into reality. Florence took the children to see Jim, their grandfather — the other adult male in the life of the little family. She was negotiating with the council for a new home. In less than four months, their home with Stuart would be gone and he would be married to someone else.

Saturday afternoons were an opportunity for him and Jayne to do their planning.

“I’ve bought the dress,” she told him a couple of weeks before Christmas. “Antique cream lace. Ballerina length. I think I’m too old for the long white meringue.”

---