Page 85 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

Florence frowned. “I think that makes it worse, don’t you? Why are you trying to hide that the house is up for sale? I’m not stupid, I do remember your time here is limited.”

“I was worried about the effect the upheaval would have on the children.”

“So you were going to keep it a secret and then spring it on us just before moving day? That would hardly help matters, would it?”

“I’m sorry.” Stuart was out of his depth. Weighing up the effect of his actions on others or working out what was best for them was a skill he hadn’t yet grasped. “I got it wrong. I’m sorry.”

Florence sat down on one of the hard chairs and put her head in her hands. There was a quiver across her shoulders and a barely discernible sniff. He pulled another chair up alongside her and tentatively stroked her back.

“I’m worried about the upheaval too.” Her voice was muffled. “It’s the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. Those kids have been through enough. But unless the council comes up trumps, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” The shaking of her shoulders became more marked.

Stuart was desperate to hold her close. When Florence had first arrived on his doorstep, he’d pre-judged her as some showy, brash airhead. Over the months he’d come to realise that her flamboyance and extraversion brought colour and fun. And that underneath she was more vulnerable, caring and thoughtful than many ‘ordinary people’. He felt privileged to be in her orbit.

His arm, resting on her back, was tense with anticipation. He thought fleetingly of Jayne’s disapproval. She wouldn’t like him comforting Florence with a hug, even though Florence had made it plain she wanted nothing but platonic friendship with Stuart.

Florence was fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. The familiar sound of a cartoon chase was muffled by the closed kitchen door. Playing the part of his usual grey self, Stuart felt helpless. Bugger it. Sandra had become increasingly silent but he knew exactly what she’d be exhorting now. Florence deserved the same empathetic treatment she had shown him when he’d been in distress.

Stuart stretched his arm around Florence’s shoulders and pulled her close. Her head turned towards him and he gently brushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes. She looked at him, her cheeks wet with tears and smudges of makeup escaping into the creases of her eyes and lips. Stuart didn’t stop to analyse or prejudge his next movement. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. For a split second he felt her tense and then she relaxed. Stuart felt warmed and tantalised. Inside his slippers, his toes curled. He felt Florence shift her position so that she could wrap her arms around him. Who needed mistletoe?

There was a crash as the kitchen door flew open and the exaggerated noise of a helicopter filled the room. The moment was gone. Shayne was skidding across the vinyl in his socks, Christmas toy held up high, making engine noises. Eunice was staring at them as though they’d each turned into one of the multicoloured unicorns she left scattered across the lounge floor. Her expression was one of maternal concern. “I thought you two didn’t do kissing?”

“We don’t.” Florence stood up and headed for the freezer. “Who wants fish fingers for tea?”

“Me!” Shayne started cheering as though he was on the football terraces.

“Stuart?”

He shook his head. His brain seemed to have lost the power of forming words and transmitting them to his tongue. Or perhaps it was his tongue that had gone on strike, in order to savour the specialness of what had just happened.

“Can I tell Granddad that you kissed Stuart?” Eunice’s eyes were darting between the two adults.

“Kissing’s soppy.” Shayne landed the helicopter in the exact centre of the kitchen table. “It’s for girls.”

“Best not tell Granddad.” Florence dumped a bag of frozen chips onto the work surface next to the fish fingers. “Kissing is a private thing.” She looked over at Stuart, catching his eye as she next spoke. “And it was a mistake. I won’t be kissing Stuart again.”

The rosy glow within Stuart sputtered and died beneath the cold water of her words.

“I already explained to you that Stuart is going to marry Jayne, who lives next door. When you’re going to be married you can’t kiss other people.”

“Pooh! Jayne doesn’t like us.” Eunice disappeared into the lounge and came back with a unicorn and a tiny pink plastic hairbrush. She started to brush the plastic animal’s mane.

Stuart looked at Florence, trying to make his expression into a question mark. She misinterpreted the question, perhaps on purpose. “The children don’t like it when she calls over the fence for them to be quiet.”

It would be wise to leave the room now. He should go for a walk, clear his head before he went next door to eat with Jayne and Lillian. But he didn’t move. He watched the other three eat fish fingers, chips and beans. The children were a non-stop fountain of chatter about school, Tibby, unicorns and helicopters. It seemed hardly possible that they were the same pale, silent, timid youngsters who’d arrived on his doorstep after losing their mother. Whoever said kids were resilient was absolutely right.

Eventually Jayne rang to summon him and Stuart left with a reluctant wave to the little family.

Chapter Forty

Veronica called Stuart into the office of the Primo Care Agency for a chat.

“I’m going to put you onto our bank of carers,” she said, “standing in when someone’s off sick or on holiday. You’ll get a broad range of experience then. I think that’s what you’re missing. It doesn’t do to get too close to a particular client.”

“So I won’t get regular hours?”

“No.”

Jayne was going to hate this. She liked to know where he’d be and when. Plus it was now their routine that he be available to check on Lillian.

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