Page 9 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“I . . . given my experience . . . and I’m a man . . . perhaps you could offer a bit more?”

Veronica frowned. “You are asking me to break the equal-pay legislation.”

Shit! Now Sandra’s interfering was going to cost him the job before he’d even started. Assertiveness and ambition weren’t good. He needed to go with the flow for a while until he was used to being back in the real world.

“Sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Veronica stood up and proffered her hand. “Let’s shake on minimum wage and if you perform well and want more responsibility, you’ll progress up the ladder like anyone else.”

Stuart shook on the deal.

Make sure she sticks to her side of the bargain. You don’t have enough time left to be walked all over.

“Go away,” Stuart muttered under his breath once he was outside Veronica’s office.

* * *

Back home, he looked at Jayne’s number underneath the change jar. Was there such a thing as a meeting between a single man and a single woman that wasn’t a date? Lillian would have mentioned leaving the number and primed Jayne for it being a date. Didhewant it to be a date? He remembered that kiss on his cheek at the funeral. He picked up the piece of paper then put it down again, placing the jar firmly on top. Lillian had said that Jayne liked nice things; she wouldn’t be interested in a low-earning care worker. She’d want someone more ambitious, someone with money and a place in society. She wouldn’t make the mistake of choosing another waster to share her life after her experience with Carl.

He went to close the curtains just as a brand-new Audi pulled up at the kerb next door. The man who got out was casually dressed in an open-neck shirt and pullover. This was a man who would have the money to buy Jayne nice things. He should look away. This was none of his business. But the man had RIVAL stamped all over him. Within seconds, Jayne was at the man’s side, giving a wave of her hand to an invisible Lillian. Stuart moved behind the edge of the curtain.

The man kissed her. On the cheek. But it was a still a kiss. Jayne was smiling. The car’s taillights became bright in the growing dusk and Stuart closed the curtains. He was shaking when he sat down. A stupid overreaction.

Relieved that she’s not sitting at home waiting for your invitation?Sandra injected the best of her sarcasm into the words.

Stuart waved his arms to make her go away. It was too soon to get romantically involved with anyone. He’d only make a hash of it. But his brain wouldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to have someone to share his empty future. A companion to change the horizon from bleak grey to sunshine.

They could travel and his pristine passport would become battered. They’d go for long walks, enjoy the theatre and . . . His thoughts paused over the possible physicality of a relationship. He didn’t know the rules for mature people rediscovering dating. Jayne, and the vast majority of women entering a second or third long-term relationship, would be far more experienced than he.

Would they find him boring? Should he reveal his inexperience or try to bluff his way through it? Suddenly it was all too daunting. He hovered with Jayne’s phone number over the kitchen pedal bin. Had second thoughts and put it back under the change jar.

* * *

It was the beginning of May when, after his induction training, Stuart made his first call on William Rutherford. Frightened of being late, he arrived ten minutes early and sat in his car wondering whether to wait until the appointed time. His stomach was churning with apprehension and had accepted only one slice of toast for breakfast. Being paid to be somewhere at a particular time to carry out a particular role felt like an enormous responsibility, one which he wanted to carry out to the absolute best of his ability. He waited five minutes and then got out of the car. There was a key safe beside the front door and Stuart had been entrusted with the number because William couldn’t reach the hallway. He fumbled with the keypad and turned the dial. Nothing. He tried again, focusing hard on the slightly blurry figures. Nothing. Finally, he pulled his reading glasses from his jacket pocket and realised the ‘3’ was actually an ‘8’.

“Hello, Mr Rutherford!”

There was a grunt in response and Stuart followed the noise into a back sitting-room overlooking the garden.

“So you’re the man. They told me they were sending a man.”

“I’m Stuart. Pleased to meet you.”

The old man took Stuart’s hand in a grip far weaker than the strength in his voice. He was sitting in a high orthopaedic chair at the side of an unmade bed, dressed in navy paisley pyjamas. Wispy grey hair stuck out at odd angles from his scalp and he looked in need of a shave. His face, like his body, was too thin.

“Which do you want first, cup of tea and breakfast or washing and dressing?” Veronica had advised him that a cheery nature, positive conversation and the ability to keep distaste hidden, whatever the task, were the absolute essential qualities she looked for in all her staff. Apparently the clients were quick to complain if they got a sourpuss.

“Remember,” Veronica had said, “you will probably be the only person that client sees or speaks to all day. Make your visit count in more ways than simply giving them something to eat. Give them some conversation and brightness to help carry them through the day.”

Stuart grinned at Mr Rutherford, waiting for his answer. Apparently it was important to give the clients choice wherever possible, to give the illusion they had some control over what was happening to them.

“You don’t need to speak so loudly and you don’t need to sound so jolly.” The voice was tetchy and the old man’s frown deeply etched. “I’m not deaf and artificial jolliness comes across as condescending. I’m a lonely, useless, friendless old man who can’t look after himself. Don’t treat me like a child.”

The smile that Stuart had tried to make cheery slid from his face and he fumbled for a positive answer. Naively, he’d expected clients to welcome him with open arms. This wasn’t the shiny new job and start of a new life that he’d expected.

“I’m sorry things aren’t so good for you at the moment.” Stuart removed his jacket. “I’ll just hang this up and we’ll get started.” He escaped into the hallway where he’d noticed a row of hooks and paused longer than necessary.

He deserves a kick in the balls. Are you going to do it, or shall I?

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