Page 94 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

He put the diamond ring on top of theGap Yearbook and stared at them for a long time. Then he put the ring in his change jar and began to read the book.

Chapter Forty-Four

Florence arrived at the café door at the same time as Stuart, having come from the other direction. He handed her a bunch of daffodils and she beamed. Then she grabbed a table while Stuart queued for lattes and, because cake suited all occasions, a hunk of chocolate brownie and a slice of red velvet cake.

“Lovely flowers, thanks.” Florence took the knife and cut both cakes in half, sharing them equally.

Stuart smiled, not trusting his voice.

Florence talked about the children and how she enjoyed the supermarket job because she got to talk to lots of different people. “I miss performing, though. Especially when I see Jim go out every night. There’s something about applause. The more you have, the more you want. It’s like an addiction.”

The words he wanted to say were sticking in his throat. He wanted Florence to know the important thing that had taken him too long to learn. The thing that she’d helped him realise. The new path would be full of blind bends, hump-backed bridges and punctures from perilous potholes but that was the joy of being alive; you could never be certain about what was going to happen next. The hardest thing had been getting himself to the start of this path.

“How about you?” Florence paused, took a sip of latte and looked at him. “Not long to go until you’re a married man. I bet Jayne’s fizzing with excitement?”

Stuart swallowed, trying to get rid of the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t be sure whether the lump was nerves about the future or his unremitting guilt at betraying his ex-fiancée. “We’re not getting married.”

Shock landed on Florence’s face. She put her latte glass down heavily and brown liquid slopped from the top of it.

“I finally realised that we don’t want the same things from life.”

Florence’s eyes were wide.

“You helped me realise that an ordinary life isn’t enough. I need to experience the extraordinary.”

“I helped you realise that?”

“With the dancing.”

She was watching his face. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

“And the singing.”

She cocked her head on one side.

“I miss all of that.” The words were out and the sky hadn’t fallen in. “I miss trying to make you listen to the news. I miss trying to persuade you that politics is a necessary evil.”

She was focused on him but silent. Not helping him out. He ploughed on. “You were fun to live with. You are fun. And when we kissed.” He paused, desperate to find the right words so that he didn’t come across as a dirty old man or as an over-embellished romantic novel. “We only did it that one time but it was good.”

“Good?”

He wanted to say life-affirming, toe-curling, heart-warming. “More than good.”

Florence picked up the tall glass coffee mug. The surface of the brown liquid rippled in response to the shaking of her hand. The silence pulsated with tension. Stuart took a mouthful of coffee and looked away. He’d meant to just say goodbye and thank you, but, somehow, he’d got himself stuck in an awkward quagmire of feelings.

“So what will you do now?”

“Travel. A working holiday.” He pulled theGap Yearbook from his backpack. “A couple of months here, a couple of months there until I feel ready to settle back here. I might look into primary school teaching. The exact plans are a work in progress.”

“But you will come back?” She was staring into his eyes and his stomach flipped.

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“I have responsibilities. Baggage. Little people who will be relying on me for years to come. I’ve had my turn at freedom and excitement. Now I want to be there for my grandchildren.”

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