Page 3 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“When did it happen?” His brother cut straight to the facts.

Stuart hesitated. He didn’t want criticism for not checking his father before the bike ride, or for forgetting to call his brothers until ten minutes ago. “Earlier. I had to deal with the doctor and the undertaker. And the solicitor came.”

“He didn’t sign the new will?” Robert’s voice reached towards hope.

“No. He didn’t sign.” Suddenly Stuart wanted to get off the phone. Circumstances were closing in. The darkness of being homeless. “Can you let George know?” He put the phone down without waiting for a response.

Everything would be OK. If he thought it enough times, it would be true. His brothers knew what their father had intended with the will. They would respect the old man’s wishes. His brothers were decent and fair. Without that belief, he may as well start hoarding cardboard now against the concrete coldness of the railway arches.

I’d start that hoarding if I were you. Our big brothers have low stocks of the milk of human kindness.

Chapter Three

Robert and George arrived early on the day of the funeral with a full complement of Stuart’s nephews. It must have been a three-line whip because hardly any of them had crossed their grandfather’s threshold since childhood.

Robert’s wife, Cindy, squeezed Stuart’s hand. “This must be turning you upside down,” she said quietly. “But at least now you can build a life of your own.”

His other sister-in-law, Theresa, ran a finger over the windowsill and seemed surprised when it came up clean. George was directing the younger generation in the unpacking of hired wine glasses and Robert was on his mobile arranging his golf schedule for the following week.

Stuart gave Cindy a small smile and was surprised to see a tear in the corner of her eye.

Three black limousines arrived to carry the family behind the hearse. Stuart was allocated to the last of these cars, along with his two youngest nephews, dragged from university for the day and looking awkward in dark suits. Twisting in his seat, Stuart saw Jayne’s car pull out immediately behind them and match the respectful walking speed of thecortège. Her mother, Lillian, was in the passenger seat, already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Outside the chapel, the family stood awkwardly while the professional pallbearers readied themselves and the coffin. The six men respectfully raised the coffin to shoulder height and the family were given the nod to assemble behind. Like a flock of crows, with new shiny plumage, the procession made its way down the short aisle. The family took their seats in the reserved front rows and the coffin was placed on the catafalque.

Standing to sing ‘Amazing Grace’, Stuart focused on the coffin and his father within. As the music died away and they sat down again, his shoulders heaved with emotion. He pulled out a hanky to blow his nose and keep the tears at bay. Then he felt a reassuring pat on his shoulder from behind; it was Lillian. Her cheeks were damp too. Stuart turned back towards the coffin and thought about his father.

Sandra was in his head.I think I’m about to find out what it’s like to be a daddy’s girl. Wish me luck!

He smiled. His twin sister had died when she was seven days old and, even though she was rarely spoken about, his parents had never got over their grief.

A dozen people, plus the family, returned to the house for food and drink. All of them made a beeline towards Stuart to shake his hand and offer condolences. He dutifully introduced his brothers who’d played such a small part in their father’s later life but, after half an hour of making small talk, it was a relief that these people preferred his more verbose siblings. Stuart slipped into the kitchen and poured himself a fresh cup of tea. He longed for everyone to go home so he could have the house and his thoughts to himself.

“Mind if I join you?”

Caught off guard, his brain failed to generate words. Jayne was smiling at him. He’d been vaguely aware of her sitting beside Lillian in the chapel but, before that, when had he last seen her at close quarters? They’d acknowledged each other with a raise of the hand on the rare occasion he’d been in the garden when she’d visited her mum, but, ever since that betrayal almost four decades ago, there’d been a mutual avoidance of conversation. And now here she was, hovering across the kitchen table from him on the least convenient day possible. Her familiar smile and the smell of her perfume made him feel wobbly.

She sat down without waiting for his permission. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“He’d lived to a good age.” The phrase was automatic.

“Even so, he’ll leave a massive hole in your life. What will you do?”

Stuart shrugged. “I haven’t properly thought. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind. How are you? I heard you divorced . . .” In his eagerness to move the conversation away from himself, he hadn’t considered the insensitivity of mentioning Jayne’s failed marriage.

She gave a wry smile and put her hand on top of his. He remembered teenaged fumbling in the dark.

“Don’t worry. It was a long time ago. I instigated it and I’m well over it.”

She removed her hand and he was back in the present day. A boring middle-aged man in his fifties talking to the woman who had set all his senses alight when he was a teenager. A woman whose magnetism hadn’t gone away. The slim teenager in jeans had become a slim woman in a white silky blouse and formal black jacket. The jacket was well cut and the blouse made from expensive-looking material, but neither looked brand new. The top two buttons of the blouse were open, revealing a gold pendant sitting on Jayne’s collarbone. Her face had aged well and her short dark hair had only a sprinkling of grey around the fringe and over the crown. She was exerting a familiar pull on his senses and she still had that knack of looking right into his eyes and almost touching his soul. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he should ask her out, for old times’ sake. No — too risky.

“Dinner? This time next week?” She took him by surprise.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He couldn’t read her subtext. He’d make a fool of himself. People like him didn’t go on dates. “My head’s full of all this.” He gestured to the rise and fall of conversation in the living-room.

He thought he saw a look of disappointment but it turned into a brisk smile. “I admire what you did for your dad.”

Stuart shrugged. “It had to be done.”

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