Page 29 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“Don’t leave it too long. Like everything, it’s a case of use it or lose it.”

Stuart shuddered. Any hope of success was probably already lost.

Florence unlocked the front door and he followed with her bags. Even through his rose-tinted glasses, her purple bottom had lost its lively wiggle. The zebra fake fur was flattened and the red boots hampered her walk more than usual. She wore the same clothes she’d set off in but the overall impression was subdued rather than energetic. She unzipped the boots in the hallway, did her customary stretch, wriggle and massage of her toes and then slumped at the kitchen table. Something was wrong.

“How was the visit?” He put a mug of mule-kick coffee in front of her.

“No biscuits?”

He produced chocolate digestives from the place he’d hidden them at her request. She ate two before answering.

“Shayne and Eunice were in dirty clothes and the beds stank. It took me four loads of washing to change all the sheets, freshen the towels and make sure they each had a wardrobe of clean clothes. Shirley just sat and watched me as though I was mad. She was on a different planet to the rest of us. The kids had become shadows of their former selves, thin as rakes and too scared to say boo to a goose. The only food in the house was junk. Shayne asked me if I could leave him some cash so they could at least buy bread and milk after I’d gone. He said he’d hide it under his mattress to make sure his mother didn’t get her hands on it.”

Florence paused, both hands wrapped around her coffee mug as though trying to extract every last bit of comfort from its warmth. “I’m sure she’s taking drugs again. She’d stayed clean since the kids were born. But she hasn’t coped well since their father left.”

“Drugs?” Drugs happened in an alien world of needles, white powder and squats on TV.

Florence nodded. “Sometimes when I was there, her pupils were huge and she’d get irritable at the slightest thing. Me being there was the biggest irritation because I wanted to know where she was going and what she was doing. We argued all the time. She accused me of being controlling and I accused her of child neglect.” She blew her nose. “And, of course, the kids heard it all.”

Stuart was upset on Florence’s behalf. He wanted her happy shine back to match the novelty of his own good feelings. Her boundless energy had irritated him but it was far better than this.

“Did you report her? Aren’t the children in danger?”

“How could I report my own daughter?” Florence’s expression became hard and her voice snappy. “You can never understand because you don’t have children. A mother does everything she can to protect her children. I failed to protect Shirley from drugs but I’m not going to let her be prosecuted and get a criminal record that will stop her getting a job and making a better life for my grandchildren.” The words tumbled out as an aggressive rant.

“Sorry, I didn’t think.” Stuart offered another biscuit. She pushed the packet away and started pacing up and down the kitchen.

“So what happens now?” He spoke gently, trying to bring down her frustration and anger.

“She promised me she’d quit. She promised me she’d stop using the children’s maintenance payments for drugs and look after the kiddies properly instead.” There was a long pause and Florence stopped walking. “I don’t know if I can trust her. Before I left, Eunice gave me a big hug and whispered, ‘Don’t leave us here, Grandma. Take us home with you or take us to Daddy’s.’ It broke my heart.”

“Can you contact the children’s father?”

“That would be betraying Shirley. I don’t know what to do.”

Her face was a picture of pain and without any forethought Stuart stood up and hugged his lodger.

As he let her go, she looked as shocked at his out-of-character action as he felt. “I needed that,” she whispered. “Can you do it again?”

This time a sparky feeling travelled along his arms and into the very core of his being. Now his whole body was warm and tingling. Florence’s expression, as they pulled away from each other, was one of wide-eyed amazement. He was sure she’d felt the exact same thing. Then she clutched him tightly, as though he were a lifebelt in a stormy sea and about to be dragged from her by a giant wave. They stood together for a few minutes. As Florence’s emotional tension eased, Stuart relished the feeling of bringing comfort to this bright new person in his life. They’d known each other only a short time but Stuart was going to do his best to support her.

“I’ll run you a hot bath,” he said. “And how does spaghetti bolognaise sound for tea?”

She gave him a small smile. “Both those things sound lovely. And I’m sorry for dumping my troubles at your door. Especially when Jayne had you soaring so high.”

He left Florence in a bathroom full of steam and the scent of bergamot. Before cooking, he had to make his late-afternoon visit to William. When he arrived, the old man put down the newspaper crossword.

“There’s something different about you,” he said.

“Different from earlier?” Stuart had been grateful that William had made none of his usual outspoken comments during his breakfast and lunchtime visits that day. William had been subdued, complaining that he’d slept badly and didn’t want conversation. Stuart had gratefully retreated into a mental replay of the best bits of the previous evening with Jayne.

“You seem more alive. Brighter. More a part of the world than skulking timidly in your shell.”

“I feel that way too.” He felt sad for Florence but buoyed by the way she’d accepted his support.

“So what’s happened?”

“Florence came back.” Stuart paused. “And I saw Jayne again last night. It went well. Very well, in fact.”

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