Page 34 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

At the hospital, a doctor confirmed Lillian’s self-diagnosis and sent her home with strict instructions to rest and to double-check her calendar before leaving the house.

After Lillian had gone to lie down, Jayne made a cup of tea and sat opposite Stuart at the kitchen table. “Yesterday, when I saw you dancing with Florence . . . You were smiling . . . in a different way to how you smile with me. I don’t have her glamour and there’s Mum to think about and . . . well, if there’s no future between us, I’d like you to tell me now . . . because I thought we . . .”

Stuart’s heart tightened at the vulnerability in his girlfriend’s expression. “Oh, Jayne! Florence and I are OK as landlord and lodger, but that’s all.” Landlord and lodger — words that were devoid of emotional connotation, but when he pictured himself and Florence dancing, they didn’t fit. Confused Stuart pushed the thought away, took Jayne’s hand and brought her up to a standing position. “It’s you and I who have the connection. Florence doesn’t come into it. It’s us that have the shared past, the shared present and enough in common to create a shared future.”

Her eyes lost some of their fear and she hugged him tightly.

Before he left, Stuart made a notice for each of Lillian’s two external doors. In bold block capitals he printed:BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE, CHECK THE CALENDAR. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

“That is a genius idea.” Jayne held him close again.

Stuart kissed her slowly. Helping people made you feel that you belonged to the real world. And when you loved someone, what else could you do but help?

Chapter Nineteen

Stuart shouldn’t have forgotten William’s birthday within twenty-four hours of being told. That morning, there’d been no birthday cards at the house. Andrea would bring one but the old man never spoke of anyone else. William deserved better. Leaving Jayne to fuss over Lillian, Stuart bought a card from the corner shop, removed the price, signed his name and drove round to push it through the letterbox. The old man would still be enjoying afternoon tea with his daughter and she’d fetch it off the doormat for him.

He didn’t want to be a distraction from the long-awaited visit so he parked some distance from the house. The two of them should be in the back room and wouldn’t see him but, just in case, he took what cover he could from parked cars and overhanging hedges. He’d never have cut the mustard as a plain-clothes detective tailing a suspect.

William’s gold-coloured letterbox was stiff. Stuart prised it open, wary that it might snap shut and deliver part of his forefinger along with the birthday card. His envelope landed on the mat with a faint splat. He caught a low undercurrent of conversation.

“Dad! You can’t be serious.” The sudden raised voice of a woman.

Indecipherable, quieter words, which must be William.

“This is definitely NOT what Mum would want!”

Stuart gently lowered the gold flap and left. If William wanted Stuart to know about the argument, he’d tell him in his own good time.

On his way home he called at the library. Since Eric’s death, his visits here had got longer and more leisurely. Today, there was a man pinning something on the noticeboard.

“Mr Borefield! Geography.”

Stuart focused on the man’s face and slowly a GCSE group from thirty years earlier presented itself. “John Harrison?”

The man beamed. “You remembered me.”

They shook hands and John pointed at the notice he’d just pinned up. “I’m the new president of the public speakers’ club and we’re recruiting. How do you fancy it? Being a teacher, you’d be a natural.”

“No.” Stuart stepped away. He had no wish to ridicule himself in front of an audience. Then he realised he ought to soften the blow. “I don’t speak in public. I haven’t taught in years.”

“At least give it a try?” John looked over his shoulder, as if to check no one else was listening. “To be honest I need to grow the club for the sake of my CV. I’ve been made redundant and I’m hoping that making the club a success will help me stand out to employers.”

The thought of addressing an audience made Stuart feel clammy. He didn’t need to put himself through it. He had to focus on that bright new future, not things that were going to sap his self-worth. But he felt a kinship with John and his unemployment. “What happens at the speakers’ club?”

John told him about prepared speeches, impromptu talks and learning to evaluate the speeches of others.

“We’re friendly and all feedback is constructive.”

Still it sent fear to Stuart’s core.

“The confidence created by public speaking will creep into all areas of your life. Honestly — it’s life-changing. We meet in a room at the Red Lion if you fancy a pint during the proceedings.”

Bright new future, bro! Bright new future! This could be part of your toolkit for moving forward.

Stammering and blushing in front of an audience didn’t equate to a bright new future. But Sandra’s insistent voice wouldn’t be pushed from his head and he couldn’t crush the optimism on John’s face.

“All right, I’ll come but just the once.” Saying yes was easier than saying no and having to argue with his sister.

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