Page 35 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

* * *

The next morning, Stuart’s card had appeared on William’s sideboard alongside a huge one from Andrea, which proclaimed:Best Dad in the World. There was also a new pot plant with shiny green leaves. Stuart withered inside when William charged him with the responsibility of keeping it alive.

“Well, I can’t get over there with a jug of water, can I? Andrea’s particular; if she turns up and it’s not in tip-top condition, I’ll get it in the neck. She doesn’t make allowances.” Then the old man passed a giant unopened box of Belgian chocolates to Stuart. “My daughter is one for big gestures done very infrequently, without thinking what’s actually wanted. It’s all about how they makeherfeel. But she should’ve known better about the chocolates. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” The old man patted his thighs. “Especially when you’re bedridden. Give them to your lodger. She’ll burn the calories off in no time with all that singing and dancing. Wouldn’t it be grand to go and watch her one day? Aren’t you tempted?”

Stuart shook his head. He didn’t have the nerve to go alone and he couldn’t imagine Jayne in the working men’s clubs where Double Berry Black played. “Aside from the chocolates, how was your birthday?”

The old man shrugged. “As expected. The grub was good. The conversation less so. I tried to get the leftovers for you but she was in a bit of a mood and whisked everything away with her.” William didn’t mention the argument and Stuart couldn’t ask without admitting he’d eavesdropped.

On the way home Stuart had a clever idea. He would use the chocolates to bribe Florence to take notice of current events and politics. Each time she listened to the whole oftheWorld at Oneon Radio 4, she would earn a chocolate. If she could verbally summarise the main points to him afterwards, she would get another.

“Don’t treat me like a child. Or even worse, a dog. I haven’t done book learning like you, but I’m not stupid,” she said when he explained his bright new scheme. “This is like putting a star chart on the kitchen wall or making me go on my hind legs and beg.” Then she stomped upstairs.

Put so bluntly, Stuart realised immediately that the bright idea had, in fact, been condescending. He tried to apologise but Florence wouldn’t come out of her bedroom. “Now you really are being childish,” he shouted through the barrier of the door and then abandoned her to go cycling.

The fresh air, hills and physical challenge improved his mood. And put things in perspective. Florence was his lodger, not hisprotégée. Not his responsibility. She was a temporary blip and would be gone in a matter of months. It didn’t matter whether she did or did not engage with politics or the world around her. For the next nine months they could co-exist with their different outlooks on the world.

She met him in the hallway when he got back. “I’ll do it. If you do it too.”

He smiled at her.

Florence’s expression was guarded. “This is simply an extension of our previous agreement about the dancing and the electoral roll. Neither of us is to become a performing animal, rewarded with titbits for bending to the other’s will.”

Later, Florence’s music went back on and Stuart earned a chocolate for improved coordination in his movements to ‘YMCA’.

“You have one, too.” He offered her the open box.

“I haven’t listened to the news.”

“I don’t like eating chocolate alone.”

She chose a truffle dusted in cocoa powder. “That’s good because I don’t like watching you eat chocolate alone.”

Stuart smiled as a liquid cherry filling spilled over his tongue. Florence grinned back as she licked cocoa from her fingers. Stuart tried to ignore how her unconsciously sensual action made him feel.

* * *

Excuses for avoiding the speakers’ club meeting floated in Stuart’s mind.

He asked Jayne what she thought he should do.

“Tell him you’re sick or you’ve got to put an extra shift in at work. Or just tell him the truth. It’s silly pushing yourself out of your comfort zone when we could have a very comfortable evening at home together.”

But he’d spent over two decades of evenings at home.

Do it! You know you want to.

Sandra was right again. Even though the prospect was giving him the heebie-jeebies, he did want to give it a go. And he didn’t want to let John down.

“You’re mad,” Jayne said when he told her his decision. “At our time of life we should be taking it easy, not searching out new challenges.”

John welcomed him into the back room of the Red Lion and introduced him to a dozen people. Their names got lost in the fog of Stuart’s nerves.

The first half of the meeting had Stuart in awe. There were three amazing speeches about beekeeping, morning routines and guide dogs for the blind. These were followed by feedback, which was heavy on praise but also gave points to work on for the future. There would be no future meetings for Stuart — he could never match up to those who had stood at the front of the room and just talked.

During the interval, Stuart was grabbed by someone called the Topics Chair. Apparently as a visitor to the club, Stuart could choose his own subject, from a given list, for the impromptu part of the evening, rather than having it thrust upon him fifteen seconds before taking the stage.

“I’ll give it a miss,” Stuart said. “I’m only here to watch.”

---