Page 67 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“No.” Jayne spoke sharply to the cat and then draped herself over Stuart’s lap. She looked up at him. “Sometimes you’ve got to be cruel to be kind. Don’t let that animal get attached to you. It will make taking it to the rescue centre more difficult.”

“I was thinking . . .” He’d been doing internet research and had discovered some people with dementia showed decreased levels of anxiety and agitation when they had an animal to care for. Stuart was sure Lillian would benefit.

“I’ve been thinking too,” Jayne interrupted. “I know you want to sit out your last five months here to avoid giving George and Robert an easy ride. But that’s cutting off your nose to spite your face. Life will be so much easier if you move in with us now. Mum will have your company for most of the day. I won’t have to crawl out of your bed after two hours to go home. I hate doing that — it makes me feel like a dirty secret. I want to spend the whole night in close physical contact with the man I love. With the only man I have ever properly loved. We could even think about a granny-flat extension on the back of the house, using the money from the sale of my flat. It’s still sitting in the bank. That way we’d have the privacy to be a proper couple — that’s what I really want from our relationship. I hate all this backwards and forwards between different houses. I just want us to be together!”

“Oh.” The depth of Jayne’s feelings for him was obvious and Stuart wasn’t sure he could match it.

“What’s not to like?”

Stuart was pedalling madly around his brain trying to determine why his heart wasn’t full of joy at this idea. There were no concrete reasons against and lots of sensible reasons in favour. He tried to conjure up Sandra for help, but she’d gone AWOL. “It’s a bit sudden.”

“No, it’s not. We’ve talked about it before.” She spoke as though explaining something to a child for the umpteenth time. “Without the aggro of running backwards and forwards between our two houses, I’ll be more relaxed with increased energy for you.” She pushed herself up from her sprawled position and kissed him on the lips. A demanding kiss that wouldn’t be refused. He gave into it and his body remembered why it adored being with Jayne.

Later, when theirVeraslot was almost up, Jayne pulled her clothes back on. “You will phone Robert and George tomorrow, won’t you? And the cat place? And start packing your stuff? Just your personal stuff. There’s no room at ours for all this . . .” She extended her arms to include the general house contents. “Check for anything of value but then let a house-clearance firm deal with the rest. Please do it. For me.”

Stuart made a noncommittal movement of his head, which seemed to satisfy her.

When she’d gone, he sat up late, thinking. He had a future with the girl he’d loved passionately as a teenager; she’d become the woman he was loving again in middle-age. They shared a similar outlook on life. They were good together. She loved him deeply. Most people didn’t get a second chance like this. His bright horizon was within touching distance. At eighteen, Jayne had slipped through his fingers. He shouldn’t let her slip away again.

So why the hesitation, bro?

“I’m not hesitating. I’m thinking. Moving in with Jayne ticks all the boxes.”

Love isn’t a series of tick boxes. It’s an ethereal emotion.

“I know that and I don’t want her to slip away again.”

So?

“So, I’ll work out how to return Tibby and then I’ll move next door.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Stuart overslept and was late for his first visit of the day to William. Unusually, the old man wasn’t sitting up and waiting to be transferred to the commode. Stuart found him still under the quilt, dozing.

“William? Are you OK?”

The old man rolled from his side to his back and opened bleary eyes. “I didn’t sleep. Crisis of conscience. Suddenly had doubts about whether I’m doing the right thing by Andrea. I don’t want to leave this world with regrets.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stuart opened the curtains.

“No.” William blinked in the sunlight.

“It’s a lovely day out there — crisp and autumnal.”

“The seasons carry on, regardless of our own mess. The sun rises. The sun sets. The birds sing.”

“And we get too much rain.”

“Nay, lad. Rain, like the love of a good woman, is essential.” The old man eased himself up into a sitting position. “Talking of good women, have you heard anything from Florence?”

Stuart told him about the concert.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you have the nerve to speak to her?”

William was charging into an area that Stuart didn’t understand himself. Nobody in their right mind was too scared to talk to their ex-lodger. Perhaps he wasn’t actually in his right mind.

“You must be dying for a wee.”

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