Page 95 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“And as they get settled and a bit older?” Stuart barely knew what he was saying. Florence’s eyes wouldn’t leave his.

“It will be a game of wait and see.”

He nodded.

“I like you, Stuart. I’d even go as far as to say I love you.”

A grin broke over his face. It reflected foolishly back at him from the window against Florence’s back. He wanted to leap on the table and shout what she’d just said. But he was Stuart Borefield and he didn’t do things like that. Instead, he leaned over the table and kissed her full on the lips. Slowly. There was the sound of clapping and they pulled sheepishly apart. Three teenagers in the coffee queue gave them a thumbs-up sign.

“I love you too.” He touched her face. “You have made me so happy.”

“Why?”

“I thought I’d imagined it all. I thought it was wishful thinking. I thought the years alone with Dad meant I’d lost the ability to read other people.”

“Slow down! I’m not ready for a relationship. Not with you, not with anyone. And you’ve got a lot of living to do before settling down. Bright new future, remember?” She leaned over the table and stroked his cheek. “We might never be ready for each other. At least, not at the same time. For now we are both free agents. Open to whatever experiences and people come our way — be it a Dutch girl at the Eiffel Tower or a reconciliation with Jim.”

She was pulling on the brakes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. She loved him. He hadn’t misread the situation. Perhaps she would still love him when he came back.

Florence looked at her watch. “I have to go. School run.”

He took a breath. It was the final scene in a movie. He wrapped the uneaten cakes in a serviette, handed it to Florence and tried to speak in a normal voice. “For Eunice and Shayne from Uncle Stuart.”

He walked her to her car and waved her off. Then he found a bench on which to compose himself before his next appointment.

“I only have ten minutes.” The solicitor looked at his watch. “What was your question? Mr Rutherford’s will was quite straightforward, there were no grey areas.”

“My bequest was . . . unexpected. I’m not family. Before I accept it, I want to be sure that his daughter Andrea is well provided for and that no one else was missed out.” Stuart’s heart thumped. This was the first time he’d had a sizeable chunk of money to call his own. He glanced down and saw his hands were shaking.

The solicitor was examining a sheet of paper in front of him. “The money left to you represented one tenth of the total estate and the rest of the estate went to his daughter, Andrea.”

Stuart let out a low whistle. He’d never imagined William had been sitting on such a fortune. “Thank you, that’s all I needed to know.”

The March sunshine had broken through when he got outside and there was a rainbow arching over the office block at the end of the street. Stuart felt a sudden rush of wellbeing in his heart. Everything was going to work out all right. He grinned at the multicoloured arch and mouthed a silent thank you. His future held just the right degree of brightness.

Chapter Forty-Five

The house-clearance team had been in the week before the buyers completed on the house. Everything went bar a camp bed, the cooker, fridge and a rickety table from the shed. Stuart lived like an upmarket squatter for those last few days while he made the final preparations for his trip.

Mike had been round to collect Mavis’s bike. Apparently his daughter had persuaded him to try internet dating and he’d met a lady who’d expressed a wish to have a go at cycling. He’d also offered to store Stuart’s bike until his return.

William’s money had been invested as a nest egg for whenever that return might be. He’d emptied his savings account to buy the initial flights. He’d sold the car to cover expenditure on the first leg of the trip. Veronica’s contacts in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Florida had been happy to promise temporary work in their care homes, subject to a couple of weeks’ notice about his arrival.

TheGap Yearbook was well-thumbed and annotated. A brand new and extremely large rucksack was packed and tablet purchased, as it was more travel-friendly than lugging a laptop about.

He was dumping yet more accumulated rubbish in the wheelie bin when he heard his name.

“Stuart!” It was a loud stage whisper from the open lounge window of next door. Lillian beckoned him over. “I wanted you to know. You made the right decision. Jayne doesn’t see it exactly that way at the moment. But she is interviewing for a private carer — she’s finally realised she can’t do it all alone. So that’s progress.”

Stuart opened his mouth to speak but Lillian silenced him. “I need to finish before I forget the words and wonder why your head is leaning inside my window. I want you to have this.” She handed him a slip of dark brown paper with gold lettering. “It’s the menu from that posh, free box of chocolates we got for Jayne. Always remember me as FUN. Not as the dribbling moron I will have become by the time you return.”

There was a lump in his throat. He kissed her papery cheek. Then she pushed him away as Jayne’s voice called from the hall. The menu still smelled of chocolate. He remembered the mugs of rich, sweet liquid and the joy mixed with triumph on Lillian’s face as they’d sipped them. The folded paper went in an inner pocket of his rucksack.

Robert, George, Cindy and Theresa arrived early on completion day, having used the hotel bookings originally made for the wedding. Robert had been put out when told his services as best man would no longer be needed. He’d muttered something about suits and dresses having already been purchased and that Borefield men didn’t jilt women at the altar. The words had slid over Stuart like scrambled eggs on Teflon; after the hash he’d made of his life, he was past caring.

Robert marched into the hall with an envelope in his hand. “Some woman was about to post this through the letterbox. I saved her the trouble.”

The handwriting matched the note in the book that had become his bible. Stuart’s heart hammered and his hands trembled as he attempted to open the envelope. He turned to face the wall, in an attempt to get some privacy from his brothers and sisters-in-law who were marching around the echoing, empty house checking for any family heirlooms that might have been forgotten.

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