She missed him of
course.
Jack.
His presence in the
house.
The structure that
his comings and goings imposed upon her day.
But she couldn't
say she wanted him back.
And as she moved
around the house now she still heard his voice – niggling at her,
correcting her, undermining her.
- What've you done that for?
- Why do you do it like that?
- It'd be better to wash the inside
of the windows on the Thursday then when the cleaners come on the
Friday you'll notice the difference, won't you.
- It'd be better, do you not think,
to wash the kitchen floor last thing at night rather than now, just
before you're going to start cooking.
- I wish you'd think a bit,
sweetheart. If you used your brain a little you wouldn't be so
tired all the time, would you.
It was a Saturday
when he had sat in front of the television while she ironed, steam
hissing from her iron.
He turned up the
volume.
- Sweetheart, do you have to do that
in here? It's steaming the place up. Look at the windows. All
that condensation. It'll rot the frames. It's not great, y'know.
It's not like we're made of money to be able to buy uPVC, is it.
It's me that'll have to fix it, isn't it. At the end of the day. It'd be better if you did the ironing up in the spare room, wouldn't
it. You could have the window open, couldn't you.
- But I like to watch the telly
while I'm doing it.
- Well, you could take the portable
in from the bedroom, couldn't you, love. Take it in and put it on
the chest of drawers and you can watch what you want then, can't
you.
- But I like watching with you,
Jack.
- Well yes, but we don't really like
the same things, do we. You're not that interested in football, are
you. Be honest.
- I don't mind.
- And I can't stand that crap you
watch. Don't Tell Them About The Dress or whatever it is. So it'd
suit us both really, wouldn't it. I tell you what, at the break
I'll nip up and put the portable in the spare room for you. I'll
plug it in there, shall I. And you can go and take the ironing
board up there and do the ironing in the spare room, can't you, and
watch what you like then. I'll do that for you, shall I. Ok? You
can watch what you like then.
The heart attack
was only to be expected, the doctor said.
- But he was only fifty four.
But considering his
family history, his passive life style, his poor diet, the doctor
said.
- I always served him veg, she said.
He just never ate any.
- Will you be all right, Mrs
McKinnon? The sister asked as she led her out of the family room.
- I'll be fine.
- Is there anyone I can call for
you?
- No, you're all right, I'll be
fine.
- Sure? Sister? Children?
Neighbour, perhaps?
- No, honestly. I'll be fine.
It was 8.00am when
she left the hospital.
They wanted to call
a taxi for her but she said she'd prefer to walk.
The May sunshine
streamed through the trees as she walked down Canal Street and out
into the park. A light green flush haloed the birches and tinged the
air. She went and sat on the bench by the pond.
- What now?
She felt a tightening in her throat.
A few ducks swam
lazily towards her and then away again as they realised she had
nothing for them.
- Nothing today, ducks, she said.
Nothing today.
- You'd better get home, he said.
It's nearly nine. What're you thinking? You should be home by now,
do you not think? It'd be better if you went home now, love, and
sorted things out. You know.
She stood up and
picked her bag up from the bench. She'd better get home.
A cockerpoo came
snuffling around the feet of the bench where she'd been sitting.
Then it scented her and came over, muddy feet up on her leg as she
stood there. She found she didn't mind.
- Hello, she said. You're a
friendly thing.
The dog pushed its
snout under the edge of her skirt. She pushed it down then sat back
on the bench and started to pet the animal.
- Douglas Fairbanks? Douglas
Fairbanks!
A man in his late
forties was striding quickly towards them, empty lead in hand.
- Oh, I'm so sorry, he said. Has he
been bothering you?
He bent and clipped
the lead onto the dog's collar.
- D'you really call him Douglas
Fairbanks?
- Haha! It was my late wife's idea.
She loved Douglas Fairbanks. Well, in truth she loved Douglas
Fairbanks Junior, but that seemed too much of a mouthful. Haha! Do
you mind if I...?
- Be my guest, she said.
- Alec, he said.
- Tess, she said.
She looked at his
trousers as he sat down. Sharp creases.
Clean shoes despite
the Spring mud in the park.
She listened to his
crisp, modulating voice as he spoke.
Saw the tidily
manicured nails.
Noted the gold
wristwatch, the heavy wedding ring which he still wore.
On the fifth of
June, he took her to the City Hall. A tea dance. Saturday
afternoon. They drank milky tea. They danced. He led. She
followed.
On Monday, she sent
Jack's clothes to the Mind Shop. She found she didn't.
On the seventeenth
of July, while they were watching the special matinee showing of Gone
With The Wind at the Great American Picture House on Bentall
Street, he reached across the popcorn and took her hand. She noticed
he wasn't wearing his ring any more.
She found she gave
a damn.
August Bank Holiday
and they made love in the afternoon in a small pension he'd
found online on the Left Bank of the Seine. She'd never been to
Paris before. She loved Paris.
- Can
we come again, she said, as he held her.
His
hand moved slowly over her belly, still glistening from their love-making. It slid up her body to cover her breast. She felt an unfamiliar tingling in her nipple.
She
loved him.
- It's
a bit soon, isn't it? Dad's barely cold.
- Your
father was cold before ever he died.
Anthea
took the plates from the drainer, dried them and stacked them on the
counter.
- Well
as long as you know what you're doing, Mum.
- I
know what I'm doing, love. I know what I'm doing.
On
the first of December, he moved in.
Douglas
Fairbanks hid under the dining room table while they went upstairs.
She
sat on the bed and watched Alec unpack his suitcase.
He
placed his socks in Jack's sock drawer.
He
unfolded his shirts and hung them on hangers on Jack's side of the
wardrobe. Next to her dresses and the white blouses she used to wear
to the office.
His
shoes – eight pairs, she counted – he arranged on a shoe rack he
had brought with him.
- Thank
you, she said.
- My
darling, what for?
- Just...
thank you. I love you.
- And
I love you too.
- Do
you?
- With
all my heart. I never thought I could love again. You have proven
me wrong.
- You
make me feel like a teenager, she said. Except that when I was
a teenager I had spots and big
crooked front teeth and glasses.
- My
darling, you are beautiful in my eyes.
- Thank
you.
She
felt herself flush.
He
paused for a moment.
- Dearest?
- Yes?
- Don't
you think it would be better if the head of the bed was against the
other wall? Then when the sun rises it wouldn't be so directly in
our faces.
- Hm...
maybe... she said.
