As the Clock Struck Ten

by Gill Mather

  He put his head down as he walked past the Indian restaurant on the way to his car, sadly mulling over the last six months as he often did. He didn't expect that he'd ever find such delight in life again as he had last summer. It had been magical. He would have to savour it for all that it was worth. Which was everything.

  GRACE AND LUKE WERE seated having given their orders. They were dipping popadums into little brass pots of exquisite chutneys and raita and making a start on their wine and beer. Luke faced the street. Grace was facing into the back of the restaurant. She was staying in a city centre hotel and therefore didn't need to bother about drink-driving. Luke would walk her back after showing her the lit up Guildhall and All Saints Church. He had painted and drawn them both and had shown the works to her. Grace thought they were superb. He would then walk back to the campus. It was only a mile or so away and he was used enough to walking about from all the trudging along the roads of Essex. He might, he said, go clubbing later with his new-found friends.

  "So you're enjoying it here then."

  "Oh yeah. It's great. Tons to do. I'm loving the course as you know. It couldn't be better."

  She wanted to ask if he'd found another girlfriend but didn't. He'd tell her if he wanted to. But she couldn't resist asking:

  "So have you seen anything of Emma?"

  "Well we’ve run into each other a few times. It’d be hard not to. But no we haven't met up at all.”

  His lovely dark eyes looked sad. Whatever Don had imagined, she knew Luke to be sensitive and caring. It was quite likely that it was Emma who had decided to call it a day and not Luke. That if anyone had had their heart broken, it would be Luke, if only just a little bit; that the painting could be of him and Emma just as much as anyone else, though who might be pursuing Luke, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps his own demons but she hoped not. He was always so calm and seemingly in control. She didn’t like to think of him having demons nipping at his heels.

  He then said the same as she herself felt. That the summer had been magical looking back on it. Sometimes, he said, you can be too happy. Especially with a Lord of Misrule like his father lurking in the background. He had looked up at that point and frowned. For a second he had gone very still looking apparently at the street outside. Then he had shrugged just perceptibly, shaken his head and turned his attention back to the meal. Their main course was being brought to the table and they started pushing glasses etc aside.

  "What was it Luke?" Grace asked him as the waiter walked away.

  "Oh. Nothing. I just thought for a moment….But it was nothing."

  BACK IN HER STUDIO flat late on Sunday evening, Grace was forced to confront her future. She had two failed relationships behind her and no inclination whatsoever to find anyone else. Her confidence was at an all-time low. She knew of course that she was physically attractive, but she must have some flaw that prevented her from forming a successful long-term relationship. Her marriage to Greg had lasted a long time but it had hardly been what you could call successful. Perhaps she subconsciously fell in with men who were bound to sooner or later cause her anguish in some way or other.

  She had hoped to be asked to go and stay with Ryan and Cheryl to help out when the baby came but nothing had been said. Without Don she didn't want to go to church. She had no garden to work on. No other hobbies. She didn't want to go to the horticultural club any longer which had helped Don to find her. Her brother and sister-in-law had grandchildren on whom they lavished all their spare attention and they wouldn't want her turning up like a wet blanket to spoil the fun. She’d already trespassed on them once this year. They’d be bound to think that was quite enough.

  She had dabbled in painting and drawing herself in the past and decided to try and sign up for a life drawing class. Or something.

  So this was to be her life. Directionless, finding things to do for the sake of it, being alone.

  020 The Family

  GRACE WAS WRAPPING up for the day. She glanced out of the office window and it was nearly dark. The traffic passing in the street below had their lights on; the street lights were on too. It was almost the end of October and British Summer Time, so called, had ended last weekend. Until everything had abruptly ended in late August, it had been a wonderful summer. She thought about it all the time. Really it was all that kept her going and landing in the same sort of pit Don must have fallen into.

  As she shut down her PC, tidied the papers away on her desk and took up her bag, she felt her `phone vibrating from inside the bag. She was trying to revive some sort of social life, contacting old friends who’d stayed away for years because they found Greg so off-putting. Perhaps it was one of them, but pulling the `phone out she saw it was Don’s number. She nearly dropped it in surprise, steadied her hand which had started to shake alarmingly and pressed to connect.

  “Hello Don?”

  “Grace. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

  “Is it?”

  “Can I see you Grace? I’m in town. Would you meet me somewhere?”

  He sounded fairly abrupt to Grace. She wasn't at all sure whether she should. He might have grown even weirder since she’d left. Maybe he’d thought up various reasons why it was all her fault which he wanted to try to saddle her with. Or conversely he might be nice and just wanted to meet and say goodbye properly. It would surely break her heart if he did that. And just seeing him might revive old hopes best left buried now that she’d had a chance to ration and trim her expectations to a life as a single person.

  “Could we discuss it on the phone?” said Grace.

  “No. I’d like to speak to you properly.”

  She supposed it couldn't do that much harm if she tried to forearm herself by resolving not to let herself be upset.

  “All right then. Where?”

  DON SAT THERE steeling himself. He had almost chickened out and not `phoned Grace at all and when he did, he'd had to blurt out the invitation quickly in case he found he couldn't say the words. He had no idea if she'd accept. She had every reason to refuse and at first it looked as though she was going to. And had he received a second refusal, that would have been it. He'd have left the pub, his glass still half full and slunk off back to Mayfield Cottages. It didn’t feel much like home any more and he'd started to refer to it in his mind in the third person as it were.

  He sat gulping his glass of house red. He'd drunk almost no alcohol since that awful visit by the police and now the wine was going to his head almost immediately. He'd needed the dutch courage to call her but he stopped quickly and put the glass down. He didn’t want to have slurred speech when he greeted her. She'd think he'd turned into a drunk. He found he was shaking. The pub was hardly any distance from her office. She'd be here any second. He clasped his hands together to steady them.

  "Hello," said a voice from behind him suddenly and he turned with a start, guiltily like a thief. He tried to pull himself together.

  "I came in the other door," said Grace. "Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you."

  "Don’t worry about it."

  "No it's my fault. I should have thought."

  "No, really. Oh dear. Where are my manners," Don said getting up out of his chair. "What can I get you?"

  She named a variety of ginger beer she knew the pub sold and sat down. Don walked off to the bar, trying to make sure his bearing was upright and that the soles and heels of his shoes didn’t make continuous contact with the floor. He'd smartened himself up, been for a hair cut, shaved off the beard, bought some new clothes. Though that of course had been some weeks ago. His chin and upper lip were no longer pale as they had been after he first shaved. He'd actually been quite busy and he had some news for her.

  "You look a lot better," said Grace when he placed her drink in front of her.

  "Well you of course look as lovely as ever. How've you been keeping? Where are you living? I mean, I don’t mean where exactly but I hope you're living somewhere nice anyway."

  "I'm getting by."

  "G
ood." He nodded. "Grace, I wanted to apologize to you for the way I behaved. I don’t know what got into me. It was unforgivable, but I hope you can forgive me in time. I really am sorry for the things I said."

  Grace nodded. "I expect you are."

  "Well, I wanted to tell you something so I might as well get on with it. I've been decorating the house. In earnest actually. I put it on the market a week ago and it's already been snapped up. I've decided to make a complete break and I'm buying a house in Northampton."

  So, thought Grace, I was right. The goodbye can't be far off.

  "Well good," she said non-committally.

  "Emma's enthusiastic. Mayfield Cottages doesn’t feel like a home any more after those men sat in the sitting room and effectively turned the universe inside out." He gave a small laugh. "I keep worrying that just by being in that room that I'll somehow enter a timewarp and never get out of it. Well it feels like that."

  Warming to his subject he went on not noticing that Grace had gone very still. "I've found a town house not far from the uni. It's quite big. Emma can have her own space and be completely independent. And property is so much cheaper there than in Essex. It's empty now. The old couple who own it can't manage the stairs any more. It just needs a bit of tarting up but I'm in decorating mode at the moment. And of course it doesn’t matter where I am really for my work."

  "OK," said Grace, her head down. The drink cradled in her hands wasn’t that interesting but she concentrated on the bubbles rising to the surface waiting for Don to deliver his adieu as now seemed inevitably. He obviously assumed that she'd lived away from him for two months and was OK with it.

  "Grace. Look at me," Don said. "Grace what's the matter?"

  "Nothing really, I'm all right," she said trying to blink away the tears clouding her vision.

  "Grace, please. Oh Grace!" He stretched across the table and took one of her hands away from her glass. "I hardly dared to hope that you might agree. I very nearly just left it and moved without telling you. I’ve no right at all to even hope that you might say yes. But Grace. Do you think there's any possibility that you might want to come and live with me again and move to Northampton?"

  Grace sniffed and looked up. "Sorry? What did you say?"

  "Come and live with me again? It doesn’t have to be in Northampton. Anywhere you like except I do want to sell Mayfield Cottages. If it's Northampton, we could do the house up together, make it just as you’d like it to be. Luke can come and live there too if he wants. There's lots of room. I still love you just as much as ever. I'm just so sorry for hurting you. Grace?" He pushed her hair back and saw that she was trying to smile.

  "I've missed you so much," she said. "I don’t care where we live."

  THE GOLDEN BROWN turkey had been out of the oven resting for twenty minutes. The sprouts were cooked, the carrots, the glazed parsnips and the roast potatoes, the chestnut and sausagemeat stuffing was ready in a warmed bowl with the Yorkshires crisp and risen in amongst it. The table was laid, looking sparkling with cutlery and glassware. The crackers were lined up next to the place settings ready for action. It was late for lunch, getting on for four in the afternoon, but they’d all been to midnight mass nearby the night before and to a pub along the road at midday.

  The dining room at the back of the first floor of the house looked out over the green grass of the Northampton Racecourse but there were few walkers today.

  Don, Grace, Emma and Luke sat down for their first Christmas dinner together. Luke asked to carve the turkey. He’d never done it before, his dad had always insisted. Emma passed the veg and the gravy boat round. Don lit the candles and turned the lighting down.

  “Hang on,” said Grace, “we haven't pulled the crackers.” And so they did.

  “Thanks again for letting me stay here over Christmas,” said Luke.

  “We’re delighted to have you,” said Don.

  “I’m not sure where else you’d have gone anyway,” said Grace.

  “A good question,” said Luke. “Not to dad’s for sure. And by the way, I didn't get a chance to tell you before as we’ve all been in and out a lot, but dad’s living with Alex again believe it or not.”

  “You mean, they’re….?” asked Emma.

  “It definitely looks like it this time. Ryan told me. I suppose they’ll make a good pair with their various machinations. But it’ll put me off my dinner if I think about it any more.”

  “Well,” said Grace, “I suppose the various versions of coupledom are limitless. But to change the subject, how do you like your room down in the basement?”

  “Very nice indeed. You must’ve worked really hard.”

  “You’re welcome to take it if you want it to live in,” said Don.

  “That’s very kind, but I’m actually really enjoying it in the Halls at the moment. And I had to sign up for the whole year. I’d seriously consider it next year though if the offer’s still open.”

  “Well come and stay when you like,” said Don.

  Grace stood up. “Oh, I forgot,” she said. “I want to propose a toast to the future.” They all stood up, paper hats at rakish angles, and raised and clinked their glasses.

  “To the future,” they chorused.”

  “Now I propose one,” said Emma, happy to have witnessed the big smiles back on her father's and Grace's faces since the beginning of the Christmas break. “To us, a family.”

  “To us, a family!”

  THE END