The Time is Now

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘There are two bedrooms,’ he said. ‘I thought I'd use the smaller one as a study — computer, magazines, books and so on. A room I can make a mess in.’

  ‘Good idea. D'you want a dining table in here?’

  ‘No. There's a very adequate dining section in the kitchen, and I don't see myself having large, formal dinner parties.’

  ‘So this room is just for relaxing, taking things easy. You'll need a couch, and a chair just for you — perhaps a rocking chair.’

  ‘All in black leather?’ he asked, smiling, and she didn't know if he was teasing her or not.

  ‘Very eighties, black leather furniture. You'll turn the place into a typical bachelor pad and have photographers coming round to see how the young man about town lives.’

  He winced. ‘I'll try corduroy. Or how about a nice floral print and some matching curtains? Something chintzy.’

  ‘You're getting the idea,’ she told him.

  He frowned. ‘Seriously Jane, I do need advice. What kind of curtains? Rugs or carpets? What does colour coordination mean? I just don't know. I've never furnished a place in my life.’

  She felt herself being drawn in. She really wanted to help him, but she knew it was dangerous. She liked this man, but she had to keep some distance between them. And what could be more intimacy-making than choosing furniture together?

  ‘Let's have a look at the rest of the place,’ she said. ‘Then perhaps we — or you — can make a few decisions.’

  The kitchen was marvellous, superbly fitted and gleaming with state-of-the-art equipment. There was a gas hob, an electric fan oven, microwave, mixer, built-in fridge and freezer – even an electric tin-opener. And to one side a very sizeable dining section. The floor was covered with expensive-looking grey stone blocks.

  ‘You could cater a wedding in here,’ she said.

  He looked gloomily at the various items. ‘I don't cook,’ he said. ‘I make sandwiches, buy take-aways, and go to the consultants' dining room. I've no idea what to do with half of this stuff, but it came as a package. I could fill that fridge with tins of beer, but that's about all. Are you going to help me set up home, Jane?’

  ‘When I set up home it'll be with someone I'm married to. And I told you, you're not good marriageable material. But I'll give you a hand here and there. Can we see the bathroom now?’

  The bathroom was also large and luxurious. There was a big corner bath, a power shower, even a bidet. She looked at this approvingly. But the bathroom walls were of bare plaster. She looked at him enquiringly.

  ‘They'll tile here next week, but I've got to choose a colour.’ He took a sample card from the edge of the bath. ‘These are the colours on offer. What do you think?’

  She knew instantly which colour she would choose, but she didn't say. ‘This is going to be your bathroom,’ she said. ‘You must have some idea. What's your favourite colour?’

  ‘I would have said black but after hearing what you said about black leather, I'm changing my mind.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. A black-tiled bathroom would be …’ She shuddered.

  He looked hopelessly at the samples in front of him. ‘Quite frankly, I have no idea. Come on, Jane. I know you picked a colour because I saw you hesitate and smile. Which one is it?’

  At first she didn't answer for she was shocked. She hadn't realised just how perceptive David was, or how easily he could tell what she was thinking. Once again she reminded herself that she would have to be careful with this man. ‘I like this blue,’ she said.

  He took the sample from her, held it against the wall and stood back to look. ‘I've seen women do this in shops,’ he said. ‘I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking for, but it seems all right to me. Blue it shall be.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Don't be persuaded by me.’

  ‘Yes, I'm sure. And who else should persuade me?’

  They went to look at the bedrooms. In the smaller one he wanted to have a folding bed in case he had the occasional guest, but largely it was to be a study, and he knew exactly what he wanted to go in it. The master bedroom was massive, with a walk-in closet for clothes and an abundance of drawer space. Jane thought of her own bedroom, clean enough but always untidy because there just wasn't enough space for all that she owned. This would be like heaven.

  ‘Now I know what luxury is,’ she told him. ‘I'm very happy sharing with my two friends, but it's nothing like this. When do you move in?’

  ‘In about ten days. They have to finish the tiling, check and clean everything, and then it's just a case of signing the final forms. So I need to start thinking about furniture. You will help, won't you?’

  He seemed almost helpless.

  ‘I'll help a bit,’ she said, ‘but it's got to be your flat. It's not mine, and certainly not ours.’

  ‘You sound like a hard woman, Scrub Nurse Cabot, but I think there's kindness in you somewhere.’

  He was stroking his fingers again, she noticed. Was he nervous? She looked at her watch. ‘Time's passing. You'd better be taking me home.’

  It was fully dark when they drew up outside her house, and the rain was falling harder than ever, rattling on the roof of the car and making the interior seem like a little haven of warmth and comfort. Unusually, he didn't get out and walk round to open her door. Instead he sat there, he fingers tapping the leather-covered steering-wheel.

  ‘You've made me realise there's more to buying furniture than just getting a catalogue and ordering stuff,’ he said. ‘You will help me, won't you? Perhaps just with the living room?’

  It didn't seem like too much to ask. ‘All right, I will,’ she said carefully, and then her resistance broke: She giggled. ‘I love spending other people's money.’

  ‘Thanks, Jane. You're good to me.’ He leaned over, put his arm round her shoulders and bent over to kiss her.

  She'd known he would – she'd wanted him to – and it was lovely. When she'd kissed him before, she'd done it deliberately, a hug and a sister-like kiss to show him that they were friends but stop him getting ideas. He'd accepted it with good grace. But now he kissed her and it was so, so different.

  She half lay there in the reclining seat, her hands resting in her lap. His fingers ran down the side of her face, curled round the corner of her lip, teased and tickled the sensitive skin. Then his mouth lowered onto hers. She couldn't help it. Her eyes closed of their own accord. She felt a storm of sensations. There was still the patter of rain on the car roof, suggesting the cold and miserable weather outside. But inside she felt warm, contained, safe. Safe … that was an odd word to use when thinking of David Kershaw. But it was how she felt.

  There were smells – the expensive leather of the car, his musky cologne, even a hint of the warmth of his body. And there was the feel of him … At first his lips were very soft on hers, merely a passing touch, moving on to her cheek, the corners of her closed eyes, and then back to her lips again. This time he was bolder, settling on her, his tongue probing, seeking the inside of her mouth, which had opened without her knowing. She slid her arms round his neck, caressing the crisp curls there, pulling him down to her. For how long they stayed like that she didn't know. All she knew was that she was blissfully happy.

  Then his free hand stroked the side of her neck and a fingertip ran across her throat. She didn't want to move – but she had to. Things had gone far enough.

  ‘I'm going to be late, David. I must go,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘Yes. I have to.’ He moved away, as she'd known he would. She went on, ‘It's choir practice and I swore I wouldn't be late.’

  ‘You don't feel like missing the choir and spending the rest of the evening with me?’

  ‘I might feel like it, but I'm certainly not going to do it. I have to go.’ By now she had some of her composure back and she knew how she had to treat him. ‘I'll see you in Theatre, David.’

  ‘No chance of us going out together in the next
day or two?’

  ‘Honestly, I've got too much on, too much to do.’

  He didn't move so she felt for her door handle. Instantly he was out of his door, opening hers. ‘Don't get too wet,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  She ran into the house and waited behind the door until she heard the roar of his car engine, slowly diminishing. Then she went up to her room. She needed a shower before she went out. And she needed to think of something else. The memory of that kiss was still with her.

  ‘I suppose I'll be safe with you, shopping in Manchester on Saturday morning,’ she said on Thursday afternoon. ‘But we'll have an early start and you've got to get me back in time for the game on Saturday afternoon.’

  He'd asked her if she would come with him to pick furniture, and he thought the big stores in Manchester would be the best place to look. ‘This trip will be strictly business only,’ he said. ‘I want nothing but advice on furniture. You will come half as a mother, half as a sister.’

  ‘As long as I get kissed as a mother or sister. If I get kissed at all, that is.’

  He looked shocked. ‘Some things are not meant to be joked about,’ he told her. ‘I have feelings for you that are most unfatherly and unbrotherly. But I shall promise to do as you ask. Eight o'clock at your house?’

  ‘I'll be ready. Don't forget your cheque book.’

  It was only half an hour's drive to Manchester and Jane enjoyed the ride. David was as prepared as ever, with a map of the central parking spots and a list of stores they should visit. ‘Got them off the Internet,’ he told her. ‘I could have done my shopping there too, but I wanted to feel and touch stuff.’

  They'd had a long discussion, and he'd decided to buy the minimum at first, then move in and see how he felt. ‘Don't even think of buying everything at once,’ she'd told him. ‘You've got to get the feel of a place. Decide what you really need.’

  ‘You're just being a woman. You want more shopping trips than one.’

  He'd meant the remark as a joke, but there was something inside her that acknowledged that there was some truth in the remark. She wanted more time with him, but time when she felt safe.

  The first thing they looked for was a bed. ‘Single or double?’ she asked, then blushed a little. ‘Single, of course. What do you need a —’

  ‘Not only do I want a double bed, I want a king-sized one,’ he interrupted. ‘Not for any reason that you might think. Just that I'm a big man and I like a big bed.’

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘What else could I possibly imagine?’

  ‘And I want a firm mattress.’ She decided not to comment.

  There was to be no headboard as there was an alcove already built into the bedroom, so the bed was quickly selected. ‘What about bedding?’ she asked. ‘Have you decided on a colour scheme yet?’

  ‘Something to match that blue in the bathroom?’ he suggested hopelessly, and Jane realised that this flat was going to be furnished almost entirely according to her ideas.

  They bought a duvet, pillows, sheets, duvet covers, pillow slips, and even a couple of sets of matching towels. All would be delivered shortly, and the builders would accept delivery.

  The kitchen was to be next, so they went to another store. Jane suggested that once again he buy the minimum, and add to what he had when he found what he needed, so they chose just a few pots and pans, some cutlery, and some crockery. Once again they decided on blue as a unifying colour.

  ‘Anyone would think that you'd never set out to build a home before,’ she said. ‘And never thought about what you wanted to live with for the rest of your life.’

  It had been meant as a little joke, but when he didn't reply she turned to look at him, and his normally placid face was bleak.

  ‘I did set out to build a home once,’ he said. ‘I didn’t get very far.’ Then his face brightened. ‘I'm fed up with dreary things like bedrooms and kitchens. Let's do the important bit — the living room.’

  She wanted to ask him about what he'd said. Usually he was careful and thought before he spoke. But that remark had been spontaneous, almost angry. However, she decided that now wasn't the right time to ask. They'd go to a third store and buy the furniture for the living room.

  The builders had given him a sheet with the dimensions of all the rooms and all the windows. Jane suggested they think of curtains first.

  ‘Nothing fancy,’ he said firmly. ‘I don't like swags or pelmets or anything like that. The function of a curtain is to shut out the light, that's all. In fact, do I have to have curtains?’

  ‘You can't have Venetian blinds! You'll think you're still in hospital.’

  ‘But they work.’

  Eventually they decided on wooden roller blinds which would go well with the polished floor and the natural brick.

  ‘Everything so far in that room is very good but plain,’ she told him. ‘Now, we — that is, you — have got to work out a central theme or colour and work out from there.’

  ‘Ah! I should have been reading those women's magazines that tell you how to plan your home. Are you sure you're enjoying this?’

  ‘Of course I am! I'm doing what every woman wants — planning a home from the very beginning, not having to make do with bits of furniture that have to be made to fit in.’

  ‘Well, I'm enjoying it too, but it's a bit of a strain so let's have a break and a coffee. There's a coffee shop on the next floor.’

  ‘Why are you so well off?’ she asked as they sat with a pot of coffee and a most tempting plate of biscuits. ‘You seem to be quite happy to spend money.’

  He shrugged. ‘I guess I've saved much of my salary And I had a … bit of a paying job when I was still a medical student. Apart from my car, I've never spent much. And I get a big rise now I'm a consultant.’ He refilled her cup and grinned. ‘Aren't you enjoying it, spending my money?’

  ‘Well, yes I am I suppose,’ she said cautiously, ‘but I'm trying desperately to please you and not me. This is to be your home.’

  ‘If it pleases you then I'm sure it will please me. I've got every confidence in you, Jane. Now, did I see you pick up a set of colour cards?’

  She was enjoying herself vastly, though she wasn't exactly sure why. Dimly, she realised that by getting her to pick his furniture he was binding her to him in a way she found rather unsettling. ‘Let's go look at couches,’ she said.

  They visited two more stores before finding a great curved couch in a dark red fabric. ‘It's a good masculine colour,’ she told him. ‘Now you need a couple of matching scatter rugs on that wooden floor.’

  Clutching a scrap of material from the couch – a process he found strange – they went to the floor-covering department and found a pair of Persian rugs in a matching shade with a pattern she thought she could stare at for ever. They were expensive – but he paid happily.

  After that things were simpler. They bought a set of bookshelves, a coffee table, and a rocking chair. Then it was time to leave so that she could catch the coach for the away game that afternoon.

  ‘I enjoyed the morning,’ she said, ‘and your flat will look marvellous.’

  ‘Did you feel we were an old married couple?’ he asked with a grin.

  ’No. Certainly not.’

  ‘Well, we certainly haven't done the things that old married couples do. Not yet, anyway.’

  He ducked laughing, as she tried to cuff him. She knew she was blushing. The idea was so attractive.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Friends are for taking advantage of,’ Jane told David the following Tuesday afternoon as they relaxed after the day's list. ‘My car failed its MOT yesterday and it's in the garage having major surgery. I've got choir practice late tonight, and I need to get back home from where I'm rehearsing. I could take a taxi but if you're doing nothing would you pick me up?’

  He replied in his customary calm voice. I'll do more than pick you up. I'll take you there and then wait to take you home if I can sit in the back of the hall. If
I stay any longer in my hospital room I'm likely to go mad.’

  ‘That's kind but there's no need, David.’

  ‘But I want to. Now, what time shall I pick you up?’ In fact, it would save her considerable trouble, so she agreed that he could call for her. After all, she'd do the same for him – or any other of her friends.

  ‘You've got a lovely voice, I know you'd be a wonderful singer,’ she flattered him as he drove her to the rehearsal hall. ‘Are you sure you won't have a test? It's fun in a choir.’

  ‘It might be fun for you, but I'd hate it. I could no more stand on a stage singing than I could play football. I'm a loner, Jane.’

  She glanced at his profile illuminated by the flashes of headlights from oncoming cars. He was so handsome! ‘But you work in the theatre already,’ she teased. ‘You're centre stage there.’

  ‘That,’ he told her sternly, ‘is different. And Edmund is centre stage… Though I must admit that I'd like to be there.’

  The rehearsal was only to last an hour and a half because it was difficult to get all the members together at once as so many hospital staff worked odd shifts. Jane reported to Dan Webster, the obs and gynae registrar who was organising the concert. David was by her side.

  ‘I'll sit quietly at the back and read my paper,’ David said. ‘Pay no attention to me.’

  He hadn't reckoned on Dan Webster. Dan reminded Jane of a film she'd once seen of a Churchill tank, smashing its way through obstacles. No one sat quietly at the back while there was work to be done.

  ‘David, nice to see you,’ said Dan, grabbing him by the hand. ‘I'm Dan Webster. Remember, we were introduced a couple of weeks ago? You've brought Jane, have you? Good man. Now, here's a list of choir members. Will you go round them all and find out when they're free next week? Then work out the best time for rehearsals. We need to have at least two meetings, preferably with at least three quarters of the choir present. I'll catch up with you later.’

  Jane hid a smile as David looked gloomily at the list and then walked over to the nearest group. ‘Hi, I'm David Kershaw,’ she heard him say. ‘I'm trying to work out rehearsal times for next week.’ It was a largely female group. Jane saw interested faces look up and people gathered round him. Perhaps Dan wasn't a tank after all. Perhaps he was something with a bit more cunning.