The Time is Now

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘I quite enjoyed that,’ David said at the end of the rehearsal. ‘I've never been much of a joiner, but I did like working with Dan. And I was very impressed by the singing.’ Dan, of course, the minute he knew he had a willing pair of hands, had found all sorts of jobs for David to do. And David was efficient.

  ‘You were impressed by the singing,’ Jane said, ‘but not enough to try to join us?’

  ‘No. But when I can I'll be happy to help.’

  ‘The eternal cry of the man,’ said Jane. ‘He won't go on the stage but he's happy to help behind the scenes.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It was good of you to wait for me. There's half an hour left — can I buy you a drink? Round the corner there's quite a pleasant pub.’

  ‘I'd like that. I'm driving, so it'll have to be two halves of bitter or two glasses of wine. Will the rest of the choir be at the pub?’

  She caught his meaning at once. ‘All right, we'll go to a pub I know on the way home. Just the two of us. Is that what you want?’ She knew it was.

  In fact, they didn't like the place. Since she'd been there last a new landlord had taken over. They stopped at the entrance. There was loud jukebox music and the ringing of fruit machines. ‘You could come back for a coffee if you like,’ she said. ‘I don't think much of this place now.’

  ‘I'd much prefer a coffee with you. Let's go.’

  It was the first time she'd invited him into the house, and she felt rather shy. Sue was working nights and Megan was out – who knew where. David stood in the kitchen, watching her make coffee, then carried the tray through to the living room. He set the tray by the couch, then waited for her to sit. The lights were dim, as they always were.

  There was nothing on TV so she flicked on the CD player without checking what CD was in the machine. It was Dionne Warwick singing love songs. ‘I like that voice,’ he said.

  She sat next to him, and they drank coffee and chatted quietly. Both of them were tired. She had let her hair down, and after a while he reached out to it, running his hands through the strands, not pulling but letting the blonde swathe stream over his fingers. She found it calming. Having her hair brushed or stroked had always calmed her. ‘Lovely, lovely hair,’ he whispered to her.

  Then he kissed her. She'd known he would – perhaps she'd wanted him to. This wasn't like it had been in the confines of the car – they had much more room – but he was as gentle as before.

  At first she just let him kiss her. She was tired and it was pleasant, soothing almost. But soon she found it was far more than soothing. She wrapped her arms round him, pulling him to her. Her breathing was deeper, the pulse pounding in her wrists, in her throat. Whatever he was doing to her, she wanted more. This man made her feel so alive. Under her tracksuit top she could feel her breasts, pressed against him, become aroused.

  She knew he was feeling the same. His breathing too was heavy, and she could feel the firmness of his muscles tense against her. His hand stroked her face, her neck. She felt his fingers fasten on the zip on the front of her tracksuit, and the sound as it descended was so tiny and yet so loud.

  She knew she could stop him if she wanted to. But she didn't want to. The zip inched its way down to her waist, and she felt the coolness of air on her skin.

  Gently he eased the shoulders of her jacket back, baring more of her skin, revealing the black bra she was wearing. He bent his head further and kissed the side of her neck, then along the length of her shoulder. Her head stretched backwards. It felt so good. The tip of his tongue ran along her shoulder bone, then his lips touched the swell of her breast and she cried out with anticipation. There was nothing she could do to stop him!

  Dimly, at the edge of her consciousness, something else was registering .What was that rattling noise? Her brow creased. No, it wasn't important. It couldn't be. Then she heard a voice. ‘Hi, there. Anyone at home?’

  Megan! That rattle had been the key in the lock!

  She jerked upright. David released her and leaned back against the couch, smiling calmly. Hurriedly Jane zipped up her tracksuit and tried to smooth her hair. She reached for a mouthful of cold coffee, and managed to gabble, ‘In here, Megan. David and I are having a drink.’

  Megan put her head round the door, and David rose to his feet. ‘Shall I make us all another drink?’ Megan asked.

  ‘I think I should be going,’ David said.

  ‘The question is, what d'you think you're playing at?’ Sue asked the next night. ‘You've been warned against him, you know he hops from one woman to another, you know what he's like.’

  ‘He's very nice,’ Jane protested feebly.

  ‘Of course he is! That's how he gets what he wants! There's a long line of women behind him, and each one of them thinks — or thought — that he's very nice.’

  Jane said stoutly, ‘He'll get nowhere with me.’

  She was sitting with her two friends round the kitchen table. It was one of the rare occasions when they were all together, and Sue was determined to make the most of it. ‘So what are your intentions?’ she asked. ‘What do you want — or expect — of him?’

  ‘I really don't know,’ Jane confessed. ‘I work with him and I know we make a good team. I like his company, and sometimes he seems lonely.’

  ‘Not lonely, just self-contained,’ Sae advised. ‘I've met men like him before. Mind you, you can't be blamed for falling for him. He is incredibly good-looking.’

  ‘Believe it or not, I'd forgotten that,’ Jane said. ‘I just like being with him.’

  ‘That's a month or so out of your year gone,’ Megan chipped in. ‘You've only got eleven months to find a man to marry. Is David going to be the one?’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘Then why are you wasting time on him?’

  Sue returned to the attack. ‘He has warned you he only wants a casual relationship. That's fine for him. It means he can try like mad to seduce you, succeed, make you desperately unhappy, and then just drop you. And his conscience is clear. He warned you in advance.’

  ‘Bit of an old-fashioned word, "seduce",’ Jane protested weakly.

  ‘What word d'you think he might use?’ Megan asked.

  ‘Look, I just enjoy his company — there's nothing serious between us.’

  ‘Somebody was getting serious when I came in last night,’ Megan said primly.

  Jane blushed. She hadn't covered up as well as she'd thought. ‘Perhaps you're both right,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I'll keep him at a distance for a while.’

  This was in fact easier to do than she'd thought. One of the other anaesthetists fell ill and David had to help cover. She had a sudden rush of extra duties, and in between singing in the choir, hockey training, and her evenings at the Samaritans she just couldn't see him for well over a week. They met in and outside Theatre of course, but that was all.

  He asked her out several times. ‘I know you're busy, but I think you could find some time for me,’ he said reproachfully when they were scrubbing up in the anteroom.

  ‘I've got a full life, you know that. And don't forget, you wanted a casual relationship.’

  He looked gloomy. ‘If I remember right, you said that, not me. But I suppose you're right.’

  He didn't know just how much that remark hurt. The hurt surprised her too.

  Four days later he asked her if they could have a talk. As ever they were in greens, drinking the inevitable coffee. ‘Do you know Sister Greta Fallows?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I know her casually. She's Night Sister on Ward 15.’

  Jane guessed what was coming, but she tried not to let it show. There wasn't a reasonable looking, unattached man in the hospital that Greta hadn't been out with. And a few attached men, too. She had dyed black hair and wore rather a lot of lipstick. Sue had once had an argument with her, and had described her afterwards as the sort of woman a man thought he fancied when he'd had far too much to drink. Then Megan, who was normally pleasant about everyone, had remarked that her figure was a great tribute to th
e art of the corsetiere. It was nice to be catty occasionally.

  She decided to save David a little embarrassment. ‘She's asked you out,’ she said. ‘Where to?’

  He still managed to look calm. ‘She has asked me out, as a matter of fact,’ he said. ‘She's unexpectedly been given a couple of tickets for a concert in Manchester next Saturday night, and has no one to go with.’

  Jane snorted. ‘Do you believe that story?’

  David sighed. ‘I suppose not. But she seemed very pleasant.’

  ‘Are you going to go with her?’

  ‘Well … I don't yet know many people here. And you don't seem to have much time. I haven't seen you for over a week now. D'you mind?’

  She smiled agreeably. ‘What you do is your own concern. Since ours is only a casual affair, you can obviously do what you like. As can I.’

  He looked at her broodingly. ‘You're being too nice, too reasonable,’ he said. ‘It makes me suspicious. Actually, the concert is one I'd like to go to. But I must say I'd rather go with you.’

  ‘You go if you want to,’ she said flatly. ‘Look, David, I won't mess you about. I'm not sharing a man with anyone, it's too much like hard work. We'll stay friends, but if you go out with her you don't go out with me.’

  She watched as he closed his eyes, as if in pain. Then he opened them and smiled. ‘I thought you were sweet. And so you are, so sweet as steel. OK, I'll tell her I can't make it. I don't want to lose you.’

  ‘You can't lose me,’ she pointed out with a grin. ‘You haven't got me.’

  He shook his head in exasperation. ‘I've never met-’

  A junior nurse put her head round the door and said, ‘Mrs Snell is waiting for you, Dr Kershaw. I'm afraid she's in a bit of a state.’

  ‘Right, I'm on my way. Mustn't keep Mrs Snell waiting, must we?’

  Only when he'd left did Jane breathe out a long sigh of relief. Did David guess that her apparent lack of caring was only a front? Then she caught herself. She couldn't allow herself to care. She couldn't fall for David Kershaw. Their affair was entirely casual.

  Later that evening Jane got a phone message from the hockey team captain. The Saturday home match had been cancelled because their opponents couldn't field a team, so Saturday afternoon was free. Only for a minute did she hesitate, and then she phoned David's extension at the hospital.

  ‘David Kershaw.’ She'd only seen him a few hours ago, and yet the sound of that voice still gave her a thrill. What was she doing?

  ’This is Jane,’ she said. ‘Look, this isn't a consolation prize for giving up Sister Fallows, but I've just heard that I'm not playing on Saturday afternoon. If you've nothing else arranged, would you like to spend the afternoon with me? We could go out.’

  ‘I'd love that. I've got to be back in the evening, though. I'm on call. Still, I only have to be twenty minutes away. What d'you fancy doing?’

  ‘Liverpool is only half an hour away in that passion wagon of yours. Let's go and be tourists.’

  ‘I'd like that. Goodnight, sweetheart.’

  He'd called her 'sweetheart' for the first time. She wondered if he'd meant anything special by it.

  It was exciting, waiting for David to pick her up at Saturday lunchtime. She felt like a teenager on her first date, not like an old experienced woman of twenty-nine. But she liked the feeling.

  ‘You know what you're doing?’ Sue had asked her.

  ‘I guess so. Whatever I'm walking into, I'm walking into it with my eyes open.’

  Sue hugged her. ‘Good luck to you. And, incidentally, not only do I think he looks fabulous, I hear he's got a good heart as well. He spent quite a bit of time on our ward yesterday, helping one of the trainees. He didn't have to, it wasn't his job — he just did it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘He can be thoughtful.’

  She had dressed carefully – still trousers of course, for there was no way she could wear a skirt and get out of his car elegantly. But instead of her usual black, these trousers were a light grey and she matched them with a smoky blue cashmere jumper. In case it got cold, she added her ever reliable fleece.

  He was on time. Jane watched the car pull up from the living room window, and ran to the front door before he had chance to ring the bell. All right, it showed that she'd been looking out for him, waiting for him, but she didn't care.

  ‘You look good,’ he said, ‘but then you always do.’

  ‘Thank you, kind sir. All compliments gratefully received. D'you want a coffee or shall we get straight off?’

  ‘Let's go. I've never been to Liverpool, and I'm quite looking forward to it.’

  As they drove he was quieter than he usually was, and she didn't think it was because of the traffic. Driving was easy here. ‘You're a bit reserved today,’ she said. ‘Not your usual self. Is anything wrong?’

  He shook his head and smiled briefly. ‘Not really. I'm playing things carefully. I made one mistake with you, and I don't want to make another.’

  Impulsively, she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. ‘I'll let you know if you're making a mistake. Just be your normal self.’

  They drove alongside the river, and eventually stopped in a vast parking lot at a place called Albert Dock. Then they wandered round hand in hand like tourists. She liked holding his hand.

  The Albert Dock had once been a set of great redbrick warehouses around a central basin. Now the upper floors had been converted into flats and offices, and there were shops, cafes, and pubs at ground level. There was a TV studio, a maritime museum, and a branch of the Tate Gallery. ‘I'll show you the lot,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Art gallery first.’

  There was a lot to see and they only had half a day so the gallery didn't take long. ‘I think a lot of it is rubbish,’ she said, ‘but I like those drawings. Come on, we'll go to the maritime museum now.’

  The maritime museum was more fun. They looked at engines, great models of liners, famous sea pictures. The most interesting part was a reconstruction of a Liverpool street and the hold of a ship where emigrants went steerage class to America. ‘Better by plane,’ he said. There was too much to see so they kept their tickets and decided to come again.

  Lastly, she walked him past the famous Liverpool waterfront onto the ferry and they sailed across the Mersey. It was getting colder now and she needed her fleece. But they looked at the Liver birds, watched the gulls screaming and diving, and saw the great ships moving down the channel to the sea.

  ‘A hundred years ago, most of the world's shipping was registered on the banks of this river,’ she told him. ‘It isn't now.’

  ‘Things change, Jane. Even people change.’

  She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.

  The ferry bumped back against the dock, where it was moored with nonchalant ease, and then they walked back to the Albert Dock. They sat outside a cafe and had a coffee and a large roll each.

  ‘My feet and legs hurt,’ she said, rubbing her calves vigorously. ‘All this enjoyment is tiring.’

  He smiled. ‘I like going out with you, Jane. Everything you do, you do enthusiastically. I've really enjoyed this afternoon.’

  She was honest. ‘I like being with you, too.’ Then she grinned and went on, ‘Apart from anything else, you're so good-looking that other women look at me and feel jealous and I like it.’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘I don't know if that's true. But certainly men feel jealous of me. You're the most … radiant girl here.’

  ‘Radiant?’ she asked. ‘I like that.’

  He went to fetch them both another coffee, and she mused over what they'd both said. Perhaps men did look at her, but certainly more women looked at him. It happened all the time at the hospital. Even now, as he was queuing, she saw a young girl's head turn. He was gorgeous. But he didn't seem overly aware of it. He didn't preen all the time, like some good-looking men she'd seen.

  He returned with their coffee. ‘So you just go out with me because I'm good-looking? And
I thought it was my brain, not my body, you were interested in.’

  He was joking of course, but she answered him seriously. ‘Life is too short to go out with a man just because of his looks. No, personality is far more important.’

  Together, they stared across the water. ‘I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell anyone else.’ He was half laughing, and she was instantly intrigued.

  ‘I love secrets. At least, I think I do. It's not something you've done that's a bit … doubtful?’

  ‘I think perhaps it is. I certainly wouldn't want anyone at the hospital to know.’

  She was worried a little at first, but then she saw he was still laughing. ‘Come on! You can't tease me like this. Tell me what it is, and I promise to stand by you.’

  ‘Promise? I'll hold you to that.’ He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘This is the story of when I was an impoverished medical student, living on baked beans and Scotch eggs. I desperately needed money. I wanted to buy a little car, a Fiesta like yours. And I was offered quite a substantial sum … if I would sell my body.’

  ‘If you would what!’

  ‘If I would sell my body. Well, lend it, anyway. I got a job as a male model.’

  ‘A male model! As in walking down the catwalk with your hand on your hip?’

  He winced. ‘Not exactly that. I mostly did magazine illustrations and that kind of thing. It could have been quite lucrative. My agent was bitterly disappointed when I told her I wasn't going to do any more.’

  She couldn't help laughing. ‘You! A model! Standing under spotlights and looking thoughtful, and romantic, and debonair, to order. Is that what you did?’

  ‘I'm afraid so. There were too many photographers who weren't content just to take a picture that would sell sweaters. They wanted to produce great art.’ He laughed reluctantly. ‘But I got my car out of it.’

  ‘Why did you stop, then? It sounds like a good idea to me. I'd have done it while I was training if I'd had the chance.’