Summer at 23 the Strand

by Linda Mitchelmore

  Archie nodded vigorously.

  ‘And taxis. There are taxis in big cities. In London the taxis are big and black and I went in one with my daddy.’

  ‘And isn’t that a lovely memory to have,’ Arthur said.

  More vigorous nodding from Archie. And then he said, ‘We’re having sausages for lunch,’ and Arthur was reminded how quickly children do accept things and what butterfly minds they have at such a young age.

  ‘And pan-fried potatoes, and ratatouille,’ Hannah said. ‘I hope that’s okay with you. Only it’s Archie’s favourite and he asked if we could have it today.’

  ‘It’s more than okay,’ Arthur said. ‘I’m sure it will be wonderful.’ In truth he had no idea whatsoever what pan-fried potatoes might be, or ratatouille for that matter, apart from the fact it sounded a bit French. Neither of those things had featured in his beloved Judith’s very limited repertoire of recipes. ‘And anything someone else makes for you because they want to will always taste delicious in my book.’

  ‘Then I’ll get on,’ Hannah said with a gulp. ‘It won’t take long. Archie’s got out some things to show you.’

  ‘A jigsaw,’ Archie said. ‘Thomas the Tank Engine. And I’ve got paper and felt-tips. Can you draw Thomas, Father Christmas?’

  ‘I most certainly can,’ Arthur said. He’d heard of Thomas the Tank Engine but was glad of the picture on the lid of the jigsaw to copy from.

  Archie opened his packet of felt-tips and handed Arthur a sheet of paper, and Arthur began to draw. It never leaves you, he thought, the ability to draw, as he selected a black felt-tip and drew the basic outline of the engine, and the wheels. He drew hills and trees in the distance, and cotton-wool clouds. In the foreground he drew three rabbits and a fox. And a little boy standing beside the steps where the driver would get in – a little boy who looked very much like Archie.

  ‘And now you can colour it in,’ Arthur said.

  ‘It’s me! It’s me!’ Archie said, stabbing a finger at the outline of the little boy Arthur had drawn.

  ‘Well, there’s praise indeed,’ Arthur said, ‘if you recognise yourself.’

  Archie seemed to have lost his voice then as, with his tongue poking out and held lightly between his teeth, he began to colour in the picture Arthur had drawn.

  Archie worked quickly and kept inside the black lines of Arthur’s drawing, more or less, and then Hannah said lunch was ready, and did Arthur want a cup of tea with his lunch or afterwards.

  ‘Afterwards, please,’ Arthur said.

  Hannah had set the table with paper napkins and a little display of stones and shells from the beach on a saucer in the middle. How welcoming it all was; how welcoming Hannah and Archie were.

  ‘I’m very remiss,’ Arthur said, taking the place Hannah indicated for him to sit in. ‘I’ve not brought a welcome present. Wine or chocolates, or a cake. I used to leave all that side of things to Judith when we ate with friends or family.’

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ Hannah said with a smile. ‘Carl left all that side of things to me as well, and I was happy to do it.’

  Oh dear, here he was again, saying things that perhaps he ought not to have said because they seemed to have brought Hannah’s grief to the fore again. Although Arthur didn’t think it was very far from the fore most of the time.

  ‘And there was no need to bring anything,’ Hannah went on. ‘This is a thank you for Archie’s ice cream, and your kindness yesterday.’

  And very delicious it all was. Archie ate every scrap and carried his empty plate over to the little draining board in the galley kitchen when he’d finished. How lovely to see the little chap being brought up with such good manners. Had Arthur had a son, or a daughter for that matter, good manners would have been the number-one lesson. They cost nothing, but were priceless – that was what his own father used to say.

  ‘Can I take my drawing to my room?’ Archie asked after they’d all finished the ice cream with a chocolate flake crumbled over it that Hannah served for pudding.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Hannah said.

  Archie gathered up his paper and pens and hugged them to him and off he want. Hannah refilled Arthur’s cup and handed it to him, but he didn’t remember being offered one or saying he’d like one. But the gesture was welcome because it was something Judith had always done – just assumed he would want a second cup.

  ‘I expect he’ll have a little nap when he’s finished colouring in,’ Hannah said. She pulled the door of the bedroom to a little, not enough to make Archie feel he was being sent to his room, but open enough so she could hear him. ‘All this sea air and the upheaval.’

  ‘Ah yes, sleep,’ Arthur said. ‘The great healer while you are in its embrace.’

  In the first few months after losing Judith he’d slept almost around the clock – an escape from all the thinking about how hard life was going to be now without her.

  ‘Do you have children?’ Hannah asked. ‘Grandchildren maybe? Or even great-grandchildren? You’re very, very understanding of Archie so I’m guessing you’ve had experience with children.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. That was our biggest regret, that we weren’t blessed with little ones. These days there are all sort of things like that IVF to help people but in our day it was stiff upper lip, grin and bear it, adopt if you could, and be the best aunt and uncle it was possible to be. Except we only did the first two of those things.’

  ‘Oh, Arthur,’ Hannah said. ‘That must be so hard to bear. I’m so lucky to have Archie, aren’t I?’

  ‘You have one another,’ Arthur said.

  ‘He looks like his daddy,’ Hannah said suddenly. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’ As she reached for her smartphone and began scrolling through for the photos she wanted, Arthur got the impression she needed to be doing something, not just talking. ‘Here we are. Boredom alert! Carl in his uniform, Carl with Archie in the garden picking an apple from the tree. Carl, so proud, at Archie’s christening. Last Christmas.’

  Picture after picture filled the screen and Arthur did his best – without his glasses – to look at them. He could see that both Archie and his father were very fair-haired and blue-eyed. Tall too. Then there were some of Carl and Hannah on their wedding day. How young, and how filled with love and hope for their future they were in those. How beautiful.

  And then Hannah said, ‘How long ago was it you lost your wife?’

  ‘Two years, four months, and one week,’ Arthur said.

  ‘They say it takes two years before you begin to feel anything like normal again,’ Hannah said. ‘I mean, this is hardly normal, is it? I’ve invited a man I don’t really know into my home for lunch. I’d never have done that if Carl was alive. That’s not to say I don’t feel safe or regret asking you…’

  ‘Stop!’ Arthur said. ‘Please don’t feel you have to explain yourself to me. I gatecrashed your first evening here by bringing round Welsh cakes I had no idea you would like or want. And for the record, what they say is very true – it does take a good two years before you start to feel anything like normal. Sometimes, Hannah, even now, I imagine I hear the swish of the hem of Judith’s dress on her calves as she walks past. And sometimes I swear I catch the scent of the perfume she always wore – a French perfume, called L’eau d’Issey.’

  ‘Oh, Arthur,’ Hannah said. She placed her hands, prayer-fashion, over her lips.

  ‘And something else I’d like to share with you, seeing as I’ve had no one else to share it with and you and I are here together, in the same boat as it were – I now firmly believe it’s not the length of time we spend with our loved ones before we lose them that counts, be that six months or sixty years, but the depth of that love.’

  ‘Oh, Arthur,’ Hannah said again. She reached across the table and touched Arthur’s arm, leaving her hand there. ‘That’s a lovely thing to hear.’

  Hannah’s hand was still on Arthur’s arm and it struck him then that it had been such a long time now since anyone had touched him. Judith
had done it all the time when talking to him, making a point, or just to get his attention. He realised now he’d missed that as much as he missed Judith.

  ‘I don’t know where all this philosophical stuff is coming from,’ Arthur said, feeling rather embarrassed now that he seemed to be offloading his emotions onto a young woman he’d only just met. But he’d started so he’d finish, as they said on that television programme – Mastermind – he and Judith had loved so much. ‘I’m old enough to have done National Service. Navy. I learned all about discipline, and stiff upper lip, and duty. That sort of thing stays with one. But it’s not always good to keep things inside us.’

  ‘Perhaps, Arthur,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s precisely because we are generations apart, you and me, that we’re here now, sharing stuff. When Carl was killed, friends and family rallied round but women my age seemed to think a day at a spa, or a night out with the girls, or a day shopping, or a bottle of wine and some chocolates would be what I needed to mend my soul. And none of it was. Or is.’

  ‘No. I booked this holiday on a whim – it’s somewhere Judith and I had never been together, and I don’t know why I did it apart from that, but now I think, perhaps, it was so I could make new memories. My memories. And there’s something soothing about the sea, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Hannah said. ‘And now I think I’d better go and check on my little monster in there and see if he wants to go and play on the beach. Will you join us?’

  ‘Another time,’ Arthur said. ‘I find one needs a snooze in the afternoon as one gets older.’ He stood up, rather stiffly. ‘Thank you for a delicious lunch. You can tell young Archie that his favourite meal is now mine.’

  ‘I will,’ Hannah said. ‘Thanks for joining us.’

  ‘The thanks are all mine.’

  When Arthur pulled back the bedroom curtains he got a shock. Right there, in front of him, just a few hundred yards out to sea in his estimation, was what at first glance looked like a huge, floating block of flats. The whole thing seemed totally unstable and, in the breeze flapping the flags on the pole that indicated whether it was safe to swim or not, it looked as though the whole thing would topple over at any moment.

  A cruise liner, that’s what it was. Full of old people like himself if his pal, David, was right.

  ‘A cruise, Arthur, that’s what you need,’ David had said in one of his regular phone calls to check Arthur was still living and breathing.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Arthur had replied.

  Arthur and Judith had taken many a day trip on boats – the Isle of Wight, Lundy Island and a few islands off Scotland – and while he went because Judith loved it so, he wouldn’t mind if he never had to step aboard anything floating ever again.

  ‘Think about it, old boy,’ David said. ‘You’d live in the lap of luxury for a few weeks. No shopping, no cooking, no clearing up afterwards. All you’d have to do is eat the delicious meals put in front of you.’

  ‘And get fat,’ Arthur had countered. ‘And then there’s all the cruise gear, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, what’s wrong with that? You’re a fine figure of a man for your age. Fit. You can dance. We got taught to dance in school, didn’t we? And thank goodness for that, I say, although I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Lots of lovely ladies go on cruises – most of them pretty well off now they’re widows – and they would appreciate a turn around the ballroom in your arms.’

  ‘Really?’ Arthur said with a massive sigh. ‘Then they’ll just have to find someone else to appreciate. But I’m grateful for your concern for me, David.’

  The call had ended amicably enough.

  And now here he was with a reminder of why he never, ever, wanted to go on a cruise looming in front of him. The damned thing just about filled up the bay. Hideous. It hardly blended into the scenery, did it? Already there were kayaks and pedalos circling it. There were people on each deck leaning over, waving. Full of rich Americans, Arthur decided. Not that he had anything against Americans, but they probably had more cash to splash as the saying went these days.

  But at least the weather was being kind with a clear blue sky, and those onboard would be shipped off to shore to get on coaches to go sightseeing for however many, or few, hours they had for this little stopover.

  Arthur gave himself a good scrub down at the tiny basin in the bathroom. At first he’d wondered if he’d done the right thing coming here – everything was a bit basic to say the least – but now he had rethought the situation and decided it was perfect for the needs of a single old man who liked the simple life.

  Arthur took his bowl of muesli, and a mug of tea, out onto the deck. Ah, Hannah and Archie were just going down the steps to the beach, Hannah holding tightly to Archie’s hand because the steps were very old and uneven, and if the tide had just gone out they were very slippery too.

  Arthur watched them for a few moments and then, as though they sensed they were being watched, both Hannah and Archie turned and waved at him. Arthur waved back. Just a little thing to have someone be pleased to see him and wave, but it warmed his heart, made him feel less alone.

  Hannah made a beckoning gesture. Come and join us, the gesture said. Should he? Arthur didn’t have the right clothes for sitting on a beach, or paddling. But he could rectify that, couldn’t he? There were plenty of shops on the main street that led up from the seafront to the railway station. He might be able to get something suitable there. And a hat now the sun was warming up a bit.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Arthur,’ Hannah said when Arthur eventually joined them, clad now in dark-navy shorts that almost reached his knees, and a blue-and-white-checked shirt. ‘And looking very dapper if I may say so.’

  ‘You may say so,’ Arthur laughed. ‘Thank you. And I know it’s not Christmas yet but I’ve bought a present for young Archie here.’

  ‘A present?’ Archie said, clapping his hands together excitedly. ‘A surprise?’

  ‘Most certainly.’

  ‘Are there toys in your chalet?’ Archie asked, little grooves of puzzlement between his eyes.

  ‘Gosh, no. There’d be no room for me if there were. I found this in a shop in town and thought you might like it.’ Arthur opened a large plastic bag and took out a mould for making sand crabs and starfish and cockleshells, and a packet of flags of the world. He held the presents out to Archie.

  ‘What is it?’ Archie asked.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Arthur said, when it was obvious Archie was puzzled and unsure about taking it. ‘Now if you could lend me your bucket and one of your spades…’

  A bucket and spade were thrust into Arthur’s hand before he could finish the sentence, and he set to filling the mould, pressing the dampish sand in firmly to fill each one.

  ‘Now, first we have to make some sandcastles. I’ll do the first one, shall I?’

  ‘Then me,’ Archie said.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Arthur said.

  Man and boy took turns making sandcastles until there were ten of them in a row.

  ‘And now we turn out the shapes carefully onto the sand.’ Arthur refilled and patted and turned out the shapes as he spoke until there were enough for all the sandcastles. ‘Then we lift them and place them on top of a castle. Can you do that, Archie?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Archie said, punching the air.

  ‘And very good you are at it too,’ Arthur said when all the sandcastles had a shape on top. ‘And now come the flags.’

  Arthur split open the plastic packet of flags.

  ‘I know that one!’ Archie said, immediately pouncing on the Union Flag. ‘Daddy had that on his uniform.’

  ‘And wore it proudly, I’m sure,’ Arthur said.

  He looked up at Hannah and she was nodding, lips pressed together, but with no tears in her eyes this time when her husband was mentioned.

  ‘But I don’t know the others,’ Archie said.

  ‘Then I will teach you,’ Arthur told him. ‘If you want to be taught?’

&nb
sp; ‘Yes! Yes!’ Archie said.

  ‘Good.’ Arthur held up each flag in turn – United States, Pakistan, France, Germany, Japan and all the others. He said the name of the country and Archie repeated it.

  ‘He might not be in school but he’s learning,’ Hannah said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No thanks needed. And I suspect that was what his wise counsellor and headmaster thought might happen when you brought him on this little holiday. Now, do you remember what this one is, Archie?’ Arthur asked, waving the flag of Australia at him.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ Archie said. ‘Is it Austria?’

  ‘Nearly right, young man. This one is Australia. And do you know that when it’s Christmas here in winter, it’s Christmas in Australia also, but it’s summer there? So packets of flags like this for little children in Australia, so they can decorate their sandcastles on Christmas Day, can be very useful.’

  ‘Wow!’ Archie said. ‘I don’t know if Mr Mason knows that.’

  ‘Mr Mason?’ Arthur said.

  ‘Archie’s headmaster,’ Hannah told him with a smile.

  Arthur had a warm feeling run through him, like being wrapped in a cosy towel that had been sitting on the radiator, after a bath. He’d helped put that smile there, hadn’t he?

  ‘How about we dig a moat around all these fine castles with their flags?’ Arthur asked. ‘What do you say, Archie? I’ll dig and you could go and fetch water in your bucket.’

  ‘I’ll help with the moat,’ Hannah said.

  And off Archie went, his bucket swinging from his hand, to fetch water.