The Life Of Robert Peterson

by Paul Kelly

  Title Page

  THE LIFE OF ROBERT PETERSON

  by

  Paul Kelly

  Publisher Information

  Published in 2013 by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as the Authors of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998

  Copyright © 2013 Paul Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Chapter One

  “You’ve spilt your coffee,” she said as she bent down to mop up the mess that Robert Peterson had created on the floor beside his table. “Are you alright?” she went on, looking at Robert as he sat with his head in his hands. He looked up at the waitress after a short while and she could see by his eyes that he had been crying. “Are you alright?” she enquired again, but Robert hardly saw her through misted eyes as he sighed heavily and lowered his head again.

  “I’m O.K.” he moaned, “I just want to be left alone.”

  The waitress looked about her. There was no-one else in the cafe.

  “I don’t like to see you like this,” she said, “Please let me help you. I think you must be in some trouble and ...”

  Robert shot his head into the air and stared wildly at the waitress as she looked on with concern in her eyes.

  “I’m alright, he said ... Didn’t you hear that? Are you deaf?”

  “I’m sorry if I have upset you. I didn’t mean to do that. My name’s Freya ...Freya Carmichael I’m a waitress here. If I can help, please call me,” she said as she turned away and left Robert sitting awkwardly on his chair with one arm slung across the table.

  “I’d like another coffee, please?” he called out and Freya turned round to face him again. She stood beside him for a second before she took out her pad.

  “Anything to eat?” she asked and Robert shook his head.

  “Just the coffee, if you don’t mind . ..” he groaned, “and I’ll try not to spill it this time.”

  Freya smiled, but as she was about to walk away, Robert dried his eyes and called out after her.

  “Black with only a little sugar. My name is Robert ... and thanks,” he said, but Freya seemed to ignore him as she went into the kitchen to bring him the coffee he wanted, returning a few minutes afterwards with his drink and sitting beside him at his table.

  “Black with a little sugar,” she said and hesitated before she went on, “I didn’t mean to be intrusive. Only you are the only one left here and it is past closing time and I thought ... well, I thought you were drunk when I saw that you had spilled your drink. Sorry.”

  Robert smiled weakly and Freya looked relieved,

  “I am the one who should be sorry,” he remarked, stirring his coffee as he spoke, “You see, I have had a rather a troublesome time in the past few weeks ... well in the past few years, I should say. I am sorry if I appeared rude.”

  “I have broad shoulders,” she said and cocked her head to one side as Robert looked into her eyes.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. It is something that wouldn’t interest you and besides, I will have to get through this time by myself and I think I can only do that on my own.”

  “A trouble shared ...” she went on as Robert sipped his coffee, but he put one hand in the air and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Are you? ... “I’m sorry I have no right to ask you anything of that nature,” he said without finishing his enquiry as he stood up to leave the cafe, “and anyway, as you have said, you should be closed by now. I’ll be off and thanks again for your concern.”

  “If you can hold on for just a few minutes, I’ll come with you. I have to close the cafe and I should be going home myself anyway”, the waitress called out as Robert stood still and looked about him.

  “Going home?” he said and raised his eyebrows in despair. “Going home ... Nice expression if you can mean it,” he said and Freya rushed off to get her coat before she locked up the premises, but even if it had only been a few seconds to get her coat, when she returned Robert had left the cafe. She rushed out, closing the door quickly behind her, just in time to see Robert about to turn into a narrow street, not far from where she worked.

  “Wait,” she called out, “Wait for me please ... “I don’t like walking home in the dark and . . . “ At that moment, Robert returned to her view and she turned the key in the cafe door before slipping the key into her coat pocket.

  “Do you live far?” she asked, “I can walk with you if you like and as I’ve said, I don’t like walking alone in the dark.”

  Robert stretched out his hand to her as she rushed towards him.

  “How far have you got to go?” he asked, but she dismissed his enquiry with a question of her own,

  “Never mind about me,” she said, “I’ll be alright. I only have a short walk from here, but you ... how far do you have to go?”

  Robert looked down at the ground and did not answer as Freya slipped her hand into his as they walked , but he pulled away from her.

  “I don’t have far either,” he said, “but I’ll see you home first and then I’ll make my own way.”

  Freya gripped his hand, almost as if by fear.

  “But will you be alright?” she asked, “It looks as though it might rain and I know you were upset about something when I spoke to you in the cafe.”

  Robert looked at her as she spoke, but there was a deadly pale; almost deathly look on his face in the moonlight and as Freya was about to speak to him again, he put his forefinger to her lips.

  “I’ll see you home and I’ll be alright,” he said and they walked on together in silence until Freya told him where she lived at Bluebell Gardens.

  “I wish you’d come in for a hot drink or something,” she said as a faint wind blew her hair from her face and a light spot of rain touched her cheek, but Robert shook his head.

  “I might spill the stuff again if I do that,” he joked, but his eyes did not smile and his face was solemn. “I’ll wait until you go inside and close the door before I leave,” he added. “I live only a few streets away in Cotswold Road.”

  Freya walked up the few steps to the front door of the flat before she turned around to speak to Robert again.

  “You are very kind. I mean, I appreciate your waiting until I got in safely. Can we meet again perhaps?” she asked, but Robert shrugged his shoulders.

  “I might be in the cafe again tomorrow, who knows?” he replied before he walked away as she went into the flat.

  Chapter Two

  Freya rose the following morning and rubbed her eyes. It was a few moments before she remembered the incident of the night before and she rubbed her eyes again thinking it might just have been a dream. She had a strange feeling in her heart ... not like love or anything like that ... Well if it was she had never experienced anything like it before and she thought she was in love when she married Sammy ... Oh! but that was ages ago, or so it seemed ... and she had been nursing at the time, taking her SRN soon after she married him and yet, she had only been married for about fifteen months. She closed her eyes to block the scene from her mind as there was nothing about Sammy
that she wanted to remember and she recounted the days since she had been divorced. As she showered and dressed, her mind was in confusion. She had met a few chaps since the divorce and some of them were nice, or at least seemed to be that way, where others were nothing but ‘gropers’ she suspected, but to be on the safe side, she hadn’t gone out with any of them, however she remembered with a fickle smile that Robert was different somehow, although she couldn’t understand why. He just was ... .He hadn’t tried to engage her in useless conversation nor had he tried in any way to touch her and she was pleased that she had remembered his name. Would he remember hers, she thought wildly as she yawned and gave a little chuckle.

  “Might be in the cafe tomorrow, who knows?” he had said and she wished she had been on the early shift at work just in case he did turn up. Should she ring Jenny, her work partner who was on the early shift that week and tell her to look out for him? but how could she do that? Tell Jenny he was handsome in a strange sort of way, that he was six foot tall, had mid brown hair ... and oh! he had a dimple on his left cheek when he smiled.

  Freya ran her fingers through her hair. She felt a happiness that she hadn’t experienced for a very long time ... if she ever did experience a feeling like the one she had then. What was it about this man who spilt his coffee carelessly on her spotless cafe floor and made no attempt to apologize? Was he any different to the men she had met throughout her twenty three years? She tugged at her hair as if by that action she would find an answer to her dilemma, but the sun shone through her bedroom window regardless of her thoughts, as it regularly did on a fine spring morning and left her still thinking of a man called Robert ... Quickly she showered and dressed, laddering her tights in the rush and had to put on a new pair.

  She thought it might be best just to call in at the cafe when she was dressed. It might be that Jenny had seen Robert before when she was on the early shift yesterday and she might even remember him, or better still, where he could be found again. It was a pretty wild guess, but she took the decision she would do just that after she had a rushed breakfast of toast with some of her own home made whisky marmalade. She liked that; licked her fingers and headed for the door as she threw her coat over her shoulders and touched her hair to make sure that it was in place, somewhat. . .

  Nothing really mattered until she could get to the cafe again and then, she hoped . . . but sadly when she did arrive there, Jenny knew nothing of the man she described and Jenny took note of every handsome man who came to the cafe and even those who were not so handsome who came into the cafe when she was on duty. Jenny considered that any man who looked at her would be trapped, if she wanted to trap him, but sadly few people saw what Jenny saw when Jenny looked at herself in a mirror.

  “Are you sure you haven’t seen anyone of that description, Jenny?” Freya asked anxiously, but Jenny only pouted her lips and raised her eyebrows.

  “If he’s like you say he is, I would have noticed him, that’s for sure,” she replied, but that was little consolation to Freya. “The place is very quiet this morning, darling’ “ said Jenny, “Come and have a coffee with me before the rush starts and anyway, what’s happened to that husband of yours? You haven’t introduced me to him yet. Afraid I met give him the eye?”

  Freya sat down at a coffee table and looked again at the table in the corner where Robert had spilt his drink. She had only worked in the cafe for the past ten weeks and she hadn’t discussed her private life with anyone, certainly not Jenny.

  “I don’t have a husband any more Jenny,” Freya confessed as if she had committed the most terrible sin. “I thought you knew that,” she went on knowing full well that she had never told Jenny about it “I’ve been divorced for the past five months now.”

  Jenny sipped her coffee and her eyes went wide with surprise.

  “What? ... A good looking girl like you and you say you’re divorced. What the hell’s wrong with the man, Does he have a white stick? You’ve been working here for nearly three months now and you haven’t said anything about a divorce to me . . .I’m sorry Freya, I wouldn’t have said many things to you that I shouldn’t have said if I knew. I guess it’s true what people say about me ... I’ve always had a big mouth,” Jenny went on, but Freya smiled. She was always aware of the seriousness of her situation. She had never wanted a divorce. Marriage had always seemed something very sacred to her, but as things were in the marriage, it was obviously the outcome for a very long time. She looked about her as she drank her coffee, thinking that perhaps Robert might have returned again, but there was nobody there who looked in anyway like him and people were coming and going most of the time. She put her cup down and waited for another hour at the cafe, thinking again that Robert might turn up, but without success and after a little while longer as the cafe was not very quiet that morning, she left Jenny, knowing her friend would want to get on with her work and took a stroll in the park. It was a beautiful morning. The air was fresh and she walked slowly round to the duck pond, where she usually took some bread to feed them, but she had rushed out from the flat so quickly to get to the cafe in the event that Robert might be there that she forgot to take some bread with her to feed the ducks, but they knew her as she approached the pond and squawked their way towards her in anticipation, but Freya could only sigh. It seemed that everyone was disappointed that morning and she walked slowly home again.

  That evening, just before she went on duty at the cafe, she took extra care with her hair and made sure that she was looking her best, much to Jenny’s surprise as she raised her eyebrows and made a sarcastic remark on Freya’s appearance, but Freya wasn’t in the mood for any kind of remarks, good or bad, she just wanted to get on with her work, in the hope that a certain man might come back again to the table in the corner. He could spill all the coffee he wanted for all she cared. She just wanted to see him again and with that thought, she sat down for a moment between serving to ask herself what was happening to her, as she had never ever in her life before felt as

  she did then. It was different with Sammy Boyle. She thought she loved him. He was very handsome, if not particularly tall, but even if she did, he obviously didn’t love her and she found that out very soon after they got married.

  Chapter Three

  It was nearly two weeks after her meeting with Robert that Freya received some news of him again, but it wasn’t the type of news she wanted to hear. There was a small piece in the newspaper about a man being badly injured in a ‘hit-and-run’ accident and the name, or rather the lack of it made her look twice at the article.

  HIT AND RUN it read, A MAN HAS BEEN BADLY INJURED IN A HIT AND RUN CAR ACCIDENT LAST NIGHT IN THE COTSWOLD ROAD AREA. HE HAS BEEN TAKEN TO THE NORTHFIELD HOSPITAL, BUT AS YET HAS BEEN UNIDENTIFIED AND IS STILL UNCONSCIOUS.

  Freya stared at the article and a surge of fear ran down her spine. It was as if by premonition, she had the feeling that the man who had the accident was the same man she had met that evening in the cafe. Cotswold Road area ... Cotswold Road ... that was where Robert had said he lived. Could it be Robert, she wondered ... and if it was, how could she find out? In her lunch hour she telephoned the police to enquire what she could about the accident, but they wanted to know if she was a relative.

  “I’m his fiancee,” she lied and waited for the response.

  “Good. Can you tell us his name please?”

  Freya waited for a moment, not knowing how to answer that question. She wasn’t even sure if the man who was involved in the accident was Robert and even then, she didn’t know his other name.

  “It’s Robert,” she gasped. “I’m ... I’m too upset to talk about anything at the moment. Can I ... can I go to see him please,” she stuttered and started to cry, hoping the police would fall for her acting ability and it worked when the policeman on the other end of the line told her that her fiancee was in ward seven at the Northfield and asked her to come to the police station as soon as s
he could.

  Later that afternoon, without reporting to the cafe manager that she would not be working that afternoon, she made her way to the hospital. It took her only a few minutes to find ward seven, even if the corridors were long and complicated with different department names signed everywhere.

  “Sister, may I speak to ...”

  “Yes, dear. What can I do for you.?”

  Freya thought for a moment and her wildest imaginations were taking over.

  “Can I speak to my fiancee please,” she stammered, “He’s had a hit and run accident last night ... in Cotswold Road, I believe.”

  The Ward Sister smiled and hung her head in sympathy simultaneously.

  “Of course dear, he’s in bed three, just there on your right, but he may not recognize you yet. Normally we wouldn’t allow visitors to him, but seeing as you are ... who you are, I’m sure that’s alright, but do please be careful. He has had a rough time and his head is well bandaged.”

  “Will he be alright?”

  “It’s early days yet, but he seems to have improved in the short time he has been in here. I’ll be at my desk there at the end of the ward if you need anything.”

  Freya walked into the ward and approached bed three with trepidation, wondering what she would do if the person in that bed wasn’t who she thought it was.

  The man in the bed could have been anyone, she thought at first, but when she leaned down to look at the face, she knew instantly it was Robert. The eyes, although closed told her all she needed to know. She wanted to kiss him. Well that’s what fiancees do, isn’t it, she thought, but as she looked about her, it seemed that every eye in that ward was watching her. Within a few moments, the patient in bed three moved and groaned, before he opened his eyes.

  “Oh! God ... where am I?” he asked and tried to sit up, but the ward Sister came quickly, rushing across from her desk in the ward and came to his assistance.