A Life Less Lonely

by Jill Barry

  “Haven’t you taken off yet, Mummy?” Josh clutched a plastic ray gun to his chest.

  Andrea stooped to her son’s level and sneaked a kiss. “I’m going now. Goodbye you two brave astronauts. See you soon. I won’t forget to bring you both something back from Canada.”

  “Yay,” said Josh. “Bye, Mum.”

  The heads of the two boys disappeared back into their imaginary world.

  ***

  Andrea completed the drive to Hartnett with a strange sense of disengagement. For the first time ever, since Josh’s birth, she had no childcare responsibilities. Nor did she need to worry about her mother. The trial had begun a few days before, without Rosemary showing any sign of recognition towards Keir. Andrea had accompanied her mother and Lizzie for this first session and knew the memory lapse was entirely in line with her mum’s condition. She tried not to wonder whether Rosemary might in time forget Josh, or even her own daughter.

  The house seemed abnormally quiet when she let herself in and she had to force herself not to tiptoe like an intruder. Her luggage stood in the hallway and she already wore cotton trousers and layers to help adjust to temperature changes. She wasn’t sure now if she even wanted to fix herself a sandwich. Maybe she’d sit quietly and listen to the kitchen radio until she heard Keir’s car pull up. She didn’t need to check all the windows were closed and locked again. When the telephone rang suddenly, she gasped. What if her mother had succeeded in wandering off and Lizzie had just noticed? The poor woman couldn’t fasten Rosemary into a highchair like you could a toddler. Or could Josh already be needing reassurance that Kirsty couldn’t provide?

  Worst of all was the thought of Keir being proved right when he’d wondered whether she was entirely calm about her mother’s care. It might even be the man himself ringing. What if he was snarled up in traffic? If they missed check-in, it wasn’t like there’d be another plane along in ten minutes.

  Andrea didn’t recognise the caller on the display but snatched at the phone to stop its irritating ring. “Hello,” she said, not disclosing her name or confirming her number. She held her breath but to her relief this proved to be a cold call and she responded as politely as possible. People were only trying to earn a living.

  She walked into the kitchen, feeling less tense and telling herself to stop being so paranoid. This was the beginning of a brief but exciting phase in her career including the chance to sample Canadian culture, something she’d always fancied doing. No way would she risk her credibility or peace of mind by allowing what amounted to a silly schoolgirl crush to overwhelm her.

  And then she heard the sound of a car engine and suddenly and incredibly happiness engulfed her.

  ***

  The lounge for business class ticket holders was dotted with people tapping away on laptops, reading, snacking or chatting quietly with their fellow-passengers. Keir placed two bottles of sparkling mineral water on the low table between them and seated himself opposite Andrea. “Chicken salad?”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the sandwich. “This is a great way to begin a trip, though I have to say I wasn’t anticipating travelling in such style.’

  He made a wry face. “Quite honestly, it’s all about my size.”

  She paused, sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Your, erm … size?”

  “Leg room, that is.” Straight-faced, he removed the plastic seal from his bottled water. “Curling myself into my regulation 18 inches or whatever it is these days, is all very well for a quick hop to Glasgow.”

  “Such exaggeration,” she murmured.

  “OK,” said Keir. “Seven hours in an aeroplane with limited room to stretch is a nightmare once experienced and not to be repeated. Even with my flight socks on.”

  “I feel a bit guilty. My legs are shorter than yours. I could’ve travelled Economy.” Her eyes danced as she bit into her snack.

  “They’re not that much shorter,” he said, hastily looking anywhere but at those legs. “And you shouldn’t ever feel guilty about travelling in comfort. It’s performance enhancing anyway. Much quieter if you need to get some work done and the food’s higher quality, therefore better for our systems.”

  “OK,” she laughed. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. I’m lapping this up, but do we have to work all the way to Montreal?”

  “Yes. You can ride on the flight deck and watch George doesn’t misbehave.”

  Puzzled, she thought for a moment, remembered he must mean the autopilot, then stuck her tongue out at him. She was relieved at his light-hearted mood. Big brotherly was good. She could handle that very well.

  He ripped open a packet of gourmet potato crisps and offered them to her. “You might even find a movie you haven’t seen before. Truthfully, Andrea, I’d recommend using this flight as a buffer between working at home and all the stuff we’ll be doing over there. Believe me when I say I shan’t be opening my briefcase unless it’s to take out my John Grisham paperback.”

  “I’m looking forward to the conference now. Strange really, considering its importance.”

  “Well, that’s good,” he said, munching crisps. “Sorry. Now you know why I rarely eat these things. They’re addictive. Would you like me to fetch you a packet?”

  “Don’t they feed us on board?”

  “You bet. This is just to keep me going. Nothing will prevent me from devouring my three courses plus maybe a glass or two of bubbly to toast our future together.” He cleared his throat. “Our professional prospects are at stake here. We set our stall out right and there’ll be a lot of medical people fixing their beady eyes on us. Our online presence will be vital in terms of progress being charted and making everything totally transparent as the buzz-word boys like to say these days.”

  She nodded. It seemed rather overwhelming and she hoped she didn’t let him down. High-powered she was not but if he thought she could help his cause then she’d do her best to live up to expectation.

  He gestured towards the newspapers arranged nearby. “Mind if I catch up with what’s happening in the world? To my shame, I rarely read a daily paper these days.”

  “I know the feeling. Please go ahead.” Andrea selected her own choice and disappeared behind its pages. Was he trying as hard as she was, not to dwell on the fireworks that exploded between them that morning in the lecture hall?

  Keir’s hearty appetite so reminded her how Greg’s used to be. Despite, or because of those broad shoulders, impressive height and powerful limbs, men like this could eat for Britain and somehow burn off all the calories - calories that would gleefully settle around Andrea’s hips and remain there, an awful reminder of past dalliances with jam doughnuts and chocolate bars. Since the life-changing events of last December, she’d slimmed down considerably and relished the thought of being waited upon as the plane soared above the clouds. Seven hours of being, as Keir had pointed out, in limbo between her everyday world and the heady prospect of the unknown continent awaiting her. Food she hadn’t prepared herself plus a glass or two of champagne sounded tempting. Maybe she’d totally block out current affairs and put her headphones on to enjoy a sneaky peep at some electronic candy while Keir read his book.

  So far they’d succeeded in relaxing into each other’s company. Being with Keir wasn’t like putting on a pair of velvet slippers. No way. Perhaps after three days together, they’d achieve the right mix of comradeship to see them through whatever it was that flared so dangerously a matter of days ago.

  But Andrea gave her full attention to the safe haven of the newspaper books’ section. She rarely read anything these days that wasn’t one of Josh’s bedtime stories or a work-related article. Maybe this trip would be a chance to reassess her habits. Zonked out in front of a television programme she barely remembered the next morning couldn’t be good. Soaking up every possible new experience that came her way might encourage her to lose some of her more slapdash habits.

  She glanced up from her paper at precisely the same moment as Keir did. Their eyes
met and he gave her a slow, lazy smile that made her tummy lurch and sent zinging sensations coursing through her body. Ooh no … surely she shouldn’t still be experiencing these feelings. She’d thought it was kind of a rebound thing, fixating on an attractive man once the initial, devastating grief over losing Greg blurred into another, more manageable, yet still sensitive emotional state. She’d thought that impulsive kiss after her hissy fit might snuff out whatever it was smouldering between them. Evidently, in her case this didn’t seem to be so. Thank goodness he gave no signs of being uncomfortable in her company.

  Chapter Six

  Keir amused himself watching his companion settle into her personal space. They were only half an hour into the flight and already he decided she’d checked out every available seat angle and facility.

  “My own remote control? Wow. That’s something to savour.”

  He hadn’t commented. Maybe this was one of the things husband and wife didn’t agree on. Maybe Mr Palmer was a control freak. That would be tall Mr Palmer, the military man whose wife seemed to tread a fine line between tension and relaxation. Hurriedly he’d stopped himself thinking along those lines. It wasn’t his business. Except, if Andrea really was putting up with bad stuff at home and under stress, whether physically or emotionally, Keir would find it difficult to back off. His hackles agreed with him.

  The flight attendant handed them each a menu.

  “Are you good at making decisions?” Keir studied the choices.

  “Not where food’s concerned,” said Andrea. “I’m never sure whether to go for something I really enjoy but rarely make, like these crab cakes.’ She paused. “Or, to try something new.”

  “It’s the kind of choice to revel in, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely - what possible impact can it have on the scheme of things?” Her tone was light but when he glanced across, her eyes revealed sadness.

  They sipped their drinks and when the cabin attendant returned, found they’d made identical choices for their starters though neither commented upon this.

  “I could become used to this way of life,” said Andrea.

  “I’ve never before seen anyone look so comfortable in an aeroplane seat,” he said. “Believe me, the novelty would wear off. I did a lot of commuting between New York and London some years ago. It wasn’t too much fun.”

  “I suppose not,” she said. “But that’s what comes of having a high-powered job. Risks and inconvenience are greater than the norm. Hopefully, salary and various perks should outweigh the negatives, or at least counter-balance them.”

  He hesitated. There was still a barrier of self-imposed politeness between them. He wanted to talk to her, properly talk to her. Tell her how, as his career progressed, his personal life had begun a downward spiral he didn’t notice increasing until it was too late to reverse it. He wasn’t looking for sympathy. All he wanted was to talk to someone who also seemed not to have made quite the correct life choices. Unless he was totally misreading the situation, in which case maybe he should shut up and see how things went in Montreal. This desire to unburden his thoughts was so powerful it was distracting.

  Their starters arrived and Andrea picked up her fork. “This is weird,” she said.

  He leaned towards her. “Do you want to send it back? Try something else?”

  “I didn’t mean the crab cakes.” She took a bite. “They’re delicious. No, I meant sitting here with you, out of touch with reality.”

  “I’m sorry if I have that effect,” he said ruefully.

  “What I’m trying to say is, I feel anything I talk to you about is going to be stuff I wouldn’t dream of saying if we were at the hospital or the university.”

  His throat tightened. He wasn’t the only one in that kind of mood. “You don’t have to say anything about your personal circumstances, unless you really want to.” Purposely he didn’t remind her she’d made it plain her personal life was her own business. Maybe the small quantity of champagne she’d drunk and their deliriously high altitude was loosening her tongue more than she realised.

  “I do want to explain something. It’s no secret among my colleagues and at first I didn’t see any point in telling you. Believe me Keir, I’m not looking for sympathy. But it’s possible you’re forming perceptions of me that aren’t totally accurate.”

  He chased a salad leaf around his plate. “I’m good at keeping secrets. I think you already know that don’t you?”

  She watched him pick up the obstinate bit of greenery with his fingers and pop it into his mouth. “It’s very comforting to hear it anyway. I feel you should know more about me, now our working relationship is stepping up a gear, so to speak. And my mother’s participation in the trial and certain things she might or might not accurately disclose are another factor in my decision.”

  Their plates were whisked away and their glasses topped up almost without them noticing. In the lull between starter and main course, Andrea drank some water. Keir waited and wondered. He truly hadn’t a clue what she might be going to say but he’d no intention of interrupting her and spoiling the moment.

  “Richard told me you’d enquired about our relationship,” she said at last. “That is, my personal relationship with him.”

  Keir replaced his glass in its neat holder. The remaining liquid barely shimmered, so placid was the big Boeing’s progress over the ocean. “I see,” he said slowly. “You must have thought that very impertinent of me. I can only say I’m sorry if you found it intrusive but I did have my reasons.”

  “I’m sure. This is why I’m telling you things I think you should know. Because sometimes I overreact.”

  He waited for her to mention their kiss and when she didn’t, was unable to decide whether to be disappointed or relieved.

  “I know how it’s all part of the bereavement process. I’ve written a paper on it yet here I am, questioning my own behavioural patterns. How odd is that?”

  He’d heard similar comments. “Watching a parent’s faculties diminish is, of course, a form of bereavement. We mourn the person that was, even though the person in question is still very much alive.”

  She nodded and drank a little more white wine. “You know, I was trying to push away Rosemary’s slight, shall we say, eccentricities. But last December, something happened which changed my life so much that for a while I almost hated my own mother.”

  “Your lamb medallions, Madame,” the steward beamed at Andrea as he placed her meal before her. The sight of the couscous and deliciously crispy-edged roast vegetables tickled her taste buds. She waited while Keir’s medium-rare beefsteak arrived complete with baby new potatoes and fresh asparagus gleaming with butter.

  “Maybe I should postpone what I’m about to say until we’ve eaten,” said Andrea once they were alone again.

  “Whatever you feel is best. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  ***

  Yet the food provided something to focus upon as she let her back-story unfold. Their meals proved to be equally delicious and neither she nor Keir suffered any loss of appetite throughout her explanation and his questions. Each refused more alcohol when it was offered. Each looked sheepishly at the other when the steward arrived again, offering temptation in the shape of delicious desserts.

  “I will if you will,” she said. “It has to be tiramisu for me, please.”

  Keir laughed. “How could I possibly let you eat alone?”

  The steward smiled as he took an order for strawberry and almond tart.

  Over cups of dark, smoky coffee, Keir thanked Andrea, not without diffidence, for telling him about her late husband.

  “I don’t want to cause you any more pain,” he said, “but I want to tell you how brave you are. When I think of my crass attitude, demanding if you were sure you wanted to go ahead with this trip, I could kick myself, or worse. No wonder you thought I was some kind of chauvinist.”

  “This project’s massively important to you. Quite simply, I need to move on with m
y life. It’s important to keep the happy memories of course.”

  He nodded agreement. “Sounds like you’re making sure your son retains his dad’s memory. What a lovely guy Greg must have been. I like the thought of his leaving surprise gifts for you both like that.”

  “Lucky girl, wasn’t I? Finding happiness with him, I mean. Not only was he a great husband but a terrific dad too. Some people don’t ever find out how much that can mean to a woman.”

  For a moment she regretted her remark as she saw a spasm cross Keir’s features. He had his own emotional baggage but already she’d talked a lot, maybe too much, though the sense of unburdening left her feeling calm, if a little sleepy.

  “I need you to know I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me, Keir,” she said. “That was my main reason for not disclosing I was widowed, in the first place. I’m sorry to offload all that on you but I felt it was the right time. Now, maybe I’ll close my eyes for a while.” She reached for the soft pillow so thoughtfully provided by the airline.

  “I’m honoured you felt ready to confide in me,” he said. “Enjoy your nap, Andrea. I think I’ll listen to some music.”

  Andrea snuggled into her seat. Yes, it was bliss to have so much space. And she’d decided it was far better for Keir to know her single status and all it represented. He’d admitted taking note of her rings and presuming she must be married. He hadn’t confessed the doubtless feeling he felt of their potential, but there’d been enough confidences disclosed for one flight. She hadn’t wanted to remind him of the kiss they’d shared. Surely two adults could put such an incident behind them. At that moment it felt very comforting, very right, to have his silent presence beside her. Hopefully she’d made it clear she needed no special treatment.

  She was conscious of him checking the aircraft position on the small screen in front of him. They must be well over halfway there by now. It was so relaxing, lying back, being transported to another continent. And the lovely thing was, because of the time zones, if they landed on schedule, she’d be able to ring Kirsty and say hi to Josh. Andrea floated in a dreamy, alcohol-tinged haze.