by Emma Davies
Lucy nodded and looked at the woman to Hattie’s left.
‘I’m Lia,’ she supplied. ‘And reading is virtually all I do too – when I can, that is. I’m a full-time carer, you see. My mum has Alzheimer’s, so this is my little bit of sanity.’ She gave Hattie a sympathetic smile.
The rest of the introductions were over quickly and Lucy picked up the plate of biscuits, offering them directly to Hattie. She could tell she wanted one and was just being polite. Perhaps if she took one the others would follow suit.
‘So, did you all manage to read Precious Time?’ she asked, waiting for the answering nods. ‘I’m sorry Hattie, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage this time, but we’ll pick the next read before we finish and then you’ll soon be up and running.’ She looked around the group. ‘What did you all think? Thumbs up or thumbs down?’
Lia was the first to respond. ‘Oh, thumbs up,’ she sighed. ‘It was beautiful,’ she added, ‘and I cried… again.’
The young lad next to her nodded vigorously. ‘Me too,’ he agreed. ‘Well, not the crying part, but I thought the characters were brilliant. I couldn’t pick a favourite, they were all so different, but so good – even the nasty one!’
‘I think that’s what I love about Erica’s writing, Callum,’ said Lucy. ‘Her characters don’t just introduce themselves so much as walk off the page to meet you. What about you Oscar? Perhaps not quite your cup of tea, but what did you think?’
Oscar was in his early seventies and always made Lucy smile; she never failed to be cheered up in the presence of one of his colourful bow ties. He was a regular at the library, and she had never seen him read anything that wasn’t a thriller.
‘It’s true, I prefer my fiction a bit more masculine, but all things considered I did enjoy it. Like Lia, I could see it was a very emotional read. The start struck me as quite…’ He trailed off, clearing his throat. ‘Very poignant, I thought.’
‘I knew I recognised the title,’ said Hattie suddenly. ‘Is it by Erica James? The one where the main character gives up her job and goes off with her little boy in a camper van?’
There were nods all round, and Hattie beamed.
‘It has an element of pure wish-fulfilment, doesn’t it?’ said Lia. ‘That’s why I enjoyed it so much. Imagine simply taking off without any consequences and seeing where the wind takes you. And of course they all live happily ever after – that’s what makes it so perfect. Isn’t that what we’d all like to do?’
Lucy loved it when the discussions seemed to flow of their own accord. It didn’t always happen, but she was pleased when it did. It showed the group was beginning to get to know one another better, and say what they felt rather than be polite or shy.
‘I know I would,’ groaned Callum, pushing his slightly too long black curls off his face. ‘I’ve had enough of my brothers teasing me and making my life a misery. I’d take off to a remote Scottish island – provided it had an internet connection, of course – find a nice girl to settle down with, and live out my days never having to listen to them again.’
‘What about you, Lia? What would you do if you could?’ asked Oscar.
Lia clearly didn’t need to think about it. She sat up straight, and leaned forward. ‘Dance,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I’d want to dance.’
Chapter Three
‘There’d be a dark space lit with a thousand twinkling points of lights,’ continued Lia. ‘Music rising and falling, silken material swishing against my legs, and I’d be twirling faster and faster, lost in the sensations that filled my head. Like a bubble of happiness rising up, a lightness of being, as if I’m on air…’
And suddenly Lucy could see just how it would be for Lia. How she must feel chained by the confinement of her life, yet lit up by her love for her mother. She could almost sense the weight of her familial duty, how worn she must feel by her endless need to be patient and longing to be released. Lucy could think of no better cure than the exquisite pleasure of a soul finding freedom as it danced.
‘My mum was a professional ballroom dancer,’ Lia continued. ‘Years ago, mind, before I was even born; it’s how she met my dad. They used to tour in the 1960s, even dancing at the Empress Ballroom in Brighton a few times. That’s why I’d love to dance: for the romance of it all, the glamour, the old-fashioned elegance, and the dresses of course, all those sequins…’ She gave a self-conscious laugh.
‘But you must dance, surely?’ asked Hattie. ‘Having a mum who was a professional, I bet your house was filled with music as a child.’
Lia looked down at her shoes. ‘It was for a little while, but mostly when I was very small, almost too small to remember. Then my dad left, and Mum… well, she never really danced again. She wouldn’t let me either – even though I begged her to have lessons, she flatly refused. I never learned, not to this day.’
Hattie raised a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, that’s so sad,’ she empathised. ‘But you must learn – it’s never too late you know.’
Lucy saw Lia give a shrug, almost imperceptible, and she felt the wave of longing again, the sadness of an unattainable dream. Lia looked up and caught her eye.
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Sorry, we’re kind of getting off the subject of the book, but that’s what I would do if I could.’
Lucy nodded. ‘I think it’s entirely relevant, Lia. That’s the power of a good book, isn’t it? The ability writing has to evoke such strong emotions. For me, although it’s set in the modern day, it has such a nostalgic feel to it. I think it only serves to emphasise that sense of wish-fulfilment we gain from it. It upholds traditional values and morals, and sometimes that can feel like a far cry from today’s society. Does the setting help, do you think? What did you all think of Deaconsbridge?’
The rest of the session passed by in lively discussion, with the addition of lots of laughter, much to Lucy’s relief. They finished by choosing their next book, a tense psychological thriller, or blood and guts as Oscar called it. She was pleased with the way the group was bonding.
Nobody seemed in a hurry to get home, and although another customer called Lucy away almost as soon as the refreshments were cleared, she was encouraged to see Lia and Hattie still deep in conversation by the counter when she returned fifteen minutes later. Both of them had an armful of books.
‘Mum used to love Emma Blair’s books,’ said Lia, passing across one of the books she was holding to be scanned. ‘I’m not sure she really takes in any of what I read her now, but it seems to relax her, and me too, if I’m honest.’
‘Well if you get stuck any time, I can recommend Charlie and Lola,’ replied Hattie, smiling. ‘Poppy can’t get enough of them; she knows them all by heart.’ She put her books down on the counter, waiting her turn as Lia began to pack hers away.
‘I’ll see you next time, shall I?’ she asked.
‘Yes, definitely. I’ll be here,’ replied Lia. ‘Thanks, Lucy. It was great today. Bye, Hattie.’
*
Lia swung her bag from one hand to the other as she stood on the step outside the library. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but it gave her something to do as she stood there. When she had left the house an hour and a half ago she had been thrilled with the prospect of some time to herself, but now she couldn’t make up her mind what to do. She had thought she might have a browse through one or two of the clothes shops – there was one at the far end of the High Street that she particularly liked – but now it seemed a bit silly; frivolous, even. Actually, what it felt like was a complete waste of time. What did she need new clothes for? It wasn’t as if she had anywhere to go, or anyone to see. And her mum couldn’t care less what she wore.
‘Are you okay?’ came the voice from behind her. ‘You look miles away.’
Lia looked up to see Hattie standing hesitantly on the step beside her. Her bright red coat was cheerful in the golden autumn sun. And she was smiling.
‘I was,’ admitted Lia, pulling a face. ‘I was trying to decide what to do now.’
Hattie held onto her hair which was resolutely blowing about her face. ‘Without feeling guilty, you mean?’
Lia stared at her in astonishment. She was absolutely right.
‘I know, I feel like that all the time since Poppy started school. When she was at home all day I hardly had a minute to myself, but now she’s at school I’ve suddenly got huge amounts of time to myself and I don’t know what to do with it. I feel like I should be doing something useful and not wasting it, but there’s only so much housework you can do! It’s deathly boring, but I feel so guilty if I sit and do something I want to.’
‘Stupid, isn’t it?’ agreed Lia. ‘I never usually get any time to myself, except when Mum’s asleep, but the carer who helps out so I can come to the book club is staying longer today. I’ve got two whole hours to do exactly what I please and I’m talking myself out of every single thing I can think of.’
Hattie grinned. ‘How about a walk and some fresh air? You must feel pretty cooped up at times, and it’s such a glorious day.’
Lia was flustered for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said tentatively at first, and then, stronger, ‘Yes, thanks, I’d like that. I do try and get Mum out as much as I can but it’s often rather… fraught. Things upset her, you see.’ She smiled at Hattie, both of them acknowledging the slight shyness between them. ‘Where shall we go? I’m guessing you might be a regular at the swings in the park, but we could go past them, out through the field and along by the river?’
Hattie hitched her own bag up her arm a little and pulled a face. ‘Oh yes, anywhere but the swings.
‘Do you live in the town?’ she asked once they were walking.
Lia squinted up at the sun, and nodded. ‘Up by the school actually, well, past it… Where the shops are and then left. They’re old council houses. I’ve lived there all my life.’
Hattie’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘Blimey, I can’t imagine living anywhere my whole life.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Sorry, that sounded really rude.’
Lia smiled generously. ‘No, you’re right, it wasn’t exactly what I had planned either…’ She caught Hattie’s eye with a mischievous grin and dissolved into giggles. ‘It’s true. I really have lived the most boring life in the history of the planet.’
‘Aw, that’s not fair,’ replied Hattie. ‘It must be really difficult looking after your mum full time. Has she been ill for long?’
‘About ten years altogether. But she’s only in her early seventies now; she didn’t have me until she was forty-one. I often wonder if that was part of the problem.’
Hattie paused momentarily before stepping out into the road after Lia. ‘How so?’ she asked.
‘Just because she wasn’t used to stopping. She was dancing from her twenties, touring with a professional troupe in the early sixties, and then later on when she and Dad got together they toured around holiday camps and cruise ships, a different one every season. Glamorous as it sounds, it must have been a hard life in many ways. When they finally decided to settle down and have me, that’s when it began to go wrong. My dad left when I was four. I don’t think a mundane life suited them, to be honest.’
‘So, your mum was a single parent too?’
Lia nodded. ‘And everything just stopped, apart from looking after me. I know she resented it, and then the dementia began to show itself from her mid-sixties I guess. She’s only needed full-time care in the last four years, though.’
‘That’s tough,’ declared Hattie, slowing her speed a little to keep pace with Lia.
‘It can be,’ Lia replied. ‘There’s only me. She has no other family, and I couldn’t bear to put her in a home. Plenty of other people are in the same boat. Didn’t you say you were on your own too? I know how hard it was for Mum being a single parent.’
Hattie wrinkled her nose. ‘Hmm, but it’s not quite the same thing as what you’re going through. Children go to bed a lot earlier for a start.’
‘They won’t always,’ countered Lia.
Hattie smiled. ‘True,’ she said, ‘but in my case being on my own is far preferable to the alternative. My ex is a scumbag. Believe me, I’m well shot of him. It isn’t easy bringing up a child on your own; there were days when Poppy was little when I’d spend hours trying to calm her crying and then would cry myself to sleep too, but at least I could provide some sort of stability for her. If I’d married her dad, that would have been impossible.’
Lia could understand that. It was hard work looking after her mum, a thankless task at times, but at least the decisions she made were her own. Things would be so much harder if she had to cope with interference from someone else. It sounded like Hattie had had a hard time, but Lia had only just met her and now wasn’t the time to pry any further. ‘You mentioned at the book club that you’d moved recently. Is that to be closer to your family?’
‘Not exactly.’ Hattie’s expression was unreadable. ‘I just felt I needed a change, that’s all. I used to live in Herefordshire; about an hour away. But I’m still only twenty minutes or so from my sister and half an hour from my mum and dad – just in the other direction.’
‘Well,’ said Lia brightly, ‘at least they’re not so far away that they can’t step in for babysitting duties every once in a while.’
This time Hattie gave a slight smile. ‘My sister’s pretty good, she helps out when she can, but I don’t like asking too often. You know how it is.’
‘Yeah, that’s certainly a feeling I’m familiar with – you’ve made your bed and now you must lie in it…?’ Lia stopped to look at Hattie; taking in the dyed black hair blowing around her face and the kind brown eyes that were ringed with a little too much eyeliner. ‘We’re two peas in a pod then, aren’t we?’ she said, wondering if she had been a bit too forward, but it felt so good talking to another human being.
Hattie gave an amused snort. ‘Hardly! I mean, look at you. You’re all slim and elegant, with gorgeous hair and I’m… not.’
It was true, Hattie’s red coat was straining slightly at the seams, as was her bright blue blouse underneath, but Lia had never seen anyone with such a friendly smile and the most beautiful clear skin. She was a little chubby, that was all.
‘I haven’t washed my hair for days, I’m wearing jeans that are six years old and a tatty fleece, so you can stop that.’
The two women looked at one another for a moment, feeling the growing bond of friendship between them.
Hattie reached out her hand to open the gate into the park. ‘You should learn to dance, you know, you really should,’ she said.
Lia puffed out her cheeks. ‘I know, a huge part of me would love to, but it’s not that easy. For starters, I’d need to find more care for Mum, and social services aren’t always that obliging, and—’ She broke off when she caught sight of Hattie’s raised eyebrow. ‘I know, I know, I’m just making excuses. It’s been so long since I did anything other than look after Mum, the thought alone terrifies me. Much as I’d like to, I’m not sure I’d actually have the nerve. I will think about it, I promise, but I’m going to take some convincing.’
Chapter Four
It was the time of day he liked best – early morning, with the sun just glancing across one corner of the pillowcase. They slept with the curtains open, summer or winter, but the effect was best at this time of year. Oscar always woke first, opening his eyes to see her beautiful face turned towards his. It was the first thing he saw every day and the last thing he saw at night. Strawberry-blonde curls spilled out across the pillow, and deep rosebud lips curved softly in sleep. Of course, the hair was grey now, the soft skin a little lined, but she was still the same to him as she had been when they married at the age of eighteen. And they’d said it wouldn’t last.
He reached out a hand to rub a thumb across the warmth of her cheek gently. Any minute now her eyes would open and she would smile her soft sleepy smile, his name on her lips. Hello my sweetheart, he would say in reply. Any minute now…
He moved his head a fraction, w
atching as the sun tracked across the pillow. A gentle sigh stirred the air, as his fingers reached out to caress the cold wrinkle-free expanse of cotton. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling the too familiar weight that settled upon him moments after he woke. Why could he never stay in the hazy dreams of sleep? Why did the daylight always have to rob him of his memories? ‘Oh, my darling, Mary,’ he whispered. ‘I miss you so much.’
*
‘Morning Oscar!’ Lucy sang, with a grin. ‘You’re looking especially dapper today, I must say.’
Oscar raised his hand in greeting, the gold signet ring on the little finger of his right hand glinting in the sunlight. ‘Well, one tries, one tries…’ he replied. He straightened up his waistcoat and checked his tie, bright-purple silk this morning. ‘It wouldn’t do to go through life all grey and miserable now, would it?’ he added. ‘And anything which puts a smile on your face, my dear, is worth it for that alone.’
‘Oh, please…’ muttered Rachel beside her.
Lucy gave her colleague a sharp look. ‘Shh,’ she hissed under her breath, moving away from the counter towards the table where she knew Oscar was headed, the evening paper from the night before clutched in her hand. She waited until he had settled himself.
‘Here’s yesterday’s,’ she said, laying the paper down on the table. ‘Would you like the weekly as well?’
He looked up, a thoughtful expression his face. ‘No, I think I shall do fine with just this one, thank you. And when I’ve had enough of that I have a fine Ken Follett to keep me company.’
‘Excellent. Well, I shall leave you in peace for a bit – although it’s Wednesday, don’t forget, so the place will be overrun with singing children before you know it.’
