Cold Feet: The Lost Years

by Carmel Harrington

  She ushered them to the front of the class, and next thing they knew, they were in a line, with Ruth facing them.

  ‘Jenny did this on purpose,’ David hissed. ‘I knew she was still pissed off with me about the divorce with Karen. The way she looks at me sometimes, it’s most unsettling.’

  ‘She is, mate. Sorry. But I’ve not done anything to piss her off!’ Pete said.

  Before Adam could respond, he felt a pinch on his arse. He jumped and turned around to see a small lady, with snow white hair and a twinkle in her grey-blue eyes, peering up at him.

  ‘I’m Peggy.’ She winked. ‘Don’t fret, I promise to keep a good eye on you.’

  ‘It’s not your eyes I’m worried about, missus,’ Adam said, rubbing his arse cheek. He moved a step closer to Pete. ‘She has some grip for a pensioner,’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s “Achy Breaky Heart” time folks!’ Ruth said, ‘Doris, hit it!’

  Doris pressed play on the CD player and as the music filled the hall, a murmur of approval rippled through the room. Billy Ray Cyrus’s voice started to sing and despite themselves, the lads could feel themselves beginning to sway to the music, their feet tapping along.

  ‘Just follow my lead, gentlemen, and one, two three, we’re off! Left to right, step together, shuffle, shuffle.’ Ruth bellowed out over Billy Ray’s voice, her legs moving side to side, back and forth on the floor with ease.

  Adam looked at Pete and David, and realised that they looked exactly how he felt. They had become three rabbits frozen in the glare of headlights. Wearing cowboy hats. And despite Ruth’s calls of heel, toe and shuffle, none of them moved. Adam felt a trickle of sweat make its way down the small of his back. Then Peggy, with a force that belied her small frame, shuffled sideways hard into Adam. It took him by surprise, and sent him flying into Pete, who in turn hit David. Like trees felled, they crashed to the floor in an undignified heap.

  Billy Ray Cyrus continued to croon about his achy breaky heart, oblivious to their pain.

  ‘More like my achy breaky arse!’ Adam shouted and the three friends looked at each other for a moment before breaking into loud laughter. David was the first up and he helped to pull them back on to their feet. The class giggled good-naturedly along with them and Ruth said, ‘Don’t let that worry you one little bit. It happens to the best of us. Now, let’s start again from the top! Just watch me closely boys, you’ll get the hang of it, I promise!’ She nodded at Doris, the DJ, and once again, they were off.

  Adam concentrated on Ruth’s legs, and to his surprise, his own started to move in time to the beat. When he shuffled to his left, he spied Pete and David also shuffling with big goofy smiles on their face. Pete actually looked quite good. Fecker, he must have done this before.

  ‘Now, march it back. Clap, clap, roll those hips, shuffle, shuffle, step together,’ Ruth shouted at them all.

  ‘Sorry!’ Adam apologised, when Peggy bumped into him again. But she didn’t seem in the least bit worried, having another sneaky pinch of his arse before she moved away.

  ‘Cross and heel, and behind and front and heel and turn,’ Ruth continued, and Adam realised that now he was beginning to understand the lingo.

  The next twenty minutes passed by in a blur, and to their astonishment Adam, Pete and David were actually line-dancing in a pretty reasonable way.

  ‘Give yourselves a clap. You’ve moved and you’ve grooved with attitude!’ Ruth declared and everyone cheered ‘Yee-haw’, waving their hats in the air. ‘Now go catch your breath with some well-earned refreshments.’

  Doris, it turned out was also in charge of drinks. She had jugs of lemon barley water on the table with a stack of white plastic cups lined beside them. Slices of lemon and oranges were on a large platter and several plates of biscuits. They grabbed a plastic cup of juice, threw a few slices of fruit in and sat down on one of the benches, side by side.

  ‘Bloody hell, I’m sweating like a pig here,’ Pete said, wiping his face with a towel. David and Adam nodded in agreement.

  Ruth walked over and explained, ‘It’s low-impact exercise, but it sure gets your heart rate going, doesn’t it? A great way to lose weight and tone up while having fun, I always say.’

  ‘I haven’t laughed like that in a long time,’ Pete admitted. ‘I must tell my mum about this class. I think she’d love it here, she was always a lovely dancer. Dad and her used to waltz all the time. The proper way, mind. The kind where you do all the fancy moves.’

  ‘You’ve got great rhythm. Maybe you get that from her,’ Ruth said.

  Adam looked around at the pensioners, all laughing and chatting, catching up on each other’s weeks, and he tried to picture his own mother with them all. And no matter how hard he tried, the image of Mary Williams wearing a cowboy hat and blue jeans jarred. He didn’t think she’d ever done anything as fun as this in her life. But then, another memory niggled him. His mum and dad jiving, in the kitchen, one Christmas when he was a kid. She was laughing, happy, his dad was singing as he swung her around the room. What was up with him? He’d spent most of the past ten years doing a very good job of not thinking about his mother, but now she kept jumping into his head. It didn’t matter what she had been like, once upon another time. His mother had cast him away like a bad smell, ten years ago. She left Didsbury and she never once looked back. There was a reason that the bad memories stuck, whilst the good ones floated away, almost forgotten. His mother’s face, flushed with anger and accusations took residence again, in his head and heart. All this revisiting of his past was doing him no good. He was better off without her. He’d told her that on the last day they spoke.

  Pete stood up, moving closer to Ruth. He was chuffed with her praise of his rythmn. ‘You know, I did play the drums years ago. I used to be in a band. The Didsbury Tribune once compared us to the Smiths.’

  ‘How nice for you,’ Ruth said politely, but without any real interest. ‘Well, I must say, you are all good sports. I hope you’ve forgiven me for pushing you into staying for our class. I know you hadn’t signed up for this.’

  ‘Not at all. Sure, it was a bit of craic,’ Adam said.

  ‘I did rather enjoy myself,’ David admitted.

  ‘That’s the great thing about line-dancing, it doesn’t matter if you have two left feet.’ Ruth glanced at David’s feet before she turned to walk away.

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ he replied, stung by the inference.

  Peggy sat down beside Adam. ‘I thought she’d never go.’

  Pete whispered to David, ‘Aye aye, his new girlfriend’s back.’

  Peggy placed a large black handbag on to her lap and opened it, peering into it. Muttering to herself, she pulled out a headscarf, a pair of brown leather gloves, a phone, a packet of Maltesers and then with a satisfied ‘There you are!’, she retrieved a silver hip flask.

  Adam nudged Pete, who nudged David, and they sat watching her, mouths agape, as she took a sip from the flask, then poured a good drop into her lemon barley water.

  She turned to face them. ‘Oh I’m being rude, aren’t I?’ Peggy said, smiling. ‘Pass me your cups, and I’ll give you a snifter. But don’t tell Ruth! I’m on my last warning here. She doesn’t approve. Something about invalidating the insurance or some such nonsense.’

  ‘Mum’s the word,’ David said, the first with his plastic cup outstretched.

  ‘Rules are made to be broken, I always say.’ Pete held his cup out.

  ‘This your own home brew, Peggy?’ Adam asked, taking a sniff.

  ‘It’s just gin. A little snifter to help loosen up the joints. Bottoms up, guys,’ Peggy said, taking a long swig again.

  ‘Cheers.’ They all clinked plastic with her and happily sat sipping their cocktails while Garth Brooks crooned about going down to the River.

  And then, all at once, she was back.

  Rachel.

  His Rachel. Leaning against the wall, opposite him, watching Adam, smiling. The sun peeked through the hall’s windows, and danced on he
r auburn hair. Adam felt something give inside him, as it always did, when she appeared.

  ‘Have I got competition?’ Rachel asked, pretending to be cross, but failing miserably, because her lips curved upwards. She’d never make a poker player.

  ‘You just might,’ Adam said, smiling back at her. ‘She’s my kind of gal, this Peggy.’

  Rachel moved closer towards him. ‘I’ve got moves too.’ Then she did a little shuffle to the right and a toe, heel, click. ‘Ta da!’

  Adam laughed and said, ‘That’s it, Peggy is blown out.’ His face softened and he said, ‘You know that it’s only ever been you Rach.’

  Her smile made him want to weep.

  ‘The hat suits you,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll have to buy one, so,’ Adam replied.

  His couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted to hold her, to touch her. He wanted to feel the warmth of her lips kissing his. He wanted . . .

  ‘How you doing, love?’ she interrupted.

  ‘All the better for seeing you. You look beautiful, Rach.’ He felt a golf-ball-sized lump take up residence in his throat.

  Adam was brought back to the gym with a sharp nudge to his ribs. Irritated, he turned to Peggy, who was holding up the silver flask again. He smiled his thanks with distraction as she poured another drop into his cup and turned back to Rachel.

  But he was on his own again.

  For the one millionth time since she died, he felt her loss. The sun retreated from the window in solidarity and darkness descended over the hall.

  ‘Where did you go to just then?’ Peggy asked, her voice quiet and gentle.

  Adam turned to her, raising one dark eyebrow.

  ‘I’ve been here all along.’ He wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat or line-dancing any more. He wanted to go and get Matthew from Karen’s house, then go home. But he didn’t have a home. He wanted to feel his son’s soft head in the nape of his neck. And he wanted to cry. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

  Peggy wasn’t to be deterred. ‘You might have been sitting here quietly, but your mind was somewhere else. Somewhere that made you happy. Or maybe you were with someone that made you happy. Either ways, you were gone there for a while.’

  ‘I was thinking about my wife. Rachel.’ He looked around the hall again, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

  Come back, Rach. Please.

  ‘Well, I don’t need to ask if it’s a happy marriage. I know the look of love when I see it. Your face was filled with it,’ Peggy said.

  ‘We were in love.’ Adam looked down and felt that familiar ache that rarely left him. It gathered speed as it raced around his body.

  Peggy didn’t say anything, she just added some more gin to their plastic cups. Pete and David were back on their feet and they were practising the toe, heel, click move.

  ‘She died,’ Adam whispered.

  They both took another sip of their drinks in silence, his words hanging between them. Then, she put her head back into her bag and pulled out a purse. She opened the flap and showed him a photograph encased in a plastic frame, of a young couple, about his age. The woman was smiling and so was the man, whose eyes were firmly on the lady by his side.

  ‘That was taken on my wedding day. That there is my Terry,’ Peggy said.

  ‘Look at you, you were movie-star beautiful,’ Adam told her.

  ‘I had my moments,’ she replied, touching the photograph. ‘But I was most beautiful when I was with my husband. I lost a lot of my shine the day he died.’

  Adam touched her hand, and felt her weathered skin beneath his fingertips. She placed her other hand over his. ‘He died forty-two years ago, in September.’

  ‘Does it get easier?’ Adam asked.

  ‘No. But you can learn to live with it, live a good life, even a happy one. Our children helped with that. And now I’ve got grandchildren too.’

  Adam said, ‘We have a son. It was Rachel’s gift to me before she died. He’s coming up to a year old now. When I feel the grief attacking me, threatening to undo me, I just have to look at him. It helps.’

  She nodded in understanding. They sat listening to the music for a few minutes, then Adam turned to her and asked, ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you ever see your husband?’ Adam asked. Was he the only one who had visits from a dead spouse? Sometimes he worried that he was losing his mind. Other times he knew that these visits from Rachel were the only thing that kept him sane. And allowed him to put one foot in front of the other.

  ‘Well, let me see. I see him in the eyes of my daughter and in the walk of my son. And when my grandson laughs, it’s him, every nuance of him, in that joyful sound.’ She looked up at Adam. ‘But you didn’t mean like that, did you?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Do you see your wife?’ Peggy asked.

  Adam nodded.

  ‘And do you talk to each other?’ Peggy asked.

  ‘Yes. She was teasing me about you as it happens. She thinks my head has been turned by your sass.’

  Peggy’s giggle made Adam smile. ‘Oh, it’s been a long time since I ever made a young woman jealous! In my day, I was quite the head-turner.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that for one moment,’ Adam said.

  ‘Well, in answer to your question, I don’t see Terry any more. I still talk to him a lot. When I’m up at his grave,’ Peggy said.

  ‘Rachel was cremated. We scattered her ashes up in Portmeirion. But she’s never left me. Not really. She comes back every now and then, sometimes for a quick chat, other times for longer,’ Adam admitted.

  ‘You’re not ready to say goodbye to her yet,’ Peggy said.

  ‘I don’t think I ever will be,’ Adam whispered.

  Then Ruth’s voice called out. ‘Put down your cups, it’s time to “Turbo Hustle”!’

  Peggy said, ‘Your friends are eager!’ David and Pete were already in position, ready to begin.

  She put her flask back into her bag, then closed the clasp. ‘You’re wrong, you know. You will be ready one day. When the time is right, you’ll find that you don’t need her to visit you. In the meantime, how about we give your lovely Rachel something to be really worried about? Would you dance with me?’ She held her hand out towards him.

  Adam laughed out loud and bowed towards her. He offered her his arm and said, ‘I’d be delighted. And by the way, Peggy. You were wrong about something too.’

  She stopped and looked up at him. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You didn’t lose it,’ Adam said.

  ‘Lose what?’ Peggy asked, puzzlement creasing her face.

  ‘When Terry died, you didn’t lose your shine.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The accidental porn star and the thing called love

  Pete and Jenny’s house, Didsbury, Manchester

  ‘Shove over,’ Pete said, plonking himself in the middle of the couch in between Adam and David. The two lads inched themselves to either side and he threw a can of lager at each of them. Jenny was at her sister’s, which gave them the perfect excuse for a lads’ night in.

  ‘All’s quiet upstairs,’ Adam said. He double checked the baby monitor was on and relaxed when he saw the green light. Little Adam and Matthew were both out for the count.

  ‘Do you think we’ve got enough to eat?’ David asked, sarcasm loaded on to each word.

  They looked down at the mountain of food in front of them. Three large pizzas, a bag of chips, a bag of onion rings, dough balls, three dips and garlic bread.

  ‘I may have over-ordered,’ Adam said, licking his lips, not one bit sorry.

  Pete rubbed in stomach in anticipation and it responded by growling in approval. ‘This here, is not for the faint-hearted. But I, for one, am ready for the challenge.’ He pinged the elastic in his tracksuit bottoms. He’d changed into them an hour earlier.

  ‘Amateur. I’ll take your tracksuit, sir, and raise you commando style,’ Adam replied, nodding to his own tracksuit bott
oms.

  ‘What, you’re not wearing any jocks?’ David asked.

  ‘Nope. Nil by arse. Naked as the day I was born underneath this,’ Adam said.

  ‘That’s hardly necessary for a pizza and lager, is it?’ David glanced down at his suit and tie.

  ‘Many would think that,’ Adam said, shaking his head at the naivety of his friend. ‘But you see, I’ve fallen foul before at evenings such as these. You think you’re sorted. Elasticated waistband at the ready. But then as you move on to round two . . .’

  ‘The dough balls . . .’ Pete interrupted.

  Adam nodded in agreement, then continued, ‘. . . things begin to feel a bit tight. Restricted, shall we say. But you still have chips and garlic dip to tackle.’

  ‘Not to mention the onion rings,’ Pete added sorrowfully, thinking of his M&S boxer shorts that were beginning to feel more uncomfortable with every word Adam stated. He was an amateur.

  ‘So you’re saying jocks impede your eating? What utter nonsense,’ David replied, laughing. They were taking the rise out of him again.

  ‘Oh, you poor, innocent young man. I’m telling you. Try it. Let it all hang out and you’ll find you can get all the way to round three,’ Adam said.

  ‘The garlic bread,’ Pete said.

  ‘What surprises me is how much time you’ve put into thinking about all of this. Some of us have lives!’ David sneered.

  Adam turned to them both and bowed his head, placing his two hands together, as if in prayer. ‘Success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.’

  ‘Oooh, get you . . .’ Pete jeered.

  ‘Well, if Confucius said so . . .’ David winked, recognising the quote. He loosened the knot on his tie, then pulled it up over his head, opening his top button on his white chambray shirt.

  Pete nodded towards his crotch.

  ‘That’s as far as it goes for me. The jocks stay on,’ David replied firmly.

  Laughing, delighted with themselves, they moved forward to grab a slice of pizza each.