Chained in Time
Page 20
*
The clock finally ground its way round to 5.00pm and Teddy Stride slowly packed his work away with an air of dispirited relief. All around him desks were being cleared hurriedly as their occupants readied themselves for the journey home and their weekends. Coats were disappearing from pegs and the door swung to and fro constantly from the hurried passage of a stream of bodies through it. No one spoke to him. Home time on Friday was sacred to all. The week's ribbing was over and would not resume until Monday morning. Teddy had two whole days of freedom ahead of him, two days in which to be himself and do as he wished. Truly, five o'clock on a Friday afternoon was the happiest moment in his working week. Were he honest with himself, it was the only happy moment of his working week.
Long practised at the art of appearing to be busy while not actually doing very much, he waited until the office was empty before he even considered leaving. This was deliberate and he had become quite adept at it over the years. The real reason was so that they could all depart ahead of him so that he would not have to share the bus with any of them.
Ten past five. That should be enough. Meticulously, he cleared his pens and diary into his briefcase, retrieved his coat from the peg and left the building. A relieved smile flickered across his face as he looked pointedly along the street. There was nobody at the bus stop. He could go straight there instead of bumbling around, tying his shoelaces and pretending to read the evening paper, until the next bus had emptied the stop of potential torturers. A peaceful ride home among total strangers, during which he could anticipate the weekend's adventures uninterrupted, beckoned.
Teddy’s mother placed her son’s tea on the table with infinite care, admiring the steam rising from his steak and kidney pudding, neatly flanked by peas, mashed potato, carrots and cauliflower, all floating in a deep brown pool of gravy. Standing back and surveying her handiwork with pride, she went back into the kitchen and returned with her own main course, a smaller replica of his, which she placed at the opposite end of the table. As a careful afterthought, she placed the bottle of Worcestershire sauce within easy reach, remembering how he loved to lace his dinner with its unique tang.
He adored his steak and kidney pudding on a Friday evening when he came home from that horrible job, where he had to be like all the others and do exactly as he was told all week long for the pittance that they paid him. Teddy just lived for his Friday nights when he could be completely himself and go out with his friends, when there was no boss with his sneer and finger tapping at his watch, when his so-called colleagues didn’t giggle and mutter behind his back, and then get promoted over his head because they had no imagination and conformed.
She was proud that her son did not conform. He had a mind of his own and lived his own life, and that was enough for her. A mother’s love is unconditional, she told herself.
“Teddy! Teddy!” she called up the stairs. “Your tea’s ready!”
“I’ll be down in a minute!” came the reply. “I’m nearly ready.”
“It’s your favourite, steak and kidney pudding!”
“I know,” replied the voice from upstairs. It was always steak and kidney pudding on a Friday evening.
“And apple crumble to follow!”
“Yes!” It was always that too.
Returning to the table, she scolded herself for resenting the fact that Teddy’s meagre wage did not provide enough funds to invest in one of those lovely microwave ovens that you could use to warm food through without drying it out. Of course it could have if he chose not to spend most of it on his night out with those friends of his on a Friday night. 'Unworthy thought! Banish it to where it belongs,' she told herself. Teddy deserved his evening of happiness once a week. Other than that, he was sitting at home with her, watching the television, unless one of them came round to visit, and that didn’t happen very often. No, it was simply a question of timing. He took great care with his appearance on his Friday night adventures, so naturally it took him some time to prepare. He didn’t just strip off his work clothes, have a quick bath and change, like most men would. It was a much more complex operation than that and he took pains to ensure that everything was perfect. She must remind herself to cook his tea a little later than usual at the end of the working week, so that it could be piping hot when he came down for it. She made this vow every Friday night, and by every following Friday, she had forgotten it.
Primly, she sat down at her end of the table and waited for him. It had been five years since her late husband, Dennis, had sat there with them and his passing had affected Teddy so very deeply. Even now she felt that he had not got over it fully. Dennis used to sit at the opposite end while their son occupied a spot at the side of the table, between them. Since Dennis had departed this world, however, Teddy was the man of the house, so he took pride of place at the head of the table.
“Are you out with your friends again tonight,” she called up the stairs from her seat. It was an unnecessary question because she was already fully aware of the answer. His routine never varied other than their week in Clacton every August.
“Mmm?”
“Are you out with your friends again tonight?”
“Yes!” The reply drifted down the stairs. “It’s Simon’s birthday.”
“Oh, that’s good, dear,” she said. “Isn’t Simon that nice boy with the dark hair who came round to see you last week?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh,” Teddy’s mother smiled in satisfaction. Simon was a lovely boy. He had been most courteous to her on his visit. “Do come along, Teddy, it’s getting cold.”
She smiled as a chair scraped across the bedroom floor above her head and footsteps clattered to the top of the stairs. He was coming.
Moments later, Teddy stood before his mother and smiled fondly at her. “Well,” he asked, “what do you think?”
She beamed, giving him a thorough once-over. “My, you look lovely tonight,” she said approvingly.