Sunrise for Two

by Merlot Montana

  “Are you okay?” Julia asked, looking at the lines of tiredness around her lovely mouth.

  “Yes thanks.” Harry smiled up at her and handed her the glass. Julia raised her arm in a sympathetic toast, then drained the remnants of the wine while Olivia led the way outside.

  Tiredly, Harry reached up and set her alarm. After a last wistful thought about the book and sofa, she wheeled into the van and locked her chair in place. “Who are we cooking for?” she asked with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  “It's a community event.” Olivia said as encouragingly as she could. “Get to know your neighbours and see how fun cooking can be.”

  “So that’s why you’re getting someone else to cook.” Harry observed drily.

  “Well it’s not fun watching Olivia cook.” Julia interjected reasonably and dug a cereal bar out of the glove compartment.

  “Good point. Where am I cooking?”

  “Moss Side,” Olivia said, her voice still encouraging, “there’s a park that we’re trying to reclaim from the local gang activity.”

  “Great so I’m going to be shot.”

  “See. That right there is the attitude that we’re trying to address.”

  “Where’s the food from?”

  “Donations. All the local shops and the supermarkets have given very generously.”

  “Okay that’s good.” Harry told her with a grudging smile.

  “Absolutely! I knew you’d enjoy this.” They drove through the expansive streets of south Manchester and up through bedsits and tower blocks to the rows of terraced houses and the park where a sound system was vibrating with a rather impressive base note.

  Harry wheeled to the rows of tables and looked at the food. “What’s the menu?”

  “Food,” Olivia said hopefully, “you know, you always have good ideas.” Harry closed her eyes for a moment and thought about her book. Then she looked up at her friend and smiled. “Okay,” she said, “but you better have lots and lots of wine.”

  Chris ran further than he intended, back to the streets where he had grown up. He paused, savouring the satisfying ache in his legs and sucked the air into his lungs. He could smell food, good food, the kind that came from fresh ingredients. Curiously he walked towards the park where he had opened his exam results and done most of his revision. He saw Harry and the adrenaline rush caught him by surprise. She was stirring a pot that was at almost the same level as her head.

  “There’s about seven foot of gorgeousness leaning against our sound system and watching you.” Julia said with a smile. Harry looked up and felt suddenly short of breath.

  “That’s the surgeon.”

  “The interesting surgeon? The one you like?”

  “I don’t like him at all.”

  “Well then can I have him?” Olivia asked appreciatively.

  “Oh my goodness he’s coming over.” Harry said unsteadily, she took a deep breath and looked up at Olivia, “You promised me wine.”

  “I know honey I’m sorry. They told me they’d be here by now.”

  “Hi,” said Chris, “that smells good.”

  “You can have some for free.” Olivia told him warmly.

  “I’m sure he can.” Julia murmured.

  “Thank you.” Chris said with a smile, still looking at Harry. “Is your finger okay?”

  “Yes, it’s fine,” Harry said, pleased that he had noticed, but also slightly embarrassed, “I burnt it on the side of the pot.”

  “Oh honey I’m sorry.” Olivia said awkwardly. “I know your hands are really important.” Harry looked at her friend, feeling her embarrassment deepening, and wishing more than ever that she was back on her sofa.

  “Everyone’s hands are important.” Chris said, with a sudden flash of inspiration, and was rewarded by her beautiful smile. He smiled back, then added hopefully, “I’m really good at chopping.”

  “Thank goodness.” Julia interjected, “I’m terrible. Here you can have my knife.”

  “Thank you.” Chris said sincerely. He sat down beside Harry and smiled at her, “How finely do you want these vegetables?”

  “Fairly rough,” she suggested, still adjusting to his distracting proximity.

  “Okay then.” he chopped in silence, still unable to believe his good luck. He was sitting next to her, he had the chance to make amends away from the amused eyes of his mentor. “Is this something that you often do?” he asked, deciding that if was, then he would be volunteering.

  “Well I used to do a lot more, you know chanting things on street corners, painting banners, but I’ve gotten a bit softer now, I spend more time on the sofa.”

  “Helping communities is a good cause.” He said approvingly, and she smiled at him and their preparation fell into a charged silence. Chris drew in a breath, he didn’t want these precious moments alone with her to be squandered. He rehearsed casual and tempting suggestions for their Saturday night and he savoured the sight of her honey dark profile as she concentrated on the battered stove that Olivia’s group had dragged into the park.

  “You’re good at that.” Harry said finally.

  “I spent four years as a teenager in a children’s home round the corner from here.”

  “And they taught you how to cook?”

  “I figured a lot of stuff out myself, it was the only way to have anything decent to eat.”

  “I’m running low on ideas.” she said tiredly, “if you can think of anything with a lot of carrots in it then I’d be really grateful.”

  “Watch this.” He stood up and reached across her. She wheeled back, torn between amusement and desire. His faded shorts left very little to her imagination, the hard muscles of his legs moved distractingly as he shifted his weight, and she was finding it really hard to concentrate on the food.

  Their cooking fell into a rhythm, chopping, frying and tending to the dented pots. Harry watched Olivia and Julia gathering plates and cutlery and washing them with a rather ineffective ecological soap. She was alone with him and she half hoped that he would say something that would give her some clue as to why he was spending his Friday night chopping up donated vegetables. He was thinking the same thing, wondering what to say to let her know how attractive he found her, and how much he regretted his thoughtless reaction to her wheelchair. Normally on dates he drank wine and took people to bed. But he was on new territory here, so he sliced open another onion and looked down at her, he was a resourceful man and he relished a new challenge. Then he almost chopped off his thumb when he realised that her loose cotton shirt wasn’t buttoned up as high as the clothes she wore for work.

  “Can I ask where you lived before the children’s home?” she said carefully, wishing that the much promised wine would finally arrive.

  “With my parents, my dad was a porter at the hospital, he wanted me to be a doctor.”

  “What happened?” she asked softly, “If that’s okay to ask.”

  “It’s okay,” he took a breath, “my little sister died and my mum never recovered, she started drinking, and she never stopped smoking. There was a house fire while I was out at rugby practice.”

  “Oh I’m sorry.” she looked up at him, her big dark eyes holding his.

  “It’s okay,” he said with a smile, “it was a long time ago.” He focussed on his chopping for a couple of minutes, comfortably selecting vegetables for the four pots that he now effortlessly controlled and throwing in big handfuls of the herbs that Harry was slicing up. “They were good people,” he added softly, “they came down from Edinburgh so that my mum could take up a place at art college. Then she had me and she said that found her vocation.” He stopped and served a family who had arrived in the park, explaining the cooking process and the herbs that he had used.

  Julia and Olivia returned looking triumphant. They poured out red wine into paper cups then swept on to the advice stands, liberally distributing the contents of their bottles. “At last,” said Harry, she took an appreciative mouthful and smiled up at him. “I'm so gla
d it's Friday night.”

  Chris grinned and held up his own cup. There was good music playing and he was talking to a beautiful woman. He realised that he wanted to ask her to dance and he paused and took another mouthful of wine. It alarmed him to think that his repertoire of romantic strategies was so small that he could not think of anything more to say to her. He looked down at her delicate legs, she was wearing a pair of faded jeans and boots and his surgeons mind wondered again why she needed to use her chair.

  “We've got a fresh delivery of broccoli.” she said, and laughed at his expression. “Let's swap places for a while, it's my turn to improvise.” He chopped and heaped the waste into the compost bin. Harry concentrated for a moment on her concoction, she bit thoughtfully on the side of her sensuous mouth and his jolt of attraction caught him by surprise. He filled up her wine glass and his own and decided that getting her alone was fast becoming a priority.

  They stopped when the Manchester weather started to get worse. Olivia and Julia returned and helped them pack up the remaining food. “Can I help?” Chris asked hopefully and took the lead on moving the heavy pots and boxes of vegetables into the big white van that Olivia drove.

  “Do you want a lift somewhere?” Olivia asked him, and he accepted gratefully, wishing the offer had come from her friend. Harry manoeuvred her chair into a space near the front and locked herself into the roughly rigged wheelchair bay. He thought protectively that it didn’t look very secure, but he didn’t think she would react very well to his concerns and he contented himself by sitting down on a rough bench as close as he could to her. She smiled at him when he made a rather weak remark about their cooking and he wondered what she would say if he invited her in for a cup of coffee.

  He didn't get a chance to find out. Olivia treated him to a lengthy explanation as to how the three women had met. He learned that they had started university together, living in the same corridor in a big student hall. Olivia and Harry had been studying computing, and Julia medicine. In second year Julia's parents and Harry's parents had bought them the little adjoining terraced houses and Olivia had moved in with Julia until she could find a place of her own and never moved out again. Chris explained that he had spent a couple of years before university working in a kitchen and saving up. He met his present housemate Jeff, a man who had trained as an accountant and worked for a while, when they both started medical school. They had both struggled with the youthful culture of their fellow students and they had escaped by buying a big house and slowly decorating it. Now Nicola lived there with them and Chris wondered sometimes if should move out. The problem was that Jeff was the closest thing he had to family.

  They pulled up outside the pretty little terraced houses and Chris explained that he lived about 10 minutes’ walk away. Julia invited him in to enjoy the remains of his cooking and Chris looked hopefully at the lovely woman beside him and accepted the offer. Harry led the way down the ramp and followed Julia into her house, Olivia steered Chris into the kitchen, and he put down the pots on the battered work surfaces and filled up the mismatching plates and bowls. Harry had transferred onto the sofa when he returned to the lounge, and he sat down beside her, conscious of her proximity and the delicate scent of her perfume. They discussed the people they had met that evening; the complex politics of the central Manchester suburb where members of the African Caribbean community negotiated the tricky waters of poverty and adolescence. Julia put on a gloriously atmospheric jazz album and he sat back against the scruffy floral covers, enjoying their company and watching Harry tapping her finger on her glass in time to the music.

  Finally Harry rubbed the back of her neck, and smiled tiredly at him. “Thank you so much for your help.” she said softly, “I really couldn’t have done it without you. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to climb into bed.” He nodded and his intrusive surgeon’s eyes watched her slide her delicate hips back into her wheelchair and use her hands to arrange her feet on the footrests. He wanted to follow her so badly it felt like a physical ache, but instead he declined Julia's offer of a cup of coffee and walked slowly back to his house.

  Harry prepared for bed and let her mind replay the evening. He was good company and an excellent cook. She wondered why he had stayed as long as he did. Was it because they were helping his old neighbourhood? She thought that was the most likely explanation. She had wondered for a moment, just around the time Olivia had poured out the wine, if he was flirting with her. Then he had immersed himself in their cooking again and she remembered the stab of disappointment she had felt.

  Her parents had bought the house for her, something she still felt vaguely embarrassed about. At the time she had suggested a bungalow, or at least a flat on one floor, but her mother had fallen in love with the pretty little stone house, and Julia had been excited about living next door. So she had allowed herself to be persuaded, and now she lived in the bottom three rooms of her house, grateful at least for the fact that the room she used as a bedroom looked out over the big stretch of gardens that the row of terraces shared.

  She transferred into bed and switched on the radio. Usually she enjoyed this broadcasting slot, where books were read and plays repeated. But she still felt restless. She wished that she could have walked back to his house with him. Another couple out on a Friday evening, comfortably invisible and wrapped in their own private bubble. She wished that they could drink hot drinks in the privacy of his kitchen and then maybe go upstairs together. She remembered the white hot flare of attraction she had felt and closed her eyes, she decided she would need to go swimming the next day.

  Julia let herself in to Harry's elegant front room the next morning just as she was packing her swimming bag. “What you doing?” she asked curiously, settling herself rather proprietally on the sofa.

  “I need some exercise, I feel a bit pent up.”

  “Are you sure its exercise that you need?” Julia asked her.

  “Exercise will have to do.” she said, not meeting her friend's eyes. Julia was her closest friend, and one of the main reasons for that was her sensitivity.

  “I'm sorry honey, I just meant that I think he feels the same way, in fact I'm pretty sure of it.”

  “Then why didn't he ask to walk me home and come in for coffee?”

  “Because you rushed away honey, and you really didn’t look like you wanted company.”

  Harry looked up, her dark eyes unreadable. Finally she smiled at her friend. “Do you want to come swimming with me? I'll buy you breakfast afterwards.”

  “I'd like that.” Julia said softly, she took a deep breath and added hesitantly, “I really am sorry, I know the intimate stuff is a bit of sore point for you.”

  Harry smiled at her, “It's okay, it's just that he's this big gorgeous doctor and I'm girl from the technical support department who can't walk. I feel silly even finding him attractive.”

  “You're beautiful Harry.”

  Harry smiled at her, “You would say that, you're my friend. Now come on, let's go and get some exercise.”

  Julia followed her out into the street. They lived just off the most desirable road in Chorlton, which was itself the most desirable suburb in Manchester. They stopped to talk to a neighbour and then a nurse from the hospital. The streets were quiet and they navigated past the toy shop that sold only wooden toys, a competitive jostle of Mediterranean themed restaurants and of course a vegan co-operative. The pool was quiet and Harry felt her spirits lifting. There were a high number of residential centres for stroke victims nearby and the pool was easily accessible to wheelchair users. She slid into the water and relished the sudden freedom, feeling her shoulders loosening as she splashed up and down, and ducked below the surface into the glorious blue silence. Julia swam beside her, silently kicking herself for her remark. She wanted to tell Harry that the people close to her forgot about her chair, but the thinly veiled curiosity of their fellow swimmers was hard to ignore.

  Harry did feel better after her swim, she thanked the sl
ightly over-attentive pool staff and dried her hair. She loved the spontaneity of the water, talking to her friend at eye level, feeling that she was less conspicuous than usual. Then she wheeled back out into the busy morning and tried not to notice the glances and sometimes the stares. They bought a paper and navigated across the road to the delicatessen with their favourite coffee and Harry grabbed a table while her friend went to order their standard Saturday choices.

  Julia wondered what Chris’ intentions towards her lovely friend really were. She remembered the look on his face when he had spotted Harry under the makeshift awning and the disappointment in his eyes when she disappeared into her house. She was pretty sure he cared for Harry, but she remembered how much he had hurt her at their first meeting. They ate poached eggs and watched children playing in the little park. Then they read the weekend news in comfortable silence. Julia looked at the beautiful gentle woman reading the holiday supplement and felt a sudden urge to track Chris down and demand to know his intentions.

  Chris was reading the paper too, feeling particularly virtuous when he perused a section on the merits of supporting local communities. He felt happier than he had done for months, and he smiled at Nicola when she came into the kitchen and poured her out a cup of coffee. “Hey handsome,” she said affectionately, “you look happier.”

  “I am, I ran into Harry last night, we finally had the chance to talk.”

  “Where did you meet her?” she asked, feeling her own mood dip.

  “Moss Side weirdly.”

  “Moss Side?”

  “I know, I can hardly believe it myself. Her friend was doing this kind of cooking outreach thing and I helped.”

  “Good for you. Did she live up to your expectations?”

  “She's even lovelier than I thought.” he told her softly. “I'm going to plan out a really nice meal and invite her round.”

  “Excellent.” Nicola said, as convincingly as she could, fighting another intense wave of jealousy. “What are you doing tonight?” She continued lightly, remembering all the times she had taken him out for the evening, enjoying the way other women reacted.