I peered over the rim of my mug to get a proper look at him and he looked nice. His hair was deep auburn with red and gold natural highlights, or at least they looked natural to me and his eyes were the colour that in books are always called periwinkle blue. Being an inner city girl, I had no idea what a periwinkle was or what sort of blue it might have been, but the idea sat well with me. His face was pale, but all his features were nicely arranged, as were a few freckles. He had broad shoulders too and I already knew that he was taller than me. What a pity, I thought, that in five minutes or so he would walk out of my life forever. I must have sighed.
“Why so sad all of a sudden?” he asked.
Perceptive too, I thought. I tried to lie, but funnily enough the truth came out before I could stop it...
“Well, maybe in ten minutes,” he said, smiling. “First we could have something to eat. I’m starving and although I’m not a doctor, I think when you are in shock, food is a good thing.”
In actual fact we sat there for several hours. I can’t remember what we ate, probably sausage, egg and chips and we didn’t drink fine wine, probably just more tea, but it was dark when we came out and we were laughing. It’s funny, I don’t really remember what we talked about, I just know it had been easy to talk to him. He listened, he didn’t ask too many questions and he had a good sense of humour.
He walked with me to the estate and then all the way to the entrance to the tower before saying goodbye. It was a definite goodbye, not ‘see you’ or ‘cheerio’, but goodbye, with that tone of finality that comes with the word when it’s meant.
I watched him through the reinforced glass of the lobby as he turned and went away into the night, realising that I knew very little about him; just his name and that he was kind, funny, sweet and probably the nicest person I’d ever met, or was ever likely to. I went up to an empty flat. Being Friday, it meant that Mum would be out, possibly until Monday. I had a shower, got ready for bed and sat at the window looking up at the stars, dreaming of maybes and what ifs. I never expected to see him again and I felt that I’d lost something important, but I didn’t know what it was.
While I didn’t forget Jack, I was used to just getting on with things. I got up, went to work and went out looking for Mum when she hadn’t put in an appearance by Tuesday. I did the shopping, I cooked, I cleaned the flat and I watched the soaps on the telly. But I also thought about him. He crept into my mind when I wasn’t looking, so to speak and I became more certain that he really had been the nicest person I’d ever met. He’d saved my life, he’d made me laugh and in his company I’d felt relaxed, which was unusual for me. I’d felt safe with him and that was new too. I didn’t think for a moment that he would give me a second thought, but that was life; I was used to it. All the same, I missed him, even though I hardly knew him.
So about a month later, it was a complete surprise to come out of the entrance lobby one morning to find him there. It was just before dawn and he was standing in the shadows, but I knew it was him before he spoke.
“Hello, remember me?”
He sounded unsure, as though he thought my life might have been filled with good looking young men constantly saving me, who I instantly forgot as each one was replaced by the next.
“You do look familiar...” I said, smiling as I walked over to him.
But there was something different about him. He looked so sad and in that strange light, or maybe because of it, he looked even paler than the last time we’d met; sickly even. I was actually quite worried.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
He nodded, but then he turned away and retched violently. I knew Mum wasn’t home. In fact she hadn’t been home for a few days, probably on one of her binges, so I took his hand and led him to the lift; it just seemed like the right thing to do.
He didn’t look at me, he was kind of hunched and there was a heaviness about him. His hands were clammy too and I thought he was really ill. I owed him; something was haunting him, I could see it in his eyes and it was my turn to do something for him. I took him to my bedroom and told him to get undressed and under the covers. He was shaking badly and I went into the kitchen to make some tea. When I brought it back, he was in the bed and despite the warmth of the flat and all the covers, he was still shaking.
“Should I call the doctor?” I asked.
“No, please. Just don’t leave me,” he said really quickly, between violent bouts of shuddering. “Sit with me, talk to me for a while, I’ll be fine soon. I’m sorry Grace.”
“Do you live near here then?” I asked, as I sat on the edge of the bed and handed him the mug.
“No, I err, wanted to see you again, so I waited in the one place I knew you would have to come back to.”
I must have blushed, because for a moment he smiled and the sadness seemed to lift, but then with the next wave of shivering it came back. I knew I couldn’t leave him. If Mum came home while I was at work... well, I didn’t even want to think about that. I’d never brought friends home; after years of trying to hide her, it became easier just not to have friends. She could be charming of course and she loved to flirt, but if she’d had a bad time... well, it would be better not to introduce her to someone, especially someone I liked.
Suddenly a thought struck me. “I need to phone work!”
I leapt up and went into the living room, hoping they’d understand; after all, I’d never taken a day off for anything before. Mrs Garratt sounded a little concerned as I told her I was looking after a sick friend, but she asked me to phone back later and let her know if I’d be able to do my next shift, which I agreed to do. On the way back I took a couple of paracetamols from the cabinet in the bathroom. They were always good for a temperature and while he washed them down with the tea I told him that work had been ok about me not going in.
“Try and sleep for a bit.” I suggested.
“Please don’t go.” he said, as he settled down.
He fell asleep almost immediately, but I did as he’d asked and sat on the floor with my back against the bed, watching the sky getting lighter, listening to his uneven breathing and feeling just a bit pleased with life for a change.
He talked in his sleep, but what he said didn’t make much sense to me. It was and yet wasn’t like a different language and the words were all jumbled up. Despite not understanding much of what he was saying, it was obvious that the dream was terrifying for him. I scrambled to my knees and turned so that I was facing him and held his hand. I don’t remember what I said, I probably just made soothing noises, but he gripped my hand tightly and after a while the nightmare seemed to leave him.
I stayed there, just watching him sleep. I liked having my hand held by him, but I couldn’t help but wonder about him. Was he in some sort of trouble? After all, why else would he have wanted to find me again? Of course I felt a little foolish; I mean there I was, holding hands with a virtual stranger who was asleep in my bed. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he didn’t feel like a stranger to me and in a funny way I was quite happy that he was there.
He must have slept for an hour or so and when he woke up he was confused, but when he saw me he smiled, as if it made some kind of sense to him, too. He sat up without letting my hand go and patted the space beside him.
“It’s your bed, you ought to be a bit more comfortable.” he said.
He looked brighter. His eyes still looked a bit distant and sad, but not quite so haunted.
“Thank you.” That was all he said; just, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it; it seemed only fair. After all, you saved my life. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“You were having a nightmare.” I told him.
“I think I’ll be having that one for quite some time to come...”
His voice seemed far away as he spoke and he looked down at our hands, which were still intertwined.
“You have lovely hands Grace.”
It was a nice way to change the subject and he wa
s right; I’ve always thought that my hands are my best feature.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
It was almost seven-thirty and my stomach was gently reminding me that I’d eaten nothing, despite being up since five.
“Hungry and dirty. Is it ok if I take a shower?”
He seemed a little unsure about something. Not about being with me, but about being there. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he seemed out of place somehow and it niggled at me.
While he cleaned himself up I made poached eggs and toast and as he came out of the bathroom I looked at him properly. His clothes were odd. I mean he wore trousers and a shirt, but they were wrong somehow. The shirt was the old fashioned sort without a collar and he was wearing braces. The trousers were baggy with turn-ups and came up too high over his waist and over his arm he was carrying what was clearly a home-knitted sleeveless pullover. His coat was a proper coat, not a light summer jacket and he had a scarf too. While British summers can be laughable, the weather wasn’t that bad. I’m no style guru, but he looked like he’d stepped out of the only photograph I’ve ever seen of my great grandfather and I wasn’t aware of it being the current fashion.
He smiled sheepishly, as though he’d read my thoughts. Then his eyes saw the food. In a flash he plonked down the pullover, coat and other bits, sat down and began eating. He’d cleaned his plate before I was halfway through mine.
“More toast?” I asked, trying not to smile.
“I’ll do it,” he said and jumped up to put more bread in the toaster.
“So, as you are off the hook from work today, what would you like to do?” he asked, sounding more upbeat.
As the toast popped up, I got the marmalade and marge out of the fridge and thought about his question, but I must have looked puzzled.
“Well...? What do you usually do when you are not working?” he asked gently.
“Not much... clean the flat, go to the shops, watch telly. You know, normal things...” I trailed off unhappily, realising that I’d given myself away. I wasn’t interesting or exciting and now he knew it too.
“We could go to the countryside or the coast. Let’s have a proper holiday!” he announced, waving his bit of toast at the window. “It’s a lovely day after all.”
His enthusiasm was contagious and I laughed as I found myself getting excited at the prospect of a whole day just waiting to be spent; not only with him, but a day out too. To be honest, I didn’t care where we went, although a day by the sea sounded lovely; I hadn’t been for years.
“The seaside!” I said decisively.
He beamed at me, clearly pleased with my choice.
Chapter three
We caught the tube to London Bridge, crammed in with all the morning commuters and because of the squeeze I could press my face into his shoulder. His clothes had a strange, unpleasant odour that I couldn’t quite place and it bothered me. But as I moved closer to his neck, I found he smelt nice, in a soapy, scrubbed way. It was only a few stops and when we arrived, we got separated as a great mass of people poured out onto the platform, making for the escalators. But we soon found each other again and went hand in hand to the mainline station to catch a train to Margate.
As we were paying for the tickets, we were told that the train was already at the platform. Jack grabbed my hand and we ran, getting on board only seconds before it pulled out. Then laughing at nothing, we threw ourselves into some empty seats, still holding hands. Every now and then he gave a little squeeze and smiled at me.
We watched the world speed by and with each stop we got further away from my life. The blocks of flats got fewer and then there were more houses and then more trees and more sky. I suppose there was just more space, really. It made me feel free, as though I’d left all my responsibilities a long way behind. It was a nice feeling and not one that I was in anyway used to.
The stations got smaller and the people looked different, more outdoorsy. Because now the rush hour had been and gone, like us these people were going to places more leisurely, perhaps for reasons other than work. It was also more social; people were being met as they got off the train and there was lots of chattering and laughing. Seeing everyone so cheerful seemed to give our day out a boost. I now had a whole new world to watch. Jack had a good imagination, almost better than mine and we made up funny stories for many of the people we could see, setting us off in fits of uncontrollable laughter.
As we got off the train in Margate, I breathed in deeply and tasted the tangy sea air. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d been by the sea. It was a long time ago; probably a school trip, because I don’t remember a holiday with Mum. I must have laughed, because Jack turned to me, amused but puzzled.
“This just feels so nice.” I said and could see from his eyes that he understood. I didn’t need to explain anything and that felt good too.
We spent some time wandering along the High Street and down some of the narrow roads. Everything was so close to the sea-front, that every now and then we’d come across it and it was always a nice surprise. We played games in an amusement arcade and then went tenpin bowling, something I’d never done before. I seemed to be quite good at it, or maybe I was just lucky, but either way it was brilliant. Everything we did that morning was fun. With Jack I could just relax and enjoy myself in a way I’d never been able to before.
We bought fish and chips for lunch and ate it sitting on a bench looking out to sea. Despite the notices saying not to feed them, we held up bits up for the seagulls, envying their agility as they swooped down to take them from our fingers.
As the tide went out, we rolled up our trousers, took off our shoes and wandered along at the water’s edge, letting the sand puddle around our feet as the water dragged at the beach. Other times we pulled faces and laughed as wet mud squidged up between our toes. We didn’t talk about real life, almost as though there was an unspoken agreement to leave it all behind, if only for a few hours. He must have had his reasons, as much as I had mine; something else I could understand.
We didn’t ask each other questions, like; so what do you do for a living then? Or what films do you like? Which bands do you listen to? We didn’t do any of that. We talked about what it would be like to be a dolphin or a seagull and wondered what it must have been like for prehistoric man to walk along this beach. What he would have seen and what would he have been hoping to catch for his supper. We looked for messages in bottles, but didn’t find any, so instead imagined what we might write if we were stranded on a desert island.
“I think I’d say, ‘leave us here’.” he said thoughtfully, squeezing my hand.
“But what would we do without fish and chips?” I asked, with pretend seriousness, which made him laugh.
As we sat on the damp sand, he recited a poem from memory about the sea. He said I wouldn’t know it, because the writer was not well known. He didn’t know that I didn’t actually know any poems at all, but it was lovely, listening to the sound of the sea sucking at the sand and rolling broken shells, while he softly spoke the words of his poem. It was clear that it meant something to him and I asked him what it reminded him of.
“It will always remind me of today.” he said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.
I’d got so used to his strange clothes, that it was only when someone else gave him a funny look that I remembered them. Curiosity got the better of me and the question popped out as we sat down at a small table in a cafe. “Is there a reason why you’ve dressed so old-fashionedly today?”
“Yes. When my day started, they were right. They’ve just become more wrong as the day has progressed, while the day itself, has become more right than I’d dared to hope.”
He quickly picked up the menu and studied it, as though he realised he’d said something wrong or maybe had said too much. Either way it didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t push it. I’d built my own life around secrets that I didn’t want to share and I knew that feeling; when something that
shouldn’t have slipped out, did. I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled at the other part of what he’d said. He was right; the day was getting better and better.
I looked around the cafe and realised it was more of a tea room. The photos and pictures on the walls belonged to a different age and they all seemed to be local, because many of them had the beach or the main street in them. A few had old cars, but most of them had horses pulling a carriage or a cart. The furniture and the wallpaper complemented the things around us and I wondered aloud, more to change the subject than anything else and to put him at his ease again.
“Sometimes, when I’m in a place like this I think about the people who came before. You know, in times past. Were their lives really so different from ours? Would we have anything in common, or anything to talk about? I mean if one of them just sort of walked in and sat at this table right now...”
As I stopped speaking I turned back to face him and saw that he was staring at me with a strange look on his face. I realised that instead of changing the subject, I’d inadvertently stumbled onto something that made him more uncomfortable, but I couldn’t have said what it was.
“I’m sorry, I prattle on sometimes.” I said quickly, wanting to kick myself for spoiling such a nice time.
“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” he said sadly.
“What, here in Margate or here with me?”
I think I already knew the answer before I’d finished speaking.
“Both, I suppose.” he replied.
“But you came looking for me. I never expected you to, but you did. Why did you come, if you shouldn’t be with me today?”
I could feel my eyes brimming with tears and with each word I said everything got more blurry. I didn’t want to cry, so I was fighting them every inch of the way. I wasn’t really surprised that it was all going wrong, but I was more hurt than I’d expected to be and unusually, I found it hard to hide my feelings.
I looked across the short space between us and his eyes looked as sad and as confused as mine felt to me.
What about us? Page 2