Give Me Tomorrow

by Jeanne Whitmee

  ‘Why not? I’ll be OK.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you would be, but to be frank, you’re not the tidiest of house guests. Take today, for instance. I came home from a hard day at work to find your breakfast washing-up still in the sink, including a burnt porridge saucepan, and I found several pairs of your tights stuffed down the back of the settee when I was vacuuming the other day. You never even think of taking your turn with the cleaning and you leave wet towels all over the bathroom floor. If you’re here for a week on your own, I dread to think what state the flat will be in when I get home.’

  ‘Speak your mind, why don’t you?’ I sniped. I stared at her. ‘Anyway, since when have you been so house-proud?’

  ‘I’m not …’

  ‘You sound positively paranoid to me!’

  ‘I do like some kind of order.’

  ‘OK, I’ll get out of your hair,’ I told her. ‘As a matter of fact, I turned down an invitation just today because I didn’t want to disappoint you.’

  She looked slightly relieved. ‘Well, maybe it isn’t too late to change your mind.’

  I turned to walk out of the kitchen. ‘Well, we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, won’t we? Otherwise it looks as if I’ll be spending Christmas in a cardboard box!’

  I waited until Dianne had left for work the following morning, then I got my phone out and clicked on Mark’s number. He sounded sleepy when he answered.

  ‘Who the hell is this ringing me in the middle of the night?’

  ‘It’s me – Lou,’ I told him, laughing. ‘And as a matter of fact, it’s half past eight.’

  ‘Like I said – the middle of the night.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Only joking, Lou. It’s good to hear from you any time. What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s more what I can do for you,’ I told him. ‘How would you like me to come and cook you a traditional slap-up Christmas dinner in your own home?’

  I could almost hear him blinking. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit early for riddles,’ he said. ‘I could have sworn you offered to cook me Christmas dinner in my own home. You did say you were Lou Davies, didn’t you – not meals on wheels?’

  I laughed. ‘No, it’s me all right – and it’s Louise Delmar, cloth-ears! I’ll explain – I had a call from my stepmum last night; they’re all off to Sweden for a Scandinavian Christmas. Of course, they wanted me to join them but I don’t fancy it. My flatmate is off home so I thought – why don’t Mark and I team up? It could be fun.’

  ‘That would be great, Lou!’ He sounded fully awake now. ‘A home-cooked Christmas dinner plus your company! How lucky could I get?’ There was a pause then he said, ‘Flatmate? You never said you had a flatmate.’

  I bit my lip hard and forced a laugh. ‘Didn’t I? Well, it’s only a recent arrangement. She had nowhere to go so I offered her a room.’ Suddenly I remembered that he knew Di from our time at drama school, but I decided not to mention that.

  ‘Right.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Hey – I hope you’re a good cook.’

  ‘The best,’ I lied, crossing my fingers and thanking God for Aunt Bessie.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘You’re not going to let her cook the Christmas dinner, I hope.’

  Simon tutted irritably as he straightened the bottom sheet and punched his pillow into shape. ‘Look at this. She doesn’t even know how to make a bed properly!’

  ‘Oh, stop finding fault with the poor girl. You haven’t stopped since she arrived.’ Karen slapped cleansing cream onto her face and whipped a tissue out of the box on the dressing table. ‘She’s an absolute treasure with Peter. He adores her. She’s so patient and creative with him.’

  ‘So she might be but you can’t say the same about her cooking. It’s abysmal,’ Simon complained. ‘Tasteless stodge in watery gravy.’

  ‘Shhh! Keep your voice down. She’ll hear you.’

  ‘That’s another thing,’ he hissed. ‘The only place we can actually have a private conversation is in bed and even then it has to be conducted in whispers. And as for doing anything else in bed …’

  ‘Simon! Keep it down, for God’s sake.’ She turned to him. ‘Look, if I keep working we’ll be able to afford a bigger house in a couple of years. Surely it’s worth a few sacrifices.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion. And I thought you said she spoke fluent English.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘When we’re around, yes, but when she’s on her own with Peter she obviously speaks to him in Dutch. When I spoke to him the other day he came out with a mouthful of it and when I asked her about it, she said it was a nursery rhyme. I was horrified. It’s coming to something when I can’t even understand what my own son is saying.’

  ‘Isn’t it an asset for him to be growing up bilingual?’

  ‘If it was German or French, yes, but where or when is he going to need Dutch?’

  ‘You never know.’ Karen drew back the duvet and climbed into bed. ‘Why can’t you think about all the advantages of having Adrey with us? You have to admit that the house is spotless and your shirts are beautifully ironed.’ She turned to look at his unconvinced face and decided to play her trump card. ‘Best of all, Louise won’t be joining us this Christmas because we simply haven’t a spare room any more.’

  ‘Well, that is a plus, I suppose,’ he said grudgingly.

  ‘And aren’t you pleased that I’m not so tired these days?’ She reached across to kiss him and her hand crept under the waistband of his pyjamas. ‘In fact I’m feeling really sexy tonight.’

  He grasped her hand and firmly removed it. ‘Well I’m not. How do you expect me to work up any enthusiasm when there’s just a thin partition between us and her?’

  ‘She’s probably asleep. Anyway, we don’t go in for all that noisy stuff.’

  He turned his back to her and switched off his bedside lamp pointedly. ‘I told you, I can’t work up any enthusiasm and if I can’t – well, surely I don’t have to draw you a picture?’

  ‘There’s no need to be crude.’

  ‘Just go to sleep, Karen, or you’ll look like nothing on earth in the morning.’

  Deeply hurt, she switched off her own lamp and turned over, a lump in her throat. Presently, a large tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away with a corner of the duvet. After a few minutes she felt Simon turn towards her.

  ‘I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean that,’ he said quietly. When she made no reply he reached out a hand to rest on her waist. ‘I’ve got such a lot of stress at school as you know, what with the coming festivities and everything. I know how hard you work too and I do appreciate it.’ The hand crept up to cup her breast. ‘Know what?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I think I can hear Adrey snoring.’

  Karen couldn’t conceal the chuckle that rose in her throat. Taking his hand she moved it slowly down her body and lifted her face for his kiss.

  Chapter Eight

  Susan said goodnight to the rest of the group as they left the classroom in twos and threes and began to put on her coat. It was the second meeting of the Green Fingers Club she had attended and the last before Christmas. She was sorry. She had enjoyed the meetings so much. The other members were pleasant company and she had learned a lot from Ted’s expertise. Her only regret was not having a garden of her own on which to practise some of the new skills and tips that she had scribbled down in her notebook.

  ‘Can I give you a lift home, Susan?’ Ted stood at her side, winding a scarf round his neck. ‘It’s freezing outside tonight.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’

  They walked along the corridor together and out into the frosty night air. As they walked across the car park he turned to her.

  ‘I don’t suppose I’ll see you again until after Christmas, so would you like to come for a festive drink with me?’ His brow furrowed. ‘Or perhaps you don’t drink and you’d prefer a coffee?’

  Susan laughed. ‘I do drink – moderately of course, but either would b
e nice. Thank you.’

  They opted for the Coach and Horses, a comfortable pub almost next door to the college. Inside the lounge bar it was warm and comfortable, tasteful evergreens decorated the walls and there were red candles on every table. They chose a table near the log fire and Ted went to the bar for drinks, a pint of bitter for him and a gin and tonic for Susan. ‘I got you ice and a slice,’ he said as he joined her at the table. ‘I hope that’s all right.’

  ‘Lovely. Thank you.’ She raised her glass. ‘Here’s to a happy Christmas.’

  Putting his glass down, he looked at her. ‘So – do you think you’ll be joining us next term, or did you find it unutterably boring?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Susan said quickly. ‘I mean about it being boring. I was fascinated. It was so interesting. And yes to your first question; I’d love to sign up next term. My only complaint is that it’s going to be so frustrating, not being able to try out all your useful tips and advice.’

  He leaned towards her. ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ he told her. ‘My garden is quite small. Only really big enough for a lawn and a few flower beds, so I grow my own vegetables on an allotment. The chap next to me is giving his up in the New Year. How would you feel about applying to the Council to rent it?’

  Susan looked doubtful. ‘An allotment? Do they let women have them?’

  He laughed. ‘Of course they do. Why not? The only people who are not allowed are those who have a bad track record for neglect.’

  Susan sipped her drink thoughtfully. ‘How big would it be? I’m not sure I could manage on my own.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be on your own. As I said, the plot is next to mine so I’d always be there to help you out.’ He paused. ‘Look, sorry if I’m going too fast for you. Maybe I’m being presumptuous – taking too much for granted. If you hate the idea just say. It was only a thought.’

  He looked so embarrassed that Susan reached out an involuntary hand to pat his arm. ‘No, no, it’s a lovely idea and so kind of you to think of me.’ She sat back with a smile. ‘Just fancy, home-grown organic vegetables. I could keep Karen supplied and still have lots left over.’

  ‘You could.’ Very softly he placed his hand over hers on his sleeve. ‘And there’s a farmers’ market every other week in town. If we get a glut, some of us club together and rent a stall. It’s great fun and quite profitable too.’

  ‘It sounds it.’ Susan felt her cheeks flush and she didn’t know whether it was the gin and tonic, the heat of the fire, or the warm feel of Ted’s hand on hers. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Oh, but where are these allotments? Could I get there easily? And what about gardening tools? I mean, I did have some when I had a garden before but I gave them to Karen and Simon.’

  ‘You could always ask for them back,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘I have a lock-up shed on my allotment and you could keep your tools in there with mine.’ He took a drink of his beer. ‘As for getting there – it’s only fifteen minutes in the car; you could come with me.’

  She smiled tentatively. ‘How can I refuse?’

  ‘Of course you can refuse!’ His smile vanished. ‘Please don’t feel obliged to agree if you don’t like the idea. I’d hate to bulldoze you into it.’

  ‘You’ve given it so much thought.’

  He gave her a wry grin. ‘To be honest I’ve thought of little else.’ He looked away. ‘It’s been a bit of a pipe dream. Meg and I never had children and although I’ve been on my own for five years I still can’t get used to my own company.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I don’t make friends easily. When I started the Green Fingers Club I thought I might meet some like-minded folk and I have, but they come in couples or pairs of friends and anyway, there isn’t anyone who I’d say was on the same wavelength as me.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Does that make sense or does it make me sound stuffy and difficult?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘Of course it makes sense. I know what it is to be widowed and like you, I’ve never been someone who’s happy as part of a group. I prefer one-to-one friendships.’

  ‘Somehow I knew that instinctively. But there is a big difference. You have a family.’

  ‘That’s true.’ On impulse she asked, ‘Ted, what are you doing for Christmas?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sitting in front of the box and wishing it was spring.’

  ‘Then come with me to Karen and Simon’s for Christmas Day?’ she invited.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t impose on people I don’t even know.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be imposing, and you’d soon get to know them. I always contribute my share of the food and I help with the cooking; we all muck in. You’d be very welcome and I’d like you to meet my family.’ She took in his hesitant expression. ‘But it’s only an idea. Don’t say yes just because I’ve asked you.’

  He smiled. ‘I’d love to come. Thank you.’

  ‘Really, Mum! Who is this old man and what on earth made you invite him without asking me first?’

  Susan was shocked by Karen’s reaction. ‘To start with, he’s not an old man; he’s about the same age as me. He’s on his own and he’s lonely. I had no idea you’d be put out about it. One more can’t make all that difference.’

  ‘It could be very awkward, having some stranger in the house,’ Karen said. ‘Christmas is a family occasion after all.’

  ‘What happened to goodwill to all men? And anyway, what about Adrey? She’s not family.’

  ‘That’s different. She’s away from her own family for the first time and I want to make it special for her. I’ve asked some of the neighbours for pre-lunch drinks so that she can get to know them.’

  ‘I wanted to make it special for Ted too. He’s been on his own for five years and he’s terribly lonely.’

  ‘That’s hardly my problem. Anyway, what do you know about this Ted person? You want to be careful, Mum, picking up strange men on the bus. He could be some kind of conman.’

  ‘Well, he’s not!’ Susan bristled. ‘And I didn’t pick him up as you so delicately put it. I haven’t lived as long as I have without being able to tell a genuine person from a crook. And if he’s not welcome then I’m not coming either.’

  Karen looked shocked. ‘Oh really, Mum! Don’t be so ridiculous.’

  ‘I never ask you to do anything for me, Karen,’ Susan said as she marched down the hall. ‘But if you can be mean-minded enough to turn down a lonely person at Christmas, then you’re not the daughter I thought you were.’

  ‘Mum – wait!’ Karen caught up with Susan at the front door and took her arm. ‘Please, don’t go like this. Bring your friend, Ted, if you like. I’m sorry I was snappy. It’s just that there’s so much to do, what with shopping – cards and presents and everything at home and all that’s going on at school. You know how stressful Christmas is …’

  ‘I don’t want you to wear yourself out on my account.’ Susan firmly detached her arm from Karen’s grasp. ‘We’ll be fine. I’ll invite Ted to spend Christmas with me at the flat and you can concentrate on making it a special Christmas for your Dutch au pair and the neighbours.’

  ‘So, I hope you don’t mind, Ted, but I thought we’d have Christmas Day on our own at my flat,’ Susan said when she rang Ted the next morning.

  There was a slight hesitation at the other end of the line. ‘Susan – my dear, I hope you’re not giving up the day with your family on my account.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she assured him. ‘When I thought about it I realized that it might all be a bit overwhelming for you. They’re having friends in for the evening and I know you don’t like crowds of strange people. I don’t know any of them so I’m not very keen either.’

  ‘You’re absolutely certain about this?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Well, if you really are, then the answer is a resounding yes. As a matter of fact the prospect of it just being the two of us is very pleasing,’ he said. ‘It’ll be an opportunity to get to know one another better.’

  ‘Yes, it
will.’ Susan smiled, feeling a little flutter of anticipation. It was so long since she had planned a Christmas of her own. ‘Right, then,’ she said. ‘I’d better get down to the super-market before the last-minute rush starts.’

  ‘Do you mind if I come with you?’ Ted said. ‘I absolutely insist on sharing all the expense with you.’

  ‘There’s no need, but it would be lovely to have your company,’ Susan said. ‘Then I won’t have to guess what you like and don’t like to eat.’

  ‘And on the day I insist on helping,’ he said. ‘I’m a dab hand with Brussels sprouts.’

  Susan smiled to herself, serene in the knowledge that she had made the right decision.

  Chapter Nine

  Mark was waiting for me as I stepped off the train, laden with bags of shopping.

  ‘Wow!’ he exclaimed as he took a couple of them from me. ‘Looks as if you’ve bought enough to feed an army. It must have cost you a fortune. Come on, I’ve brought the car.’

  ‘You’ve got a car?’ I said, following him into the street.

  ‘Of course. I don’t use it for going up to town – too difficult to park but I do like it for holidays and days out and so on.’

  The car turned out to be a Ferrari – sleek, black and shiny, and Mark’s apartment was in a smart block of luxury flats built conveniently handy for the main shopping centre and the Underground station. Mark drove into the basement car park where he had his own numbered space, and then whisked me up to the penthouse apartment in the fastest lift I’d ever experienced.

  The apartment was gorgeous, even more lavish than Paul’s. The kitchen had every modern convenience. The furnishings were a little old-fashioned maybe, but I had to remind myself that an elderly man had lived here and Mark clearly hadn’t updated anything.

  The large living room had massive sliding doors, leading out onto a spacious balcony, and I stood in the middle of the room and spread out my arms.

  ‘Oh, Mark, it’s lovely. I have to say, you certainly fell on your feet, inheriting all this.’

  He smiled. ‘It is rather nice, isn’t it? I suppose I really ought to change things round a bit – bring it up to date but it always feels like too much hassle. What do they say – if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?’