EPISODE THIRTY-TWO

The train was already at Platform 1, waiting. Claire stopped by the entrance and looked searchingly at Mike.
‘I hope Chloe will be okay,’ he said. Then realizing how feeble it sounded, he added, ‘Tell her I’ll be thinking of her.’
Claire’s lips tightened, showing the first sign of wrinkles along the top edges.
‘Physically there shouldn’t be any problems. Emotionally I’m not so certain.  That may take longer to heal.  She’ll suffer from feelings of guilt.’
‘I’m sorry about the other night – that religious nut phoning up.’
Claire glanced impatiently towards the platform. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Look, I’ve said I was sorry...’
‘I know you have. What do you want me to say, Mike?’
‘It’s just that you still seem so angry about it.’
‘How d’you expect me to feel?’
‘None of this is my fault, you know.’
‘I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss the train. I’ll give Chloe your love.’
She turned abruptly away, flashed her ticket at the collector, and hurried onto the platform. Mike felt hurt, the way she had gone off without the usual parting kiss, however perfunctory that might have been.
‘Sod you then,’ he muttered, starting to choke back tears of self pity.
A strapping tourist, rushing for the train, barged into Mike with his rucksack.
‘Why don’t you look where you’re bloody going!’

*



It wasn’t yet lunchtime when Ted met Donald in the Duke of York. He noticed his friend’s face looked drawn, haggard.
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ he offered. ‘You look as if you could do with a large one.’
In spite of his downcast appearance, Donald couldn’t resist saying, ‘Depends what you’re referring to, dear boy.’
But it was said on automatic pilot. Donald had lost his usual sparkle. Ted laughed dutifully, and bought a large gin and tonic for Donald and a pint of bitter for himself. They sat near the window, and Ted glanced surreptitiously at his watch.
‘Eleven forty-five,’ he said. ‘Bit early for drinking.’
Donald nodded, then stared miserably into his glass.
‘Is something wrong, Donald?’
As if he hadn’t heard Ted, Donald continued staring into his glass. After an uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat, and looked up and smiled at Ted, shaking off whatever was troubling him.
‘What excuse did you give wifie for our little assignation today?’
‘It was just luck. Marjorie had one of her migraine attacks. She’ll be in bed for at least three or four hours.’
‘And how did you explain the sun burn the other night?’
Ted looked pleased with himself. ‘Simple.I said the sun’s rays were shining through the guard’s van window...’
‘And she believed it?’
‘Why wouldn’t she? In fact she went on and on about the railway. She said they ought to have window blinds to protect the staff.  If we have a hot summer, she said, she’d seriously think about making me a set of curtains to take.’
Donald laughed. ‘How very camp. The only British Rail guard with swags and tails in his little cab.’
Donald’s laughter ended abruptly. He seemed to feel guilty for enjoying himself. He took a large swig of gin and tonic.
Ted watched him carefully. ‘That went down without touching the sides.’
‘I could do with a whole bottle. To deaden the pain.’
‘D’you want to talk about it, Donald?’
‘As you’ve probably guessed: it’s Bamber.’
‘Well, yes...I thought as much.’
Donald shook his head with frustration. ‘Bamber and I have such little in common. Zilch in fact. He’s into all that ghastly Heavy Metal noise and....But in spite of all that, I do love him. I can’t think why, but I do.’
‘Well...I...I suppose,’ waffled Ted, unable to think of anything to say.
‘Our trip to the theatre the other night, Ted: I did enjoy it. And I swore I wouldn’t feel guilty. In fact I didn’t at the time. But now...’
‘Has...has something happened between you and Bamber?’
‘I think Bamber’s...’ Donald pressed hard on his eyelids with a thumb and index finger. ‘I’m not sure if he’s going to get any better, you see.’
A cold shiver passed through Ted, followed by waves of nausea. He opened his mouth to speak but his mind was blocked. Sensing what he was thinking, Donald took his hand away from his face and smiled grimly. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking, Ted. Bamber has a brain tumour. Did you notice how clumsy he was? I expect you thought he’d been drinking.’
‘Well...I...’
‘I banned him from the antique shop. Called him a clumsy oaf  God! I feel terrible.’
‘But you weren’t to know. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
Donald laughed bitterly. ‘No.I guess I’m not such a sensitive person after all.’

*



Mike rang the doorbell and waited, whistling tunelessly. Through the glass of the front door he saw someone approaching.  His heart beat a little faster when he saw it was her, and he hoped she was wearing her mini skirt and black stockings.
‘Hello, Maggie,’ he said as she pulled open the door. She was dressed in just a T-shirt and her legs were beautifully tanned.
‘Mike!’
She seemed surprised to see him. No, more than surprised. Shocked.
‘I have got the right date, haven’t I? It’s in my appointments book.
‘Oh God! Didn’t you know. Didn’t you read about Gary in the local rag?’
‘No, I...’
‘Gary died last week. The funeral was on Monday.’

IN EPISODE THIRTY-THREE

Maggie doesn’t grieve for long and Mary has plans for half term.


Episode Thirty-Three  Homepage