“It’s nice to see you here again,” I said. “How are you?”
“Been better,” she gulped. She sniffed, wiped her nose on the hem of her sleeve. “Sorry. Been blubbing like a girl again.”
“You want to sit with me for a bit? I’ve got a thermos and some tea today.”
“I’d… like that, I think.”
“Come on then. The bench by the brambles is nice at the mo; we might see some birds.”
I didn’t link arms with her; I didn’t know her nearly well enough yet and wouldn’t presume anything. But I did wish I could. Despite the black clothes, despite the obvious sadness, she was such a beautiful woman. And as much sympathy as I felt for her I couldn’t change the fact that she was absolutely my type.
But I sighed, and kept that thought strictly to myself.
Most days it was intensely lonely to be me.
So I behaved, and simply walked quietly beside her until we found a bench that she decided would do. She sat; I plonked my bum down next to her, straightened the pleats of my deep blue skirt out over my tights, and spent a few moments with my eyes closed, just breathing in the world around me.
Then I began to rummage in my bag.
“So,” I confessed. “I’ve only got one cup. You can have it, and I’ll use the thermos lid. Want some tea?”
“Oh. Thanks. That would… that would be nice,” she said. She sighed, sat up a little straighter, and adjusted the scarf around her neck.
Some of her hair had fallen free and was hanging messily down her back; she didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps she just didn’t care.
“So, how are you?” I gently nudged her.
“Flora’s gone,” she said, voice cracking one the second word.
“I’d… guessed as much. I’m so sorry, Sam. She seemed like a nice little hound.”
“She was so lovely. Such a sweetheart. I’d had her since she was a puppy. My daughter’s shattered.”
“Oh! You have a little girl?”
“Not so little any more. She’s twelve. She’s stayed home from school for the last few days because she’s broken. Poor Beth. And things had been going so well…”
“I had you pegged as a mum.”
She sighed.
“A young mum. Too young.”
“Why?”
“I was nineteen. I barely knew who I was. I should have waited.”
“You wouldn’t have had your little girl then.”
She sighed again.
“I know. I tell myself that a lot.”
I eyed the rings on her hands and went fishing.
“What does your husband do?”
“He works.”
It was strange how much venom could be compressed into two words – I eyed her and quietly dropped that line of conversation. Instead, I opened my thermos and put her cup between my knees to hold it.
“So this is your quiet time, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Here you go,” I said, offering her her tea.
She accepted the cup and clasped it in her hands, staring down at the steaming surface.
Then she shifted; I tried not to watch the distracting way she adjusted her lovely legs, knowing it would just be pointless torture.
Instead I stared out at the distant trees and sipped my own brew from the inconveniently-shaped lid.
She took a long breath, sighed it out as she squared her shoulders against the world.
“So…” she said.
“Mm?”
“What is it that you do that has you walking through the park every morning in rain or shine? I often see you here. You and your lovely brash style and bright colours,” she said, finishing the last with a tiny, almost wistful smile.
I grinned. “I’m en route from home to work, mainly.”
“I see. And what is work, Willa?”
“Oh, I’m one of the office admin at the local builder’s yard. Nothing glamorous.”
“Ah,” she said.
“Hopefully not forever, though. I’m studying.”
“Oh?”
She sat up, more engaged. “Studying what?”
“I did English and Drama at Uni, but now I’m mainly doing courses in Accounts and Statistics. It’s at night, though, and remote – through an online college – so it’s a bit of a squeeze. But I don’t fancy being an admin girl my entire life. That’s not the life I want and I’m not exactly the marrying-a-lad-and-settling-down type. So I need to augment my skills a bit to open some doors, see?”
“That’s… great. It’s good to have a goal. And to be working towards it. And definitely don’t be a marrying-a-man type. At least, not yet. That was my downfall.”
She blew on the tea, took a sip, made a face but was clearly far too polite to complain.
“Tell me how you like it and I’ll bring you your own thermos next time,” I said, smiling gently to show I didn’t mean anything by it.
“Oh! Oh, sorry, I didn’t…”
She flushed, shook her head. “It’s really nice. Thank you. It’s just… not how I usually drink it. Or what I usually drink.”
“Oh, you’re a coffee lover?”
“One of my many sins, alas.”
I snorted.
“You don’t strike me as the sinful type,” I said. “That’s very much my line of work. You’re very much more the good conscience side of things, I reckon. The halo-and-harp are nice, I hear.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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