main menu | standard categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools |
Finding Your Way Back (Chapter six) (standard:drama, 3129 words) [6/6] show all parts | |||
Author: Cyrano | Added: Jun 13 2009 | Views/Reads: 2135/1567 | Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
James' daughter and grandaughter pay him a visit. James meets with his client, Lavinia Lavender, to discuss plans for the new conservatory. | |||
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story but we'll pull it through, won't we Robbo?” James noticed Robbo was by now looking anxiously down towards the end of the garden, where a young lady emerged from the house bringing out a tray on which were tea and sandwiches. “The usual, boys”, she said brightly as she approached. “I've done the bacon just the way you like it.” Robbo gritted his teeth and shook his head as he looked at the girl. She was completely oblivious to whatever meaning he was trying to convey to her. “You're a bit early, this morning with the stuff, aren't you love,” he said. “No, same as usual, Mr Robinson”, she said, blandly. “You did say it was in the building contract with your firm that we had to bring you tea and sandwiches at half past eight. And it's just going on half past eight now. That is, unless my clock's wrong in the kitchen.” She frowned. “It is alright isn't it?” James put her mind at ease. “Yes, Mr Robinson doesn't mind if the sandwiches are a little early. Mr Robinson and Mr Jackson are going to work right through the lunch break every day this week, and they will need all the sandwiches they can get to give them the energy to get your job finished by Friday, at the very latest. Isn't that right, Mr Robinson and Mr Jackson?” James thought he could detect an agreement to this proposal from the two men. The young lady's face flushed with excitement. “You mean you will finish this weekend?” Her eyes widened at the prospect. “Mr Robinson told me it would be another week. That's brilliant. I can't wait to tell my husband.” “And think of all the sandwiches you won't have to make. And think of all the money Mr Robinson and Mr Jackson will save by not having to pay you any more for the sandwiches. I think, off hand, the rate is about two pounds a day,” said James glowering at the two men. “Each....” he added. “What do you think boys?” He had to repeat the question four times before he was sure of their reluctant muttered agreement. And the young lady tripped gaily all the way back into her house with a happy smile etched on her face. “That were a bit over the top weren't it boss?” said Robbo. “It was the highlight of her day bringing us them sandwiches. She'll have nothing else to look forward to.” “It were jutht a bit of fun,” lisped Big Ernie. “Well, you've had your bloody fun... so get on with it.” James smiled as he walked away, and he knew they would be already dreaming up some other fiddle. But the next meeting with Lavinia was foremost on his mind and when he drove up to the cottage the following day he tried to recall what she had said to him. What she looked like. The way that she spoke. There was no response to his knock on the door and no bark from the dog. The BMW was parked at the side of the house and he walked from the front door and looked anxiously to the rear of the property. Then he heard a voice and saw her in the distance sitting on a bench in the garden on the riverbank. She waved him over. “Hello James, this is my favourite spot, I love sitting here and looking at the water and the trees. I suppose this is the reason I bought the cottage. I'd looked all up and down for a place but when I came across this view I knew I had to have it. So I here I am.” She finally paused and smiled softly. James did not understand why she was wearing sunglasses on this warm but overcast day but he raised no query. “It's funny about houses,” reflected James. “I could sell mine tomorrow and not really care although I designed and built it. Eileen wasn't like that. She loved that house. I often tried to persuade her to move, but she wouldn't listen.” “I felt the same about Camerton”, said Lavinia. “I'd been there about seven years. I fell in love with it when I first walked through the door.” She laughed gently. “I was so happy there. I thought I would be there for the rest of my life. Just being there, walking through the woods, sitting by the river. This same river, just a bit downstream. I had my horses. I went riding every day. It was wonderful.” James detected sadness in her voice. “The last thing that I wanted to do was to leave.” James sat quietly. He was intrigued by her need to tell him of her recent past and as looked around, he too, was entranced by the beauty around him. He asked her the extent of her property. “Come on”, she said, “I'll show you round the field and the wood.” Then she paused. “That is if you have the time.” James enjoyed the fifteen minutes or so it took them to stroll leisurely around the land. It was overgrown and the wooden fences needed attention. Small sheds struggled for survival with loose tin roofs and doors hanging crookedly. She told him of her plans. Which areas to be let off for grazing and which areas she would turn to lawn. The dog ran ahead but returned to check they were following before dashing off again. Being a Labrador he enjoyed splashing noisily around in the river. He retrieved stones from the bed and laid them at their feet. James threw these back into the river but he and the dog soon tired of the game. The river bank was too steep for the dog, and the stones were too heavy for James. It wasn't like the old days when he could hurtle the cricket ball in from the covers in a flat powerful arc. His best endeavour now was a painful underarm lurch. Without admitting the fact, he was relieved when the dog decided to call it a day. “Shall we go inside and look at the new plans, I'm quite excited to see what you have come up with”, she said as they walked through the kitchen. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink? I have a carton of red wine just opened. Just make yourself at home while I go and bring you a glass.” God, she is a good looker, thought James, and seems happy to see me but I hope she doesn't bump into that door with her sunglasses on. “Just lay the plans on the table,” she instructed. Then she knelt down and handed him the wine. “Cheers! Here's to a successful conservatory.” The dog lowered himself slowly and deliberately between them and lay down on the floor with unblinking eyes fixed firmly on James. Lavinia glanced over to James and they giggled. He realised she now had more of an understanding of his proposals but his thoughts were distracted by her closeness and he could smell her perfume. He felt a tingle in his arm when she brushed against him. She raised one or two queries but appeared to be generally well pleased with what he had done. “Would it help if I could arrange for you to look at a conservatory we have built recently?” said James and this idea appeared to please her. “Then you can get some ideas on size and maybe pick up some other ideas that will help you.” “That would be wonderful, you are so clever!” He knew that, but did she? Or was she being a bit cynical. He looked at her closely, but her demeanour offered him no clues as to what she was thinking. She sipped at her wine and continued to look steadily down at the document. James felt pleased with himself. Not only was she good looking but she was turning out to be very perceptive! He had finished his wine and there did not appear to be any more on offer so James felt it was perhaps time to depart. “I have to get the planning application in within a week or so because I'm going on vacation to stay with a friend in the States and I would like to have it sorted out before I leave, if that is at all possible.” “Well yes.... that sounds good. What part of the States are you visiting”? she enquired. “Near San Francisco; I have a very close friend lives there and he wants me to visit him. We'll play a lot of golf. We'll have a good time. Take my mind off things.” “That's a coincidence, I have a sister living in San Francisco. She married an American super tanker captain. He's retired now and I haven't seen her for years. She's always inviting me over but I never get around to it. We were very close when we were younger.” She smiled as she recalled “We were both mad about horses. Spent all our childhood in stables. Riding, grooming, even mucking out”, she laughed. “She still has a few horses. I often think of her. Anyway, lucky you. I hope you have a nice trip.” James thanked her for her good wishes, picked up his papers, and then drove off with the promise he would ring her in a day or so. Frank was not at his desk when he returned to the office but he heard a little squeal of delight coming from the direction of Margaret's room so he knew where to find Frank. It was usually prudent to knock on the door before entering when the two of them were alone and he was surprised to receive the go ahead to enter almost immediately. They were, as he imagined they would be, very close together sitting side by side at the desk. Margaret was receiving instruction from the great man on how to use the new laptop computer she had pressurised him to purchase. Her pink flushed cheeks gave away her high state of excitement over the new possession. Frank was drooling over her in anticipation of the reward he was hoping would be coming his way. “So you've finally persuaded him to get you one”, said James. “Yes, but its not the one I really wanted”, was the totally unexpected reply to his enquiry. James frowned. Margaret wouldn't recognise the difference between a computer and a compressor. “Is it the memory? Not adequate for your requirements?” “Don't be silly James, its only a little computer, you can't expect such a little thing to have a big memory.” She dismissed this stupid observation with disdain. “Silly me”, replied James, but felt confident enough even in the presence of the new expert, to take the matter further. “ What is it then that you don't like about it?” “Well James, what I really wanted” she said, “ was a pink one to match my curtains. And this black thing clashes horribly. I just don't know if I can live with it. But he”, she said pointing to Frank and pouting her lips, “says I can't paint it. Something to do with getting it wet. But I would be so careful. But he won't have it. So I'll have to make the best of it.” She ended with a resigned sigh. Frank looked vacantly up to the ceiling and twiddled his thumbs. “Does it have Windows, Margaret?” said James. “Of course it hasn't, ” she replied with scorn. “You don't need to look inside them, James. There's nothing to see inside except the machinery. Look”, she lifted up the hinged screen, “this is where you see things.” “I can see your getting the hang of it quite nicely” remarked James, politely. “Well I suppose I am really”, she replied. “I've only been doing it for an hour and I can already open the case and switch it on.” “ It's quite a remarkable achievement, don't you agree Frank, and all down to your personal tuition, no doubt.” James asked if Frank if it would be possible to have a quiet chat with him and suggested that outside the room would be the place to talk. “Alright if we leave you to it for a minute, darling”, brought a nodded silent agreement from Margaret as her eyes remained transfixed by the somniferous patterns of the screensaver. “I want to show Lavinia a conservatory we have built so she can get some idea's,” said James. Frank peeped over his long nose and moustache. “James, dear boy. I sometimes despair at the thought of what goes on inside that unruly mop of grey hair. You built a conservatory five months ago next door to the bloody cottage. You haven't forgotten that already. Have you? You can show the good lady that splendid example.” He gave his moustache a gentle rub. “You know, I was only saying to Margaret this morning, since you've started to work on that job for Lavinia Lavender, you've been running around like you have a flock of butterflies stuck up you're arse” James blinked and frowned. “Oh, is that so” he said and walked away and made the necessary arrangements to show Lavinia around the new conservatory they had built. A few days later as they walked back towards her cottage after the visit, she invited him in for a drink. They conversed easily as old friends with no strained silences. The red wine from the winebox was offered and accepted with alacrity and Lavinia suggested they sit on the bench and enjoy the sunshine. “Have you any plans for supper tonight James?” “No...no, nothing. There's no-one at home.” “Let's go inside the house. I'll see what I've got. I think I have some salmon crumble and I can rustle up a bit of salad and some bread.” His offer to help in the preparation of the meal was accepted and he stood at the sink washing the lettuce and tomatoes and cucumber. As they worked side by side, he reflected that only a few weeks ago he was doing the same thing with Roiseen preparing for the fateful unfinished dinner party. His mind turned back to his wife as he stared out of the kitchen window and looked down towards the river. What would she have thought of this? Not just physically being with a woman, but with the emergence of thoughts for the future that were already developing in his mind about this new friendship. They had often talked in general terms of what the survivor of the pair of them should do after the first one passed on. James had it in his mind it would be he who would be doing the passing on and statistics supported his case. Woman live about seven years longer than men, on average, and James' sedentary occupation gave him only a three in four chance of getting through his fifties, on average. All of which had proved that averages are only averages. But he was now in this other than average situation and it was presenting him with some serious food for thought. Tweet
This is part 6 of a total of 6 parts. | ||
previous part | show all parts |
Authors appreciate feedback! Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story! |
Cyrano has 99 active stories on this site. Profile for Cyrano, incl. all stories Email: Kelly_Shaw2001@yahoo.com |