Bob of Small End (66 page)

“
I
expect everyone wanted to comfort her once she’d said
that.”

“
Yes
they did. She probably made several new friends on that trip as
well.”

The waiter
asked them if they would like tea or coffee and they both asked for
tea.

“
I’m
back to drinking tea,” she told Bob after he’d left. “It’ll be
coffee all the time when I get home.”

“
What
are we doing this weekend Maria? I mean, what have you already
arranged?”

“
I’ve
booked the seats for
Les Mis
and two rooms at a near-by hotel. That way we can walk back
to it after the show. It’s better than driving back to Gatwick. We
can do that tomorrow, when we have lots of time.”

“
I
thought it would be better to take a train to Victoria than drive
into London. I didn’t like the idea of doing that.”

“
Good
idea. Yes, that’s much better. Going by train will give us a bit
more time to explore a bit of the city too.

“
Jane
told me that we should go to Hyde Park and feed the
ducks!”

“
Did
she! Well we could do that if you like.”

“
Okay.
Let’s go. I’ll park the car at Gatwick and we’ll catch the
train.”

Less
than two hours later they were at the hotel. Bob insisted on using
his credit card when they checked in. Maria had reserved two
adjacent rooms. They unpacked their bags then strolled,
hand-in-hand, along Shaftsbury Avenue, past the Palace Theatre,
where
Les Misérables
was
showing and along Charring Cross road looking in the windows and at
the passing crowds. They had a beer in a pub whose barkeeper asked
Maria if she was from Spain. When she said Portugal he said “That’s
where I’m going next month,” and smiled at her. Then they walked
slowly back to a restaurant they’d noticed earlier and had supper.
Fish, salmon with a lemon dressing, and asparagus for both of them
and a half-bottle of white wine.

“
We’ll
have a coffee, no dessert” he told the waiter.

“
We’ll
be back for dessert after the show perhaps,” Maria
added.

The seats were
in the auditorium, close to the centre aisle. Bob was glad he wore
his blazer, shirt and tie for most of the men were similarly
dressed. They held hands during the show and found the bar quickly
enough to buy a drink without a long wait during the interval.
After the show they walked slowly back to the hotel, discussing the
performance, the actors and sang some of the songs. Neither felt
like returning to the restaurant for a dessert. At the hotel they
sat in the lounge where Maria had a Drambuie and Bob a scotch. They
lingered, not wanting to hurry the evening, then Maria stood up and
told Bob she was going to bed. He followed and they kissed
‘good-night’ outside her door.

Twenty minutes
later, just after Bob had put on his pyjamas, there was a tap on
the door. It was Maria. She said nothing, just walked in, took off
her dressing gown and climbed into his bed. A rather-surprised Bob
shut the door, looked at her, then smiled as he climbed into the
other side. “What do we do now?” he asked. “Let me show you,” she
replied.

The sunlight
woke Maria first. She gently eased out of the bed, found her
night-dress, went to the bathroom, returned and opened the bedroom
curtains then sat on the side of the bed watching Bob as he slowly
awakened.

“
Hello
Bob. Did you sleep well?”

“
I don’t
remember how well I slept,” he replied, “but I do remember how well
I felt when I wasn’t sleeping. It was a wonderful night for me. How
was it for you?”

“
Wonderful as well. And I’d like to have another one just
like it.”

“
So
would I. I’d like to have many like it.”

“
I don’t
think that’s possible Bob. I live in Portugal and you live in
England, but we can meet several times a year and more often if I
can persuade the agency to make me the UK guide. I’ll talk to them
about that when I return.”

“
Then
come back to bed Maria. I won’t see you for another six or seven
weeks after today. Come back to bed. It’s my turn to show you what
else we can do.”

“
Do you
know what the time is? It’s nearly nine o’clock. Let me dream about
that until our next holiday.”

“
That’s
too long to wait. Maybe I can take a trip to Lagos.”

“
No Bob.
Let’s not hurry everything. It’ll get better if we don’t rush.
Look. I’m going to dress and pack my suitcase. Why don’t you do the
same and we’ll have breakfast. I’ll knock on your door when I’m
ready. Okay?”

“
Okay
Maria, although I’d rather stay in bed. With you, but
okay.”

He thought
about the night as he showered. He had almost forgotten how
pleasurable making love was. But was it love or was it just sex? It
was very enjoyable whatever it was. Did he love her, he asked
himself. He liked her very much. He liked talking to her, listening
to her opinions and finding out what she believed. She thought much
like he did so they seemed compatible. He liked the way she looked,
especially when she tied her brown hair back behind her head. ‘How
do I know if I love her,’ he wondered. ‘It’s not the same as with
Betty. I knew I loved her as soon as we met. I knew I wanted to
marry her. It’s different with Maria. I like being with her but I
don’t know if I would like always being with her, being with her
forever.’

There was a
knock on the door. It was Maria and he hadn’t even fully
dressed.

“
Come in
Maria. I’m not dressed or packed yet. Won’t be long.”

She sat in the
arm chair and watched him.

“
You
don’t have to wear your blazer or a tie today Bob. That sweater
would be enough.”

“
Good.
Then that’s what I’ll do. Shall we go to Hyde Park?”

“
It
might be too far for me to walk there and back. Can we take the
tube?”

“
Of
course. We’ll save our walking ‘til we get there.”

They walked to
the elevator holding hands but released them when another couple
got in. They were lucky enough to be given a table next to the
window but all they could see was a dying tree with torn plastic
bags hanging from its branches and a broken bottle half buried in
the dirt that surrounded the trunk. Orange juice, croissants and
coffee suited them both. When the waiter presented the bill Bob
asked if they could have some old bread, “in a bag, please. We want
to feed the ducks.”

“
I can
give you some left-over rolls from last night’s dinner. Would that
be all right?” They were, of course.

They returned
to their rooms, collected their bags, went to the cashier and Bob
signed the credit card slip. “We’d like to leave our bags here for
a while. Can you arrange that please.”

The cashier
signalled a boy who gave them two coupons and took the bags. “We’ll
collect them in three or four hours,” Bob said and gave the boy a
tip. They walked to Tottenham Court and caught the tube to Marble
Arch. There they stood for a while listening to an old man decrying
the state of the world, declaring, “We’re not here for much longer.
You must repent now!” What they were to do after repenting was not
made clear so, like most of the onlookers, they moved towards the
next speaker, a young man arguing about communism with members of
his crowd. This back-and-forth exchange held them for ten minutes.
They then followed a footpath that led to the Serpentine. They
ambled along the path that ran beside the lake, breaking the rolls
into pieces and throwing them towards the swans and ducks until a
man told them they should not feed the birds. They apologised then
put the few that were left in a waste can, found an empty bench and
sat down.

“
There’s
so much I want to talk about Maria, I don’t know where to
begin.”

“
What do
you want to talk about?”

“
Us. And
what we do next.”

“
It’s
too early to talk about us, Bob, and what we are going to do next.
We must just let things develop, if they want to. Let’s see what
happens when it happens. We can talk about the future after we have
experienced more of the present. We’ll know better what we want
‘us’ to do then.”

“
I
suppose you’re right. It’s funny, it’s like I was a young man, not
knowing what’ll come next. It’s almost uncomfortable.”

“
Do you
want to stop seeing me?”

“
Oh no.
Just the opposite. But what else I want, beside making love with
you, I don’t know.”

“
Nor do
I Bob. It’ll be fun finding out, won’t it?”

“
Yes.”

“
Then
that’s what we’ll do. We’ll let it develop and see what happens. We
can make decisions about the future later.”

“
Okay,
although it’ll be difficult for me. I don’t even know what to do
about the rest of my life without knowing what we are going to
do.”

“
Why are
you worried about the rest of your life?”

“
It’s
the business mostly. I’m not sure I really like it. Sure, it’s
about to make a lot of money but I’m not happy with my role. Ken
makes almost all of the decisions, which is all right, he has all
the ideas and is doing all the work in the shop. I just seem to be
a salesman and I don’t really like that.”

“
Can’t
you hire people to market and sell the toys?”

“
We will
be looking for a distributor. If we find one they’ll do most of the
marketing and they’ll know the shops that will sell our stuff. Then
I’ll have nothing to do.”

“
Didn’t
you talk about making different kinds of toys?”

“
Yes.
Yes, that’s right. I could do that. I’d much rather do that than
what I’m doing now.”

“
Then
your problem’s nearly solved. Find the distributor then design
different toys.”

“
Yes,
that’s the way to look at it. I’ll try that.”

“
And let
what happens between ‘us’ develop as it wishes.”

“
All
right.”

They stood up
and walked along a path to Hyde Park Corner. There they found a
deli, bought wraps and bottles of juice and waited until one of the
pavement tables was empty then sat down. Afterwards they took the
tube to Leicester Square, walked back to the hotel, collected their
bags and took the tube to Victoria. An hour later they were at
Gatwick. Bob collected Maria’s bag from his car and they walked to
the check-in counter. Once she had her boarding pass and her bag
had slid along the ramp they had time for a coffee. He remembered
the bank draft and gave it to her.

“
It’s
for £1,000. That should cover the rest of the payment for the
August tour I think. I don’t know the conversion rate.”

“
Yes, it
should be enough. If it’s not, I’ll pay the rest. It won’t be far
wrong.”

“
Let me
know if it’s not enough. And you’ll write to me?”

“
If
you’ll write to me.”

“
I feel
like writing to you every day.”

“
Don’t
do that! Once a week is enough. I won’t be able to write more often
than that. You can write some poetry and put that in your letters
if you want to write more frequently.”

“
I
wonder if I could; I’ve never written poetry.”

“
We had
to do that at school. I quite liked it, but my poetry mostly made
the girls laugh although the teacher gave me good marks for the
stuff I wrote.”

“
When
you retire you could become a writer.”

“
Maybe.
I wouldn’t mind trying. I’d have to do something like that if you’d
be in your workshop making toys all day.”

“
Hey.
Are you making plans about our future? You see us
together?”

“
Oh, I
must have been thinking that. Just for a moment. But that’s only
one future; it might not be the one that develops Bob. Sorry. I
shouldn’t have said it.”

“
I’m
glad you did. Then I can do the same thing, dream about possible
futures.”

“
Just
remember they’re only ‘possible’ ones though. Hey. I must go. I
should be in the boarding lounge by now. ‘Bye Bob.” She stood up,
bent down, kissed him quickly on his forehead and ran towards the
gate.

Bob stood up,
almost started running after her but remained standing, watching
her being passed through the gate. He waved when she briefly turned
her head towards him then sat down again when she went out of
sight. ‘That was too quick. It wasn’t a proper goodbye. I’ll sit
here for a while and collect my thoughts.’ His emotions slowly
died, then, five minutes later, he stood up and walked to his
car.

He drove
slowly home, thinking about the weekend and Maria. The house felt
empty when he walked in. He put his bag down and collected all the
clothes and put them on his bed. He’d put them away later. He had a
pot pie for supper, not bothering to add any extra vegetables. At
nine he phoned the children. The grandchildren were looking forward
to the school holiday. Sam was enjoying his new job and learning
how to manage other people. Regina had started to play golf and
joined her husband’s golf club. “It’s cheaper for a family
membership and I’m thinking that Roy might start too.”