When Love Knocks Twice (A Contemporary Love Story) (10 page)

Gail
didn't respond so Emily continued.

“ So,
what would Dad say?” she demanded.

Gail's
complexion was getting paler and paler, anger rising. She stood to
face Emily.

“ Don't
you dare throw that in my face. I'll tell you what your father said.
Some of his last words were 'go out and get a life'. Well finally,
after five years, I got it. For the last seven days I've had a life,
and now he's gone, and taken my life with him, so I hope that makes
you bloody well happy.”

And
with that Gail stormed out of the room, leaving a speechless Emily
alone in the lounge.

It
took an hour for Emily to calm down and pluck up the courage to seek
out her mother. She found her sitting on her bed, wiping a
tear-stained and streaked face. She knelt down beside her.

“ Mum,
I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry. I didn't realise you felt so strongly.”

“ No,
well why would you? It's not something that crops up in normal
conversation.” Gail paused. “The problem is you don't
stop needing love just because you're over sixty.”

“ Did
you have a good time on Skye?”

Gail
smiled a little wistfully. “I had a wonderful time.”

“ Did
Tom enjoy it.”

“ I
think so. It's not the sort of question you ask. 'Are you enjoying
yourself in my company?' But we laughed a lot, and shared thoughts,
and swapped stories, and I beat him at tennis.”

“ Well
that doesn't surprise me,” interrupted Emily. “Demon
granny of the tennis courts.”

“ Less
of the granny or I'll start to put my hair in a net.”

“ So
what are you going to do now?”

“ Who?”

“ You
and Tom.”

Gail
sighed. “Nothing. He and his family live over five hundred
miles away. It makes popping round to see each other a little
difficult.”

“ So
move five hundred miles,” suggested Emily.

Gail
reached out and stroked Emily's hair. “Ah, the confidence and
simplicity of youth, for whom no obstacle is too great.” She
paused. “It's complicated.”

Tom
dropped his keys on the hall table and his suitcase onto the floor.
The house was cold, dark and empty, and reflected his own mood he
decided.

The
journey south had also seemed to echo his own situation. There had
been multiple accidents, or breakdowns, or stationary traffic going
nowhere. Just like me, he thought.

He
had had plenty of time in stationary traffic to mull over his
situation. It's impossible, he decided, and unfair, and unjust, and
heartbreaking. Yes, heartbreaking, because he was back in love with
Gail, he admitted to himself. Had it been love forty years ago? Or
was it the schoolboy crush of an adolescent struggling with his
hormones and emotions? He didn't care any more. He just knew that he
would prefer to be with Gail than on his own in this house.

And
there had been a moment on the drive home, at the back of a queue of
stationary traffic, when he had glanced in his rear view mirror to
see an articulated lorry bearing down on him at full speed, only to
avoid him at the last minute, swerving into the outside lane,
screaming past him, the trailer rocking from side to side as it
sought to stabilise itself. Life had almost ended there, and it gave
him much food for thought.

He
was exhausted from the long and stressful drive, and without
bothering to sort anything out he went straight to bed.

The
next day he pottered aimlessly about, achieving nothing. He forgot to
shave, dressed in some old clothes that looked somewhat disreputable.
What did it matter, he thought, there's no one to see me. The weather
cleared, blue sky heralding a return to summer, but he couldn't
appreciate it.

He
came across a number of jobs that needed doing around the house. No
hurry, I'll do it tomorrow, he decided, and spent long hours staring
out of the window. The telephone rang a number of times but he
couldn't summon the energy to answer it. Probably only salesmen, or
surveys, or PPI solicitors anyway.

That
evening he ordered in pizza and opened a bottle of wine. Comfort
food.

The
next morning he woke with a headache and an empty wine bottle. He
didn't even remember coming to bed. He popped a couple of tablets to
get rid of the headache and stood looking out of the bedroom window.

“ I
have to find a way through this,” he said to himself. “I
will overcome. I could live like this before and I can do it again.”

But
the genie is out of the bottle, he acknowledged, and whatever I do
it's not going to go back in.

Gail
went through the motions of life the next day but her heart wasn't in
it. She met some friends for coffee but sat on the sidelines of
conversation. She mentioned nothing of the past eight days. They
remarked on her lack of life, in an understanding and compassionate
tone of voice, blaming it yet again on her widowhood. How little you
know, she thought.

Emily
phoned to find out how she was. Surviving, she replied. The
grandchildren came round and she put on an effort to be normal Gran
for them, but once they'd gone she realised what an effort it had
been. She felt careworn and spent, feeling her age. She was getting
old, she decided. Perhaps she should stop playing tennis.

Tom
had managed to rouse himself to put the washing machine on and go
through the accumulated week's mail, but couldn't be bothered to
process any of it, so he left it in an overflowing pile on the
kitchen table. He looked at the grass in the garden, badly needing
cut. I'll do it tomorrow, he decided, and went to pick up a well
thumbed book to lose himself in.

And
that's where he was when the doorbell rang at six thirty that
evening. He opened the door to find his son John, on his way home
from work, judging by his clothes.

“ Come
in. Come in,” greeted Tom.

“ I
was on my way home, Dad, and I thought I'd find out how you got on on
your trip north.”

Tom's
expression must have reflected something, which made John take in his
unshaven chin and the general mess in the house.

“ Are
you all right? What's happened? Have you had some bad news?”

“ Well..yes...
and no.”

John
shook his head. “I don't understand.”

So
Tom told him about the week's events.

“ Wow,”
said John. “That's some holiday.”

“ It
certainly was,” replied Tom in a disconsolate sort of way.

“ And
this woman. Gail. She was an old flame of yours?”

“ An
old friend.”

“ But
you really reconnected by the sound of it.”

“ We
seemed to.”

“ So,
are you going to keep in touch?”

“ She
lives five hundred miles away.”

“ But
you say that you love her?”

“ Yes.”

“ Have
you told her?”

“ It's
not that straightforward.”

“ Why
not? If you really badly wanted to, there's nothing stopping you from
moving.”

“ Except
for you and Carrie, and Stuart and Jess.”

There
was a pause, while John looked a little awkward.

“ Well,
this is going to complicate matters.”

“ Why?”
asked Tom.

“ Seeing
how your holiday went wasn't the only reason that I dropped in
tonight.”

“ Oh?”

“ Stuart
and I have been offered a chance to take over a business that has a
lot of potential but needs some fresh blood.”

“ That
sounds great,” enthused Tom. “Where is this business. Is
it around here?”

“ Well.
That's what makes it awkward. You see, it's in the Lake District.
It's an outdoor pursuits centre. Right up our street.”

“ Oh.
Are you going to take up the offer?”

“ Well,
that's the thing. We already have. But the four of us have been
discussing it and we'd like you to come with us.”

Tom
didn't respond at first, staring into the middle distance in an
unfocussed sort of way. John was finding it difficult to work out
what was going through his father's head and was about to break the
silence when Tom spoke out.

“ No,”
he said emphatically. “I've got a better idea.”

But
he had no chance to explain what his better idea was because the
phone rang. He reached out instinctively and picked it up, reciting
the phone number in greeting.

“ Is
that Tom?” came a distant and slightly tentative voice.

“ Yes
it is,” he replied.

“ Tom,
it's Emily.”

Gail
still felt like hitting everything. Everything she did she carried
out with more force than was necessary as if she wanted to take out
her frustration on any inanimate object that got in her way. She had
made some bread that didn't turn out quite right because she had
enjoyed kneading it so much. The cushions on the settees had never
been so well pummelled in their lives. The hoover had beaten the
carpets until the dust cried mercy.

And
still she didn't feel any better. Oh, get over it woman, she
chastised herself. Life sucks. Live with it.

Somewhere
around mid-afternoon the phone rang and as it was within reach, she
picked it up.

“ Hello?”

“ Hello,
Gail?” came Tom's voice.

Gail
paused while she tried to stay calm.

“ Tom,
how nice to hear your voice. Did you have a good journey home?”
She thought she was doing a good job of nonchalant, whilst aware that
her voice could crack given the slightest encouragement.

“ No,
I didn't. I had a terrible journey.”

“ I'm
sorry to hear that, but you got home safely?”

“ Yes,
but the problem was, all the time, I was going in the wrong
direction, and when I got home I didn't want to be there.”

“ Tom..”
interjected Gail, but Tom went on.

“ You
see I can't breathe without oxygen, and at the moment you are my
oxygen, and I'm not sure that I can survive without you.”

Gail
took an involuntary breath that was in danger of turning into a sob.
“Tom, I'm not sure this is a good idea. You're five hundred
miles way, and we talked about this.”

“ I
know,” replied Tom, after which there was a long silence.

During
the silence, in the phone's background Gail heard a motorcycle go
passed, at the same moment one went passed her house. A thought
flicked through her brain. She moved swiftly through to the hall,
throwing open the front door, to find Tom standing on the drive with
his mobile to his ear.

“ It's
no good,” he called, “Five hundred miles isn't an excuse
any more.”

She
couldn't help herself. She flung herself at him unceremoniously and
clung to him, something he reciprocated with equal fervour.

“ Oh,
we have got to find a way to make this work,” she pleaded in a
voice muffled by his coat.

He
raised her face to his. “We do. And we will,” he
reassured her.

Finally

Gail
stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning on one stick, steadying herself
against the door-jamb, and watched the people milling around her
kitchen. They were all together for the first time in ten years, the
four children, ten grand-children, and two great-grandchildren. They
had all arrived that morning as part of their silver wedding
celebration.

She
watched Tom sitting at the kitchen table and helping his
great-grandson with his Lego model. Her mind went straight back to
that day twenty-five years before, when Tom had come to dinner and
changed their lives forever.

She
felt a hand on her shoulder and Emily drew alongside her, an arm
around her shoulder. She was watching her mother eyeing Tom.

“ You
picked a winner there, Mum,” declared Emily, and then
continued. “And I reckon he picked a winner too.”

Gail
glanced up at her. “Thank you dear. You know, I think we did. I
forgive you for phoning Tom without telling me.”

“ What
are daughters for?”

At
that point Tom looked up and noticed Gail watching

him,
and returned her smile. His smile was a little lopsided since his
mild stroke two years ago, shortly after his eighty fourth birthday.
She was growing to love that smile.

He
still took his walk every morning to the newsagents to get the
morning paper, tackling the crossword over breakfast. She had
recently had to abandon joining him on his walk as her arthritis was
becoming too painful.

Why
did I deserve two such wonderful marriages, she thought? I must have
done something right.

When
Tom had returned to her on that day twenty five years ago, they had
determined to make it work and later that evening, over the kitchen
table, he had proposed. She hesitated only long enough in her mind to
thank Gordon for their wonderful life together, before accepting this
proposal for a new life.

She
and Tom were married a month later. Tom's sons had insisted that if
Tom wanted to move in with Gail then that was fine by them. They did
not want to get in the way of their father's happiness.

So
Tom did. And life had been good. He and Gail spent a lot of time
travelling up and down the motorway, because Gail had been adamant
that Tom's children and grand children should not suffer as a result
of his moving north. But as soon as the grandchildren were old
enough to travel by train on their own, there had been many a happy
school holidays with their grandparents, working in the garden,
building dens and myriad other activities designed to amuse.

They'd
been back to Skye several times, visiting their old haunts, laughing
about that first holiday.