‘Are you a hugger? I sometimes feel as if it’s been years since I was held in someone’s arms, don’t you?’
Beryl bit her lip. This conversation was getting out of hand, but the poor man sounded troubled, so she was reluctant to brush the question off. ‘I do sometimes get that feeling,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time since my Eddie died, and you lost your lovely wife to dementia, didn’t you? That must have been hard.’
‘It certainly was. The last months were especially difficult. I found myself longing for the old affectionate Lottie. She didn’t seem to like me or even know me at all towards the end.’
They were sailing into deep waters now. Beryl decided to fall back on her usual remedy for stress, although she was more accustomed to relying on a nice cup of tea. Any hot drink should do the trick though. She pointed to a pavement café nearby. ‘It’s almost coffee time,’ she said. ‘And what do you say to a brandy to go with it? I think we both need perking up, don’t you?’
Frank agreed enthusiastically and soon they were sitting in the shade of a beautiful plane tree alternately drinking café cremes and sipping a cognac apiece.
‘I have an idea,’ said Beryl, when they eventually stood up to leave. She had to admit she might be a little squiffy, being unused to strong drink so early in the day, but it was a lovely, fuzzy feeling.
‘Do tell,’ said Frank, rummaging in his wallet and leaving some notes on the table weighed down by his empty glass. ‘That should be plenty. I always like to give a decent tip, don’t you?’
The last remark consolidated the vague thoughts whizzing around Beryl’s head. Frank was kind-hearted, well-organised and in need of somebody to care properly about him. He smelt incredibly clean too, which wasn’t the case with all men, as she well knew. She led him away from the table and into a nearby side street, where the traffic noise died away and they were alone.
‘What I’m going to suggest might sound a bit odd,’ Beryl said, feeling as fluttery as a teenager on her first date. ‘But how about we be each other’s hugging partners?’
She hiccupped and put a hand over her mouth. That wasn’t going to help the atmosphere she hoped to create between them.
‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean,’ said Frank, but he inched closer as he spoke.
‘Yes, you do. I think we both need some human warmth. A cuddle is one of life’s great pleasures. How about we do that for each other, as and when we need it? No ties, of course. We don’t need to be a couple…’
‘Don’t we?’
Beryl looked up into Frank’s face and his kind eyes gazed back. The wrinkles around them were a testament to years and years of smiling and she had the strangest feeling of coming home.
‘Erm… I…’
‘Beryl, can I say something important?’ Frank asked, placing his hands on her shoulders. Still nobody had disturbed the peace of their shady side street and after a glance around, she nodded.
‘I’ve been getting very attached to you, Beryl,’ Frank said. ‘It seems to have crept up on me. You keep an eye on all your friends and always make them welcome in your house, and you never look on the black side of life like so many people do these days. Doom and gloom isn’t in your nature, is it?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Beryl answered, wondering where this was heading. Frank was making her sound like some sort of saint, and she knew full well she wasn’t. It was unexpectedly lovely to be appreciated like this though. She smiled at him encouragingly, hoping for more. He wasn’t slow to oblige.
‘I guess what I’m trying to say in this clumsy way, because I’m not used to courtship…’
Frank paused, and Beryl’s heart, which had been beating faster than usual, began to really pound. Courtship? It was a beautiful if old-fashioned word, and one she hadn’t heard for a very long time. Her vision blurred slightly. She fervently hoped she wasn’t going to keel over on him, here in a strange town. A brief panic about what a French hospital might be like flitted through her mind, but he was speaking again, and she tried hard to focus on his face. Deep breaths, that was the thing, wasn’t it?
‘I wonder if you might consider… I mean…’ At this point, Frank very creakily lowered himself to one knee, reminding Beryl of all those splendid footballers who made this gesture as a mark of respect in times of trouble. She looked down at him as he steadied himself against the wall of the house where they were standing.
‘Beryl, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ he asked, rather breathlessly. ‘We could hug as much as we like if we lived in the same place, and I could take care of you for a change, instead of you always looking after everyone else. What do you say?’
There was a pause as Beryl’s world flipped over even more. Then she beamed at him. Dear Frank. Marrying again had never been on her agenda. Life with Eddie had been everything she’d ever wanted and being without him had been very hard to bear, but… perhaps it was time?
Frank was looking extremely anxious now, and Beryl could tell by his agonised expression that his knees were giving him pain. Poor soul, going to all this effort just to ask a simple question.
‘Get up, you daft thing,’ she said affectionately, giving Frank her hand to help him to his feet. ‘This isn’t how I expected the holiday to go, not one bit, but yes, I will marry you. I reckon we’ll make a great team, you and me, and the hugging will be a bonus too.’
‘In that case, we’d better start practising right now,’ Frank said, hauling himself to his feet, aided by Beryl’s hand and the wall. He opened his arms to her, and she moved closer, feeling the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his body against hers.
‘I love you, Beryl,’ Frank said huskily. ‘I should have said that first of all instead of giving you all that waffle.’
‘I know you do. And I love you too,’ said Beryl, suddenly wanting to cry. It was so wonderful to feel like this again after so long. She had a momentary pang that the others would think the two of them were ridiculous but then remembered that Anthea and Maurice were in exactly the same position.
‘We’re a right romantic lot, aren’t we, us oldies?’ she said, looking up at Frank. ‘All we need now is for Winnie and Sid to get it together.’
Frank laughed. ‘I can’t see that happening. I think they’re just good friends, as the saying goes. Sid’s a confirmed bachelor nowadays. He misses his wife but he’s not about to jump in again. And you said yourself that Winnie isn’t very tactile, as it were. No, I think two brand-new couples is enough for now, don’t you?’
