But Alice had pushed her winnings into his hand at the front door, saying she only ever played for fun, and he remembered that she had only upped the stakes at his insistence. He wouldn’t make the same mistake next time. He hoped there would be a next time.
After a cold shower, Mark wandered outside to the garden he shared with Alice and as he assessed the lawn, a feeling of shame washed over him. He took in the overgrown grass with clusters of dandelions poking through. Glazed pots stood forlornly against the fence and withered flowers that once bloomed with colour stared back at him. A stone bird bath that he and Di had chosen together at a garden centre was covered in moss. Dianehad been the gardener. She would be mad at him if she could see it now.
‘Sorry, Di.’ He looked heavenward as he let out a deep sigh, vowing to sort it out.
Heading inside, he swallowed down a large glass of water and two paracetamols, before flicking the kettle on.
Cupping his tea in his hands, he thought about last night’s dinner party. The people in the block really were a nice bunch of people. Different in many ways, but they had chatted easily enough, which he was relieved about. Diane would have breezed through it regardless – she was the extrovert in their partnership. She would have doted on Maisie and would have loved chatting to Jess and Declan. And she would have been fascinated by Alice.
Why had it taken a woman of such advanced years to bring the residents of the apartments together? he wondered. Was that the world they now lived in? Sure, the people in the block would say a quick hello in greeting, but usually on the way in or out, as they got on with their busy lives. People minded their own business, too busy to stop and chat so as not to disrupt their carefully planned routine. And he had been caught up in his own grief.
As a young boy he remembered his mother chatting to the other women in the street at the weekend, even pulling out chairs to the front and watching their kids playing in the street whilst they had a cup of tea and a natter in the fine weather.
Last time he had walked down the road there had not been a child in sight. There were no groups of children playing on scooters or bikes, every leisure pursuit organised by their parents. Even trips to the park had to be supervised by an adult. He thought of how he would run to the park to see his friends when he was young and wondered when and why the world had become so terrifying.
Two of his friends had escorted him home one day, when he fell straight onto concrete from some metal climbing bars, the blood pouring from his head. No soft wood chippings to land on back then. Not that he thought that was a good thing, but somehow it had gone too far the other way. Kids were wrapped in cotton wool, destined to fall apart at the first problem they would encounter in their later years.
Di would tease him when he forgot something, telling him that the bang on the head as a kid probably had something to do with it. Maybe it did. Things were never investigated when he was a kid, unless you were knocked out cold. He did not think he would have survived thirty years as an active firefighter had there been anything wrong, though, despite his wife’s teasing.
An hour later, after his painkillers had kicked in, along with a bacon sandwich and another cup of strong tea – his go-to hangover cure – he felt ready to face the day.
It was another pleasant morning, and he briefly considered taking his boat out. It was always mad busy on a Saturday at the marina, though, and he wasn’t sure if he was quite up to all the social activity.
He went inside and rifled through a drawer in the kitchen that was full of odds and ends. Nuts and bolts mainly, a couple of buttons, some silver coins, and a few keys. One of them was the key to the garden shed that contained the gardening tools, so he picked it up and strolled outside.
He found himself wondering if the garden might be a good place for a get-together. That was if anyone would be interested. He had enjoyed himself at Alice’s dinner far more than he imagined he would, although maybe hosting something would be a bit much. He would have a think about it.
Either way, it was high time he got the garden sorted. And there was no time like the present.
FIFTEEN
DECLAN
Declan had woken early and was surprised at how fresh he felt. Then again, he hadn’t really overdone it with the booze last night. He had enjoyed himself and hoped Jess might have invited him in for a drink, but she had escorted him straight to the door after he had put Maisie to bed. Not that it mattered; she barely knew him, after all. He sincerely hoped that would change, though, if he could pluck up the courage to ask her out.
He was changed and ready to go for an early morning run, cutting through the park and heading down to the beach for a run along a section of the coastal path. He hated gyms. He always felt claustrophobic building up a sweat indoors and much preferred being outside with nature, earphones plugged in erasing all thoughts of his working week. He had spent enough time indoors to last him a lifetime.
‘Morning, Declan.’ Alice was heading out of her front door.
‘Hi, Alice. How are you this morning?’ Declan asked cheerfully.
‘Wonderful. I so enjoyed having company over; it was lovely having people to cook for. I’ve missed it since George passed.’
‘I’d be very happy to do it again. I’m not volunteering you for cooking, of course. Though I haven’t had a meal like that in ages.’ He smiled.
‘You’re most welcome. Are you off running?’ she asked, and Declan told her about his plan to run along the coastal path near the beach.
‘Well, enjoy yourself. I’m off out for a walk towards the beach later,’ she told him.
‘That’s a long walk. I thought you would be putting your feet up today,’ Declan commented.
‘It’s important to keep active at my age,’ she replied, not answering his implied question about the location. ‘I don’t want these old muscles to seize up.’
Once outside, Declan plugged his earbuds in, and crossed the road towards a small park, favoured by dog walkers, that had several benches dotted around and a war memorial looking out across a main road. He took a left turn then, onto Mersey Road, passing the old church opposite the Co-op and listening to his music as he jogged. This slow jog was the warming up part. At the beach, he would grab a bottle of water from the ice-cream van and head off, pushing himself as he ran.
Despite the music in his ears, he found himself thinking about Jess. Had he imagined it, or had there been a spark of attraction between them? He could not be sure, but he thought she felt something when their hands reached for the cutlery drawer together. He had certainly felt something, and although he enjoyed his single life, out with his friends at the weekend going to the pub and the football, perhaps it was time for him to start dating again. He was only twenty-nine years old, but he was out of practice. His last relationship was, shockingly, over five years ago. Before everything in his life had changed.
Declan placed his hands on his knees after his run and breathed deeply. He was happy with his time of six miles inaround an hour. He scrunched up the water bottle and placed it in a nearby recycling bin before moving on.
