So, he was about to be sixty. Only a little younger than her then.
‘It was in black and white, of course. We had a tiny television, and there were five us crowding round, me, my two older brothers, my mum and, unusually, my dad, who was home on leave, which made it even more special. I didn’t get to see a lot of my dad. It was one of the best days of my life so far.’
‘It’s the most watched television event of all time, isn’t it?’
‘I believe so. You’re obviously far too young to have caught it?’
His question wasn’t as innocent it seemed.
‘Is that a roundabout way of asking me how old I am?’
Will smiled. ‘Busted.’
Grace debated a moment. In the past she’d just kept vague about her age, thinking it was no one’s business but hers. If you told some people that you were over sixty, especially if you weren’t meeting them in person, they immediately formed an image of you in their minds. Age was just a number, but the preconceptions had a lot to do with how the previous generation had behaved or been treated.
She remembered a party for her own father’s fortieth birthday, which was full of jokes about getting old. One of his presents was a bottle of the iron supplement Phyllosan, with guests singing the accompanying jingle, ‘Phyllosan fortifies the over-forties.’ It had made her worry that her father wasn’t going to last long.
These days, thankfully, forty was still considered young. And sixty-plus wasn’t old either. It was perfectly possible to be fit and current. She was irritated by some of her friends, or more accurately acquaintances, who seemed determined to throw themselves headlong into old age. No meeting up in the evenings, lunchtimes only, no driving at night, hair chopped into a uniform bob. And if anyone sent her another grey-haired-old-lady emoji to explain away something they’d forgotten to do, she’d scream. Her real friends still had jobs and full social lives, and, if they were retired, were off travelling the world.
When she opened her eyes, Will was staring at her. She’d told him she was a widow, so she might as well go the whole way. What did it matter?
‘No, I didn’t stay up to watch it, as my parents were two of the few people in the world who weren’t that interested. But I will admit that I was six at the time, which as I’m sure you can work out, makes me sixty-one.’
Will let out a low whistle.
‘I really wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were early fifties at most.’
‘You wouldn’t if you’d seen me when I woke up this morning. Makeup everywhere and hair sticking up like a bog brush.’
Why was she giving him mental images of her in bed and bringing toilets into it?
‘Okaay. If you say so.’
‘And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention my age or the fact that I’m a widow to anyone else. Particularly Thanassis, as I don’t want it getting back to the other teachers. I’m not keen on people knowing too much about me.’
‘I’m with you there.’
‘Which reminds me.’ Grace reached for her bag. ‘I’ve got your jumper in here.’ She handed it over. ‘I could wash it if you like. There is a washing machine at the language school, but there’s limited drying space. It looks quite expensive; it probably needs hand washing.’
‘No, it’s fine. Another thing I learnt in the army. How to wash my own clothes. And I’m sure it’s not so dirty that it needs washing after being next to your skin for just a couple of hours.’
Why was he talking about her skin?
Will put the jumper under his sunlounger with a smile.
‘Were you hoping to bump into me again? Is that why you had it in your bag?’
Arrogant git.
‘No, not at all. I just shoved it in there on the off chance.’
‘Well, thank you for returning it.’
‘No problem.’
Grace gathered her things together.
‘I’d better be getting back. I have a weekly chat with my youngest daughter every Sunday evening at the same time, and she doesn’t like it if I miss it.’ She turned to Will. ‘Do you speak to your son often?’
