They finished their tea, talking all the while about their childhoods until it was time for Ronnie to leave. They wentthrough to the kitchen to wash the dishes. As Sarah reached to put the last cup on the top shelf of the cupboard, she wobbled and the cup slipped from her fingers. Ronnie reacted very quickly and caught it. As he reached across her to place it on the shelf, their bodies touched and his face brushed hers. He inhaled the delicate smell of her face powder and found himself not wanting to move away from her. He kissed her gently on the lips and then immediately felt embarrassed. He had taken advantage of the situation. Perhaps he had offended her? He stepped back and started to say, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .’
She placed a finger gently over his mouth and said, ‘Ssh!’ She then took her finger away and kissed him back. Not a brief peck on the cheek, but a long and lingering kiss that surged through his whole being. Their arms folded naturally around each other. He could feel his body responding and there was nothing he could do about it. He held her tight and felt her warm breath on his neck. He wanted her to stay close to him, not to move away. It felt right.
They stood, folded together for a long time, her head resting on his shoulder. Eventually, Ronnie moved. ‘Well, I suppose I should go,’ he said. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘Please, don’t go yet,’ Sarah replied. ‘Stay just a little longer.’
They shared one more kiss and moved back to the fireside, and had both just sat down when there was a banging on the door. Ronnie was startled and thought the banging to be so insistent that something must be wrong.
‘Who can that be, banging so urgently?’ he asked.
Sarah froze. She tried to hold back the fear she felt inside. She knew who it was. It could only be one person. What would Ronnie think? Her husband could be a violent man. She didn’t want Ronnie to get involved in this. She mustn’t let the two of them meet. Her hands were shaking. She held them firmly in her lap so that Ronnie wouldn’t notice.
‘Ssh. Don’t say anything. Ignore it. Probably the drunk who lives next door. He often comes in this building, mistaking it for his own, when he’s been drinking. He thinks he’s at his own place, and yells and bangs until someone comes out of their room and puts him right,’ Sarah replied. ‘He’ll get fed up in a minute and drag himself off.’
But the banging didn’t stop. Then the intruder started shouting.
‘Open the door, Sarah,’ he cried. ‘I know you’re in there.’
‘Who is that?’ Ronnie asked. ‘He knows your name. Let me go and tell him to leave. If he sees you’ve got someone here to protect you, then he might go away.’
‘Not without a fight he won’t. He’s that sort of man, believe me. He can be violent. He’s my husband, David Jones. He’s found me,’ Sarah said.
‘You should have told me that he’s been troubling you before, Sarah. You shouldn’t have to put up with this,’ Ronnie continued. ‘Have none of the other residents reported him?’
‘Open the door, Sarah, or I’ll kick it in,’ the man threatened.
‘He’s not leaving. I’m going to tell him to go or I’ll fetch the police.’
Ronnie stood up and turned to go to the door. Sarah grabbed his arm.
‘Please, don’t open it,’ she begged.
At that moment, another voice was heard. It was the old woman across the corridor.
‘She doesn’t want to see you. When are you going to get the message? If you don’t leave now, I’m going to get John Hastings from upstairs. You know what he’ll do — he’ll kick your sorry arse and throw you in the gutter where you belong.’
‘Mind your own business, you nosey old bitch,’ the man replied.
‘Don’t you talk to me like that,’ the old woman said.
Ronnie then heard a scuffling sound and a thud. That was it! He wasn’t going to stand by and let this go on. He ignored Sarah’s request, opened the door and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him. The old woman was lying on the floor and the intruder was standing over her. The man turned when he heard Ronnie approaching and the two men locked eyes.
‘I think you’d better leave,’ Ronnie said, standing his ground and hoping this wasn’t going to turn nasty.
‘I know she’s in there,’ the man shouted, spitting over his jacket. ‘You can’t get away from me, Sarah. I’ll be back.’
‘You’d better not be or I’ll be waiting for you,’ Ronnie snapped.
The man stepped towards Ronnie and let out a derisory laugh. ‘You and whose army?’ the man hissed. Ronnie stiffened, waiting for the blow that he thought might land on his chin. Much to Ronnie’s relief, the man turned to leave.
‘You’d better watch your back,’ the man threatened. ‘Cos if I find you here again, I’m going to leave you with more than just a bloody nose. You’ll rue the day you ever got in my way. She’s still my wife and that’s my son in there. A man can’t be kept from his own son.’
The front entrance door slammed behind him and Ronnie turned to ask if the old woman was all right.
‘I’ll just sit here for a bit,’ she gasped. ‘Heart’s going twenty to the dozen.’
Sarah cautiously opened the door to her room. ‘Has he gone?’ she whispered.
