‘I, no, no, I don’t.’ He had no idea what she was wittering on about.
‘Well, he was furious, as you can imagine, more or less marched poor old Jeff up the aisle in a borrowed suit. They was only babies themselves really, no more.’ Margaret let out a small laugh, as if at the memory. ‘Anyway, they’re still together, nigh on forty-five years! Happy as larks they are. In’t that lovely?’
‘It is,’ he managed, and there it was again, that flare of anger, underpinned with misplaced jealousy. How come Jeff and Linda got all that time when he and Jane had only been given six years.Six measly years!It wasn’t enough, could never have been enough, even if they’d got a lifetime.
‘Anyway, they’ve got a caravan in Mevagissey, and they sent me a postcard, in’t that nice?’
‘It is.’
And then it came. The awkward silence that made his teeth grind.
‘Right. Well. I’ll let you go then, Lew.’
‘Yep, see you later.’
‘Yep. See you later.’ She ended the call.
Lewis leant on the countertop, arms outstretched, breath coming in gasps. He exhaled slowly. When would this get easier, when would he hurt less? He thought of Chen, the weird guy who had approached him in the queue and waffled on about time and his bizarre suggestion. He smiled, warmed at no more than the idea, what wouldn’t he give for fifteen minutes with his girl.
***
It was Saturday.
Despite having slept for most of the day, Lewis toyed with the idea of going straight to bed and ignoring what the bloke had said. It was mad, he knew it. A ruse, impossible, a joke, and yet just the thought that itmightbe possible…
‘You absolute plonker!’ He took a sip from his can of Thatchers and settled onto the sofa, closing his eyes as the clock raced towards eleven. He knew he’d feel like an idiot when nothing happened, yet still felt the pull of attraction at no more than the imagining of it. Besides, what was the harm, no one would ever know.
With his eyes closed, he lay his head back on the cushion and waited, breathing slowly. Then came the oddest of sensations. The first thing he heard was a sound so glorious, so beautiful it took his breath away: his wife laughing. He’d almost forgotten it, the sweetness of it, as her laughter in the latter stages became wheeze riddled and forced, a throaty rasp that disguised only briefly what she was going through.
He opened his eyes immediately!
And there she was.
Oh!
His Jane!
His… his love!
Sitting on the end of the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, a cup of tea resting in her palms. She had her glasses on, her hair, still thick was piled messily on top of her head. She was wearing her pyjamas and the fluffy, pink socks her sister had bought for her birthday.
He daren’t move, didn’t want to break the spell.
My God, she was beautiful,so beautiful!To his horror he realised that he had forgotten some of the detail of her face. A realisation that hit him like a stone in the throat. The pain was sharp, and he swallowed. The small mole on the side of her chin had slipped entirely from his memory. The way her two front teeth were fractionally misaligned, meaning they rested by a millimetre on her bottom lip.
‘What you staring at?’ She pulled a face at him, a mock frown, as she kicked out with her socked foot to jab him in the thigh. Her blue eyes belied her delight, her joy!
‘You,’ he managed, heart racing, remembering what Chen had said, that he mustn’t let on the reality of their interaction, and only had fifteen minutes.
He’d chosen this Saturday night, a few months before she got sick. They were watching TV, had ordered Chinese food that would be delivered in a little while. The last, ordinary, perfect evening in his memory, before a sudden pain and then the lengthy investigation and diagnosis that would send them into a tailspin. The last night they would make love without him being fearful of hurting her, causing her discomfort or inconvenience, before cancer eventually robbed them of that too. It was a hateful illness that took her piece by piece, dismantling their routine, their life and their future until he was all alone with an empty fridge and a desire to hide away with his sorrow.
Tentatively he sidled close to her, removed the mug of tea from her grip, placed it on the table and took her hand into his own.
‘Oi! I was enjoying that!’ she tutted before lifting their conjoined hands to her lips and kissing them.
Next, he muted the TV and sat as close to her as he could, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Her head resting on the top of his arm. He inhaled the scent of her. She’d had a bath with those lemony scented bubbles that she loved. He breathed it in deeply.
‘I love you, Jane,’ he whispered, doing his best to keep the tremor of emotion from his voice.
