Page 46 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Elena and Rory stood in the frosty staff car park and Rory went to take out his keys. It was dark now, unlike earlier when a few flakes of snow had fallen. Watching through the window, this afternoon, the office staff had been almost as excited about the festive weather as they’d been when Derek had brought in Christmas pudding-flavoured donuts last week. The board had eased off complaining about a lack of strategy to rebuild profits, and he was celebrating. Elena had been mesmerised by the snow that cheerfully tumbled down. Her wish had been granted! She’d actually got to see it again before her… Elena tightened her scarf, trying to block out the wordsdeath day. Following the weekend of travelling, she’d be glad to get back home and chill out – after she and Rory had visited Gayle. Mum had texted to say that the eighties musical had been fab and she and Dad were currently drinking cocktails in the Northern Quarter. Her mum had signed off with a string of emojis – a heart, microphone, music notes, cocktail glass and thumbs up. Emojis were small, fun, frivolous things, but if Mum had died back in 2004, the possibility of even one emoji from her mother now would havemeant everything. Before putting away her phone, Elena ran her finger over the text.
Gary came out of the building and joined them, rubbing his goatee beard. ‘I still can’t take it in. Rory. You, scouted? Asked to model in Paris? It ain’t right.’
‘Is it so unbelievable?’ Rory feigned indignation.
‘Yeah,’ replied Gary, deadpan, as he turned up his coat’s collar. ‘Although Diego won’t be surprised. He’s always said you dress with the flair of the fashionistas in Madrid. I could get jealous if you were real competition for him,’ he added airily. ‘But you’re no match for my wit and knowledge of craft beers.’
‘Then there’s that small matter of me not being gay…’
Gary playfully swiped the air near Rory’s chin and the two of them pretended to box.
‘Ninety per cent of men called Gary who get into fights, lose,’ said Rory, light on his feet but still nearly slipping over due to the ice.
Panting, Gary stopped. ‘You made that statistic up!’
Rory’s mouth twitched and he boxed the air again as Derek came out of the building. He adjusted his glasses and stood, anorak buttoned up, tight at the front, eyeing the other two men. ‘Just because our department is going to be working on broken biscuits, doesn’t mean I want staff with broken teeth and noses.’
Gary saluted him and stopped playfighting, along with Rory.
‘Good work today, guys,’ said Derek, waving goodbye in the air, above his head, as he passed them and walked into the distance. ‘I’m really optimistic about this campaign,’ he called.
Gary shivered and took out his car keys. ‘Right. Got to go. Diego’s not home for a couple of hours and I want to research cooking a traditional Spanish Christmas dinner to surprise him this Sunday, as we can’t get to Toledo this year due to his work shifts.’ He looked Rory up and down, shook his head again andsashayed off in an exaggerated catwalk style, with none of the natural panache Rory had.
The car fell silent as Rory drove Elena to Bridgwich to see Gayle. Elena hadn’t slept well and was relieved, this morning, to see him out on the drive, unlocking his car. She stared out of the window, planning what she would say to her parents’ neighbour. Far too quickly they arrived. Oh. How lovely! Snow was falling again! She zoned out, entranced by it. Then, heads ducked, they hurried up to Gayle’s front drive. Elena nipped back to the car, briefly, to double-check she’d shut the passenger door properly, and then stood next to him.
‘Ready?’ asked Rory.
Elena exhaled. ‘She’s going to be completely baffled as to why I want to bring up an event that happened so long ago.’
‘Does it matter what she thinks?’
Elena hesitated. No. This was a life and death matter. She pressed her thumb firmly on the bell. The door opened. Elena hadn’t seen Gayle for a while. The beaded necklaces were still there, along with the pungent perfume and eyeliner, not as straight as years ago. The dyed brown hair was streaked with grey. Gayle’s eyes lit up behind gold-rimmed glasses.
‘Elena, dear. What a lovely surprise.’
‘This is Rory. A work colleague and… friend,’ said Elena and leant forwards. The two women hugged. Gayle felt so much more fragile than in years before. ‘Sorry to just drop by like this. I hope we aren’t disturbing you, but… could I have a chat? It won’t take long.’
‘My Elena can come in for as long as she likes!’
Elena blushed.
‘Her friend as well, of course.’ She smiled at Rory. ‘No need to hurry away. I love a bit of company these days. It’s been four years since Alf passed but I still miss him all the time. I didn’trealise how noisy he was, until he went – always humming and whistling, or tapping out tunes with his fingers on furniture.’
‘He used to sing whilst mowing the lawn,’ said Elena. ‘That song… “One Man Went to Mow”.’
‘I’d forgotten that!’ said Gayle. She stared into the distance for a few seconds, and then refocused. ‘Come on in, you two, and get warmed up.’ She pointed to a coat stand and Elena and Rory slipped off their shoes. ‘Coffee and cake?’ she asked hopefully. ‘I bought some Kipling slices yesterday – comfort food is the best antidote to this wintry weather.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ said Rory.
Gayle went to go into the kitchen, on the right, and then stopped and turned around, concern etched on her face. ‘Don and Melanie are okay, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, fine,’ said Elena. ‘It’s nothing to do with them. Not really.’
That collection of pottery owls still stood on the kitchen windowsill. Elena had loved them as a child. The walls had been repainted in a fashionable oat shade and a coffee machine had replaced the juicer. Elena peered outside. She hadn’t been in Gayle’s house for years, only seeing her, in recent times, in her front garden or around at Mum and Dad’s. The familiar garden ornaments still sat outside, like the glowing mushroom, the happy snail and two ceramic bunnies. The fence at the bottom of the garden, whilst new, still blocked out the view of the common. After that traumatic night, Gayle had continued to babysit, but the two of them never mentioned what had happened, as if what happened with the fortune teller had driven a wedge between them.
Gayle filled up the coffee machine’s water tank and insisted the two of them went into the lounge to sit by the electric fire, while she made the drinks. Photos of Gayle and Alf filled theshelves there. The couple hadn’t had children. Gayle used to work in a boutique and loved every minute of it – the clothes, the accessories, acting as a personal shopper to customers who’d lost their way with fashion. Whereas Alf dressed in overalls, being a warehouse manager. As a little girl, Elena would rummage through Gayle’s wardrobe, trying to walk in the high heels and wearing her colourful hats at a jaunty angle.
Elena sat on the crimson sofa, with Rory, leaning back on an embroidered cushion. Just like Gayle’s carefully put together outfits, the colours in the lounge gelled well, with reds and creams against an oak laminated floor. Paintings of flowers adorned the walls and shelves of DVDs. Movies were to Gayle what books were to Elena and babysitting nights often involved the two of them talking about their favourites. Sometimes that overlapped as Gayle loved all genres of film, including children’s movies and Disney cartoons. They both loved the Willy Wonka story and Gayle would read it to Elena when she was tucked up under the covers.Alice in Wonderlandwas another joint favourite that they’d watched together a few times. Gayle would bake jam tarts in advance, or make toast in the shape of butterflies.
