Chapter 3 Home truths
Then I thought, 'to hell with it!'
I had bottled this up for too long and tonight.…
Well, I leaned over and said quietly, "Last time she never even made it at all."
"Last time? What? Last week or whenever?"
"Last Valentine's Day, last year. No, sorry, not last year. Actually two years ago. Because, you know," I said, she nodded, shaking those lovely soft curls, ringlets, I noticed that her dark brown hair was set in loose bouncy ringlets. "So, this time, this day, two years ago, was our eighth. This year, tonight, is another anniversary, our tenth anniversary."
"Blimey, ten years, that's … aluminium?"
"Tin, as in a tin of beans or biscuits or maybe cling peaches in syrup." I was actually thinking 'a can of worms,' but that was a degree of intimacy too far with a stranger, however young and beautiful she was, or looked.
"Or tomato soup," she added with a sad smile, probably full of some of her own unhappy memories, "comfort food. I think of tins in the larder as comfort food. Something to open up when things aren't going so well, like baked beans on toast or alphabet spaghetti. Sorry, I didn't mean to …"
"That's all right. I guess she's otherwise occupied tonight," I said.
"What is she, a doctor or a nurse?" she asked, "For some professions their work is vitally important, and staffing's another matter, you know, sometimes the relief shift can't come in or not all of them can come in and those left behind have to keep everything going. You know, life or death situations can be more important even than, you know … anything else."
"No. She's a lawyer."
"Oh? Oh, right."
"Scum of the earth, right?" I tempered what I said with a smile and a shrug of my shoulders, making light of it.
She's a stranger, passing time with a lonely old man while waiting for her young man, or woman. She doesn't need to hear the shit I've had to live with for the last couple of years.
"She made junior partner three years ago," I said, "and well, the workload absolutely took off, so she tells me."
She looked nice, the stranger sitting next to my table, a kid really, looking forward to a meal out tonight with her beau. No need to bother her with my problems. I wasn't really looking to share my misery, just concentrating on mentally preparing myself to moving onto the next stage of my life.
"Well," she countered, "at least she's not a school headmistress."
"Oh, is that what you are?" I asked.
"Sort of," she said, "it's a pre-school, I'm the proprietor, or should that be proprietress?, a kindergarten, for pre-school children."
"Not as bad as a secondary modern school headmistress then, you've probably got lots of sweet children aged three and four, a nice age for kids if I remember."
"True, they are sweet but we actually start with 2-year-olds but I do have specialist staff that really love the babies," she laughed, more to herself than anything. "I must admit I do love the 'littlies' too, and hate handing some of them back to their parents at the end of the day."
"Oh god," I interjected, "I remember the terrible twos." And I did, with a vengeance, not so much for Sam, but Katie was a nightmare, needed her Mum and Mum was still trying hard to get the offer of the junior partnership when Katie needed her mother over her father.
"They're not so bad," she laughed, "at least we can hand the troublesome few babies back at the end of the day. And we always make sure they sit quietly for a snack, then lunch and then they get their heads down for quiet time, and they do mostly drop off for at least a while."
'So you can get the kettle on then?"
"Absolutely, tea and bickies for the staff, essential 'me' time for the team," she laughed. "So, I take it that you have young children?"
"Two, Sam, who's 9 and Katie 6. Actually they went to a pre-school locally, from ages 3 to 4, the one held at the Baptist Chapel. Is that your pre-school?"
"No, mine is the Ferny Glen Pre-School in Home Farm Road, within the retail units on the old farm by Westgreen Park."
"What, the old barn?" I asked, and she nodded. "I've been to the farm shop and cafe there in the converted stables. The kids love the playground by the Sang land countryside walk behind the old farm. Come to think of it, I've definitely seen the signs for the pre-school. How many children do you have there?"
"We have 72 registered, but since lockdown, some only come two or three days a week, or even only half days. We have to be flexible, but parents need to pre-book their slots so we have the staff numbers mustered each day to cover and remain legal. I tend to float and jump in where needed."
Then my phone beeped again.
"Excuse me, just want to get this message," I said and picked up the phone. The time read '19:28'. Lydia had sent another message rather than bother to ring me.
'Sorry hon, mor alts 2 docs - getg pizza. Back v l8 XXX'
I turned to the woman, "Lydia, that's my dear wife of ten years, she's not going to make it tonight and has ordered pizza at work, apparently."
"Oh, that's a shame, and you even got her a card and … is that a bottle?"
"Well, it's a special occasion, and we missed each other in passing this morning. It's not a bottle in the bottle bag, it's a novelty vintage tin can. It looks like a 1950s can of peaches, only it is empty and has a removable lid so you can use it for storing things in." I prattled on, "It comes as part of a set of six cans, all different labels, but I only brought one of them along to present to her."
"Oh, that's a nice thoughtful idea, fits in perfectly with the Tin anniversary theme."
"I thought so, um," I realised I'd been prattling on and not introduced myself. "Sorry, very rude of me, tossing around my wife and children's names willy nilly and not even introduced myself. My friends call me Ken." I held out my hand and accompanied it with a sheepish smile.
The tables were so close together that she didn't even need to lean across to gently shake my offered hand. She smiled much more enthusiastically and much more beautifully than I could ever do.
"My friends call me Lottie but you can call me … Lottie!" She giggled, "Sorry, when you said 'my friends call me' I couldn't resist."
I laughed with her. She had a nice giggle.
"Well, my birth name is actually Mackenzie, it was a name my mother liked, as one of her brothers had it as a middle name, but when I was in school, the name cropped up in a couple of American children's tv shows that were popular at the time and was always used as a girl's name. I hated my name being contracted to Mac, so I always preferred Kenzie as a kid. As I aged into my teen years I thought that Kenzie sounded like a juvenile version of 'Ken', so I asked my friends to simply call me Ken instead. My oldest and best friend, Tom, who I went to school with, still calls me Kenz for most of the time that we get together, but he gets that honour for time served."
"I see, well, by explanation of my name, I'm really Charlotte, but have always been called Lottie. I like it and it goes so well with my married name, Lottie Langston. It goes so well, that I kept the name even after letting the ex-husband go."
"Was he blind or simply stupid?" I blurted out without thinking.
Without blinking on her part she replied with a smile, "Stupid, definitely stupid. He cheated and thought he was entitled to cheat and get away with it, the pompous immature arse."
"I agree that he must be very stupid. I can't abide cheats and liars. I think for a marriage to work there has to be complete honesty," I said, adding, "As soon as I blurted out 'blind and stupid', I realised that that comment could've been interpreted, well, a lot differently, sorry."
She giggled, "I think I am a good judge of character, with one notable exception you now know about, of course, but you seem a nice person and I interpreted what you said in the meaning that it was complimentary rather than derogatory and did not give any hint that you were, well that you have or had an agenda. You are, after all. Ken, waiting for your wife to get here any moment in a romantic dining room on the most romantic night of the year, apparently."
"I was, but now my wife's no show and I don't really have much of an appetite anymore."
"But you were perusing the menu just now, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was, possibly contemplating having a starter. I mean the food here is delicious and I thought that I could manage something light. What about you, is it your boyfriend or fiancé also running late?"
"The food here is good, I should know, I worked in the kitchens here while studying for my education degree and masters. No boyfriend, fiancé or husband tonight, I'm afraid. Single girl, divorcee, as I said, and well, we never made it beyond … leather. Three and a bit years, not that I'm bitter, I'm actually well out of it. Tonight? St Valentines Day? Blind date for me, with someone who I've never ever met before. My sister persuaded me that it was time to get back in the saddle re dating again and so they set me up."