Chapter 2-3
1146 Words
I was first out of the library Friday afternoon. I wanted to get home, eat, and catch the bus to Leeds.
“Lucy, I’m home!” I never tired of saying that. “Hope you’re all ready to go?”
“I’m all packed.”
We each had a bacon sandwich, made sure everything in the house was cleared away, and all the doors and windows were locked. After leaving a key with Paul and Helen, in case of emergencies, we were off.
“That was the seat,” Mark said, looking at a bench as we waited in the bus station.
I knew he was referring to the place where he’d sat when he first arrived in town.
“You okay?” I squeezed his elbow.
“I am, now I’m with you.”
I wished I could take him in my arms and kiss him. Of course I couldn’t, it being a busy thoroughfare in the centre of town. I hope the glance I gave him showed him how much I understood and how much I loved him.
Previously, when I got the bus to Gran’s, I would just slump into a corner and pull out a book. However, with the distracting presence of Mark sitting next to me, I kept having to read the same paragraph over and over again. Eventually I closed the book and put it back in my bag.
Mark fared much better. He’d taken the Walkman and was listening to some country and western music. Mark’s choice of music was about the only thing we disagreed on. I couldn’t stand the noise, but Mark liked it, and had plenty of opportunities to listen to it while I was at work.
We pulled into the central bus station. I directed Mark to the stand where the bus to Gran’s was due to leave from.
The bus came, and I started to sit in a seat near the front.
“No,” Mark shook his head. “I want to sit at the back. I like to watch people and you can’t do that as easily from the front.”
This reminded me of a funny story.
“What?” Mark asked.
“I just remembered something Gran told me when she got this bus home once. She sat in front of a couple of women who were having an interesting conversation. Gran got so involved listening to it that she stayed on past her stop. She had to pay the extra fare to the driver, too.”
“I’ve almost done that a couple of times myself,” Mark said.
“I haven’t, but I once heard a fragment of a conversation on a bus. One old lady said to the other ‘but why did she keep it on top of the wardrobe?’ I’ve wondered for years what was kept up there.”
Later in the journey Mark asked, “Why did your Gran move from Littleborough to Leeds?”
“The terraced houses she lived in were earmarked for demolition. They grew more and more impossible for the Council to maintain, so she was offered another place on the other side of town. But she decided to move to an old people’s community over here instead. She loves it.”
“Loads more old ladies to boss around I suppose.” Mark chuckled.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” I replied.
Looking out of the window, the commercial premises eventually gave way to houses. Some—especially those close to the city—were of poor design and in a bad state of repair. As the bus moved into the suburbs, gradually the quality of the dwellings improved. I signalled to Mark that we were about to reach our stop. We alighted from the bus and began to walk the one hundred yards or so to Gran’s place.
“You’ve spoken to Gran on the phone a few times. She’ll no doubt try to make you blush. Don’t worry, she’s harmless.”
“I know, she’s already managed to do that, several times,” Mark said.
We’d only just crossed her threshold when Gran said, “Mark, you’re even more sexy in the flesh than on the telephone. Simon, get me my little red pills…I feel faint.”
“Gran! Leave the poor man alone. And besides, you don’t take any red pills.”
“He knows I’m only joking. Now, come on in and take off your coats if you’re stopping. I imagine you two have been doing the horizontal tango since you met, so I’ve put you both in the spare room. Though that bed isn’t as young as it used to be, so be gentle with it.”
“Gran!” I repeated.
“At my age, all I get to do about s*x is talk about it.”
“I’m sure you’re fighting off the men with a stick,” Mark said.
“You’re such a charmer. If you get tired of Simon, you can move in with me.”
Mark reddened again.
“Gran, if you don’t behave, we won’t take you out tonight,” I said.
Her lined face lit up. “Where are we going?”
I wondered if I could actually shock the old dear. “We were thinking about taking you to a gay pub.”
“Which one? That new one that just opened up in the centre of the city is very good.”
“What?” I asked in amazement.
“I got myself a ticket for their opening night. The drinks were a bit dear, but the male stripper, wow, he didn’t half have a big one!”
The old gal had turned the tables on me once again. Mark doubled over when he saw the expression on my face.
“Were you thinking about getting up a visit for the old ladies to go?” Mark asked.
“God, no, half of them would collapse at the mere thought.”
Gran bustled round getting us something to eat, and we settled in for entertaining conversation. I felt sure I would die when the baby photos of me came out.
“I thought I burned all those,” I said.
“Your mother had a second set. Look, Mark, this is Simon on the hearth rug.”
Why do parents insist on taking pictures of their newborn offspring lying naked on a rug? The child isn’t old enough to object. The only purpose I could think of was to use the pictures to embarrass them when they grew up.
It got too late to go out that night. I can’t say I was disappointed. I’d had a long day at work, and with the bus journey and everything, by the time Gran’s mantle clock struck eleven, I was yawning my head off.
“It’s time you two young men were in bed,” Gran said.
Neither of us disagreed.
* * * *
Much of Saturday was spent helping Gran set up for a dance that would be held at the senior citizen’s centre the following day. We broke for lunch and went back to Gran’s. She knew how to lay on a good spread.
“Now then you two, tuck in. I don’t think we’ll have time for a big tea tonight.”
“Why?” Mark asked.
Gran gave him a surprised look. “We’re going to that nightclub we talked about yesterday, aren’t we?”
Nightclub? I shivered, remembering the last one I’d visited. “I thought we were going to a gay pub,” I said, picturing a quiet, country-style pub, horse-brasses hanging on a stone fireplace with logs burning in the grate.
“Yes, nightclub,” Gran said. “The new one I visited in the city centre, the one with the expensive drinks and the stripper.” She gave me a funny look.
“Oh,” was all I could think of to say.
“By the time we’ve finished moving all those tables at the centre, and got the decorations right, I’ll hardly have enough time to get ready, let alone cook a meal.”
“Uh.” I shot a worried look at Mark, who was facing Gran.
- Writer
