(No sex.)
*****
In the early hours of the morning Claire roused from a deep sleep and wondered what had woken her. It took a moment or two listening to the unusual background noise before she realised with a sinking heart that it was raining heavily. So - the break in the weather predicted by the forecasters had arrived. Or was it only a passing storm? Consoling herself with the thought that it may have cleared up by the time that it was time for her to go out, she drifted off to sleep again.
Those hopes were not fulfilled for by the time that she had eaten her breakfast it was still raining steadily. The force of the rain had eased from the downpour in the night, but it was still pretty heavy. She reckoned that where running to or from the car might be accomplished without getting too wet; a trip even across the street would definitely need some form of protection against the weather. For a moment she considered staying at home but then the prospect of spending the whole day cooped up with Peter without even the garden as a temporary refuge steeled her resolve. She applied her makeup in the bathroom and was standing near the door attired in galoshes and raincoat with umbrella under her arm when her husband made his first appearance. He looked at her and muttered "You're crazy" before disappearing into the kitchen to pour hot water into the coffee mug that she had left waiting for him.
Dropped by the bus in the city centre, where all the gutters were overflowing with rainwater and the pavements represented an obstacle course of scurrying bedraggled umbrella wielding figures, Claire decided that Peter's assessment of her trip was not far from the truth. On the assumption that she must have caught the tail end of a delayed rush hour, she stepped into Woolworth's and spent half an hour wandering round giving chance for the pavements to clear. The back door of the store gave access to a covered pedestrian precinct and, unable yet to face the rain, she killed another forty five minutes pointlessly wandering from shop to shop. It was only when she had found herself checking her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes that Claire admitted to herself that she had no intention of looking for a job.
Stepping out onto the main thoroughfare, she put up her brolly and started walking. After two or three minutes, finding herself almost running, she thought 'This is stupid' and abruptly took a right hand turn through the door of a large furniture store. She walked slowly past a line of beds allowing both her breathing and palpitating heart to settle back into their normal rhythms, but already there was a salesman moving to intercept her. With horror she realised that it was the same one that had sold her an expensive dining room suite the year before. Worse - the recognition had been mutual and as he closed in, the expression on his face showed that he was already anticipating another healthy commission. Claire turned and bolted for the door.
Starting to feel like a hunted animal, she took a grip and rationalised herself to a decision. 'I will go to the garden because I half promised that I would. It is almost certainly too early for him and anyway, only a fool would sit there on a day like this. He won't be there but I will have fulfilled any obligation that I have - and then I can get on the bus and go home with a clear conscience'.
The rain had eased considerably and a few minutes brisk walk took her up Percival Street and into the gateway of the garden, she paused for just a moment and then strode inside. The entire quadrangle was deserted. She felt a wave of despair wash over her. With eyes filled with tears she turned and started to blindly retrace her steps. Aware of people hurrying past her she moved against the wall and took out a handkerchief to mop her eyes and then, as her vision cleared, in a doorway across the street she saw a man watching her. There was a pleasing familiarity about him and with a cry of pleasure Claire started walking in his direction but he was already running towards her, dodging with reckless abandon between the cars."
"I didn't think you would come," she said.
"Nor I you".
He took her hand and they walked along in silence. After a while he said, "There is a little coffee bar that I know?" Claire just nodded, happy to go wherever he led.
It had started the previous day in contrastingly gorgeous warm sunny weather. After pounding the hot pavements all morning on her job hunting mission, Claire decided that she deserved a break, so after purchasing a salad sandwich at the kiosk together with a coffee in a lidded polystyrene cup, she headed for the Garden of Rest. Sometimes called The Memorial Garden it had been there since just after WWI, offering a city oasis of tranquillity. It was rectangular with an overhanging roof encompassing the seating in one corner but with other unprotected benches dotted round the perimeter and on some of the internal pathways between the flower beds.
The garden was popular and by the time that Claire arrived almost all benches were full but she spotted a bench with only one occupant, a nondescript middle aged man sitting at one end. Claire sat down at the opposite end with no acknowledgements being exchanged. As she finished her sandwich the stranger suddenly enthused about the superb bed of flowers in front of them. Claire enthusiastically agreed telling him that she loved antirrhinums, especially en masse like that. Subsequent remarks established that they both had a deep love of gardening and they continued talking. At one point the man moved closer, not close but rear enough to converse without the need for raised voices.
They moved on to other topics, including the exchange of basic biographical details. She told him about Peter and their children while Trevor revealed that he was a widower with a grown up son. She mentioned that she was job hunting and he said that he worked part time but in the evening. Gradually the other patrons thinned out and it was this that made Claire aware of the passage of time. Glancing at her watch she was shocked to see that they had been chatting for well over two hours. Jumping to her feet, she said, "I've got to got go but I have really enjoyed our conversation, it's a very long time since I last talked like that.
"Maybe we could meet up again tomorrow around the same time and carry on where we left off," Trevor tentatively suggested.
"I'd like that very much," Claire told him. It was as casual as that.
Inside the café Trevor said, "I usually sit over there in the window. As you know I rather like to watch the world go by - but possibly you would prefer somewhere a little more secluded?" Again she just nodded and he took her to a small alcove partially screened from the other tables. He helped her off with her coat and hung it up together with his own. Sitting down he handed her the menu and said, "They do some very nice crumpets here?"
Claire smiled and spoke for really the first time. "Oh lovely - I hadn't realised how hungry I am."
Trevor signalled the waitress and ordered coffee and crumpets for two. When they were alone, Claire said, "I don't really know why I am here."
"Well I know why I am here. This is the first time in over three years that I have had the pleasure of squiring a lovely lady. You're here because it's raining."
She relaxed into her seat as his words took away any guilt that this could be considered an assignation. "You could have got yourself killed running across the street like that."
