Claire Ch. 02

"I think it's an entire film, actually," Rick said. "Maybe you can tell me something about it."

They went to the restaurant first. Rick really enjoyed taking Claire out. He thought she looked wonderful, which wasn't strange, since she felt radiant, too. She'd decided to go slowly, though - she wasn't going to risk losing him twice.

The concert proved beautiful beyond expectation. The choir started with a series of Russian orthodox chants. Then they sang a long set of Italian, English and Flemish renaissance composers to end up with some modern things. Claire knew some of the renaissance material form her own choir, and she sat entranced.

When the final applause had died down they walked to Rick's car.

"Are you still up to those photographs?" he asked.

"Oh, yes please," Claire said. "I had completely forgotten about them - what a fantastic choir. I loved every minute of it."

She sat back in her seat and thought about the last few hours. She decided Rick was even nicer than she'd thought. She wondered what his place would be like. Some single men made such a mess of their things...

After only five minutes Rick parked his car. He got out and opened her door for her, and they went up his front door. The first thing she noticed was the picture in the hall. "Irene?" she said.

"You remember? Yes," he said, "that's how she looked before she got ill." He nodded and showed her into the living-room.

"Please sit down," he said. He took the album and found the page with her photograph.

She looked at it and her heart jumped.

"Wow," she said. "Look." She pointed at other faces in the picture. "This is my daughter, Laura, and this my son Bob, and these people behind us are my parents." She went back to where the series started. "Oh," she said, "oh dear. This is Laura again, in the sack-race. And here are my parents again, and my husband..." She fell silent, transported to those sunny days back then.

Rick waited until she looked up at him again. "Look," he said, "just take them out of the album and I'll go and scan them for you."

"Can you? Oh, that would be wonderful!"

She extracted the photographs with trembling fingers and handed them to him. He took them. "I won't be a minute," he said.

When he was gone she looked about the room. It was a little too tidy, she thought. She looked at his music, and found it was a rather eclectic collection - quite like her own. There were a couple of beautiful things about the room, too. Still, she thought, it doesn't have a soul somehow.

After some time Rick returned. He handed her an envelope. "They came out quite nicely," he said. "I enlarged the one with the five of you and your daughter in the race, and there are normal copies of them, too. Shall we go?"

She got up and followed him to the front door. He locked up and they drove off in a companionable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. After a couple of miles she said, "Do you like your place?"

"Not very much," Rick said. "Is it that noticeable?"

"I think so," she said. "It looks as if you're in transit or something."

He nodded. "I couldn't have said so, but that's exactly how it feels. When Irene died I moved over here - I think it wasn't a good idea after all. This place has no soul. I do keep myself occupied - oh well."

She looked at him, a little shocked he had so exactly echoed her thoughts. She had not noticed it before, but there seemed to be a tinge of sadness in his smile. She tried to remember how he'd looked in February. She was certain it hadn't been there then.

When they arrived at Claire's place it was quite late. She got out and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He smiled at her and said he'd immensely enjoyed taking her out. She kissed his cheek, they said goodbye and he drove off with a wave of his hand.

Claire went indoors and switched on the lights in the living-room. She felt she'd be quite unable to sleep if she went to bed now, so she poured herself a drink and took out the photographs. First there were the enlargements, which she put up on the mantelpiece. Then she took out the others. They were great copies indeed, she though. Then one of them fell from her hand. It landed, upside down, on her lap. On the back she saw the printer's code and the date, some decades ago. They were the originals. He must have given me the wrong ones, she thought. Oh dear.

The next morning Rick got a call.

"Hello?" he said.

It was Claire. "You've given me the wrong set," she said. "They're the originals."

" I know. But it's the right set. I won't leave anyone who will want them later on. My sister had no children, and we didn't have any children either. Maybe your son or daughter will like them."

Claire remained silent for some time. She really didn't know what to say to that. Then she said, "Laura will love them. Thank you very, very much."

"Not at all," he said. "Er - I immensely enjoyed our time together yesterday. Would you care to do something together again some time or other?"

"Yes, I would. Maybe you'll like to visit our village fête first? It's the first Saturday in August. I will be taking care of the jar of coins."

"Certainly. I'll be there first thing in the morning!"

I'll believe that when I see it, Claire thought, but she said, "We'll open at nine."

"Right oh," Rick said. They talked a little longer and then Claire said she had to go to a committee meeting and she rang off.

Oh, Claire thought, I do hope he does as he said - and she realised that up to that moment he had. He had been on her mind since his letter had crushed her resolve to forget about him. I'll see what he's like at the fête, she thought. Who knows? Fortunately the preparations kept her very busy, and she had no time to think a lot about Rick.

Rick spent the intervening weeks doing more of the things he'd promised himself to do. He visited a lot of the other places that were important in his own family history, and most of those that figured in Irene's. If Claire does want me I'll have finished that chapter correctly, he thought. He found that none of the other villages held the same attraction as Claire's, and the few towns were alright as far as towns went, but he didn't like them half as much either.

He tried to decide if it was just because of Claire's presence or if the village as such was so nice, but he couldn't really put into words what it was that held such an appeal. Claire, certainly. But what else, if anything? Then he suddenly realised that if it weren't for Claire he would have gone and lived there months ago. Now, though, that was out of the question. She certainly belonged there and if she didn't want him he couldn't possibly but in. Life's funny, he thought. Oh dear.

The Thursday before the great day Claire was working in the garden when she heard a motorbike screech to a halt in front of her house, and moments later Laura bounded into the garden, taking off her helmet in the process.

"Hi, mum," she said, and she positively beamed at her mother.

"Hello Laura," Claire said. "What's the matter? Did you win the pools?"

"We're going to get married. Isn't that lovely? Eileen will be our bridesmaid."

"Yes - that's really lovely! When is the day?"

"In September, mumsy. Oh, I'm so excited! We'll have to finish the planning, but then you'll get the details straight away."

She sat down on the garden bench and Claire took off her gloves.

"I'll get us some drinks," she said.

They sat in the garden together and discussed the plans. Eileen, Claire's granddaughter, was six, and the couple had been together for almost ten years. Claire had often wondered if they would marry at all, but she'd always refrained from asking, and Laura had appreciated that very much.

They fell silent after some time, and Claire smiled at her daughter. "I'm really happy for you," she said.

Laura looked at her mother pensively. Then she said, "Mumsy, why don't you find yourself someone again? It's much nicer and you are only fifty-two. You're always alone."

To her dismay Claire almost started to cry. She controlled herself with an effort. Then she nodded and said, "You're right. Actually, I have found someone. But at the beginning he fell ill and then I became uncertain whether I really wanted him or not, and then I told myself he had to be perfect - and then I became all prim and proper. But you're right. He is really nice - and I'm sick and tired of going it alone."

"Who is he? Do I know him?

"No, he is not from the village. He's called Rick White. I er, I happened to be there when he saved old Mr O'Brien from drowning, and then one thing led to another." She realised with a start that Laura in her radiant mood looked exactly the way she'd felt the day of Rick's dip in the pond.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Laura! I - oh well, yes I did. And I'd like to do so again."

Laura smiled at her mother. "I'd like to meet him," she said.

"Well, he will be here on Saturday. Oh, and I've got a couple of lovely photographs. I'll show you."

Claire went inside. First she blew her nose, and then she took the envelope and the enlargements and went back into the garden. She handed the lot to Laura.

"Oh, look! There's dad and you, and gramp, and granny. And this is me! Oh, how nice! How on earth did you get these?"

"Rick gave them to me. He has an album with old photographs. His grandparents used to live in the village; he actually came here to visit their graves and to find out what the village was like."

"But these are the originals. Don't you think he should keep them?"

"I asked him, but he has no relatives, and he hoped you or Bob might like them."

"They're not Bob's pigeon, I think. But I really like them. Can I borrow them to show them to Mike?"

They finished their drinks, and Laura took the photographs. They walked to the front of the house and she put them into the locker at the rear of her bike. Then she kissed her mother and told her she'd be there on Saturday. She put on her helmet, kick-started her machine and roared off down the road.

The first Friday in August arrived much sooner than Rick had thought. He bought a bunch of flowers and then he packed a couple of things in the bag Claire had sent him to hospital with. He went to bed early, and slept like a log this time. The alarm woke him up at half past five. He showered, dressed, had a quick breakfast and went on his way.

It was cold and bright, and there was a slight mist a few feet over the road. But when he left the outskirts and drove through the hills the sun grew strong and the wisps of mist evaporated. He was in the village well before eight o'clock. He first went back to the church and put the flowers on his grandparents' grave. He looked around, and decided it really felt like home there.

Then he drove to the village centre and put his car in the local car park. The fête was signposted, and he walked down the road with the sun on his back. It felt really good to be walking there with nothing to do but enjoy himself that day. He'd collected all the coins he got and he hoped he could spend some; maybe he could find something for Claire.

He got to the field and he looked at his watch. It was almost nine. There were a man and a woman standing at the gate, and when he got nearer he recognised Rose. She'd recognised him even sooner and waved at him. He walked up to her, and greeted her.

"Hello," she said, "welcome to our fête. David, this is Rick."

"Hello Rick," the man said. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you," Rick said. "How are you, and how are you, Rose?"

They smiled at each other and Rose said, "Couldn't be better. You're still coming to our wedding?"

"I'll be delighted," Rick said, and it was obvious to the couple that he meant it.

"You know," David said, "I can really recognise you as one of the Whites. Oh dear, I'm afraid you may hear that again today. Well, we mustn't keep you; you'll be wanting to say hello to Claire. She's in the tent already. But please do come back to talk some more."

"Promise," Rick said. "You're collecting the entrance fees?"

"Three pounds, please," Rose said.

Rick paid and hurried to the tent. Claire was immersed in some papers and didn't notice him come in. He walked round her on tiptoe and put his hands over her eyes. "Guess who," he said softly.

"Rick!" Claire said as she got up. She turned around an looked into Rick's eyes; he stood smiling at her and she saw the sadness she'd sensed in town was entirely absent now. "We haven't even started yet! You're really early!"

"Yes, I'm afraid I couldn't wait. I've already visited the churchyard. I wanted to put some flowers on my grandparent's grave to say thank you to them - I'd never have met you otherwise. David and Rose allowed me in. I did pay, don't you worry."

"So you've finally met David?"

"Yes, I promised to go back and talk to him. How have you been?"

"Busy, and I've done a lot of thinking. I've been an idiot. I didn't dare to allow myself to feel what I feel for you. It took my daughter to make me realise. Rick, I do want you. You don't have to go back tonight?"

"Not necessarily. I did bring my toothbrush this time." He smiled at her and she finally decided it was alright, and she clasped her arms around him and kissed him.

They heard a lot of voices, and Rick saw it was nine o'clock. "Hey girl," he said, "it's time for business. I'll go and bother Rose and David."

He went out into the sunshine and walked down to the field to the gate. David greeted him warmly. "Just a moment," he said. "Rose, can you manage?"

"Yes," she said. "I'll be fine."

David led Rick away from the throng. "I'd like to introduce you to my father," he said.

Old Mr O'Brien sat in his wheelchair looking at the people.

"Hello, young man," he said. "David told me you're Maynard's grandson? You've got his eyes." He nodded at Rick. "Thank you for extracting me from the pool."

"In a sense I'm glad you went in," Rick said smiling. "I would never have met Claire otherwise."

Old Mr O'Brien nodded again. "Still," he said. He gave Rick a wave of his hand and looked around him again.

The two men walked back to Rose and Rick asked how their wedding plans were getting on. David said he'd get an invitation soon; they weren't going to tell anyone anything earlier.

Rick took his leave and went around the field. He found a couple of second-hand books, and in a cardboard box that held two dozen CDs or so he came across Bruch's violin concerto played by a Japanese woman; the others were a sorry collection, he thought.

A little further down the field there was an old lady selling simple jewellery. "Hello love," she said. "Anything you fancy for your young lady?"

He looked at the display critically. "Well," he said, "Maybe. How much are these?"

"Five pounds, dearie," she said.

Rick took the trinkets from her and put them in his pocket.

Then he went back to the tent and paid a pound to Claire. He guessed wildly beside the mark on purpose, and Claire entered his guess with a broad grin.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"No thank you, I have no time yet. Later, when everything is a little less busy maybe. How do you like this?" She gave a wave of her arm that encompassed the whole field.

Rick grinned. "I'm really having a good time," he said. "I never thought this would be so nice. I'll find myself a cup of tea and some scones. Breakfast seems hours ago."

He went off and sat down to a couple of somewhat dull scones and a cup of good, strong tea. Then he saw a young woman walking his way. She wore a leather jacket and had a motor helmet round her arm, and there was a little girl skipping round her feet.

"Hello," she said. "Mind if I sit here with you?"

"Be welcome," Rick said.

"I'm Laura," she said. "And this is my daughter Eileen."

"You're Claire's daughter?"

"Yes. And you're Rick. When I was a little girl I met your father, I think. You look like him. I love the photographs you gave my mum."

"I'm happy someone likes them," Rick said. "Do you live near here?"

"Some twenty miles. And you?"

Rick explained, and they started talking. He recognised a much younger Claire in this young woman, and he felt happy to talk to her. Laura looked at him critically and decided he would do. Then the MC announced the sack-races would be on for the under-eights, and Eileen ran to the start. Rick and Laura stood at the sideline and cheered as the children came down the track, hopping, stumbling, laughing an shouting at the top of their voices. Eileen came in fourth, not fast enough for a prize but certainly good enough. "Look," Rick said, and he took the necklace he'd bought from his pocket. "Here's your prize." Laura said thank you, and so did Eileen, and Rick didn't want to hear..

Due to the high temperature the sides of the tent had been removed and Claire saw them standing there from her place at the jar. She saw that Rick and Laura seemed to get on well, and she broke into a wide smile.

"If you don't watch out we'll have only a grin left," the woman who had come in to make a guess said.

"That'll be alright, Joanie," Claire said.

"No it won't. What'll your daughter and that gentleman think?"

"They will know me by now, I hope. What's your guess?"

After the sack-race Eileen lost interest in the fête. Laura asked Rick keep an eye on her for a moment. Then she went into the tent and told Claire she thought Rick was really nice and said goodbye. She collected Eileen and gave Rick a peck on the cheek, which made him blush.

"Take care of Mum, won't you?" she said.

He smiled and waved at them as they disappeared down the field. Then he bought Claire a cup of tea and walked to one of the sides and just stood watching for some time. He enjoyed the bustle and the uncomplicated fun, and the feeling of companionship the day exuded. He reflected that there must be loads of petty jealousies and rivalries in so small a community; but that day they were not apparent.

Time to see if Claire was ready with her jar, he decided. While he was crossing the field he chanced upon Dr Jamison, who stopped him for a little talk, and introduced him to his wife. He asked Rick how he liked the fête, and the village as a whole, and talked for a little time about Rick's family. "So you're here for your past," he concluded.

"In a way, yes," Rick said. "But if it weren't for one powerful magnet I wouldn't be here now."

Jamison raised his eyebrows questioningly, but his wife filled in for him. "Claire," she said. "And quite rightly so."

Claire had indeed completed her task, and she had seen Rick make his way across the field only to be waylaid by the doctor and his wife, so she went up to them to join him and she just overheard the last few sentences. With a happy smile she put her arm through Rick's and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Hello, Claire," the doctor's wife said. "Your taste in men is certainly good."

Rick felt a little uncomfortable under her praise but she simply beamed at them. They made some small-talk and then Claire and Rick took their leave.

"Phew," Claire said. "I'm tired. Let's go somewhere private."

"We don't have to help out tidying things up?"

"No," she said. "I've been honourably dismissed."

"Lovely. So where shall we go? Can I buy you a meal somewhere? The scones were alright, but -"

"Oh, I know. They're invariably horrible. But no one ever complains; they're really lovingly made. There's a nice pub half way to the next village. We could go there." She looked at him and added, "and then I want you for myself at home."

She hooked her arm in his again and they walked to his car.

The wayside pub was good and rather quiet; a lot of its regulars who had gone to the fête had ended up in the village pub instead.