Neville woke with a start, it was a few moments before he realised it was the sound of the telephone disturbing his protracted sleep. The effects of the Friday night excess had largely abated and only a slight dull headache remained. The clock said 1pm as he picked up the phone to hear a voice he instantly recognised.
“I assume it was you that rang late last night. My father said it was someone called Conman, but he could have been mistaken as the person seemed to have a strange accent, or could even have been worse the wear for drink.”
It was Marie and she went on to explain that she had been out with an old school friend to see a horror film at a special late night showing at the local cinema. And yes, it was a female friend in reply to Neville’s sheepish enquiry. She explained she was using the phone at the library and therefore it could not be a long call.
“It’s Sunday tomorrow, my day off, shall we meet somewhere?” she asked.
“Of course,” Neville replied, hoping he didn’t sound too eager, “I’ll drive over in the morning.”
“I was thinking I could come on the train and meet you there, it will mean you don’t have to drive if you are still suffering from your party.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine by then,” Neville replied, realising he had implied he was not all right now. “There can’t be too many trains on a Sunday, you would probably have to return very early.”
“I was thinking I could stay the night if that is OK with you?”
“Of course,” Neville replied, trying to restrain his enthusiasm, “that would be great.”
“You did say you had a spare bedroom,” Marie added.
“Of course,” Neville replied, trying to restrain his disappointment, “that’s what spare bedrooms are for.”
They agreed a time to meet at the station and replacing the receiver Neville sank back onto his bed. Like the effect of a trampoline, he sprang back onto his feet and rushed to the spare bedroom. It was full of boxes, some empty, some still full since he moved into the house, old clothes were strewn across the floor next to piles of books and the curtains he kept promising to hang at the window were folded on the bed.
“Christ!” he exclaimed, “better get started.”
The weekend was sunny and warm and after a walk along a canal towpath, a meal at a traditional country pub and a bottle of white wine, kept cool in improvised plastic bucket cooler, drank whilst sat on the patio of Neville’s rear garden, the conversation turned to the plans for the following day. Neville had some sales call to make on the Monday but he could organise his day so they could spend some time together. Marie’s train to return home was not until the evening and she suggested she would like to spend some time at the seaside and possibly visit some of the larger stores in Broadrige. It was agreed that after breakfast Neville would take Marie to Eastbridge, they would meet for lunch and then again later in the day in time for Neville to take her to the station.
Neville recalled the message from Albert, left for him at the newspaper office, asking to meet.
“Do you mind if we meet for lunch in the Eastbridge gardens tomorrow?” Neville asked, “There is a small cafe there we get something to eat, and if possible, I would like to try to find Albert. I would like you two to meet, if that’s OK?”
“I would like that, I would really like that,” Marie replied with obvious enthusiasm.
“I assume it was you that rang late last night. My father said it was someone called Conman, but he could have been mistaken as the person seemed to have a strange accent, or could even have been worse the wear for drink.”
It was Marie and she went on to explain that she had been out with an old school friend to see a horror film at a special late night showing at the local cinema. And yes, it was a female friend in reply to Neville’s sheepish enquiry. She explained she was using the phone at the library and therefore it could not be a long call.
“It’s Sunday tomorrow, my day off, shall we meet somewhere?” she asked.
“Of course,” Neville replied, hoping he didn’t sound too eager, “I’ll drive over in the morning.”
“I was thinking I could come on the train and meet you there, it will mean you don’t have to drive if you are still suffering from your party.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine by then,” Neville replied, realising he had implied he was not all right now. “There can’t be too many trains on a Sunday, you would probably have to return very early.”
“I was thinking I could stay the night if that is OK with you?”
“Of course,” Neville replied, trying to restrain his enthusiasm, “that would be great.”
“You did say you had a spare bedroom,” Marie added.
“Of course,” Neville replied, trying to restrain his disappointment, “that’s what spare bedrooms are for.”
They agreed a time to meet at the station and replacing the receiver Neville sank back onto his bed. Like the effect of a trampoline, he sprang back onto his feet and rushed to the spare bedroom. It was full of boxes, some empty, some still full since he moved into the house, old clothes were strewn across the floor next to piles of books and the curtains he kept promising to hang at the window were folded on the bed.
“Christ!” he exclaimed, “better get started.”
The weekend was sunny and warm and after a walk along a canal towpath, a meal at a traditional country pub and a bottle of white wine, kept cool in improvised plastic bucket cooler, drank whilst sat on the patio of Neville’s rear garden, the conversation turned to the plans for the following day. Neville had some sales call to make on the Monday but he could organise his day so they could spend some time together. Marie’s train to return home was not until the evening and she suggested she would like to spend some time at the seaside and possibly visit some of the larger stores in Broadrige. It was agreed that after breakfast Neville would take Marie to Eastbridge, they would meet for lunch and then again later in the day in time for Neville to take her to the station.
Neville recalled the message from Albert, left for him at the newspaper office, asking to meet.
“Do you mind if we meet for lunch in the Eastbridge gardens tomorrow?” Neville asked, “There is a small cafe there we get something to eat, and if possible, I would like to try to find Albert. I would like you two to meet, if that’s OK?”
“I would like that, I would really like that,” Marie replied with obvious enthusiasm.