“Mate, pack it in, would you? Ugh. Is that you who smells?”
“Sorry,” the man muttered, shuffling aside, mumbling something else under his breath that sounded rather bitter and miserable. He was fiddling with a few small coins in his palmprobably short for a can of lager, Rachel reckoned. She caught herself studying his face. Odd… he didnt look like a drunk.
“Sorry, I didnt mean to snap,” Rachel said at last, reluctant to just turn away and go.
“Its alright.”
He looked up at her. His eyes were astonishingpiercing blue, alive as ever, not dulled one bit. He seemed right around her age too. Shed never, even in her youth, seen anyones eyes like that.
Rachel instinctively took his arm and steered him out of the small queue at the Co-ops self-checkout.
“Is there something wrong? Do you need a hand or anything?” she asked, trying not to recoil at the smell.
Rachel realised then: it was the stale scent of old sweat, nothing more. He said nothing, quietly pocketing the coins. He was embarrassed to admit what had happened, especially to a stranger, to a nicely dressed, kind-looking woman.
“Im Rachel,” she offered. “Whats your name?”
“Graham.”
“Sodo you need help?” It dawned on her that she was all but imposing.
Imposing on, what, a down-and-out? And yet, Graham cast up those blue eyes again before awkwardly looking away. No matter. Rachel was about to walk off, when he finally muttered, “I just need work. You wouldnt know of anything knocking about? Bit of odd jobs, maybe. Repairs or garden work. Its a big village, nice place, but I dont know anyone here. Sorry”
Rachel listened in silence as Graham trailed off again, embarrassed. She pondered: could you let just anyone into your home? Shed just decided to retile the bathroom. Her son promised to handle it but was always busy. Why wait forever?
“Do you know how to lay tile?” Rachel asked.
“I do, yes.”
“How much would you want for a ten square metre bathroom?”
Graham gave a low whistle, clearly surprised at the size. “Need to see it, really, but honestlywhatever you think is fair.”
Graham did the bathroom beautifully and with great care. First thing, he asked if he might take a showerRachel was glad hed had the sense. Hopefully, he wouldnt bring some bug into her house. She handed him some of her late husbands old clothes, and Graham washed his own. He finished the job over a weekend: he knocked off the old tile, cleared up neatly. All the tools were wiped and replaced. By Sunday night, the new tile shone on the walls and floor. Rachel was slightly anxious that Graham was nearly finished; after all, he likely had nowhere to go. Keep him for the night? Odd, perhaps. But kicking him out at midnight felt cruel.
Saturday night, Rachel barely sleptlocked herself in, listening out. But Graham evidently was exhausted and slept soundly on the sitting room sofa.
“Come check the job, Rachel!” he called.
What was there to say? The work was perfect.
“Graham, what did you used to do?” she asked, admiring it.
“Physics teacher. Graduated from Leeds Teacher Training College.”
“Leeds, you say?”
“Back then, yes. As for the tilingany decent fellow should know how to do things like this, I reckon.”
Rachel nodded, produced the cash shed set aside. She wasnt stingyshe paid what shed have given a professional. Graham tucked it away in his pocket without looking and went to put on his own clothes, now dry.
“Wait! Youre just going to up and leave?” she said, indignantly.
“What of it?” he asked, surprised, those impossible blue eyes upturned again.
“At least have a meal first! Youve been at it all day, drank nothing but tea, didnt want to stop for lunch.”
Graham hesitated, then shrugged. “Alright. Wouldnt mind that, thank you.”
Rachel sat and ate a bit of fish with him, although she never ate after six in the evening. Oddly, she found herself enjoying his company; Graham was charming, clever, witty. And yet, unmistakably lost. All that loss lingered about him, not washed away by a shower, not banished by warmth or a heart-to-heart chat. Such things needed time.
“Graham, what did actually happen to you, if you dont mind me asking?”
He was quiet a moment, then said, “If I start, itll sound brave and daft and rehearsed. Ive heard plenty of those stories the last eight years. Only mine actually happened. You dont need to hear it.”
“Its just… youI mean, a man like you, and yet”
Graham turned a long, steady gaze on her. Then they both stood up at the same time, got a bit tangled, and, well… things took their own turn. Rachel never imagined, at fifty-three, something like this could happen again. Shed thought passion only belonged to the youngheady, unstoppable, and burning.
Later, he told her: eight years ago, he’d tried to help a gifted student from a rough background whod fallen in with bad company. The lad wanted out, but its not easy when youre tangled with those sorts. Graham had gone to reason with the gangs leadera twenty-two-year-old thug, no scruples. They never talked; they set on him at once. But Graham had done judo all his lifehe made short work of them, except the main lad hit his head against a concrete wallbroken spine, dead. Graham called the ambulance and the police himself, certain the worst hed get would be excessive force in self-defence. He wasnt so sure; after all, theyd jumped him as a gang.
Still, they sentenced him for manslaughtertwelve years. Graham got out after eight for good behaviour.
“People live there too,” he said, simply, of prison.
But home was gone. His mum had died, having sold their flat and moved in with her brother. The sister-in-law had said flatly, “I dont want that ex-con in my house.” His own wife had divorced him years ago, remarried. So Graham left Leeds for London, but luck was abysmal. After eight years in jail, no one wanted to employ him for real work. Hed tried odd jobs for villagers he barely knew, usually met with contempt at best, disgust or suspicion at worst. Soon, hed nowhere to sleep nor money to eata mate hed stayed with early on had, politely, said it was time he moved out.
“How long have you been like this?” Rachel asked, watching the glow of his cigarette.
“Two weeks, maybe.”
He was smoking her cigarettes. Rachel had a packet left in a drawershe smoked every few years, never bought them otherwise. Graham wanted to go buy his own, but she refused to let him. Rachel wondered what it must be, living nowhere for two weeks.
In the dark, the spark of the cigarette made it easier for Graham to admit what needed saying: shed let him share her bed. Silly to pretend otherwise.
“So, dyou have your papers?”
“I do,” he snorted. “No address, though. Makes life a right headache.”
Graham stayed on. Rachel sorted temporary paperwork for him, and he found a jobnot teaching, not yet, but for now, managing a shelf at the hardware store was something. On his days offhe worked two days on, two days offhe started doing private tutoring, slowly building a group of students. Two and a half months passed, peacefully, in love. Then Rachels son returned from university. He took one look at the situation and called his mum out for a chat.
“Mum, you need to get rid of him.”
“What?” Rachel was dumbfounded.
Theyd not interfered in each other’s lives for years.
“You heard me. You dont need a penniless stray hanging around. You dont realise he’s only here because hes got nowhere else to go. Youre being a fool.”
Rachel slapped him.
“Dont you dare! This is my life.”
“Mum, dont forgetIm your sole heir. Im not splitting anything with some random man. If you marry him, if anything happens, hell have a claim.”
“Oh, so youre already burying me, are you? Counting your inheritance? Ill outlive you yet!”
“Mum, dont make me do something drastic. I wont stand for it. If youd found a proper mansomeone with meansId have nothing to say. But this?”
“So money is what makes someone respectable, is it? Since when did I raise you like that?”
“Ive said my piece.” He was deadly serious. “Ill be back in a week. I dont want him here when I return. Dont say I didnt warn you.”
Rachel entered the house fighting tears.
“Is he a copper?” Graham asked.
“SorryI should have told you”
“You didnt owe me that. Dont worry.”
“He works in the CPS. Hes a good lad, Graham. Just… cautious. And protective.”
“So, whatll you do?” he asked quietly.
Rachel sat at the table. She didnt know. Her son had said hed drive Graham out if she didnt. She didnt want to believe it, but he couldmake trouble, even get Graham sent back inside. She was truly stuck.
“Spring,” Graham said. “Have you decided? Let me say something, then.”
Rachel nodded, fighting tears. She was trapped. Didnt want to lose Graham, but to drag him and herself into a feud with her son was too much.
“Ive saved a bit. You never asked. Not enough for land here, but a ways out, twenty miles or so… itll do. Well put up a little prefab, start something. Ill keep tutoring, can manage off odd jobs. Ill build us a place with my own hands. What say you?”
She was floored. He was nervous.
“I know youre used to comfort. Its just for now. Ill build you something lovely, I swear.”
“Graham… I have some savings, too. I could put them into a house,” Rachel said thoughtfully.
“Id never ask that of you.”
“Youre not askingI’m offering. For us!”
He came over and held her, rested his hand on her head, kissed her crown. Rachel felt warmth, security, love. Who knew love like this could come, even at their age?
Everything sped up after that. They bought a plot. Graham wanted Rachel as the owner, but she refused.
“I own property elsewhere, and just because I was forced out doesnt mean I lost it. You have nothingdont argue! Just mind, I’ve got a most dedicated heir,” she added, thinking of her sons words.
They put up a prefab, ran electricity in, and Graham, sleeves rolled up, began to build a house. When Rachels savings came up short, he doubled down on tutoring, setting up a little nook so you couldnt tell he was teaching from a caravan. Every penny went into bricks and mortar. On warm evenings, theyd spread a blanket out under the stars on their patch of land.
“What do you feel?” Graham would ask, arm about her.
“I feel a second wind,” she’d say.
“Its me who feels young again,” hed laugh. “You ought to feel nothing but my love.”
And she did. She truly did.
Rachel popped back home to get some things. Autumn was coming; she needed warmer clothes, blankets, some kitchen bits. She found her son sitting in the kitchen, smoking.
“Oh, evening, love! Im only stopping by a minute. Hows uni?”
He eyed his mothertanned, trimmer, blooming.
“Mum, whats going on? You never call anymore.”
“Well, we never really did, did we? Youre busy, you ring when you can.”
“Why are you never in?”
“I dont live here now, thats all. Just popping in for a few things, if thats alright?”
He stared, shocked. She seemed lighter, changednot just on the outside, but inside too. Happier.
“Son, when were finished, Ill have you round. Now, Ive got to dash.”
Rachel hurriedly packed a couple of bags, kissed her sons cheek in passing, and hurried on.
“Mum, whats going on?”
She turned in the doorway, beamed and said, “Second wind, darling. And lovedont forget that. Real love! Bye, pet,” she laughed, running outside.
Time was tickingthey were building the porch tonight.
