Early Flowers

Early Flowers

Clare chatted inanely to the girl in the next seat, as strangers do
when forced together. She told her that she was flying over to see her
parents. A nice break. Her husband was taking care of the baby. The
girl told Clare that she was going to see some girlfriends in
Liverpool. Her boyfriend would have to fend for himself for the
weekend. Why not? It was good to get away, they agreed.

There was a rowdy party going on a few rows back. The men from the oil
rigs were starting their leave, and enjoying their first drinks in
weeks.
"And what can I get you lovely ladies?" A brawny red faced man stopped
in the aisle and leered down at them. Clare stiffened. She was trying
very hard to behave as if this was a normal trip, and she did not want
to appease an overly generous drunk. She need not have worried. The
girl in the next seat took charge.
She flirted up at the glazed eyes. "That's really kind of you. We'd
love to, but you know how it is. Heavy day tomorrow. Work and all
that." She shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks anyway."
She beamed an apologetic smile at the man who swayed ominously above
them. It was enough. Losing interest, he staggered back to his
party.
"I hope you didn't mind me getting rid of him," the girl muttered,
suddenly irritable. "I have to deal with that everyday at work."
"No, no." Clare tried to be casual. "Thanks. Not my kind of thing at
all." She arched her eyebrows theatrically and grimaced, then settled
back thankfully in her seat. All she wanted to do now was land safely,
find a cheap hotel, and sleep. She closed her eyes wearily and
attempted to cut out the world.

The airport lights rushed up to meet them as the plane roared along the
runway. Clare felt a rising nausea. She hadn't been back for three
years. Her homecoming should have been a joy, but she felt sick and
tired. Home was back across the water now, not here. Her parents were
barely fifty miles away, but she didn't want to see them. Not like
this. She didn't want them to be involved. The girl in the next seat
was gathering up her things. Clare thought how nice it would be to be
young and carefree again, like this girl, excited about a reunion with
old friends. They would laugh together, admire each other's clothes,
share intimacies. Just like she used to do before life had become
serious.

"Bye. Have a nice time with your family." The girl rushed off to get a
taxi, without a backward glance.
"Yes, you too," Clare called after her, redundantly. "With your
friends..." She trailed off, suddenly flat, no longer needing to be
friendly and cheerful. She made her way through the airport at her own
pace and waited outside for the next bus to the town centre. She was
careful to avoid eye contact with anybody in the queue. People asked
questions. They were only trying to be friendly, but she didn't feel
like being agreeable. If she told them the truth about herself, they
would probably be hostile, mostly because she would have upset their
cosy world. Who wants to be upset anyway? What if she had told the girl
on the plane the real reason for this journey? That would have been a
conversation stopper, wouldn't it? Clare could feel self-pity welling
up, and then there would be tired tears of sadness. Well, enough of
that. She would just get it over with, and get back home.

"Excuse me." Clare approached the bus driver as they pulled into the
terminus. "Could you tell me where I might find a decent hotel or bed
and breakfast?"
The driver shook his head and drew in a sharp breath. "I wouldn't stay
round 'ere if I were you, chuck. Not a nice sort round the
station."
Suddenly apprehensive and panicky, Clare persevered. "Where then? Where
do you suggest?"
The driver called out through the door to one of his colleagues. "Eh,
Stan. Got a young lady 'ere. Lookin' for a decent 'otel. Any ideas?" He
turned back to Clare. "Don't you fret, chuck. Stan knows the city like
the back of 'is 'and."
Clare was wishing that she had never asked, but the men were kindly.
Stan pointed her up towards the Cathedral where his sister-in-law ran a
small commercial hotel.
"Just say I sent you, love, and she'll give you a good room. Clean and
respectable place. You'll be all right there." Before the men could ask
any questions, Clare hurriedly thanked them and set off up the hill.
Despite feeling anxious and wary in this strange place, she couldn't
help a wry smile when she noticed that she was walking up a street
called Mount Pleasant.

They had told her over the phone to arrive at the house by nine, and
had sent her a map and a list of things she might need. So she found
herself in the morning rush hour, waiting for a bus to a suburb about
five miles out of the town centre. She had spent one of the loneliest
nights of her life in a rundown hotel with soiled sheets and tepid
water. But at least she had not been bothered by mindless chatter which
required her to lie. The bus arrived and she clambered on with the
others. The conductor droned out the stops in a monotone. After what
seemed like an age, she recognised hers.
"Next stop, St Clement's."
Clare stepped down from the bus and looked at the map. Her road should
be the next along, after the lights. It was pleasant out here, calmer
than the city. The houses were large and had once been grand, set well
back from the road, surrounded by mature trees and shrubs. She could
smell the damp earth. It reminded her of home. The crocuses were coming
out here too. Clare bent down and picked a tiny purple crocus that was
peeping through the fence. She held it to her cheek for a moment, then
tucked it carefully into her coat pocket.

Away from the main road, the tree lined avenue seemed an oasis of
tranquillity. Clare felt more at ease and safer than at any time since
she had left home. She saw a couple turn into a driveway a little way
ahead. The man was carrying a small suitcase and had his arm
protectively around the woman's waist. Clare knew that this was the
house. She also knew that she felt very alone, but that could not be
helped. She would be home by tomorrow evening. It wouldn't be long now.
She followed the couple up to the porch. They had already disappeared
through the doorway. Clare hesitated for a moment, then breathing
deeply, she pushed open the door and entered a large hall. There must
have been about twenty women sitting around on benches, chatting
quietly to each other. There were a couple of men too, looking nervous
and embarrassed. As she approached the reception desk, she heard a
vaguely familiar voice behind her.
"Well, fancy meeting you here." The girl from the plane put down her
case and chuckled softly. "I thought you were visiting your parents,"
she whispered.
Recovering quickly, Clare smiled wryly. "And I thought you were here
with your friends." What a coincidence. Yet it seemed right somehow.
"Some holiday!" she added.
The girl nodded. "I'm Sarah, by the way. I don't think we exchanged
names on the plane, did we? Too busy pretending we were enjoying
ourselves."
"Understandable in the circumstances. I'm Clare."
The two girls gave their names to the receptionist, then found seats
together and waited to be called.

Clare woke next morning, slightly groggy and shaky, but relieved. It
was over. She looked around at the other girls in the room. There were
four of them in here. Clare felt in some way intimately involved with
them, yet detached at the same time. It was normal, she supposed. They
had all been through the same experience. There had been a light moment
when the nurse had reminded them about the need for contraception. One
of the girls joked that she didn't have to bother with all that
nonsense because she'd had it with men from now on. She was going to
get herself a cat and stay in with the tele at night. Nobody believed
her for a moment, but they all smiled as they got on with their
packing, eager to get away. Clare and Sarah had planned to meet up in
reception and travel home together. Of course, they were on the same
flight. They had laughed when they had discovered this, at the crazy
fate that had thrown them together. But Clare could see that Sarah was
as grateful as she was to have a travelling companion. There was no
need to talk about it.

The taxi driver was a chatty sort. He was just passing the time of day,
but he wanted to know all about them. Clare let Sarah do the talking.
She was good at it.
"Yes, we're lucky to have friends here. We often come over for a few
days to do some shopping ... you know, take a break."
The driver told them about his holiday in Ireland in minute and tedious
detail. The people were so friendly and easy going. Not a care in the
world. He wanted to retire there, take his wife away from the city. It
wasn't like the old days anymore when you could leave your door
unlocked. No. Now you had to have eyes in the back of your head. He
wanted to live in a place where the people had a few moral standards
left. Even Sarah was looking strained by the time they reached the
airport.
"Glad you had a nice visit, ladies," he beamed affably as they tipped
him. "Come back soon."
"I hope not," muttered Clare under her breath. "Not for a good long
while."
Sarah stood forlornly by her suitcase. "I desperately need a drink,"
she grumbled. Clare heard a bitter edge in her voice. Glancing at her,
she saw that Sarah was close to tears.
Clare took over now. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's find the bar.
We've got two hours before we take off. We might as well be
comfortable." And she led the way into the airport building.

"I'm not going to see him tonight." Sarah took an angry sip of her
drink, then reached for her cigarettes. Her hand shook as she flicked
her lighter. She drew in deeply, then exhaled a smoke screen around
herself. When it cleared, Clare could see that her face was tragic. She
knew what was coming.
"I'll go round and stay with my friend tonight. She said I could go
round any time. She works with me." Sarah puffed on her cigarette
nervously. "She's the only one who knows besides Dermot. I knew I could
trust her. She's helped me through all this." Another desperate drag.
Another flick of ash. "I don't know what I would have done without
her." Then she broke. "I never want to see him again. I hate him."
These last words were gasped out and now Sarah was weeping quietly.
Clare put her hand on Sarah's shoulder for a moment, then picked up her
discarded cigarette from the floor and stubbed it out in the
ashtray.
"I'll get some coffee," she whispered.

The sun was resplendent later that afternoon. As the train snaked
through the suburbs, Clare was intermittently bathed in shafts of
sunlight. She leaned her head back against the plush seat. She could
see a blood red sky through her closed eyelids. She thought of Sarah.
She had recovered enough to quip with the cabin crew about late night
clubbing and the need for dark glasses and black coffee, but her voice
had had a hollow ring to it. Their paths had parted at the airport taxi
rank. They had hugged each other tightly for a moment, then broken away
silently. There had been no exchange of addresses, no false
invitations. They would never see each other again, nor want to. They
would never forget though. One couldn't forget. Clare knew this but she
had not said anything to Sarah. She would find out for herself.

The train sped on. Clare reached deep down into her pocket and felt the
little flower there. It had flattened and was papery and dry. She
thought of her husband and her baby girl. They would be driving towards
the station now. They would be waiting for her on the platform as she
waved to them from her carriage. Her baby would chortle with excitement
and hold out her arms to her. Her husband would pass over the baby and
hold them both in his safe embrace. And then they would drive home, and
she would place the little crocus alongside the snowdrop that she had
hidden in her book of poems many years before.

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