The Shoe Box

THE SHOE BOX

The sun streamed graciously down upon Tara's shoulders, but she
shivered as she stood in her pebbled driveway waiting for the taxi.
Like a small child, she idly pushed the pebbles around with her shoes.
She didn't look behind, she knew that Dale was resident at the window,
she could feel his eyes burrowing into her back. She was relieved to
see the car pull up and slipped thankfully into the passenger
seat.
"Bournemouth rail station is it love?" he asked cheerfully,
" Yes please" she replied,
The car pulled away, she should have turned, and waved to him, she
rubbed her throat in a futile attempt to dislodge the lump that was
forming.
"Going anywhere nice?" the driver enquired,
"Just a short break", she replied, checking without purpose through
her handbag, "I'm actually going to a small village in Hertfordshire,
just for the weekend".
Tara paid her fare at the station, straightened her navy blue linen
suit, and walked onto the platform. The train was already there; she
found a quiet carriage and sat down by the window. The man opposite
looked up from his newspaper, his eyes lingering for just a second,
Tara didn't acknowledge him, she wanted a peaceful journey and had
absolutely no desire to make idle chatter.
She glanced at the list Dale had handed her the previous night, she
smiled as she traced his neat swirling writing with her finger, Dale
had made sure that she knew exactly where to change stations, there
were four changes in all to get to her old hometown of Ware.
She prayed that this trip would prove successful and give her the
answers she so desperately seemed to be searching for. She owed that to
herself, but mostly, she owed it to Dale. As the train pulled away, she
relaxed back in her seat.
Everything had been going so well until last weekend. She had walked
with Dale to Poole harbour for a drink. It was a beautiful tranquil
evening; they sat quietly observing the boats bobbing gently on the
water, their lights casting silvery shadows in the sunset.
Dale had broken the silence.
"Tara - there's something I want to ask you," He whispered
hesitantly,
" Yes Dale - what is it?
He looked so handsome, dressed in a blue sweatshirt with cream slacks,
the silvery grey streaks shimmered in his dark hair, his aqua eyes
sparkled, he was a good looking man and one that any woman would be
proud to be seen with. They complimented each other well. Tara at the
age of forty-one, with her ash blonde hair and deep brown eyes still
found no trouble in turning men's heads, they certainly made a fetching
couple.
"I don't know quite how to put this Tara - so..."
Dale fumbled briefly in his pocket, then produced a small black velvet
box he snapped the lid open and handed it to her.
"Oh Dale!" She gasped, as she looked at the emerald ring inside, "It's
beautiful!"
Dale carefully took the ring from the box,
"I guess this is my way of asking you to marry me" he reached over to
her and took her hand, "Will you marry me Tara?"
She looked at the ring then back at Dale,
"I...I don't know what to say," she whispered,
"Then say yes?"
She squeezed his hand then gently kissed it, leaving a trace of peach
lipstick against his tanned skin,
"Oh Dale, you're so sweet and so very kind, I just..."
"Look -" he interrupted, sensing her anxiety, "-If you need time to
think, I understand, but we're good together Tara, you know we
are",
"Yes," she agreed "I know, - it's just - it's so difficult, I don't
know if I can marry again, I don't..."
A tear trickled slowly down her face, Dale handed her his
handkerchief, and she dabbed gently at her eyes.
This should have been a happy occasion, one to be celebrated with
tears of happiness. With hindsight, she should have foreseen this
coming, but Dale had caught her totally unawares.
Now here she was, sitting in an idyllic location with a man that she
loved; yet, she felt so sad. Tara had thought she would never find
happiness again after the death of her treasured husband Jack. That had
changed last year, when Louise and Sarah her two daughters had thrown
her a surprise birthday party for her fortieth, it was then that she'd
been introduced to Dale.
It had been her eldest daughter Louise's scheming. Dale was her boss
at the Insurance Company.
"Oh you'll love him mum," She'd said excitedly before introducing him,
"He's really nice, and he's single,"
"Mmm, why is he single?" Tara mused, that was the enigma of being on
your own, your suspicions ran overtime about men and their
intentions.
"He just says that he never met the right woman - Oh mum!" She said,
noting the usual doubting expression creeping onto her face, "Loosen up
will you, you're still young, attractive, got a great personality - and
- " she put her hand gently to Tara's face, "Dad has been gone now for
nearly six years,"
"I know that love," she whispered "But your father was very special,
and - a hard act to follow, but - I'll let you introduce me to your
boss, and&;#8230;" She took a sip from her drink trying to push away
the sweeping feelings of sadness that had gripped her, "- I won't show
you up I promise,"
The two women exchanged a hug then walked off arm in arm, they looked
more like sisters than mother and daughter, which were exactly Dale's
first words to her.

As the train journeyed on, Tara looked at the crumpled piece of paper
in her hand; change at Clapham, then Victoria, Tottenham Hale, and then
Broxbourne. Dale always endeavoured to make everything run as
efficiently as possible; he was a good man, a man that she could
imprudently let escape. She was ridden with emotions. She knew of
course that Jack would never be coming back, but the memories. Was
there room for anyone else?
That was why this trip held so much significance. She was returning to
the place where she had first met Jack, where they had raised the girls
and built their lives. Tara was on a quest for answers, and was
returning to her old hometown in the hope that she would find
them.
She finally stepped off the train at Ware station; she stretched her
arms with a sigh, as she waited for a taxi.
"Old Hall Green please," she said as she climbed in. The car drove
slowly through the town. Tara looked around with interest, nothing had
really changed. The library, where she spent many a day persuading
Louise and Sarah to hurry up and pick a book, the dancing class where
the two girls had made an unimpressionable attempt at ballet, and the
church - the church where she had married Jack.
As they passed through the town she looked at all the faces milling in
and out of the shops, looking to see if there were any ones she
recognised.
"Where in Old Hall Green are you going?"
"Just drop me by the farm, that will be fine, will you be able to pick
me up again in a couple of hours?"
"No problem." He replied happily, then carried on whistling to a tune
on the radio.
They were there in fifteen minutes, and as she watched the taxi drive
away, she inhaled deeply, savouring the smell you could only find in
the countryside. As far as the eye could see were rolling hills,
covered with divergent shades of green, the trees were murmuring in the
soothing breeze, birds were chanting their messages for the day. She
put her bag over her shoulder, slightly regretting not checking into
the hotel first, but her paramount wish had been to come here. Tara
idled off down the country lane. Many times, she had walked these
roads, usually with Champ their Irish wolfhound, who would frolic
around in the long grass. She laughed to herself, the memories starting
to come back.
The house was in sight, she stopped and took a deep breath, then put
her hand to her stomach, it had been five hours since she'd last eaten;
yet this was not a feeling of hunger.
The house stood majestically alone, it was their first home together
and a fine one at that. Detached with extensive grounds, it had been
quite run down when they had bought it, but with hard work they had
restored it to its former glory and turned it into a home to be proud
of.
Tara stopped by the gate, it hadn't changed, The gardens were still in
immaculate order, the rose bushes pruned just as Jack used to do them,
the lawn well tended, even the chrysanthemums that he had taken so much
time with, making sure that the soil was just right stood proudly under
the leaded windows. At that moment it felt as though she had never been
away, she could still visualise Jack walking up the path, a bouquet of
flowers in his hand. He always bought her flowers on a Friday night,
ever since their first child Sarah had been born.
Tara sighed, lost in her memories, she still missed him so much, it
was nearly six years ago when instead of receiving her bouquet of
flowers she had received a visit from a local police officer. He didn't
have to speak, the expression on his face, and that of the young woman
officer with him, said it all.
He would not have suffered they said, as if offering some kind of
consolation in the wake of her tragic loss. It had happened so fast he
wouldn't have known anything about it. The lorry had lost control and
collided head on with him.
"Oh Jack!" She sighed, "Why did you leave?
Tara didn't notice the woman who had appeared at the front door until
she called out to her.
"Are you all right there?"
"Oh yes, fine thanks, - I'm sorry, I hope I didn't startle you, I
don't suppose you get many people hanging around by your gate,"
"No we don't," the woman smiled and walked down the path, "Are you
lost? She asked in a concerned manner,
"Oh no - no I was just passing through -" she paused, suddenly feeling
a little foolish, "I used to live here,"
"Did you?" The woman raised her eyebrows as she opened the gate, "My
name's Cathy, pleased to meet you" she extended a small plump hand that
was covered in flour,
"And I'm Tara", She said, and shook her hand,
"Oh look, I'm sorry I've covered you in flour," Cathy raised her hand
to her mouth in mock horror, "I'm just getting the dinner ready - stew
and dumplings - we always have stew and dumplings on a Saturday, rain
or shine," she continued with a shake of her head "It's my George,
bless him, creature of habit, that's why every Saturday -"
"Stew and dumplings!" Tara cut in,
Cathy chuckled as she wiped her hands on her floral apron,
"Why don't you come in? Wash your hands, I'll make you a cup of tea if
you fancy one,"
"Well if you're sure I'm not imposing - I'd love to."
Tara was taken aback by the woman's friendliness but she was
nevertheless grateful for the invite, and was quite parched by
now.
It felt strange walking through the heavy wooden door, over the stone
step that slanted down to the right, into what had once been her home,
even stranger inside, was that apart from the obvious changes like
furniture, things were very much as she'd left them.
Within a short while over a hot cup of tea and home-made shortbread,
the two women were chatting like old friends.
Tara was surprised to find herself confiding in Cathy. Perhaps it was
talking in familiar surroundings, or perhaps it was just that she had a
friendly unbiased ear to unburden her thoughts upon. Sarah and Louise
were always there for her, but they had their own lives, and Tara did
not like to impose on them.
Tara then thought of Dale at home in Poole, how was he feeling? She
recalled his last words to her that morning, his anxious face as he had
spoken them.
"Tara?" He had said, his voice full of compassion as he wrapped his
arms around her waist, "I hope you find what you're searching for, and
I hope...well you know what I want don't you,"
She kissed his cheek, "I know Dale - I know"
"Oh heavens!" Cathy exclaimed, bringing Tara out of her dreams, "I
wonder if that was yours?"
"What?" Tara replied, looking puzzled,
"That box! That box that we found in the attic", A look of excitement
flashed across Cathy's face as she leapt up from the table upsetting
the tea into the saucer, she started scurrying through the large
cupboard in the corner.
Tara sat bemused, 'box' she thought, she certainly couldn't recollect
any box being left.
"I thought I recognised you," Cathy went on, "You're the one in the
photo, I'm sure of it, - Oh where is it? "
She frantically threw an array of objects behind her as she scurried
further and further into the depths of the cupboard, when suddenly she
let out a joyful cry,
"Look! - Here it is!" She produced a rather tatty black shoebox; it
was tied neatly in a bow with a faded red ribbon. Cathy walked over to
the table and put it proudly down in front of Tara.
"Recognise it do you?"
Tara shook her head, "No - no I don't"
"Are you sure?" Cathy seemed to doubt her,
"Yes," she smiled "Quite sure - what's in it?"
"Perhaps you should open it and take a look," Cathy's eyes were wide
in anticipation, "I couldn't throw it out, it was so interesting, I
just couldn't find the heart to put it in the bin, we found it when we
changed the attic into a bedroom, it was wedged in the corner... Oh go
on open it!"
Tara untied the bow and lifted off the lid; she looked inside then up
at Cathy, who was standing there with the expression of an animated
child at Christmas
"It's full of papers," said Tara as she lifted some from the top,
everything was in separate envelopes, she put her hand up to her mouth
and gasped as she opened one containing a wedding photo of herself and
Jack.
"It's like a time capsule," she whispered, suddenly overcome with
emotion, "I didn't know Jack had done this,"
All sorts of things evolved as she emptied the box, there were photo's
of the children at various stages of their youth - baby teeth - school
reports - cinema tickets, clippings from newspapers - she smiled as she
fondly touched the brown leather collar that had once belonged to
Champ. A host of personal treasures were revealed before her. One thing
caught her attention the most, it was a letter, she carefully unfolded
the faded paper, frightened to tear it.
Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as she read the contents. Jack
had written a letter about his life. It listed all of the main events -
his school days; adolescence; marriage; the births of their daughters -
even the faithful Champ who was not always in Jacks good books, but it
was the last few lines that had the most impact.
My marriage to Tara has been one of the best things that could
ever have happened to me, I'm looking forward to a long and
happy life together, maybe right here in this house, who knows?
My one concern however, probably like most men, is how she would manage
should something ever happen to me. Tara. Always so concerned about
everyone else. We have spoken about it but she adamantly refuses to
acknowledge the fact that I could possibly die before her. I don't even
know myself why I'm writing this now, its probably because one of our
good friends has just died from cancer much before his prime, poor Jean
is beside herself, suffering dreadfully. I don't want to visualise Tara
being in that position, you would just have to hope that eventually
there would be someone special to fill that gap. However, enough of all
this depressive writing, this is meant to be a box of good and happy
things, and I don't intend departing this life yet. Well, to whoever
happens to be the lucky person that retrieves
My little shoebox, I hope you enjoy my treasures.
I wish you well. JACK ROBERTS

Tara lifted the letter slowly to her lips and kissed it, a tear
trickled down causing the ink to smudge.
"I'm sorry love," Cathy put her arms around her, "I would never have
shown you had I realised, I didn't mean it to upset you"
Tara wiped her face and smiled between the tears,
"No - don't be sorry," she whispered, "I came here to make decisions,
- it's as though Jack knew that," she started to put the contents
carefully back in the box, "I think I've found my answers. She blew her
nose and pushed her hair back from her face, "Would you mind Cathy if I
used your phone, there's somebody that I have to call'" Tara carefully
put everything back into the box, then tied the red ribbon back in a
bow, "There's one more favour before I leave," she said as she walked
to the telephone, "Would you mind if I put the box back in your
cupboard? I feel that it belongs here, in this house"
"Of course not love," said Cathy as Tara dialled the number,
"Hello?"
It sounded so good to hear Dale's voice,
"Hello Dale," she whispered quietly down the receiver, "I'm coming
home!"