Plan B

What would it be like, I wondered, to take a minor character from the last story and write a whole new tale about her? I hope you like it.

 

 

 

 

She’d only left the room for a moment but when she got back the old woman was dead.

That’s what they came to the Nursing Home for; someone to hold their hand at the end.

It’s not that Mary had struck her as the needy type. She’s held it together when the girl had visited on Sunday. Lynette had watched them. She’s seen the old lady’s struggle to sit straight, to smile, to look lively.

Lynette wondered if she’d be on her own. Women lived longer than men but knowing Robert he’d make sure that he outlived her. He’d sit by her. Keep her hand tightly in his. He’d do the right thing.

Mildred limped past her in the corridor clutching the photograph she always had. This was a copy, the original was nearly a hundred years old now. Mildred’s parents on their wedding day. They looked bright and hopeful, smiling and certain.

“Happy,” she said holding the picture towards Lynette. “So happy.”

It had been a long day and she was glad to close the car door against the world. She’d just turned the key in the ignition when the phone rang.

“Auntie Lyn,” the voice said.

Lucy hadn’t called her that since she was ten.

“What’s the matter?” Lynette asked.

“Nothing.” A pause. “Just called…for a chat.” Lucy’s voice wavered at her own dishonesty.

Lynette waited.

Deep breath and then a rush of words.

“Auntie Lyn I’m in a mess. Dad’s still in the States... and I needed to talk to someone.”

Before the girl said the words she knew. “A baby,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Such an ordinary tale. Lucy stumbled through the story.

Funny how easy it was for both of them to slip into clichés. Lucy said that the lad ‘wasn’t bothered’, he was too ‘laid back’ to be a father.

Lynette could hear Robert’s verdict. ‘Typically unsuitable’ he’d said about the last boyfriend. The phrase was pure Robert…he would always put the blame on Lucy herself.

Lynette reassured her niece. She promised help she wasn’t sure she could offer.

She knew Robert wouldn’t want to be tied to anything. That’s was why he hadn’t wanted children. “We’re better as we are Lynette. Footloose and fancy-free.”

It seemed a strange thing to call a middle aged pair with a Marks and Spencer store card and a greenhouse.

 She arranged to meet the girl on her next day off.

Turning on the windscreen wipers gave her a better view of the road. It was getting dark outside and the car had started to steam up a little

Robert was in the shed when she got home. Suddenly weary, she watched him from the kitchen window as she prepared vegetables for their meal. His back was hunched in concentration.

Lynette imagined that the more difficulties his do-it-yourself projects gave him the more he enjoyed them. He had strongly held views on the right way to carry out everyday tasks, lots of strange rules which he would chant at her as if they were sacred. “You should always measure twice and cut once,” he would say, “once you’ve made the cut, there’s no chance for Plan B.”

Later that evening he pushed the plate away from him.

“Very nice,” he said. “And your day?”

She busied herself with the table. “Nothing special,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about Mary dying, or the call from Lucy.  She was certain that something had changed between them. It was as if she was a different person and that the new Lyn was unsure how much he really cared about her day.

Robert wanted to talk about their latest acquisition, a small flat in the town. It was the third of their property purchases. They had used money left to Lynette by her mother.

At first she had been excited by the apartments. She loved imagining the people who would be happy there. But Robert’s fascination with the fixtures and fittings wore away at any pleasure she’d had. He would spend hours pouring over architectural magazines and his every Saturday was spent at a scrapyard. He seemed happy to make the job last as long as possible.

Tonight he was sectioning up an old brass doorbell which he said was “a classic of the era”.  He had divided a tin tray with cardboard sections and each tiny part of the bell was numbered and noted against a diagram. “For ease of assembly,” he explained to Lynette,

“I’m glad we’re nearly done with the flat,” Lynette said.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘nearly’, “ Robert said. “Mustn’t rush these things.”

She breathed in angrily, holding the breath in for a moment before exhaling slowly through pursed lips. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shout that his doorbell didn’t matter.

She really wanted to tell him that all around him people loved. And died. And were born.

There’d be no point in arguing though. He would listen sadly, head tipped to one side as if wondering about her sanity.

She caught sight of her hair in the dark window. The long, thick plait had a few streaks of grey.

“Robert,” she called. “I need to pop out,”

Outside in the car she dialled Lucy’s number. “It’s Auntie Lyn darling. I’ve had a thought about where you might live, you and the baby….and me too if you’ll have me.”

There was a pause and neither of them spoke and then Lyn smiled, “Don’t cry sweetheart. It’s going to be fun….it’ll be a new start for us...we both deserve a Plan B.”

 

 

 

Reviews

[janeannerogers]

Thanks again W!
Yes I will keep on with reviewing others, I'm sure it will pay off!

[Woody]

I'm fascinated by your storytelling and narrative. this is as good as the other one.
you're very talented and I loved this.

thanks for sharing.

pity there are no comments. my advice to you is to review others and they'll feel obligated to return the favour then you'll be famous :)

[janeannerogers]

That should have included. ..please read this someone!

[janeannerogers]

I posted this last week but so far no comments. ..