Trying Not To Love You

Part Ninety Seven

Chapter Ninety Seven

For the rest of the week they were all busy, Lucy wouldn’t make a decision on Henry, Sonny wouldn’t make a decision over Michael, so Martha buried herself in decorating the rooms at the pub. She couldn’t really work there until they lived there. So she had a huge incentive for her mission, plus as soon as they were living in the building, they would spend more time together generally, as a family. And that was what she wanted, more than anything.

Henry called her on Friday afternoon.

                “Will she meet me? I’m passing tomorrow.”

Martha sighed, “she’s scared...”

That made Henry laugh, “I know exactly how she feels...I was dapper, young...and I’m told handsome fifty years ago, but now I’m a pensioner. An old man. I have a balding head, a paunch; I need glasses to read the newspaper, and different ones to drive my car. I used to be athletic, but now I need a replacement knee. Old age isn’t kind. But that’s nothing that anyone can fight...or hide from. Will you tell her I promised...that when we were old and grey I’d take her somewhere? She’ll know where, and tell her I don’t want to lose out on that, a promise is a promise. Tell her that?”

Martha smiled at how sweet that was, “I will. I’ll call you once I’ve spoken to her.”

Lucy was doing the laundry, something Martha had never seen her do before. Leaning on the doorframe, she watched the older woman for a while, eventually she looked up.

                “What?”

Martha smiled, “just wishing that you had difficult decisions to make more often, I could take a few days off from being a domestic slave.” That was met by a scowl. “Made any decisions?”

Lucy shook her head, the scowl still in place, “what’s the rush? I have a lot to think about.” Martha gave a knowing nod. “What?”

Martha smiled, “he called me today. Will be near by tomorrow. He really wants to meet you.”

Lucy shook her head, looking at the floor, “it’s too soon...I’m not ready.”

Placing a hand on her arm Martha sighed, “he said to tell you he made you a promise, for when you were both old...he wants to see you good on that.”

Lucy slumped down the wall, ending up on a heap on the floor. Martha rushed to squat beside her, but soon realised it was shock and not illness that had caused her legs to give way. Looking up she saw tears welling in the eyes of her aunt. “He said that?” she asked with a quiet, shaky voice. “Really?”

Martha nodded, “said to tell you he hadn’t forgotten.”

She dropped her eyes for a moment, then when she looked up she seemed to have glazed over, disappeared into the past. “My father hated the thought of us being together. We managed to see each other a lot, but it was all based on lies. We planned to run away, but I was too scared.” She laughed in a self deprecating way, “there was a festival in town, everyone was there, and there were stalls, fair rides...we sat in the dark holding hands watching everyone being happy. But we were hiding. Henry squeezed my hand and said he’d show everyone one day, that he’d make me feel proud. When we were older, happy, settled, whatever happened, he’d take me back to town, buy me lunch, somewhere public, then order champagne in the pub, as we drank it he was going to stand on his chair and tell EVERYONE how wonderful I was.” She laughed, “it doesn’t sound dramatic now, but back then, it was so extravagant, so ‘out there’, and it was perfect. I wanted that so badly...then I backed out, got scared...let him go.”