How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Two

‘Come and get your shoes on, Henry,’ Richard yelled. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that they were already running late. He’d have to apologise once again to the preschool staff.

‘Henry!’

Richard picked up the bright-red shoes from the wooden rack by the front door, and once his four-year-old son was seated on the bottom step of the stairs, quickly pushed them onto Henry’s feet. Thank goodness for Velcro straps.

‘What’s next, Henry?’ Richard asked.

‘Coat,’ Henry replied, reaching for his blue duffel coat hanging on the peg.

Richard unhooked it for him, and although he knew that his son should learn to put on his own coat, he helped him with the arms and buttoned it up. He could hear Sally’s voice in his head telling him off, but he ignored it. They were late and she was no longer here.

Grabbing Henry’s Spider-Man lunchbox, Richard slung his work satchel over his shoulder and grabbed the key from the hook on the back of the door.

‘Righto, Mister, off we go,’ he said.

‘Off we go, Daddy,’ Henry repeated, followed by a mischievous smile.

Richard ruffled his dark-brown, almost black hair, so like his own, and they headed out the door.

* * *

‘I’m so sorry we’re late, again,’ Richard said, ignoring the sympathetic stares from the manager whose name he still couldn’t remember.

‘It’s not a problem, Richard. We know how busy you are.’ She gave him that look he had grown to loathe.

Henry had run off as soon as they’d arrived without so much as a backwards glance. Richard wished he could do the same.

Were the staff like this with all lone parents who were busy? Or was it just the dads? Or possibly the bereaved? He didn’t want to be treated any differently. A telling-off would actually make him feel better.

‘Right, well, I’d best be off. Tracey will be picking him up tonight,’ he said.

‘Okay, no problem. She knows that the password has changed for this month, right?’ the manager asked.

Richard blinked. Nodded. Had he remembered to tell her? He’d better give her a call later to remind her. He still thought it slightly daft that they used a password at all. It was a small village preschool which only a handful of children attended. But he supposed it was best to be careful, even though Tracey picked Henry up a couple of times each week.

‘We will see you in the morning, then?’ the manager said, as if dismissing him.

Richard nodded. Coming to the realisation that he was being let out, he quickly retreated through the main entrance and made his bid for freedom.

* * *

Richard Brown was a well-liked and much-respected primary school teacher. The kids adored him, as did the parents. He loved his job. He had known that he’d wanted to teach as soon as he’d met his new teacher, Mr Peters, when he was in Year Six. During that impressionable year when changes were being put in place for the transition to secondary school, Mr Peters had been kind, understanding, fair and fun. He had provided that much-needed male role model in Richard’s life. Richard loved his gran, Gertie, like a mother. She had brought him up single-handedly and he would always be eternally grateful to her. But, as a little boy, sometimes all he had wanted was to kick a ball or have a rough-and-tumble or talk about boy things with someone, all things he couldn’t do with Gertie.

His mother and father had both been twenty-three years of age when they’d been killed outright by a drunk driver. They had left two-year-old Richard with Gertie for the evening, to enjoy a rare night out at the cinema. They’d never known that it would be the last time they would see their son. They’d never even said goodbye as he’d been asleep in his new toddler bed and they hadn’t wanted to wake him. It wouldn’t have been fair on Gertie.

Richard had stayed with his gran, his father’s mother, ever since that fateful night. She had taken on the responsibility of a full-time mother at the age of forty-two. Although today this would still be considered young, thirty-eight years ago she’d been perceived as an older mother. When it came to school pick-up, the other mothers at the gate wouldn’t engage with her. Gertie would stand alone and wait for Richard to run out of the reception-class door, while the other mums stood around in groups, chatting about playdates and sleepovers. Richard hadn’t understood what was happening at the time — how could he? He was only a child. But now he saw the older parents, and the grandparents, many of whom stood alone while the younger parents chatted. He had never understood why they didn’t congregate together. Perhaps they didn’t need to. Not everybody needed to be part of a group. Some people were happy to be alone. Himself included.

Richard now approached the same school, but instead of the school gate he headed towards the staffroom. He knew that Alistair, the head, would already be there, sitting in his usual chair with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hand. Alistair lived alone. No ex-wife, no children. He lived for teaching and golf, and at the age of fifty he was here to stay. As expected, when Richard pulled open the creaking staffroom door he was greeted by the smell of coffee and the tapping of keys that radiated from Alistair’s laptop.

‘Good morning,’ Alistair said, raising his eyes from the laptop screen. ‘Coffee is ready for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Richard placed his bag on the floor and reached for his coffee cup that had World’s Best Dad embossed on either side. ‘You have a good weekend?’ He sank down into the faded low-slung armchair with his drink. The armrests were now threadbare with age.

‘Spent most of Saturday here,’ Alistair said with a sigh. ‘Easier to catch up with work here than at home.’

Richard nodded. Sipped his coffee. Too many distractions at home, such as television and having a snooze.

‘How was your weekend with Henry?’ Alistair closed his laptop screen.

‘Good and exhausting,’ Richard said, but his smile betrayed him. He’d had a busy weekend, but they’d packed so much into their time together. During the week he hardly got to see him. A snatched hour here or there. By the time he picked him up from Tracey’s, or Megan’s, it was time for a bath and bed. Richard would sit alone, marking homework and planning lessons while his son was safely tucked up in bed. He knew that as Henry grew older, things would become easier. But at this moment in time, he missed him. Preschool, his mother-in-law and sister-in-law were all getting the best of his little boy.

Richard shouldn’t grumble. He got every weekend off — many single parents didn’t have that luxury — not to mention the long school holidays. He didn’t work shifts and he had a good support network. Things could be a lot worse. But, then again, Sally could still be with him. Henry could still have a mum. Life was never fair. You made do with what you got. But, he couldn’t help feeling guilty about Henry, the fact that he was motherless. Richard had grown up without knowing who his mother was. He couldn’t remember her. His only reminders were those of faded sepia photographs, blurred and distorted with age. Henry, too, had photographs. His were clear, digital copies, but no matter how accurately they captured that moment in time, it was still in the past. There would be no new memories of his mother for him.

‘So, all ready for the day, then?’ Alistair had placed his cup in the sink and now stood by the door, ready to retreat to the safety of his office.

Richard blinked. Tried to clear the fog from his brain, but knew he’d been rumbled. Knew that Alistair was fully aware that his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Richard cleared his throat. ‘All good, thanks.’

With a nod of his head, Alistair opened the door. The sound of voices could be heard from the corridor. Time to head to his classroom and get ready for the day ahead.

* * *

Tracey Williams lived on the other side of the village, a good fifteen minutes’ walk from the primary school and the preschool which was located on the other side of the road. It was then a further ten-minute walk to Richard’s house on the edge of the village. Richard didn’t know how he would manage to juggle it all without the help of his mother-in-law. Although Sally had died nearly three years ago, he still thought of Tracey as his mother-in-law. She was a huge part of his life and always would be. He’d see the concern etched onto her face when he mentioned the name of a female colleague or friend. Those unsettling thoughts that another woman would drag Henry away from her. But Richard had told Tracey that she would always have Henry in her life, no matter what happened in his personal life, and he meant every word. Henry was what mattered.

Before Richard could even knock on the front door it was flung open and he was ushered inside, into the warmth of the kitchen that he knew so well.

‘Will you stay for a cuppa?’ Tracey poured boiling water into the sturdy brown teapot which always had a place on the wooden mat on the sideboard. ‘Henry’s happily playing with the trains, so he’ll be fine for a bit.’ She smiled, reached for the biscuit tin and placed it in front of him as if he was four years old, not nearing forty. ‘Stay for tea if you like?’ she added.

‘That’s kind of you, but I need to get back. Loads of paperwork to get through, plus a lesson plan.’ Richard leaned against the kitchen counter.

He watched her smile slip and instantly regretted his words. He always felt bad when he refused her food. ‘We can make Wednesday, though. We’ll have our tea with you and then go straight to the home. It’s my non-contact afternoon so I can have the evening off.’

Tracey’s smile appeared once more like magic, easing Richard’s guilt at having to work such long hours, for not spending enough quality time with his son.

Tracey placed his cup of tea on the table.

‘Daddy, Daddy.’ Henry ran into the kitchen clutching a miniature Thomas the Tank Engine train.

Richard bent down and scooped him up into a bear hug.

‘How was your day?’ he asked, pulling out the kitchen chair for Henry to sit on. Richard sat down next to him and sipped his tea.

‘I had a good day, Daddy. I did you a painting.’ Henry’s face broke out into a huge grin as Tracey pulled the painting free from the grip of the fridge magnets and passed it to Richard.

‘You want some apple juice, Henry?’ Tracey asked, already opening the fridge door. She always had several bottles in the fridge.

‘Yes, please, Nana.’

‘This is wonderful.’ Richard gazed at the brightly coloured painting of a rainbow over a square house with four windows. On the path outside, Henry had painted two stick figures. One taller than the other. Underneath he had written Daddy and Henry . A sudden lump formed in Richard’s throat.

He turned to his son, smiled and uttered one word. ‘Perfect.’

* * *

The air had turned colder and so Richard quickened their steps for the short walk home.

‘Fish fingers and chips for tea. That okay with you?’

Richard got a beaming smile in return and a quick thumbs up. It was obviously too much effort for Henry to speak and walk at the same time.

Richard chuckled and clutched Henry’s hand even tighter to propel him towards home.

They passed the Fox and Hound. Richard could feel the warmth creeping towards him as Gwen opened the pub’s door.

He knew that they wouldn’t make it past her without a quick hello. She doted on Henry. She and Bill had never had children. He didn’t know why, but there was a sad story lurking somewhere in her past.

‘Oh, I thought it was you,’ Gwen said cheerfully, brandishing a bag of sweets. ‘Here you are, Henry.’

‘What do you say, Henry?’ Richard said.

‘Thank you, Mrs Gwen.’

‘Oh, you’re welcome, love. And how was preschool today?’ Her eyes flickered towards the painting. ‘Ah, you’ve been painting, I see.’

‘Me and Daddy,’ Henry told her proudly. ‘We’re going to put it on our fridge.’

Gwen looked at Richard and smiled. ‘The perfect place,’ she said.

‘And how are you today, Gwen?’ Richard asked.

‘I’m fine, love.’ Gwen leaned in closer. ‘I met the new neighbour today.’

Ah , Richard thought. This was the real reason they’d been stopped. Henry began to jiggle up and down.

‘New neighbour?’ Richard wasn’t aware that anyone new had moved into the village.

‘Yes, you know, the cottage on the other side of the village. The cottage that’s after mine.’

‘Church View Cottage?’ He had always thought the name a little strange as there was no church in the village, nor in the viewable vicinity.

‘Yes, that’s the one. Well, she only moved in today. Not from around here. I didn’t get much chance to talk to her, but she seems like the professional type. Well spoken, you know. I invited her here for a drink, so if she turns up I’ll find out more info for you.’

‘For me?’ Richard tried to hide his irritation. He’d briefly toyed with dating again, testing the water, but he didn’t need any help from Gwen.

Gwen sighed. ‘Yes, you,’ she said slowly.

Richard held his hand up. He did not want to have this conversation. Not with Gwen, not with anyone, and especially not in front of his four-year-old son. ‘Well, we must be off. Henry’s ready for his tea.’ Richard wasn’t quite able to meet her eye and cursed the fact that he could feel his cheeks turning pink.

Gwen took a step back and nodded. He noticed the knowing smile flicker across her face. She knew she’d touched a nerve.

‘Well, see you soon, and enjoy your tea. Anything nice?’ Gwen asked.

‘Fish fingers and chips,’ they said in unison. Then he grabbed Henry’s hand once more and they made their way home.