Brief Encounter.

Miranda looked at Gregor. 

“OK then,” she said, tapping her pen on the notepad on her knee, “shaving cream and razor blades, soap, peanuts and your prescription.  Are you sure that’s all?”

“Unsalted peanuts please.  Doctor say zey are better for blood pressure.  But I cannot imagine how somesing as inert as good old NaCl makes so much difference.”

“All too complicated for me Gregor, leave it to the experts.”  Miranda closed her notebook and stood up to leave.  “I think it’s a roast and Yorkshires for supper tonight.  I’ll see you later shall I, with everyone else?  Oh, one other thing, the harvest fair’s on Saturday.  I do the books and my usual helper’s away this year – you couldn’t give me a hand could you?  No lifting or anything, just a bit of sorting and taking the money?”

There was no refusing - her cheeks glowed in the warm room and her eyes twinkled. Gregor nodded slowly and smiled again. 

“Of course, if it would help you my dear.”

“Great, thanks Gregor, I appreciate it.  I’ll knock on your door and we’ll go in my car.” 

Miranda pulled the door closed behind her and Gregor slumped back in his chair.  He had been so reluctant to give up his own little house, but his few friends had persuaded him on all the plusses that The Kissing Oaks Retirement Home offered. 

But he had been slow to get to know people and felt like an outsider.  “It’s my age.” He would mutter to himself.  “I cannot make new friend at my age.  Why did I come here?  What was I thinking?  Zey are all very nice and I feel so ungrateful.  Is it so bad to like my own company?  What use am I to anyone anyway?”

However he did like the way the staff ate with the residents.  It was as if the official policy dictated that no one was too old, too young, too crumbly, too fit or too past it to share a meal.  He liked the view from his window onto the quiet end of the garden where he could see rabbits and the occasional deer.  And he liked being able to compare wildlife notes with Betty in the room next door.

Sometimes they all watched a film after supper and this evening it was Brief Encounter – always a favourite.  There wasn’t a spare seat or a dry eye in the big sitting room when Miranda turned the lights on as the credits rolled.  People sniffed into hankies until they caught each other’s eye and laughed at their silliness.

Gregor thought about his own brief encounter every day, usually in the quiet moments after he got into bed, before he settled to sleep.

When the house was quiet he listened to the peace and thanked God for it.  It was something he hadn’t known until he was nearly sixteen.

As a boy, escaping Russia with his family, the only place they had friends was Germany.  So that was where they went and hid in an attic for 3 years. 

Gregor’s uncle had been a chemist and his university books and work manuals also lived in the loft rooms of the house.  The periodic table of chemicals became Gregor’s comfort and he recited it over and over in his head during the nightly bombings of Berlin.

Then as the last of his family in the prison camp and until freedom came, it was his friend too.

Life changed when he got to London because in the summer of 1950 he met Judith.  She was 28 and he was 30, working as an assistant chemist in a shop. 

Unlike Brief Encounter they were both technically free to love, but Judith worked for a rich and powerful family.

“I’m just the nurse,” she would say, “what they say goes. And if they find out I’m courting I’ll get the sack.  No question about it.”

Her charge was the family’s matriarch; sick and old but with a tenacity for holding on to life that defied all medical opinion.  Judith’s few outings included fetching the medications from Gregor’s chemist.

He loved her eyes, the deepest velvety brown he’d ever seen, as well as her shy smile and quick wit.  As he got to know her, he saw each layer peel away, pulling him more deeply in love with her.  Underneath the shyness was an impish humour and underneath that, a romantic softness.

“Did you know dat your nose twitches as you laugh?”  He would ask her.

“Yes my darlink,” she mimicked his accent, “you tell me so often that I want to hold it still when I feel an attack of the giggles coming.”

Darlink.  He smiled as the memories came to him in the darkness.

*

On the morning of the fair there was a knock at his door.  Miranda smiled as he opened it.  “The sun’s out.  Are you ready?”

Gregor pulled on his fleece jacket and rubbed his hands together, firing up his enthusiasm.  He knew that she was trying to help him settle into the house and was grateful for her kindness.  “Take me to ze books!” he cried and Miranda laughed as she untucked his collar, patting it down neat and smart. 

Together they started methodically sorting and regimenting the books into order by subject.  He inhaled their dusty smell as he put them into boxes on the tables, lifting his head occasionally to watch the other helpers rush about getting ready.

Eventually the mayor called the every-increasing throng of fair goers to order and officially opened the event. 

But by 5 o’clock there few people left and it had begun to rain.  Everyone had begun to pack what was left of their produce away while trying to tempt shoppers sheltering from the rain to make one last purchase.

Gregor held a thick copy of a chemistry book - it was similar to one his uncle had had in the Berlin attic.  Gently he turned the pages, running his fingers over the text, stroking the diagrams and smiling down at the periodic table.

“Is it a very old book mister?”  A young boy had been watching him.

“Yes it is very old book.  It is from when I was young, perhaps just your age.”

The boy looked at Gregor and then back at the book. 

“Wow,” he gasped, “what’s it about?”

“It’s about how everything around you fits together…water…air…metal of your coat zipper…even bottle of pop in your hand.”

“Wow.” Said the boy again, stepping closer to see what was inside the book.  “Really?”

“Really.” Said Gregor.

The boy put his pop on the table and took the book in both hands.

“But it’s all just numbers and letters.” He said sounding somewhat hard done by.

“Yes, and zees letters and numbers are a special code.  A code that will let you into a secret world when you know what they mean.”

“Wow.  Can I buy it?”

Gregor hesitated.  He was holding money ready to pay for it himself.

“I will buy book for you.” he said, “But you must care for it well.”

The boy’s eyes opened wide.

“Thanks mister.  I will, I will look after it well.”

Miranda had stopped counting the money the stall had made and watched the scene.

“You should have had a son and been a teacher.  That was magical!”

Gregor tried to laugh as he added the payment for the book to the pile of coins.

*

That night as he listened to the silence, he thought of Judith again.  She had come to him one evening as he was closing the shop.  She was quiet and he had been thinking all day about how he would ask her to marry him.  She had no parents whose consent he needed, so the words, the place and how he could afford a ring were all down to him.

But because she was quiet he let her stay that way and didn’t intrude on her thoughts.  Their stolen hours were precious so he had just kissed her hair, stroked her breast and held her close.

That was the last time he had seen her.  Afterwards she had vanished and no matter where he looked and who he asked, no one would answer his questions.

Gregor turned onto his side to get comfortable for sleep, but the pillow was wet with tears against his cheek.

The sun shone again the following morning, a watery autumn sun after a night’s rain.  Gregor walked the short distance to Miranda’s lodgings in the grounds of The Oaks to fetch the fleece he had left in her car.

“Oh, of course, come in a tick.  I’ve got your shopping here too.”

Gregor stepped gingerly over the threshold and looked about him.  Miranda’s little lounge was functional but cosy and his eyes were drawn into it.

“Ah, you’ve found my rogues’ gallery!” She said coming back to him with a supermarket bag.  “That’s me with my mum when I got my diploma in management.  There I am with the staff of the home I used to manage before I came here.  That’s Sandy my little dog and that’s my mum again.”

“And your father?”  Gregor asked.

“I never knew him.  Mum said he died before I was born. That’s the one thing I wish was different; I wish I’d known my dad.”  Miranda’s voice caught slightly as she slid the photo from its frame.

“Look.”  She turned it over.  “She said he took this.”

“My beloved Judith.”  It read, “From your Darlink.”