Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [45]
He supposed it had.
‘I thought you were going to be a lot more embarrassing. Not that your idea of being embarrassing would even register on the Richter scale here…’
‘The night is but young, my love. And that sounds like a challenge. Is that a karaoke machine I see behind me?’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Two more Bacardi Breezers, and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do.’
‘Nothing?’
‘I said almost.’
‘Can’t blame a bloke for trying.’
You couldn’t. Natalie pulled him to her, and they danced.
Anna and Nicholas
‘There’s one more thing.’ Nicholas looked like a kid.
They had had a lovely day. When she’d checked that her anti-depressants were in her toilet bag she had been reminded of her contraceptive pills in the late seventies. Not that they’d gone away much, of course. There had been a very occasional weekend when Nicholas’s parents had taken the children.
This hotel was beautiful, all roaring fires and stuffed animals on the walls. They’d arrived in the afternoon, had a leisurely swim in the pool, and then she’d fallen asleep beside it on a lounger, trying to read some impenetrable novel Susannah had sent her. Then they’d had the kind of dinner where you don’t recognise most of what’s on the menu and you talk mostly about how nice the food is.
Despite her afternoon nap, Anna was tired again. But Nicholas clearly had other plans. She wondered if they would make love. But he went to his suitcase, and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift. It looked like a CD, and Anna was surprised that he should give it such a build-up. She smiled her gratitude at him, and peeled off the silver ribbon.
It was an unmarked DVD.
‘Da-dah,’ he said, pushing back the doors of the heavy mahogany cabinet opposite their bed. ‘I have just the thing to play it on.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’re going to love it. Just wait and see.’ He took the disc, pushed it into the machine, and fumbled with the controls.
The television came on, and the volume was ferociously loud.
‘Sssh!’ Anna giggled.
Finally he had mastered it, muttering all the while about how complicated machines were ‘these days’. My God, Anna thought. We’re old.
As the juddering images started, he came and sat beside her. ‘I’ve had all the old cine film put on to DVD. Been meaning to do it for years. Had to get it all out of the loft without you seeing. That was where I found the lap-tray.’ He nodded, like Watson on a case. ‘I haven’t watched it. Wanted to do it together.’
There was only about fifteen minutes and there were huge gaps – where they’d been too poor, or too tired, or too busy to film. But there it was. The best years of her life, flickering away on the screen.
Nicholas gave a running commentary, as though she didn’t know what she was watching. ‘Bridget’s christening… Look how slim you are… and that hat… Oh, look at her. I’d forgotten she had so much hair… I remember that day. Pepperpot Hill. Bless her – she was chubby then, wasn’t she? And look how much taller Susannah was… That’s the day you brought Natalie home from the hospital. God, the girls missed you, didn’t they? And I remember those things they made you…’
When they had watched it all, Nicholas realised that Anna was holding his hand tightly, as though she were falling and she needed him to save her. She was crying and when she turned to him, he saw desperation in her face. ‘Oh, my lovely girl. What’s wrong?’
She told him.
G for Gone With the Wind
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Rob’s cycling shorts.’
‘Why?’
‘Padded.’
‘Is that supposed to make sense to me?’
‘Padded crotch.’
‘Still not getting it, although they look very fetching.’ They did. Tom had great legs. Except they were pale blue. It was a grim February Sunday, and the wind was howling past them round the grey concrete of the buildings in this part of town.
‘Built-in comfort, for sitting through long periods.’
‘Have you got haemorrhoids?’
‘No! But I’m going to be sitting down for a long period.’
‘Because?’
‘We’re going here.’ He gave a dramatic flourish with his right arm and opened the door. Natalie bundled gratefully inside.
Gone With