5. Jack
Chapter 5
Jack
‘ Y ou’ve done really well, Mol. It’s only been a week but it looks like we’ve been here forever.’ Jack moves her knitting bag onto the floor and settles back in a saggy floral-patterned armchair that came as part of the furnished flat deal and kicks off his shoes. It’s been a hard week, trying to get used to a new job, and he’s tired. ‘I can’t believe you’ve managed to unpack all those boxes and find a place for everything so quickly. And all that cleaning!’
‘I didn’t have much else to do, and I’ve enjoyed it in a funny sort of way,’ Molly says, handing him a mug of coffee and taking her own with her as she plonks down in the matching chair on the other side of the fireplace. They haven’t been here long enough yet to establish any kind of his-and-hers when it comes to chairs, but Jack knows they will soon settle into who sits where, just as they have when it comes to who sleeps on which side of the bed. That’s how living together works.
Molly points at the row of mismatched ornaments lined up on the shelf between them. ‘I know I probably brought too much tat with us, and there isn’t really room for a lot of it, but I wanted it to feel like home.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it? This place feeling like home, I mean. Because it will do, Mol, just you wait and see. With or without Aunt Freda’s chipped spaniel.’ He stands up and lifts the china dog from above the fireplace and studies it. ‘Do you know, this is probably one of the earliest things I can remember. Standing there in Freda’s dining room, with that old clock of hers ticking away too loudly, and this little dog watching me as I ate my fish fingers and beans! I can only have been about three. It’s an ugly old thing but I’m glad you’ve hung on to it.’
‘Well, we can’t only love things because they’re beautiful, can we?’ Molly sips at her coffee. It looks as if she’s about to add something else, but she doesn’t.
‘So, what shall we do with our first free weekend in London then? Fancy a bit of culture? Go to one of the galleries tomorrow, or a museum, maybe climb up into the dome at Saint Paul’s or have a walk round the zoo or something? We might as well do all the touristy stuff while it’s all still new and exciting. Before we get so used to living here that we stop noticing things.’
‘Is that what happens? Once you get used to something you stop noticing? Take it all for granted?’
‘What’s up, Mol?’ Usually, he can read her like a book, but not tonight. Something’s bothering her but he has no idea what it is. ‘Is that supposed to be a dig at me for some reason?’
‘No.’ She finishes her drink and stands up, heading for the tiny kitchen. She stops by his chair and runs her hand through his hair. ‘Just feeling sorry for myself. Too much time on my own lately, with nothing but the hoover and the telly to break the silence, that’s all. I’ll be talking to myself next.’
‘Well, we can put that right, now, can’t we?’ He looks at his watch. ‘Come on, it’s Friday night, and not even half past six. Why don’t you go and get dolled up and we’ll eat out somewhere, then catch a late film or something. Anything you like. You choose.’
‘But I’ve already started on dinner.’
‘What is it?’
‘Just a lasagne. And I got us some nice fresh salad.’
‘Can’t you leave it?’ He’s not really in the mood for munching on lettuce leaves. ‘We’ll have it at the weekend.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Go on then. Bung it all back in the fridge and go get changed.’
She hovers for a moment as if she’s thinking about it, then bustles away into the kitchen to deposit her empty cup and put a stop to whatever preparations she had been in the middle of.
Within half an hour they are on the crowded Tube, grabbing the last two seats as the train pulls away into the tunnel, she by the door, him three seats away on the other side. He watches her as she studies the map of the line up high on the wall, sees her lips twitch as she forms the silent words and counts the stations, like an excited child working out how long it will be until they are there. She looks down again and realises he is watching, gives him a smile as the woman next to her stands up ready to get off, and gestures for him to move, stretching her arm out to guard the empty seat until he is able to push his way through the people still standing and join her.
Her hand lands on his knee and stays there.
‘Not long now,’ he says. ‘Three more stops. What do you fancy eating?’
Molly shakes her head. ‘No idea. Let’s just see what’s around, shall we? Everywhere might be full on a Friday night. We haven’t booked…’
‘This is London, Mol. Tourists milling about, theatre-goers, kids. You can bet your life not a lot of them have booked! We’ll get in somewhere, no trouble. And there’s always McDonald’s.’
‘Well, you really know how to push the boat out, don’t you?’ She laughs.
‘You love a burger and chips, and you know it!’
‘True. And, honestly, I don’t really mind what we have. Pizza, steak, Chinese. Anything but lasagne though, eh? It would be a terrible shame to have to pay for one when there’s a perfectly good one sitting untouched at home.’
The stations slip by quickly and soon they are stepping out onto a crowded platform and heading for the escalators, Molly’s hand looped through the crook of his arm.
Jack yawns. His working week is catching up with him, but they are in London and he wants to enjoy it, have some fun. What was the alternative? To slump in an armchair in front of the TV like a middle-aged man, picking at a plateful of pasta from a tray on his lap? Watching some soap opera or an old film he’s seen before, and nodding off by eleven? He doesn’t want that sort of a life. Not now. Not yet. Maybe never.
They emerge into a bustle of bodies crowding the pavement, people stopping to cross the road, work out their bearings, look up at some statue or other. There are big black taxis whizzing past, the constant noise of traffic, and the shops are still open, racks of curling postcards and tacky souvenirs, music and bright lights spilling out all around them. Molly looks at it all in wonder and slips her hand down his arm, gripping tightly at his hand as if she’s afraid they might get separated in the crowd and she might get lost.
‘Well, we did it, Mol.’ He bends a little and speaks close to her ear. ‘Like it or not, we’re Londoners now.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ She takes the opportunity to kiss him, aiming for his lips but just skimming his cheek as he straightens up again. ‘But now we’re here, we might as well make the most of it. Is that a cinema over there?’
‘It’s Leicester Square, Mol, so yeah, it definitely is. It’s the one where they have all the big opening-night premieres, I think. Shall we go and see what’s on and if we can get a ticket for later?’
‘Do you think we might see anyone famous?’
‘I doubt it. They may turn out in force for a premiere, but I don’t suppose they hang about here on a normal night. But you never know. Even film stars and pop singers go out on the town, and they have to eat, don’t they? And London’s the place to be. We might find ourselves sitting next to Beyoncé!’
‘Doesn’t she live in America?’
‘Well, someone British then. Ed Sheeran…’
‘Who?’
Jack drops a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. ‘You do make me laugh sometimes.’
‘So long as you’re not laughing at me.’
‘Of course not. I just love how unaware of things you are sometimes. As if you still live in a little village bubble that the big wide world can’t touch. And I wouldn’t change that – or you – for the world.’
‘Good.’ She squeezes his hand. ‘I love you too.’
They walk on in silence, but Jack knows he didn’t actually say that he loves her. He feels a little stab of guilt about that, but the moment has passed and it’s too late to say it now. They stop outside the Odeon and look at the films on offer. He’s lucky that she has agreed to move here with him, not put up a fight or make things difficult. She is doing her best to support him, let him have what he wants, even though he knows none of this is her dream. His stomach rumbles, and he realises just how hungry he is. There are restaurants everywhere, so much choice, so much life, and it’s all here for the taking. He knows he owes Molly so much more than a burger and chips.