The Serial: The Green Years, Day 41

Ian Brown was unable to speak. How much courage had it taken for Fiona to make the journey to see him?

Rab took a deep breath. “No,” he said, “I didn’t get a bonnie uniform. In fact,” he concluded, “I’ll not be going back.” He gulped down his second cup of black tea. “So,” he said, standing up and replacing the cup in its saucer, “I’ll not be turning up at the City Square ‘dressed to kill’, so to speak. There’ll just be me as I am. Take it or leave it.”

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing was said. Then, Chrissie spoke. “I’ll take it.”

Rab stopped in his tracks. “What did you say?”“I said, I’ll take it, Rab Skelly,” Chrissie replied and she meant it. “If you’ll take me as I am as well.”

All thoughts of meeting Tommy Murphy again, vanished as Chrissie at last knew for certain – Rab, with all his hard exterior and clumsy shyness, was the man for her.

“So, Rab Skelly,” she said softly, “will you still meet me at the City Square to bring in the New Year. Just as you are?”

Chrissie felt two strong arms surround her and Rab’s lips on hers. That was answer enough.

“So, who was the guy in the car?” he asked as Chrissie walked him to the front door.

“Just a friend of Mum’s” she lied, unwilling to say anything more about Ian Brown. Rab seemed satisfied.

“I’ll tell Kenny that Maisie’s OK, then?” he said, kissing her again.

“She’ll be home before the New Year,” Chrissie assured him, “so tell him not to worry.” Loosened grip Rab didn’t want to let Chrissie go and held her closer. “You know that I love you,” he said, gruffly. “Always have.”

Chrissie loosened his grip and looked him full in the face. “And I love you too, Rab Skelly,” she said, “and I always have as well.”

Chrissie closed the door and went to her bedroom. She slipped off the silver bracelet and along with the letter from Tommy Murphy, placed them both back into the darkness of the drawer. She wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Ian Brown quickly discovered that Boxing Day wasn’t the best of times to try to get his car fixed.

The police had towed it to their compound but it would be Tuesday before anything could be done.

Fortunately, Ian had fared better than his motor and had been discharged by the doctors on the strict orders that he should rest for the next few days. But that had been impossible.

He hadn’t been allowed to see Maisie before he’d left the hospital but was told her condition was stable and he should check with her parents for any more information.

Check with her parents, he thought, almost laughing to himself – he didn’t even have a clue where the family lived!

Today, he had to hand his insurance documents in to Bell Street police station, visit his mother, who would be frantic if he didn’t arrive for the usual Boxing Day tea, get in touch with NCR about missing his next shift and walk Rebel who was getting frantic to be out.

It all seemed too much to cope with and tears of shock and loneliness welled in his eyes as he tried to make sense of the whole mess.

It was Rebel who alerted him to the noise at the front door. Ian blew his nose and pulled himself together.

“Please, not more bad news” he muttered to himself as he turned the lock. “Fiona!” he exclaimed, not sure if he was seeing things. “What are you doing here?” Hateful Fiona gently moved past him into the flat, taking off her gloves and scarf as she did so.

“I’ve come to say I’m sorry,” she said bluntly, her eyes examining the backs of her hands.

“I was rude and hateful about Maisie and I don’t want to lose your friendship, so I’ve come to ask if you can forgive me?”

Ian Brown was unable to speak. How much courage had it taken for Fiona to make the journey to see him, when he’d called her a snob the last time they’d met.

Her eyes found his and she joined him in the silence. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, finally, “you look like you’ve been crying?”

“I was in a car accident,” he muttered vaguely, rubbing his face with his hands to try to bring himself back to reality.

“Car accident!” Fiona exclaimed, now realising just how shaken Ian looked. “Are you all right?” she asked stupidly.

Of course he was all right. He was standing in front of her. “Please, sit down,” she said, “I’ll make you some tea.”

She looked around the little room and spotted a door through to a scullery. “Won’t be long,” she said, “Two sugars, isn’t it?”

In the sanctuary of the scullery, Fiona calmed her breathing as the kettle boiled.

She had debated with herself long and hard as to whether she should come to see Ian but now she was glad she did. He looked terrible.

She handed him a mug of tea and took a seat opposite him. The wine bottle and two glasses were still sitting on the coffee table.

One of the glasses had to have been for Maisie, Fiona surmised, but she didn’t want to think about that now, she’d worry about it later.

Ian felt some warmth return to his heart as he drank the sweet tea. “Better?” Fiona asked.

“A bit,” Ian replied, conscious now of how it all must look to Fiona. Guilt “Is there anything I can do?” Fiona asked, quietly. “The car’s at the door if you want to go to the hospital – or anything.”

She knows, Ian realised, but she’s still here and offering help. Ian felt a stab of guilt. How could he have treated her so badly?

“I can’t take up any more of your time,” he said. “You must have other things to do on Boxing Day but, if you could...?”

Fiona took control. She looked at Rebel, whose eyes were pleading to go for a walk.

“Tell you what,” she said, donning her scarf and gloves again, “I’ll take Rebel out for a while, he looks like he’s desperate.

“When I come back, if there’s anything else needs doing, I’d only be too glad...”

Ian held up a silencing finger to his lips. “Rebel would really appreciate a walk,” he said, looking at his dog as its ears pricked up at the mention of its name and the word ‘walk’.

In the quietness that followed Fiona and Rebel’s departure, Ian tidied away the glasses and the wine bottle along with the mugs and changed his clothes into something warm and comfortable. More tomorrow.