Sir, no need to shove! Honestly. Is is that smell coming from you?
Sorry, the man mumbled, shuffling back. He muttered something else under his breath, grumpy and low. He stood there, counting out loose change on his palmprobably short for a bottle, Rita thought, peering at his face. Funny thing, though. He didnt actually look drunk.
Erm, sorry, I didnt mean to offend you, she found herself saying, rooted to the spot.
Its alright. He met her gazestartlingly blue eyes, clear and vivid, nothing faded there. He looked about Ritas own age. She was struck, having never seen eyes like his on anyone before, even in her youth.
Rita took his arm gently and steered him a little way from the small queue for the till.
Are you alright? Do you need a hand with something? she asked, trying not to wrinkle her nose.
At last Rita realised the smell wasnt drinkjust stale sweat. He stayed silent, slipping the coins into his pocket, embarrassed to talk about his troubles with a stranger, especially an elegant, well-dressed woman like her.
Im Rita. Whats your name? she offered.
Martin.
So, do you need any help? she prompted, suddenly aware she was being rather forward.
To some homeless fellow, too. He glanced at her with those piercing eyes, then fixed his gaze away. Never mind. She turned to go just as he quietly managed:
Im looking for work. Dont suppose you know if theres any odd jobs going? Bit of fixing, gardening. Its a big nice village here, but I dont know anyone Sorry
Rita listened, silent. Martins words faded into an embarrassed grumble. Should she really consider letting a stranger near her home? She was in the middle of redoing the bathroom tiles; her son had said hed do it himself, telling her not to hire any cowboy builders, but he was constantly tied up with work
Do you know how to fit tiles? she asked him.
I do, yes.
How much for a ten square metre bathroom?
He gave a small grunt of surprise, likely at the size.
Id have to see the job. Really, whatever you thinks fair.
Martin did the work meticulously and quickly. He even asked if he could have a shower firstRita was glad he thought of it himself. She could only hope he wouldnt leave germs behind, but she gave him some of her late husbands clothes to change into, and he washed his own bits and pieces. The repairs took him the weekend: he chiseled off the old tiles, cleaned up perfectly, wiped down the tools and put everything back just so. By Sunday night, her bathroom glistened with brand new tiling. Rita felt oddly jittery, now that Martin was almost done. He was probably homeless. Should she let him stay one more night? It seemed odd. But driving him out at midnight felt worse.
She barely slept Saturday, locking her bedroom door and lying awake, listening out, but Martin mustve been exhaustedhe crashed out on the sitting-room sofa without a peep.
All donecome and see, Margaretta! he called cheerily.
What could she say? The work was absolutely immaculate.
Martin, what did you do before? Rita asked, admiring the finish.
I was a physics teacher. Graduated from Manchester Poly.
Manchester Metropolitan now, isnt it?
Back then it was Manchester Poly. As for the DIYI always thought every self-respecting man should be able to handle those sorts of jobs. Or so I reckon.
She nodded and took the cash shed set aside from her purse. She was no misershe paid him what shed have given proper workmen. Martin tucked the notes away without counting and started to put his shoes on, already changed back into his own, now dry clothes.
Hang on! Youre just going to dash off like that? Rita said, a bit put-out.
Whats wrong? He turned, fixing her with those extraordinary eyes.
At least have something to eat! Youve worked all day. I only ever saw you pausing for tea, not even wanting a break.
Martin shuffled, indecisive, then shrugged. Oh, alright. Wouldnt say no, thanks.
Rita joined him for a bit of fish, although she never usually ate after six. But it turned out he was very easy and pleasant to talk tocharming, clever, and, she thought, under all that, very lost. He carried an air of heaviness that no hot shower or heart-to-heart could quite wash away. That, she supposed, took time.
Martin, what actually happened to you, if you dont mind me asking?
He paused, then answered: You know, I could spin some sob story and itd sound either heroic or silly. Ive heard more than enough like that myself these past eight years. But my one really happened. Why would you want to hear it?
I just cant get my head around itsomebody like you, in such a strange position
He studied her face intently. Then something shifted they both rose from their seats at exactly the same moment. They awkwardly collided by the doorand then everything took on a life of its own. At fifty-three, Rita had never imagined shed feel passion like that again. Shed always thought those were the follies of youth: wild, blazing, all-consuming.
Later, Martin told her the full story. Eight years earlier, hed tried to help a star pupil from a rough family, a lad who got caught up with a bad crowd. The boy hadnt wanted to be there, but its hard to escape once youre in deep. So Martin, Sir, went to have it out with the gang leader: some twenty-two-year-old thug with not a scruple in him. There was no talkingthey set on Martin right away. But hed practiced judo all his life and he handled them easilyexcept the ringleader was sent flying, crashed into a concrete wall and broke his spine. He didnt survive. Martin himself called the ambulance and the police, convinced that, at most, theyd charge him with using more force than necessary to defend himself. Couldnt even be sure it was too much forceit was a pack attack.
He got twelve years for manslaughter, though was out four early on good behaviour. People live in prison thats all there is to say, was all hed tell her of that.
When he returned, there was no-one left for him. His mum had passed, had even sold her flat and spent her last years with his uncle. The uncles wife declared, Dont want an ex-con under this roof. Martins own wife had long divorced him, remarried, moved on. So hed tried his luck in London, but post-prison life had been brutally hard. Nobody wanted to hire someone with eight years inside. He begged for odd jobs from villagers where he wound up quite by chance, but faced suspicion, distaste, sometimes outright aggression. In the end, he ran out of money and a place to stay. The mate whod let him crash the first weeks politely asked him to move on.
How long has it been? Rita asked, watching the cherry of his cigarette glow.
Oh about two weeks now.
He was smoking her cigarettes; once in a blue moon she indulged, and a pack had lain forgotten in a drawer. Martin had offered to walk down the shop for his own, but she wouldnt have it. Now, she found herself wondering what two weeks of being truly nowhere must feel like.
In the gentle orange glow, confessions came easier. Rita had invited him to her bedno sense pretending otherwise.
So, youve got any ID at all? she asked.
Yep, he chuckled. No proof of address though. Thats the main headache.
Martin stayed. And everything settled beautifully: Rita arranged temporary registration, and he found work. Not as a teacher, but he was grateful just the samehe took a job at the local hardware shop, glad of a steady wage. On his days off (he worked a two-on, two-off rota), Martin started tutoring students in physics privately, gradually building up regulars. They passed two and a half months in peace and newfound happiness.
Then, Ritas son arrived. Sizing up the domestic scene, he called his mother aside for a serious word.
You need to get rid of him.
What? Rita was taken aback. Theyd long stopped interfering in each others lives.
I mean it, Mum. You dont need some penniless hanger-on. Hes just using you for a roof. God, dont be daft.
Rita slapped her son across the cheek.
Dont you dare! Dont you dare meddle in my life!
Mum, youve forgotten Im your heir. I dont want to be left splitting an inheritance with some random bloke. If you go and marry himGod forbidhell have claims on everything. If anything happens, hell want his share.
So youre laying me out for the will already? Rita shot back furiously. What exactly are you so desperate to inherit? Ill outlive you yet!
Mum, dont make me do something well both regret. Im looking out for myself, thats all. You cant blame me. If youd found a proper mansomeone well-offfine. But this
So, in your mind, respectability just means money, does it? Did I raise you to think like that?
Mum, Ive said what I needed to. Ill be back in a weekhed better be gone. Dont come crying to me, youve been warned.
Rita entered the house, blinking away tears.
Hes a copper, isnt he? Martin asked.
Sorry, I didnt tell you
You didnt have to. No worries.
Hes a Crown Prosecution Service investigator. Hes a good man, Martin, just cautious. Overprotective.
So, whatll you do? Martin looked at her, concerned.
Rita sat at the table, unsure. What could she do? She knew her sons threats werent empty. If she didnt act, he could easily make Martins life miserableperhaps even get him banged up again. She didnt want to believe her own son could go that far, but he seemed truly resolved this time.
Its spring Martin said after a while. Nothing come to you? Shall I make a suggestion?
She nodded, eyes swimming. She couldnt bear to give Martin up, but dragging them both into a fight with Davy felt reckless, too.
Ive been saving up. You never asked. Wont stretch to a plot here, but twenty miles out, itll do. We can set up a portable cabin for now, start building bit by bit. I can carry on tutoring. If I dont have a day job, so be it. Ill build us a house myself. What do you say?
Rita was speechless. Worry flickered across Martins face.
I know youre used to comfort. But thisll be temporary, and then Ill have everything sorted and polished for you.
Ive got savings too, Rita said thoughtfully. I could put some towards it.
I wouldnt dare ask
Youre not asking! Im offering. Its for us.
Martin approached her where she sat, placing his hands gently on her head, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her hair. Rita felt warmth, safety, and a deep lovenever imagining shed find it at her age.
They set everything in motion swiftly. Sorted the paperwork. Martin insisted she be the legal owner, but Rita wouldnt have it.
Ive property of my own. Just because we got booted out doesnt mean I havent. Youve nothing except me. Dont make it all mineIve an heir, she finished with a wry smile, remembering Davys words.
They installed a cabin, hooked up the electrics, and Martin set about house building, sleeves rolled up. Turned out, Ritas savings werent quite enough, so Martin flung himself into tutoring with fresh determination, setting up a little corner away from view so nobody realised he was teaching from a cabin. Every penny went into the house. Brick by brick. On soft summer evenings, they would spread a blanket across their plot, lie on the earth and gaze at the stars.
What do you feel in your heart? Martin would ask, arm around her.
A second wind, shed reply.
I feel a second wind too, hed laugh. But I want you to feel my love, most of all.
And she did. She truly did.
One day, Rita popped back to the house for clothes. Autumn was coming and she needed warm jumpers, thick duvets, and a few kitchen bits. She found Davy in the kitchen, cigarette in hand.
Oh, hello, love. I wont be longjust grabbing some things. How are you?
He glanced sideways at his motherbright, tanned, slimmed down.
Mum, whats going on? You never call.
We never really did, did we? Youre busy at workyou call me when youre free.
Why cant I ever seem to catch you at home?
I dont live here. Just popped in to pick up a few bits. That alright, I hope?
Davy was speechless. There was something different about his mumnot just what was on the outside. She felt lighter. Happier.
Love, give us a bit longer to finish up, and Ill invite you over. But for nowIm run off my feet.
She bundled things into two holdalls, flitting back and forth. As she passed Davy, she planted a kiss on his cheek, bustling on.
Mum, whats got into you? he called after her.
Rita spun in the doorway, beamed, and answered, Second wind, Davy. And love. Of course, love! See you, darling! She laughed, dashing off and out the door.
Time was tight. They were building the porch today.
