A Book In A Month - Chapter 19

The group headed out for their, now usual, Friday night of clubbing with a plan in mind. The plan, unbeknown to Clara and Keith was to match make them. The moment the girls make a massed advance on the toilets, the men begin to work on Keith. They would not hear of his pleas that she was far too old for him. Nor were they impressed with his cries of, look at her, she's the wrong height for me. They insisted that the two of them got along so well and that far from looking wrong together, they actually looked perfect as a couple.

Meanwhile in the ladies toilets, the girls were attempting to weave their magic on Clara, who was having none of it. She did not tell them that she was gay, preferring to dwell on the same faults with the idea that Keith was expounding at the bar. Both of them say that if they were nearer in age, that they might be a little more interested. Age is no defence, was yelled simultaneously in the ladies and at the bar. People looked around, confused about the source of the noise. Each gender finally insist that they're perfect for each other and had better get on with it this evening, or they would have to face the consequences. It was all in good humour, but the threat bore down on the two friends and by the end of the night they have a smooch together,to whoops and hollars from the rest of the group.

Clara whispered in Keiths ear, ”You know, it's nothing personal, but.... I'm gay.”

He laughed and said, “Nice try.” Kissing her tenderly on her naked shoulder, he held her more tightly. She protested discreetly. Looking over Keiths shoulder for some help and support, Clara caught sight of the others who were enjoying the show. Clara felt embarrassed about her new situation. It was clear that she would have to come clean about her sexuality. Clara felt a knot developing in the pit of her stomach. She would chat to Jane about it first. With Jane for support perhaps they could raise the subject together.

Jane handed a cocktail to Clara as she and Keith stepped off the dance floor together and Clara grabbed her by the elbow, hissing, “Loo. Now!”

Off they swooped, leaving Keith to the ravening group.

“I need to chat to you about the Keith thing,” Clara said. “It's Keith, I told him I'm gay.” Jane laughs. “Jane, I wasn't joking.”

“Oh. God, why didn't you say so?”

“Life's never that easy.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“I need to let the group know the truth,”Clara took a long slurp from her cocktail, “Or at least, to get well drunk.”

*

Clara woke up in a dreamy haze. She reached for her clock, but couldn't find it. Opening one eye, she scanned the bedside cabinet, a low table. Reality seeped into her. A bedroom. That is unusual. A hand brushed her naked side. It drifted over her hip and came to a gentle rest on her buttock. Clara slamed her eye shut. Don't panic. Who the hell am I in bed with? Bloody hell. Speak to her. Him? Oh God. “Morning,” Clara burbled huskily.

“Mornin my lovely,” Janes voice echoed.

Clara was in bed with Jane. Naked. Touching. Private. Blimey!

“Morning Jane.” Clara could think of nothing to say that would not give away the complete void in her memory.

“Fancy a drink?” Jane asked brightly. “I'm pretty sure I heard someone out there doing the coffee thing.

“Um, yeh, OK. Yeh, that'd be nice. Thank you.” Was all that Clara could muster.

Jane pinched Claras' bottom as she removed her hand from it and slipped out of bed. She picked up her pashmina from the floor and swirled it around her nakedness. “Hmm, that looks pretty good. I might wear it like this more often. What dya think?”

Clara rolled over and took a look. “Gorgeous,” fell from her mouth. Yes, Jane did look gorgeous. Truly gorgeous.

“Jane giggled and said, “Thanks,” as she slipped out of the bedroom.

Clara sat up dragging the duvet up to her shoulders as she did so.

Within minutes Jane breezed back into the room with a couple of mugs of coffee, flicking the door closed with her heel. Lifting both elbows, she allowed the pashmina to regain it's home on the floor. Jane placed the coffees onto the bedside table and got back into bed.

They drank most of their coffee in silence. Clara felt at a distinct disadvantage. Jane was clearly comfortable with their situation. Clara was not. She had no idea how she came to be in bed with her friend. Every Saturday brought a shock. Having friends was fraught with dangers. She broached the subject of the night before.

“You said you were gay. Well, me too. So I decided to test the water, as they say. You said come on in, the water's lovely. And here we are.” Jane said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Probably. Look Jane, I'll be honest, I don't remember a thing.” Clara replied, looking deep into her coffee.

“To be honest, there's nothing to remember. We snogged, on the dance floor, on the way back here and carried on snogging when we got here. That's how we got the room. The others thought we should have some privacy. Then we undressed together which we seemed to find hilarious. We fell into bed in a lovely, tight cuddle and you fell asleep. Out cold. Funny.” Jane bumped her shoulder against Claras', held up her mug and said, “Cheers.”

They sipped their coffees.

“What happens now?” Asked Clara.

“The others think we're an item. How do you feel about that?” Jane replied.

“I don;t mind.” Clara replied.

“In that case, give us a kiss.” Jane said.

Sunday is the lovely time when the group chatter over coffee and toast. Today they had so much to discuss, Jane and Clara, who would have thought it? Alan claimed to be miffed as he insisted that he really fancied Jane and was about to make his move.

“Too late mate.” Jane burbled happily.

“Oh, I don't know,” Alan responds with a twinkle in his eye, “Now I know you're gay, I can help but fancy you even more.”

The conversation moved onto the trip to India, which the trio discussed with the group. Despite selling the ideas behind the journey, the quest for the two family histories, as well as the sight seeing, none of their friends wants to join them. For most it would take them away from work for far too long. One or two friends simply did not like the idea of of visiting a country that has so much poverty. There was always the looming concern over disease. There was genuine shock when Clara mentioned that having been born in India, she felt a need not only to settle the two questions her research had thrown up, but also to see the places that had formed her. There was surprise once the group had taken on board that Clara, the woman they had all assumed was Asian, but who was adamant that she was not, should now reveal that she was born there, in India.. Once the general chatter about Claras' place of birth had been exhausted, and the reasons for the holiday had been thoroughly picked over, the consensus was that her father was definitely hiding something from her. For Clara, it was nothing to worry about, and their love of a good conspiracy theory was not going to force her into mistrusting her ancient father.

*

Despite her faith in Johns, Clara could not resist mentioning that her friends thought that he was holding back something from her. They had been sitting in the living room, drinking coffee together when she raised the matter with him. John glanced into his mug, swirled the coffee that looked greyly back at him, and said, “My coffee's cold. I'll make another. D'you fancy another?” Struggling to his feet, he picks up his mug from the table and holds out a hand for Claras. He totters into his tiny kitchen. It still had a lingering smell of cottage pie. The dense aroma crammed into his nose , making him fancy eating some more of it. Having put on the kettle, John took a spoon and scooped out a generous portion of the meaty feast which had been left to cool, in readiness for freezing later. The flavour of the tepid food filled his entire head,. He swallowed and considered having more, but it was time to add the coffee granules to the mugs, as the water in the kettle is near boiling point. Having made the coffee John walked carefully back into the living room, carrying the two overfull mugs. He slopped drops of coffee as he walked. Once seated and sipping their hot, comforting , grey coffee, Clara broke the silence and asked her father about his memory. “How,” she wanted to know, “Could you forget when your mother in law died and whether, or not your father in law was around when I was born.”

John was hurt by her fixation on these points and told her not to be silly. The only thing he was hiding from her was his memory; “I've lost it!” He said. “That's why I've started this computer course. I need to exercise my brain.” He looked at Clara who was smiling at him. “I'm not kidding I'm around ninety, I can;t be too careful at my age.”

“Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to harp on about it. It just that my friends felt you were holding out on me for some reason. I don't think they have a clue how old you are.”

“Great! Now You're saying I'm senile. You don't think I am, do you?” He says.

They glance at each other, and burst out laughing. “There's no way you're losing your marbles dad. No way at all.”

“That's what Dylis said the other day. I asked her after you made such a fuss about this before.” John had begun to wonder if he was developing dementia. Dylis had reassured him that, as far as she could tell, he was perfectly normal. Somehow she had made him feel ten feet tall when she said it. He did not know why he felt that way, but he did and he loved it. “Dylis wasn't too bad,” he told Clara, “If you like that sort of thing.”

The evening had passed quickly and Clara needed to go home. She had hoped to take the copy of the map with her that night. John did not want her to have his original copy. He told her he would make her a copy of her own. Then she could keep it, rather than having to return it to him later. He was happy to work on it for Clara as it would give him something to do for the week and it would save her having to do it in her spare time. He planned a week at the college meeting up with Dylis, and at home with the map of Simons' journeys.