A Book In A Month - Chapter 7

 Clara opened a stinging eye. She used it to take in an impression of the new day. A watery sun filtered through the translucent curtains that billowed in the breeze. That's odd, Clara thought, lazily, that's not my window. In fact, that's not a window, it's patio doors. She tried desperately hard to open her other eye. Oh dear, she was so very tired. Slowly Clara took in the room, a living room. Propping herself up on one elbow, she could hear a feint sound coming from a stereo somewhere to her left. Looking in that direction Clara could see a door with small panels of frosted glass and beyond it, she could make out a person in a dress. Where the hell am I? Clara thought as she lifted the duvet to see what she was wearing. Oh blimey, she mused, I'm naked, luckily I'm not in some blokes bedroom.

A head popped around the door, 'Good morning, fancy a cuppa of some kind? It was Keith the meditation guru. Clara grabbed the duvet tightly and realised that she must look a fool, which immediately made her feel a fool. 'Jane's here somewhere, and Tim, Shane, Gerry and Claire.' He said.

Clara felt confused. Where was she? Who's place was this? Was it so big that it could swallow up all these people? Was he in a dress or some kind of kaftan?

'Well? Tea? Coffee?'

'Oh, uh, tea please.' She was distant, floating about in a parallel universe, do they have tea here? She wondered wearily.

'Great night wunnit?' Keith called from behind the frosted glass, 'You were a scream. Gotta admit I would never 'ave thought you had it in you. Quite a mover, you are.' He swerved around the door with a tray of mugs. 'Tea's-up!' He yelled as he put the tray on the coffee table. The cups rested on Caras eye-line. The rising steam mesmerising her as it swirled about the sunlight and sensuously danced it towards the ceiling. Distant voices seeped into Claras' consciousness, growing louder, chattering and laughing, sounding bright and breezy. Keith sat on the edge of her bed and handed her an oversized mug with brightly coloured flowers all over it. 'Sugar?' Clara shook her head. She sipped her tea, avoiding making eye contact. She knew she must look a mess and, quite frankly, felt a fool. She was the only person still in bed and now everyone was about to descend on her.

In trooped the crowd, all in a rough looking state. Some were in bed clothes, others had clearly dressed in a hurry. All had neglected to attend to their hair. They perched themselves around the room, sharing a couple of armchairs. Clara looked at them, they were suddenly quiet, occupied with sipping their tea. They looked very tired and relaxed.

The group spent a while together, drinking tea and eating toast, which Keith produced in copious amounts, by running both his grill and toaster. He was fussy about food, using pure foods, butter, jam and Marmite. Certainly, everyone ate heartily, wolfing down a couple of loaves of bread between them, Then they all dispersed to get ready to hit the shops. 'They' included Clara in their plan for the day. Clara wondered where Jane had slept last night. Who she had slept with. She got out of bed with her duvet wrapped around her small body, and stumbled off . Clara needed to find her clothes and a shower.

*

John was reading his book on Indian Birds, cup of tea in hand, sitting in his old chair. He was contented. He noticed that quite a lot of the birds were marked and dated. The original owner used the book like a diary, writing the date and the location of sightings in the margin beside the images of the birds. He began to wonder where the owner had been and when. He decided he would have to pop out and buy a decent map of India and plot the journeys the owner had taken. The dates might match up with Simons' stay in India. John pondered on the chances that this had been his book. Was this really his father in law's' box of treasure?

Simon finished his coffee and got ready to walk the short distance into town. He would go into the very smart outdoors shop on the high street. It catered to the real outdoor pursuits enthusiasts, the climbers and mountaineers, the extreme wilderness trekkers. The young. It did not cater to the eighty something artificial hip brigade, as he liked to think of himself. He was banking on the shop being able to sell him a really good map of India that showed the tiny hamlets and bye roads as well as the major cities and trunk roads.

He thought, that whilst he was in town, he could treat himself to a far too expensive coffee in a far too expensive looking coffee house. But first the map. It was a bit drizzly making him wish he had put on his new flat cap, so he kept his head down. He leant on his walking stick for support and managed to make it to the shop before the rain began to trickle down the back of his neck, inside his cheap cagoule. An assistant approached to ask if he would like assistance and then led him to the map section. He was confused by the choice, but thrilled to find a couple of comfortable chairs and a coffee table. He took off his dripping cagoule and placed it over the back of the other chair, sat himself down on the free chair, rested his walking stick against its' arm and ordered the assistant to bring him a selection of maps. He rather liked it here,

'I don't suppose you could do me a coffee while I look over theses, could you?' John asked.

The assistant declined explaining the risk of ruination if any drinks came into contact with their publications.

'Well it was worth a try', John said in a perky voice as he donned his two pairs of glasses to begin studying the half a dozen maps that had been placed on the table. The assistant left him to make his choices. John decided he rather liked it in this shop. His small, bookish alcove overlooked the boot department where a man was walking up a stony incline, rolling his feet in preposterous ways to test the ankle support his chosen boots offered. Another customer was looking at crampons. It was not even winter, but, he knew, of course, that it is always winter somewhere. After nearly an hour of people and map perusal, John had made his choice. It was not cheap at nearly twenty pounds, however it appeared to be detailed, although he would have to have those new glasses that Clara had made such a fuss about. Perhaps he should do that today too.

John went into a high street opticians and had an on the spot eye test and ordered his glasses for one hours time. It cost him nearly eighty pounds. This family investigation lark is beginning to hit me in the pocket, he muttered, as he doddered towards the coffee shop for a pointless pee and an enjoyable drink.

The coffee shop was packed, he was given a seat on a table with an elderly lady. He wondered if the young girl who had placed him, so politely, had been matchmaking. The old girl sitting opposite him at the shiny, little table, paid him scant regard, barely responding to his opening gambit about 'today's weather' and even less when he said what a lovely cup of coffee they made here. So he fished out his new map and hid behind it slurping his drink noisily. That'll teach the snobby old tart, he smirked.

'Dad, what are you doing here?' Chirped a familiar voice.

He looked up to find himself surrounded by young, smiling strangers. 'Oh, hullo', he said, somewhat uncertainly, “I'm having a coffee, what does it look like?'

'Is that a map of India?' Cut in Keith. Dyu mind if we join yu?'

Seats were found and most of the shabby crew were seated near the table in a muddled huddle, Keith closest to John. They peered at the map together, discussing Johns, interest in the subcontinent and Keiths' own connections. John was wearing his two pairs of glasses, much to the obvious embarrassment of Clara. 'Don't worry love. I'm picking up a new pair in half an hour, then you wont have to tell me off any more.' Everyone laughed and John was puzzled that Clara had never mentioned these lovely friends of hers before.

'Oh yes,' said John in reply to one of Keith's questions, ' I spent some time in India with Claras' mum. In fact Clara was born there. In Delhi. They always called it New Delhi in those days, of course.'

'You sayin she's that old, John?' laughed Keith .

Their conversation burbled onward, until the coffee cups were drained it was time to head out into the rain once more. The group of youngsters went on their way and John limped to the opticians and then home, map and three pairs of glasses all safely stowed away and him, over a hundred pounds lighter.