Molly put on her green hat, the one she wore to Sheila’s wedding, and locked the front door. It was just a short walk to the tea-shop but she took her time. Had it been a good idea to choose a spot so close to home? Anyway, too late now. He wouldn’t know that and the shop was nice, she felt comfortable there.
What was his name? She wrote it on the back of her hand but she forgot as soon as she did so. Yes, Derek, an author. Quite a surprise, actually. His email looked written by a cultured person, he wrote well and seemed to have a sense of humour.
Mam always said ‘You need a man with a sense of humour.’ The only man Molly had known was the man she married, that Harry Picken, and he was no joker. Twenty four years of drudgery proved that. After he died, she never thought of a male companion again till Betty at the Social Centre talked about it.
“So easy to join up! Within a minute you can see who’s online! I can show you how.” Betty loved interfering; meant no harm but she did annoy sometimes.
Two days later Molly went to change her library books. She saw the internet machine by the front desk.
“It’s called a P.C.” Said the girl behind the counter. “Do you want me to show you how it works? She fiddled with the keyboard and a picture appeared on the screen.
“Now you can find what you want on Google” The word stared at her in a bold way. Below, a section with a blank space lured her on.
“Go on” said the girl, “type in what you want.”
Molly sat down at the desk and waited till she’d gone. Typing had been her forte; thirty years in Mister Althorp’s office taught her that, but she wondered what to write. The blank space challenged her. Her fingers hovered over the keys, awaiting commands. Before she knew it, the word ‘meeting’ appeared in neat script on the screen. She looked round quickly. Did anyone see? No, so she tapped Enter just like the girl had done.
Up came a list of names, and she clicked on the first one. The screen changed and a title ‘Partners Choice’ took over; all the rest of the items disappeared. From then onward it became simply a matter of following the instructions and picking the name. She clicked on. Such fun! She was on the ‘Internet’ like Betty and by typing she could make things happen! When the name of Derek came up, the description ‘author’ intrigued her and she tapped a message so the meeting was arranged.
Sitting in the tea-shop, she felt it may have been a mistake. She didn’t know Derek. Why had she done it? Perhaps the excitement of trying something new? Or was it a subconscious wish to make contact? Any contact? She fidgeted and crumpled a serviette; it seemed to stick like gum to her fingers.
A voice shattered this reverie. The waitress stood arms akimbo at her side. “Is it tea for one?”
“No I’m waiting for someone. It’s tea for two.”
The girl repeated the order as if she found it unusual, but Molly looked away and ignored her. The café began to fill up with mothers and children, older couples and a few single people. A quick glance at each single man was all she could do. She longed for the tea to arrive, at least then she could busy herself with preparations but she couldn’t catch the waitress’s eye.
Then she noticed the blind man treading carefully through the maze of tables. He wore dark glasses and he held his stick in front of him like a water diviner. He tripped at one point and she saw the need to steady him as he approached.
“Are you alright? It’s very crowded in here isn’t it?” She felt a fool; how could he see ?
He nodded and said “Can you put me near a table with a single lady please? Are you the waitress? I’m looking for a Mrs Molly Picken.” She froze. Her mind went blank. She hesitated while she did her best to make sense of it. How did he write the internet entry? Why didn’t he say he was blind? An author? He waited patiently by the table. He made no complaint but just stood there with his empty eyes fixed on her.
“Mind your back, Love!” The waitress lifted her tray high and put it down between them on the table. Then she looked at him for the first time and took his arm and sat him down in the chair facing Molly.
“There you go! Just make yourself comfortable and the lady will pour for you, won’t you?”.
She looked at Molly in a deliberate way as if to oblige her to speak or do something, then she marched away to deal with someone else.
“Are you Molly?” His voice was low and pleasant. He leant forward but she sat back in surprise.
“Yes. I’m Molly Picken and you are Derek?” How banal her reply sounded! and added quickly, “I wondered what you looked like!” She felt even worse.
He grinned. “I can’t help you with that. Maybe you can tell me!” He put one hand out gently to feel for the tray. “Would you like a cup of tea?” His hand touched the cups and traced the outline of the teapot and jug.
“Oh, Please let me!” Like a spell, she woke her from inertia and eagerly set about making tea and arranging plates for them both. He smiled and put his hands back on his lap.
“You’re wondering why I didn’t say I was blind aren’t you? And how did I manage the internet?”
“Yes” She said and was surprised how easy it seemed to chat with him.
“Well, I knew if I said so, no one would reply, so I got the Warden to write it for me and see what happened. Maybe I did wrong?
“Yes I think you did wrong! But never mind now, here’s your tea.”
He took the cup and they sat for a while without saying a word. Molly examined her mixed feelings of surprise and recrimination . He was here and real. What was the point in brooding over what had passed?
She looked at his clothes, the grubby jacket had buttons missing; his trousers were frayed old cords; he was a mess. It didn’t matter. She felt glad she’d come. They talked about the town and the way things had changed; he told her he had been a sailor and a deep sea diver. How he spent years in the Far East and lost a fortune in India. She wondered at the contrast between her life and his, the wealth of excitement he had found and her quiet homespun history. He never told her how he’d become blind and she was too embarrassed to ask. It seemed unimportant as they chatted together. The tea grew cold as they talked on and when the waitress came back, clearing the table, she looked at Derek.
“Nice cup of tea, my Love?”
She ignored Molly. Molly took out her purse and paid the bill. No tip.
There was some activity at the door of the Café and two men moved purposely towards their table. They stood next to Derek and one of them said,
“Come on Derek, you can’t keep running off like this. You’re causing grief at the ward. You’ll lose you Leave-outs after this.”
They pulled him up by his armpits and began to move to the door. He turned towards Molly. His face was bright as a happy schoolboy.
“See you Molly, thanks for the tea!” She watched as they led him to a van outside and carefully guided his head into the back seat. He sat quietly as the vehicle moved and never turned his head.
The key made that familiar rusty noise as she unlocked the front door. The hall was dark and cold. She hung her coat and went into the kitchen to finish the washing up. Everything was as she had left it. She dried the dishes and for a moment, just one moment, she pictured his worn smile and frayed clothes that needed repair. Her eyes softened as she recalled the stories he told. Could they be true? It didn’t matter.
Then she sighed and put away the crockery.