'When we get to Polreath on Saturday, I'm going to do
nothing,' said Anna.'I just want to sit and have cool drinks
and read and watch the world go by.'
'Me too,' replied Stephen.
It was the hottest summer for twenty years. It had started
at the end of May. Everyone thought the heat would only
last for a few days and then the rain would return, but this
summer was different.
'And don't expect any intelligent conversation from me,'
Anna continued. 'It'll take a day or two for me to become a
member of the human race again!'
'Mm,' said Stephen, not really listening. 'What about
this cottage we've booked, do you think it's going to be all
right? To be honest, I'm a bit worried about it - we were so
late making our decision and it was still available. Why
didn't anyone else want it? It makes me think there must be
something wrong with it.'
'Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine. And even if it's not,
we'll still be away from here. Just think - three weeks by
the sea, without any work. It sounds wonderful.'
In the city the heat was uncomfortable. People were not
used to high temperatures day after day. Journeys to work
became hot and sweaty, and increasingly bad-tempered in
the crowded trains and buses. By the beginning of July,
nobody could remember when it had last rained. Every-
5where you looked seemed to be brown - the grass in the
parks was burnt and most of the flowers had died. The sun
was burning hot and the air seemed to be getting thicker
and thicker. At the weekends, the place was empty as many
people left for the countryside.
But Stephen and Anna couldn't leave - not until the
weekend anyway.
* * *
Stephen was thirty-two with dark, curly hair. He had
noticed a few grey hairs that morning when he was drying
it after his shower. But he didn't mind too much; in fact, he
rather liked the idea of a few which might make him look
serious. But his face showed signs of stress and worry.
Stephen left the flat just before seven. He was earlier than
usual this morning because he wanted to avoid the rush
hour, but it seemed as if everyone else had had the same
idea — the roads were busy and there had been an accident
half way along Sussex Gardens. He waited impatiently
while the police sorted out the chaos but by the time he
arrived at work, he was late and not in a very good mood.
He locked the Saab and went into the cool building.
The offices of Jardine and Makepeace, advertising agents,
were on the fourteenth floor of a modern block with
wonderful views over Regent's Park. But this morning,
when Stephen found himself climbing the stairs (the lift
was out of order again!), he would happily have given up
the views for an office on the ground floor.
'Please let everything go smoothly today,' he said to
himself as he made his way up the stairs.
6Stephen was worried about work - the agency had lost
an important client that week. He felt that Charlie Jardine,
the agency boss, blamed him. A couple of days before, he'd
passed by Charlie's office and had heard him saying on the
phone, 'Yes, well, I'll have to talk to Stephen about that.
He was the one working on their new advertisement.'
Stephen hadn't heard any more but he thought that Charlie
sounded a bit angry.
He wondered if it was a bad time to go on holiday -
perhaps his job would disappear when he was away. But he
didn't want to miss this break - and in any case, Anna
would kill him if he suggested cancelling. So he said
nothing to her about his worries. He often found it hard to
talk about his problems, even with Anna. God knows why,
she was usually willing to listen.
In his mind, he would think through different ways of
opening the conversation with her, but everything he
thought of sounded so obvious - 'I'm worried about work'
or 'I'd like to talk to you about something'. In any case, he
really preferred to work things out himself. But he knew he
was not easy to live with when he didn't talk much.
'Morning Mark. Another lovely day,' panted Stephen,
and sat down to get his breath back. His shirt was wet and
sticking to his back.
'Morning Stephen,' said Mark. 'I'm not sure if it is a
lovely day. Clare's away - she's got food poisoning or
something - so between us we've got to do her work as well
as our own.'
'Oh hell! Just what I needed to hear!' replied Stephen.
Anna's last day began even earlier. At 6.30 that morning
she yawned as she walked across to St Phillips Hospital. It
7was another beautiful morning - for her the best time of
the day when the air was still fresh and the day was still full
of promise.
Her nurse's cap sat comfortably on her short blond hair.
She looked fresh and efficient in her blue uniform. She
loved her job as a nurse but it was hard. There always
seemed to be so much to do - more than ever since the
new manager had arrived.
'This weekend, when we're away,' she thought, 'I'm
going to get up early and walk along the beach before
anyone else is awake.' Then she laughed at the idea of
getting up early when she didn't have to! Well, maybe she
would - who knows, holidays can change people. Maybe
that's what she needed - change. She was thirty and had
been working at St Phillips since she'd finished her training
- perhaps it was time to move on.
Later in the day she went to say goodbye to Michael
Barton, a favourite patient who was recovering from a
major operation.
'Have a wonderful holiday!' he said.
'Thanks, I will. And I hope I won't see you when I get
back,' replied Anna. And as soon as she said it, she realised
what a stupid thing it was to say.
'I mean, I hope you won't still be in hospital, you know,
you'll be back at home,' she said quickly.
'It's all right, love. I know you weren't talking about me
dying! I hope I don't see you either - although I'll miss you
looking after me. Bye - all the best.'
She left the ward knowing that this time tomorrow she
would be in a different world. She got off the hospital bus
at the end of her street and walked slowly home, thinking
8about a cool beer in the back garden. They were lucky.
Their flat was on the ground floor of a nineteenth-century
house and the garden at the back was theirs. The garden
wasn't big but it was a wonderful place to escape to in the
summer. She wondered what sort of day Stephen had had.
She knew something was worrying him but was too tired
to do anything about it. Anyway, she knew from past
experience that it was no use asking directly. He'd once told
her that he could only talk about difficult things after they
were past and no longer difficult. 'I'll find out what it is on
holiday,' she thought. 'When we've got more time and
energy.'
As Stephen was about to leave the office that evening,
Charlie Jardine called him into his office and told him that
there were going to be some changes in the next month,
that probably one member of staff would have to go - 'be
made redundant' was how Charlie said it, but Stephen
thought 'sacked . . . fired . . . dismissed' was what he really
wanted to say. Then Charlie said, 'But of course, I don't
want to lose you.' Why didn't that make Stephen feel
better? He left work with a heavy heart.