A Way For Avril - Evelyn J. Steward (me reader txt) 📗

A Way for Avril.

Avril blinked her eyes. She closed her book and laid it on the little table beside her chair. It was a story about people and dragons. Nothing savage, as many stories were, but kindly dragons. It was a pleasant read. Not that the few people she knew would be interested with their mundane lives. Old Mr Popperwell two doors down loved reading, but only the Classics and his daily newspaper. Mrs Sensi at number twelve liked only Mills and Boon. Got stacks of them from the Library each week. Avril could not see how she could read what was basically the same story over and over again.
She sat for a few minutes with her eyes closed. The small front room that she knew so well, that was her comfort, dissolved as her mind whirred into action. What would life be like, she thought, if we all had a dragon to ourselves? She sighed, wondering about life on other worlds. Were there somewhere such worlds? Places where strange and exotic creatures lived? She thought of going up into space for a year going ever outward.
When you came back, the pundits said, life for those you left behind would have sped up and ten years would have elapsed. Well something like that, she wasn’t sure about the figures, her memory wasn’t what it used to be. Relativity! Yes, that was it. Einstein. She remembered a little of it now. Strange! Even here and now time ran faster for some and slower for others yet, how did one tell?
She sat pondering lots of theories. What was that quote? Life, the Universe, and everything! It filled her mind, it also filled time. Finally she opened her eyes and realised that the day had moved into twilight. Three weeks or so since the clocks had been put back. How she missed that hour.
Standing up, a sharp pain went through her hip. Getting old, she thought. Avril shuffled over to the bay window. The orange street lights were gleaming brightly. She didn’t like them. Too brash. The Borough Council said they deterred burglars. Well, that was one thought, she supposed. Didn’t stop the kids racing down the street, fighting and shouting, music playing on their mobile phones.
Avril reached up and drew the curtains, shutting out the impending darkness. Stepping to her left, she found the table lamp and clicked it on. A pool of soft light lit the room with a suffused glow. It was there so that she did not stumble whilst getting to the switch for the ceiling light. But she preferred the gentle ambience the lamp gave her. Jessica often railed at her to get a brighter light, but Jessica liked it bright. Avril did not. The lamp stood on a small cupboard and beside it stood a little clock. She picked it up, the hands showed it to be four thirty p.m. Time for a cup of tea.
Going into the small kitchen, Avril shook the kettle. It was half full from lunch time. She flicked on the switch then went to the draining board and picked up her cup and saucer from where she had washed it up earlier.
The tin of tea bags stood at the back of the counter. It was old with a picture of a country cottage on it. Jessica wanted to buy her a new tin, but why change something if it did not need changing? The price of teabags has gone up lately. I’ll have to start buying cheaper ones, she mused
One bag was deposited in her china cup with a couple of sweetners. In the cupboard she found a half empty packet of Jaffa Cakes. She put two on a plate and with her cup and saucer in hand, she placed both on the small table beside the cooker. The refrigerator produced a pint of milk and this was deposited beside the cup. By this time, the kettle had boiled. The tea was then made with a slightly shaky hand.
Half an hour later, Avril had finished her tea and was going to turn on the t.v. when her mobile rang. She fumbled in her pockets and finally got it out.
“Hello!”
“Hello mum, you alright?”
“Yes dear, I’m fine.”
“Just reminding you that we are coming over to see you tomorrow. O.K.?” There was a moments silence. “Mum?”
“Yes dear, I remember. I dropped my glasses. But I have them now.”
Jessica was somewhat perturbed. “You sure you are O.K.?” she asked again.
“Yes, I said so, didn’t I?” Avril was getting a bit annoyed at her daughter’s intrusion. Time was when she had a bit of peace in her life.
“Alright. I believe you. Are you going to watch that programme on t.v. tonight? You know you like it.”
“I might go to bed early dear.”
“You sleep far too much these days. We’ll talk tomorrow. Must go, Jonathon has just walked mud through the house. Love you, Bye.”
“Bye dear,” Avril answered. She stuffed the phone into her pocket and went to watch t.v. Maybe there would be a bit of news, maybe.

Jessica stared at her younger son. “Don’t come any further,” she told him.
“I‘m O.K. mum,” Jonathon said by way of defence.
“You are but your muddy boots aren’t. Just take them off there and carry them into the ‘mud’ room. That’s what it is meant for, MUD.”
“Sorry! We had a good game this afternoon.”
“I can see that.”
“Shall I leave my shirt and shorts there too?”
“You cannot remember a thing, can you? Yes.” Jessica was getting stressed. Peter would be home any minute. She heard a yapping as Jonathan let the dog in. “And keep that dog out there in the kitchen,” she yelled.
Just then the front door opened and Peter stepped into the hallway. “What’s all this racket?” he asked sounding stressed too as he walked into the lounge.
“Football,” Jessica stated.
“Oh! I need a drink. Do you want me to pour you one?”
Yes please.” Jessica sat down on the couch facing the French windows. Solar lights gleamed from the garden. Should have taken those in ages ago, she thought as they glowed stark in the harsh winter evening.
Peter sipped at his single malt. Not a drinker by any means normally but some occasions demanded a little light refreshment. His day had been tough. Still, he thought, work at home tomorrow, in the morning then the afternoon to go see Avril’s mum then a nice lazy evening.
Jessica drank a glug of wine before picking up her embroidery hoop. It was a past-time taken up to ease her stress levels. She wasn’t very good at it. Perhaps yoga might be more appropriate?
“I’ve got a committee meeting in the morning but I should be done by midday,” Jessica said. “You know I am worried about mum.”
Peter had taken his drink to the coffee table between the two opposite couches and was now sitting reading his newspaper. “Yes,” he murmured.
“What dress do you want me to wear on Saturday?”
Peter flipped his paper aside and thought for a moment. “Not the black one,” he replied. “My bosses will think you are in mourning if you wear that.”
“O.K., how about the red one then?” Jessica said sarcastically as she raised her eyebrows and watched for Peter’s reaction.
“That one’s far too bright. Don’t need you to look like a fairground. Haven’t you got something inbetween?” He crunched the newspaper, staring back at her.
“You’re in a good mood,” The sarcasm flowed tonight.
Peter grunted at her. “How about the grey shot silk one?” He raised his eyebrow as he watched her reaction. He loved needling her at times.
“I suppose that will do,” Jessica agreed, stabbing the needle into the fabric, wincing as it hit home on her index finger.

Friday passed. Jessica’s meeting was dull, boring but needed to be sat through. Peter’s mood had improved and by eight fifteen he had eaten breakfast and gone to his office at the rear of the house. He worked steadily all morning but felt in a good mood by lunch time. After a quick lunch he was raring to go.
The journey to Avril’s took about an hour with traffic. She really did live too far away for them to be of help in an emergency. Avril was pleased to see them both. Jessica and Peter had only been married three years and Peter and Avril were still getting used to each other. They talked, had tea but when all was said and done, Avril refused to be found a Home. Full of old people, she said, who sit around all day with nothing to do except sleep and watch t.v. And for the time being, that was where Jessica and Peter left things. No good antagonising her.
The dinner on Saturday evening went well for Peter though Jessica did not enjoy it very much. Lot of talking, very boring. One of the men’s wives kept talking about things Jessica had no interest in and she was so glad when they left the hotel and were on their way home.
“They have offered me a Junior Partnership,” Peter said when they got home and were in the bedroom.
“Will you take it?” Jessica asked as she brushed her hair.
Peter had undressed already and was sitting on the end of the bed buttoning up his pyjama top. “What do you think? Of course I’m going to take it. I’d be mad not to. A hefty rise in