Second Chance

I’ve not been back in Edinburgh since, and yet here she is emerging from the crowd. I blinked as I caught her eye. ‘Hello, it’s been a while.’

‘Nick, is it you?’

‘Sorry to disappoint.’

‘Not at all. It must be over ten years.’

It’s been far longer, but my lips refused to move.

‘You look like your father.’ Her dimples gleamed.

I grinned. She looked so much like her mother, with her sparkling eyes and seductive features. She hadn’t aged so much as matured.

‘You look radiant as always.’

We experienced a long period of silence that has no place in any conversation. Yet there it was, dominating our time together. I scrambled for words. ‘Why are you in the Royal Mile when it’s about to pour?’

Flo raised an eyebrow, ‘when doesn’t it rain? I’m auditioning for a part in a new stage play.’

‘That’s odd, I’ve written a new play and I’m here to discuss casting with the producer and director.’

‘Would that be Malcolm Campbell?’ she asked. Her dimples in full view.

I frowned, ‘Yes, it is. How fortuitous.’

Like a battleship trying to turn, the blanket of grey clouds ceased to move, making little or no visible progress. The clouds in the distance merged with those closer feeding a darkening grey blanket.

I ventured the obvious. ‘The sky is about to let loose. How about a coffee before the cafes fill up?’

She smiled but said nothing. Gripping my arm like that one time in the past, we crossed the street as the pitter-patter of the first droplets stained the pavement.

Flo entered a coffee shop. ‘This should do. It’s quiet before the onset of the lunchtime crowd. We can get a booth at the back and enjoy the spectacle as the latecomers crowd in the doorway.’ She weaved through the throng in front of me. I let Flo lead. To me, it made no difference where we sat. A few minutes with her might clear up the doubt that haunts me each time she crosses my mind.

The cafe had a low ceiling with coloured walls adorned with a chalkboard at every booth. Printed text with tick boxes offered a standard menu. Customers already occupied most of the booths and counter seats.

‘Ah, you’ve spotted the boards. Years ago, I used to work here and suggested the chalkboards. A simple board offers customers the gimmick of ticking their choices, allowing the waitress and bar staff to see their order. The cafe started with one at the door. It grew from there. Now they’re everywhere.’ She ticked a Latte and looked at me.

‘Flat white, please. I’ll pay.’

‘No need. I have credits from the chalkboard idea. Our coffees are free. The fact I also introduce new customers affords me more credits.’ Flo’s smile glowed.

My grin was difficult to hide. She was always in control as I melted on the inside, hoping no-one saw me slinking into my coat.

Raindrops spatted on the large picture window, which afforded me a glimpse of the street outside. With our order placed, I turned to face Flo. ‘Good timing.’

‘What gives, Mister Writer?’

‘Ladies first. You tell me. Oh, and it’s been fourteen years.’

The corners of her lips spread into a sensual beam as she paused for a moment adjusting the napkin on her lap, then stared back into my eyes radiating a warm smile, ‘and two months. I know.’

I was always at ease with Flo. Today’s chance encounter was no different. Her eyes glistened as they always had. I watched her lips and dimples move in and out as they had at school. No wonder I bombed at maths.

‘After school, I spent four years on an arts degree, after which I moved around Europe taking small parts in stage plays. I have been fortunate with parts suited to mature women. My current play runs out at the end of the month. It’s audition time again and here I am.’

‘I don’t see any rings. Are you married?’

‘And forward with it. What’s your story?’

I couldn’t suppress the knot in my throat as I hated sharing my past with anyone, but Florence was different. ‘As an Episcopalian, I was accepted at Trinity College, Dublin, where I read for an Arts degree.’

‘So that’s where you went.’ She leaned forward. The glow from the overhead light illuminated her soft features. ‘I hear you married Elizabeth.’

‘Yes, Eli followed me to Dublin. After I graduated we married with my first paycheque. We had no children and are now divorced.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Thank you, but it was for the best.’ Flo’s searching expression demanded more. If I’m honest, it might encourage Flo to reciprocate. ‘In the beginning, Eli was in love with the idea of marrying me, but we soon found that we both sought different things. After work, she always wanted to go out while I preferred to remain at home and work on a script or an editorial.’

‘What happened?’ Flo’s dimples were gone. Her glow replaced by an unfamiliar blank stare.

‘I discovered she was having an affair, and it’s possible she had more. As I look back I can’t blame her. We weren’t compatible and agreed to divorce based on irreconcilable differences. That was four years ago, and we haven’t seen each other since.’

The waitress placed coffee cups on the table as the door opened and a gust of wind ushered in more wet customers. Pelting rain tapped the window at the front of the cafe and down on the overhead skylights, plunging the cafe into a depressive atmosphere.

‘The last time I saw Eli was at school when she told me you weren’t interested in me.’ Flo replied.

I knew something was amiss when Eli spoke to me afterwards but she painted such a bleak picture of Flo I believed her. That was the first night I kissed Eli.

My eyebrows furrowed, ‘she told you what?’ I stammered.

Resting her hand in mine, Flo said, ‘it was a long time ago. Let’s not dwell on the past.’

‘Eli noticed you always drew my attention rather than any teacher. On the day of the massive storm, she asked me if I was interested in you. I couldn’t deny my attraction. She fled in the treacherous rain across the playground and joined your group huddled in the shelter.’

‘Yes, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. My diary has it down as Black Wednesday.’

‘Really?’ I couldn’t help my left eyebrow as it rose.

‘That was the day, dripping wet, Eli told me you were no longer interested in me. The other girls giggled and told me how weird you were. I said nothing and left school early and alone, citing stomach cramps; a ploy used by many teenage girls.’

‘That’s not what I said.’ I spat.

‘I can’t get that day out of my mind. It festers within me, surfacing when I remember school or days gone by. She poisoned my thoughts with lies, destroying what might have been.’

‘Years later I learned she followed you to Dublin.’ Flo shifted a hollow gaze to the window while rattling her spoon against the porcelain mug. A clanking echoed from the movement, simulating an orchestra warming up, tuneless and persisting longer than necessary.

What was it they said? Fight or flight. I sensed Flo drop the spoon and reach for her bag. I moved my hand over her wrist, ‘please don’t go?’

Flo shifted to leave, but turned towards me, ‘Why didn’t you speak to me yourself?’

An awkward silence festered before I answered. ‘I was shy.’

‘But we had walked home after school many times and went to the pictures once and yet you seemed to speak to Eli with no difficulty.’

I fidgeted. ‘If memory serves, we walked home together and one sunny day you asked me out. As for Eli, she always came to me and when she did, the boys moved away. She had that effect on people, homing in on what she wanted at the expense of others.’

Flo drained her cup, ‘it all happened a long time ago. Let’s leave it in the past.’

My throat felt dry. I reached for my lukewarm coffee, ‘You didn’t say if you married.’

Flo swayed her head left and right conveying a no.

To change the conversation I asked, ‘what time is your audition?’

‘It’s not till later this afternoon. There will be plenty of candidates before me. I try to get in early and sit at the back. That way I have an idea what the casting director might look for.’

‘Which part are you interested in?’

‘Any speaking part. I need the income.’

Her ring finger appeared vacant. Not like most married actresses who may have to cover a ring finger with makeup to hide the trough forged by years of wear.

‘You should read for the part of Doreen.’

‘Why?’

‘The play is about love lost and a huge misunderstanding. The character Doreen suffers the most.’ I took a breath. ‘You’ll be a natural. Have you read Doh’s lines?’

Removing her hands from view, Flo clenched her fists and stared past me to a blank spot on the wall. Although present, she seemed somewhat distant as her features firmed. Her eyes narrowed. When she spoke, her voice was unfamiliar. ’Fuelled by rumours floating around the village, he left. I did the best I could with the cards life dealt me.’

With two ticks, I ordered more coffees while Flo remained in character. I grinned as we read out through every line of Act three scene ten before the last curtain falls. I hope Flo never finds out I wrote those lines with her in mind. ‘Well done,’ I croaked.

Coming back to herself, Flo smiled her girlish smile that has tormented me throughout my adult life.

‘Thank you.’

‘I intend to inform the casting director and the producer, that the dialogue is as natural as I can make it but we must be open to the actress putting her own spin on it. Her emotions must shine through and take over.’

Flo raised an eyebrow as my hand found hers. Its softness took me back to that single night at the cinema. I struggled to remember the name of the movie which still eludes me, but I remember her familiar tender touch.

We left the cafe. Outside the rain had abated, and the sun threatened to shine through the clouds.

Seizing my hand, Flo turned to me. ‘No, mister right has always eluded me.’

The smile coating my face obscured the knot in my throat. With renewed confidence I firmed my grip on her delicate hand, ‘let’s go or we’ll miss our second chance.’