Chapter 16 – Story

I didn't often go down to the pub, but I knew that is where I would find Al. He was there of course, stocking his wares behind the bar.

"Oh, hello, Ruth," he said when he saw me.

"Hello Al." I peered around the empty room. "Not many customers."

"Uhm, it's only two PM. But I can get you something. Glass of wine? Coffee?"

"I know that; just making conversation."

He ran his hand over his face. "So, what can I get you?"

I leaned against the bar. "You know this place reminds me of my school days." When his eyes widened, I added, "University. Medical school actually."

"I see."

The room had the same sorts of beams overhead and the rough plaster on the walls. "But I suppose most pubs look about the same."

"Okay." He craned his neck. "Dr. Ellingham, hope I'm not being rude but I have about a million things to get done in the next couple of hours."

I grinned. "Call me Ruth, Al. we're friends; at least I hope so. My nephew told me that you are going to marry that pretty receptionist. You know the one. Morwenna Newcross."

He smiled. "Heard of her. And that's right; me and Morwenna – marriage – all that."

"Once upon a time I thought I might married, and I never did." I took a deep breath. "But I was young and trying to make a name for myself in psychology. I thought there would be plenty of time." I found myself looking at my ring less hands. "But… things didn't work out." There was no need to tell the boy that there had been three suitors, but I always told them no. "So, all that, as you say."

He scratched his neck. "Uhm, yeah."

I took a deep breath. "I know that our business dealings didn't work out."

"The B&B," he replied. "Just couldn't get it going; at least not long enough." He gave me a long and grim stare for I'd pulled the plug on the venture after too many fits and starts – as well as Bert getting involved, with the usual consequences.

"I am sorry about that Al. Perhaps I should have given you more guidance."

"But you wanted to be…"

"An involved partner, but not actually be doing anything." I slapped the polished wood surface of the bar. "But all the same, this time I am going to do something; not to make it up, because that's water under the bridge. However, this is for you and your brief-to-be. So, you and Morwenna set up whatever you want for a wedding reception – large or small – food, drink, et cetera and I will pay for it." I smiled. " Besides, it saves me trying to find a gift and get it wrapped. With my arthritis I can't handle the cello tape as well as I might."

"Huh?"

"I'm paying for your reception, Al! The rent on a place, food, drink, decorations, and music. Just please, please, if you have a live band, don't engage one of those groups that cranks their electric guitars up to eleven, and then screams about the end of the world and mega-death." I nodded to him encouragingly. "What do you say to that?"

He shook his head. "You're paying for the whole thing," he said slowly.

"Lock, stock, and barrel. The entire affair."

"Oh Ruth, that's…"

I waited, watching his mouth work silently.

"Woo-hoo!" he shouted and practically launched himself over the bar, to throw his arms around me. His arms dropped. "Sorry, Ruth, that's bloody generous of you. Ahm, thank you."

I smiled. "You're welcome."

"Might be, lordy, I have no idea who much it might all cost."

I took a folded sheet of paper from my handbag and slid it across the bar. "I asked around and made some estimates. If my figures are too low, let me know."

He picked up the paper, unfolded it, and read my figures. "Oh my. This is…" he gulped. "Extremely… generous, Ruth. But I can't accept this! This is too much!"

I closed my handbag and backed away. "Take it or leave it. You're choice. But I really don't think you ought to rely on your Dad to just throw something together at the last minute? And besides, I like you Al, and Morwenna. You make a cute couple." Suddenly one of my eyes felt teary, so I had to wipe it. "If I had a son?" I had to turn away. "I think he might have looked much like you. Ta."

I got out of the pub before I broke down. Sometimes personal stories are best left untold. Al didn't need to know that I did have a child, once; a very long time ago, and he had died as an infant. Crib death they called it. His father never knew for it was only after we broke up that I found I was carrying the child. And in the meantime he'd married someone else. A story I'd shared with very few people. Some of those were now gone. Joanie knew of course. Martin and Louisa knew, because I told them – family matter.

I was working up in Scotland at the time, so, it was fairly easy to give the impression that the baby's father was in the Foreign Service, and away on a long, and most secret, assignment. A useful deceit I knew, but it made sense at the time.

After my son was born, and he had died and been buried, I suffered a nervous breakdown (another untold story) and had to go to a rest home in Wales. Rest home; what a lovely name for a spot where we were drugged day and night like zombies. Oh well. I recovered eventually, moved back to London, and started over. I heard much later that my former lover had drowned while on holiday to Crete.

Some of our secret stories must pass away, much like those who keep them. Suddenly I felt very old and broken-down, and despite my gift announcement to Al, very somber.

"Ruth?" It was Al, calling me from the pub doorway.

"Yes Al?"

"I just called Morwenna and she's over the moon! Thank you, thank you so much. I..."

I held up a hand. "Say no more Al." There he stood so very happy. Oh well. I squinted up at the sun. "Maybe I'll take you up on that wine. A red please. And make it a large one."

He bowed, smiled, and escorted me back into the pub. "With crisps?"

Oh what the hell. Then I laughed aloud. "Right. With crisps."