There's No Accounting For Love

Chapter Forty Two

They were lucky to find a space in the large car park of the DIY store, after going round it three times. Alan muttered under his breath. As he prepared to pull into the parking space, which had just been vacated by a big silver car, a man walked out in front of them and Alan narrowly missed hitting him by slamming on the brakes. The man fell across the bonnet, slapping it with his hands to save himself and then waved a sorry and walked away. 

"Stupid oaf, what on earth is he playing at! Has he got a death wish or something?" Alan remarked.

"Oh, it's Christmas-itis." said Clare. "We all suffer from it."

Alan muttered under his breath again and then apologised to Clare.

"Don't worry, I didn't hear what you said and anyway, I thought you were a gentleman."

"I told you I wasn't, but you never listen." Alan was feeling browned off by now. Shopping wasn't really his thing, but as he was able to spend time with Clare it had some compensation.

They parked safely and made their way across the car park and into the doors of the huge DIY store. The store was packed with people and it was a crush, but after some searching they found the aisle with the fibre optic trees. They walked up and down the aisle looking. "Look at this, isn't it lovely?" said Alan.

It was lovely, and it twinkled, red, green and orange lights alternately. Clare looked at it.

"Yes, but it's too big. I only want one three or four feet high."

"But it's the best one, don't you think?" Alan continued.

"I want a smaller one," said Clare, "and look at the price! I'm not paying that price, forget it."

"But it is pretty." said Alan. Clare walked away and started looking at the other end of the aisle. She beckoned to Alan and he walked down to join her. "Look, this is okay and it's a lot cheaper." said Clare. It was a smaller tree with plain white flashing lights.

"And it looks it." said Alan, sneering.

"You never give up, do you Alan." said Clare, glowering at him.

"No Clare," he said loudly, "And neither do you!"

"Well, I'm buying this one, it's just right."

They said no more and Clare picked up a boxed tree and carried it to the checkout. Unfortunately, they waited fifteen minutes in the queue.

"So much for an extra five minutes at the shops," said Alan "I should have known better."

"Oh, well," sighed Clare, "It is Christmas after all."

"Christmas? Humbug!" said Alan loudly. The other customers standing in the queue laughed at him and tended to agree.

While they were standing at the end of the queue Alan heard a voice behind him.  

"Hello Alan, fancy seeing you here." It was Patrick! Patrick Harris, who was dealing with his divorce. Patrick Harris who either did or did not tell Marie his new address and...Patrick Harris with whom Alan did not play golf! Alan had told so many lies that Clare was convinced that he played golf with Patrick every Sunday.

"Hello Patrick." said Alan, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Last minute things you know." mumbled Patrick.

Alan panicked. 'Oh no, Patrick please don't mention golf', he thought, 'Please don't!'

Patrick didn't mention golf, he seemed much more interested in Clare and was asking her all sorts of personal questions. She'd lost her husband hadn't she? Did she have a boy friend now? Clare obviously didn't like it and Alan could sense her annoyance, especially when she remarked "No, I didn't lose my husband, he died!"

Alan said to Patrick, "Clare's feeling sensitive Patrick, this is her first Christmas without her husband, she'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said looking back at Clare. "I didn't mean anything...I...I must go... Sabrina's around here somewhere." He looked furtively around.

Alan was still panicking, if Patrick mentioned golf in front of Clare he would lose his credibility, so he stupidly said "I can't play golf for a while, Patrick, I've injured my knee and I'm waiting to have an operation."

"Oh dear," said Patrick "Oh well, see how it goes." He spotted Sabrina, said goodbye and was off.

"Why did you say that?" Clare asked. "You lied through your teeth."

"I know," said Alan, sheepishly, but with a deep sense of relief "but please don't tell him that. I'm getting fed up with golf and he gets up my nose. Yes, that's what it is, he gets up my nose!"

"He was certainly getting up mine." said Clare. "What a strange man."

"Yes, he is a bit." said Alan, quietly.

"Eyeing me up for his next fling was he? What a nerve!" Alan said nothing, but raised his eyebrows. Clare was right. Patrick was a terrible womaniser and cheated on Sabrina constantly. Whether Sabrina knew it or not was another matter.

"I'll be glad to get home." said Clare. "And I'm desperate for a cup of tea."

Eventually, they reached the checkout, paid for the tree and headed back to the car. The car park had thinned out by then, as it was now 5.50 pm. As they climbed into the car Clare said, "I'm glad I brought the cool bag for the food, some of those things will need to go straight into the freezer when we get home." They drove along in silence for a while and then she said "Are you going anywhere tonight, because if you're not would you like to spend the evening with me? I fancy an Indian Take-Away, but it's too much for one person. There's a nice take-away on the way home, but it's a bit early yet, I expect." Clare looked at her watch and then twittered on, it was a habit of hers, but Alan didn't care, he could spend the evening with her. He was on Cloud Ten.

"Yes I'd like that, I fancy an 'Indian' too and I can find out for myself whether or not you do look 'nice' in the evening when the lights are low." Alan joked, pulling his usual funny face and, for the first time that day, Clare smiled.

So Alan spent the evening with Clare and left, later than expected, after enjoying an Indian Take-Away with his favourite woman. He sincerely hoped that when her first year of grieving was over she would feel better and may be start to see him in a different 'light'.

And he was spot on, she did look nice in the evening, with the lights turned down low, in the light of the fibre optic tree.