❝ PICKET FENCE! ❞ → GRAY ✓

→ i.vii

Act One, Scene Seven

→ ❝ that's fine by me! ❞

             Carol hated travelling by car. She been sat in an automobile more over the past 18 hours than she ever had in her entire 18 years of living, and decided that she would much rather relax in the comfort of a train compartment than be thrown around the front seat of a car like she was little more than a rag doll. A train journey was smooth, but a car journey (thanks to the endless lumps and bumps in the road) was most definitely not.

             On the tiresome ride back to Polly's house, she read a magazine that Esme (who she found out was John's wife) had loaned to her, sucking on the leftover lemon sherbets that she had stashed in the glove compartment and groaning whenever Michael went through a hole that he 'definitely could have avoided'. Once again, Carol didn't remember the journey itself, but could remember the exhilarating freedom that her lungs felt as Michael turned smoothly down a road labelled 'Sutton Coldfield – 8 miles'.

             As promised, a picnic lunch awaited the couple as they pulled up outside of the Gray house, though it was made by Polly instead of a maid as Michael had proposed. Peering into the basket, Carol noticed how neatly the sandwiches were wrapped, and how crisp the green apples looked.

             "I don't think I could walk to this park, Henry," she said as she took the basket from the table in the hall, waiting for Henry to change his coat. It was warmer than he had anticipated, and his heavy duffle coat was far too stuffy for the weather. "It's not that I don't want to, but the journey has tired me out so much."

             "Not to worry," Michael emerged from the under stairs cupboard without a coat, but instead held a red blanket in his hand. "We can sit in the front garden, it'll be just the same. I'll get mum to put the kettle on."

             "That's fine by me," Carol giggled as Michael shouted a vague order for tea into the house (hoping his mother or a maid heard it) and took the girl by the hand, dragging her out onto the green lawn with chuckles of his own.

             She wasted no time plopping herself onto the blanket before Michael had finished setting it down, readjusting her hat and straightening the edges of the blanket. She patted the patch next to her, enticing Michael in with a bowl piled high with red grapes – Michael's favourite. He complied, taking off his jacket and lying beside her, his eyes fixed on the clouds that moved slowly across the bright blue sky. It was a sight that took him away from the shit of Birmingham and back to his cottage in Sheffield, a small picket fence being the only thing separating his and Carol's homes.

             "I feel like we're back in Sheffield," Carol laughed, unknowingly voicing Michael's thoughts and lying down beside him. She draped a hand over his chest as she fed him grapes, and Michael snaked a hand underneath her and softly rubbed her back. With his spare hand, he easily pulled her hat from her head (as friendly as if they had never been apart) and lazed it over his eyes, shading them from the sun.

             "Why? Is it my mother watching us from the front window?" Michael replied with a grin. Carol pulled her hat from his face and smacked him straight on the nose with it, placing it back on her head. "Is your mother shooting us filthy looks for standing too close in church again?"

             "Your tea, Mr Gray," the gentle, timid voice of the maid interrupted the conversation, passing the silver tray to Michael.

             "Thank you," Carol smiled, noticing the little pot of honey beside the sugar. She had forgotten what she and Michael were talking about, but it didn't matter much to her; it felt like she was one step closer to finding the boy she fell in love with. "What were you saying?"