Annie settled herself on a free bench, having first checked it was clean enough not to threaten her light summer dress with even a speck of dust. In her hand was a brand-new white handbag. Here at the seaside resort, it had become something of a ritual to change into one of her smarter outfits after dinner and go out for a stroll. Most of the other guests did the same, parading their finery. One lady had confessed: “Where else can you ‘take your dresses out for a walk’ if not on holiday? Back home, there’s nowhere to go.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed George approaching. He sat down beside her, unhurriedly. “Let’s enjoy the silence together,” he said in a quiet, rather soulful voice — a voice that seemed to blend perfectly with the peaceful landscape. Beneath his beige jacket he wore a crisp white shirt, his trousers were immaculately pressed, and his dark hair looked as though he’d just stepped out of a barber’s shop. The silver at his temples, far from detracting from his appearance, gave him an air of quiet confidence and distinction.
Annie had noticed, over the past couple of days, that when their paths crossed he seemed to look at her with particular interest, singling her out from the other ladies.
“That’s a lovely way of putting it — ‘enjoy the silence together,'” she remarked, liking the phrase.
“With you, Annie, even silence is a pleasure, though I’m always happy to talk.” George turned slightly towards her, as if to take in her every detail. He’d been drawn to her from the very first meeting.
She turned to him as well, offering a warm smile.
“By the way, I hoped to see you at the dance last night, but you didn’t come… Not fond of dancing?”
“Quite the opposite — I love to dance, but yesterday I went for a walk instead. The evening air is so fresh and inviting; I could breathe it in for hours.”
“I didn’t realise you were fond of evening strolls,” George said, and with an almost imperceptible movement, brushed his fingers against her hand. Annie felt a little flutter at the touch. His brown eyes looked at her with hopeful expectation.
“Then allow me to invite you on a private walk tonight — I’ve discovered a wonderful route myself. The views are magnificent; you can see the hills clearly. But I had no one to share it with… until now.” He gave her hand the faintest squeeze, as if signalling his intentions for a more persistent courtship.
“Why not?” Annie thought. “It’s only a walk. And walking alone in the dark isn’t safe, whereas with a man beside you, it’s far more reassuring.” She glanced at a couple strolling past their bench — a man and woman chatting away merrily, clearly having met at the resort and now enjoying each other’s company.
“What a beautiful hand you have, Annie,” George whispered rather than said. He moved a little closer, admiring her profile.
She didn’t feel like asking whether he was married; as a rule, most people here weren’t exactly single, and they justified their little flirtations with a desire for novelty and new experiences. Right now, it just felt wonderfully pleasant to sit on a bench with a man who clearly liked her, who had picked her out from everyone else.
“Come on, let’s take a walk right now,” he suggested. “We can chat a little, and this evening I’ll treat you to dinner at the café.” He offered his hand gracefully, helping her to her feet.
Without much deliberation, she agreed, picked up her white handbag, and tucked her arm through his. After about five steps, she swung the bag carelessly, like a schoolgirl, and it slipped from her fingers. It landed straight in a small puddle left over from the rain. Annie let out a little gasp, taken aback by the contrast: the pristine white bag lying in the mud.
“No harm done — it’ll be as good as new in a minute,” George said, picking it up carefully and placing it on the grass. Annie pulled out some tissues and began rubbing at the marks, but cloudy smudges remained.
“I’ll wash it properly in my room,” she said.
“Then I’ll wait for you,” George offered. “Or rather, let’s do this — I’ll meet you after dinner on this very bench… shall we?”
She nodded and hurried back to her room, holding the bag at arm’s length to avoid any further mishap. She washed the new white handbag she’d bought especially before coming to the resort. And although all visible traces of dirt seemed to have vanished, it still felt somehow tainted, as if it had lost its newness.
She thought about George’s invitation for the evening walk, about the look in his eyes that hinted at more, and a sour feeling settled in her stomach. In the whole week she’d been here, it was the first time she’d felt something so unpleasant, so irritating. She suddenly compared her relationship with George — on the surface, perfectly harmless — to the handbag that had fallen in the mud.
The phone buzzed. “Mum, Daniel and Harry won’t let me do my homework!” she heard her youngest daughter’s voice, along with the sound of stifled laughter.
“And what are you two up to?” Annie asked, snapping back to reality.
“Annie, it’s me,” came her husband’s voice. “The grandchildren are here, and we thought we’d bake a cake, but Daisy objects — says we’ll make a mess of the whole kitchen.”
“Andrew, just nip to the shop and buy the kids something nice. When I’m back, I’ll bake them a cake — or maybe even a proper birthday-style sponge.”
“Do come back soon; we all miss you,” Andrew said, then added quietly: “I miss you most of all. I could jump in the car right now and come and fetch you.”
“There’s not much longer to go — hold on, I miss you too. Put Daisy back on the phone, will you?”
After speaking to her daughter and then the grandchildren, and telling her husband she loved him too, she realised she was late for dinner. She quickly changed, picked up the handbag, turned it over in her hands and made sure there wasn’t a single spot left on it. “There, that’s better,” she said to herself with a smile. And she certainly didn’t need to go running off for a walk with some George — that much was now perfectly clear, having compared the muddied handbag with the relationship that had been brewing.
Annie felt how much she missed her husband, her children, and her grandchildren… She’d come away to get a break from them, yet now she was overjoyed to hear their voices and would have loved nothing more than to see Andrew in the kitchen, attempting to bake a cake for the little ones. She remembered how, last Mother’s Day, Andrew had tried to surprise her with a culinary masterpiece — it had been sweet and rather hilarious watching his clumsy attempts. Silly, yes, but ever so endearing.
“No coach for me on the way back,” she decided. “I’ll tell Andrew to drive down and collect me when my stay ends; I can show him all the beautiful spots around here and we’ll take our own evening walks together. And we certainly don’t need any of that muddy-handbag nonsense.”
