One Last Love by Derek Haines Read Free Book Online Page A

Angeline asked but Bonnie was lost in his thoughts.
    ‘Sorry. I was off with the pixies,’ he said.
    ‘That’s ok. I do it all the time,’ she said. ‘Just interested to know where the word pufta came from?’
    ‘Well, I’m not sure to be honest. It was just a word we used back then when gay still meant being happy,’ he said. ‘So we had other words.’
    ‘What other words?’
    ‘Oh I don’t think you really need to know them all Nancy. It’s ancient history.’
    ‘But I bet you have a long list,’ Danny said but without any humour in his tone.
    ‘Like you said, all ancient history now,’ Angeline smiled but sensed a little tension.
    ‘Think I’ll finish my cuppa and go for a fag.’
    ‘Oh I like that one Bonnie. Is that a gay cigarette?’ Danny asked.
    ‘Na, all my smokes are dead straight,’ Bonnie said.
    ‘You two crack me up,’ Angeline said with no cheer and with a weakness in her voice. ‘Think I’ll finish my tea and go for a rest.’
    ‘Probably do the same,’ Danny said. ‘We’ll try Canasta again tomorrow perhaps?’
    ‘Ok,’ Bonnie said then slurped down the last of his coffee. ‘Now, I think I’ll roll off for that smoke.’
    After their brief and polite ‘catch you laters’, Bonnie wheeled himself out onto the dining room terrace and lit his smoke and a cough or two followed as usual. He was angry with himself for how he’d just treated Danny. It was only for an unsaid moment, but he knew Danny had sensed it. Nothing particular in the words either had said, yet there was a moment of animosity that even Angeline had noticed. For one of the very rare times in his life, he knew he should apologise.
    He turned his wheelchair towards the rose garden. The rain had stopped and shards of sunlight were hitting the wet ground. Reflecting from the grass and leaves. Puffing slowly, then squinting as a trail of smoke irritated his eye. He popped his smoke into the corner of his mouth to free his hands and pushed the wheels of his chair slowly, moving from the terrace onto the path that led to the rose garden. Stopping after a short distance to take a puff of his smoke. Then moved ahead again but coughing stopped his progress. He waited for it to pass, took the last puff of his cigarette and flicked it onto the grass, then moved forward towards the entrance to the rose garden. He wheeled through and stopped next to the bench opposite a rose bed. The bench glistening with drops of water on its shiny green painted surface. He sat and looked at the rose bushes, flushed with new green leaves and some already with small buds. The north didn’t really have spring, but with the wet rose leaves sparkling in the sunshine, it looked close enough to Bonnie.
    ‘They should bloom soon,’ a woman’s voice from Bonnie’s right said. He turned his head towards the voice. A tall, slim woman with a friendly smile, leaning on a walking stick. Her face wore a friendly look, but with piercing grey eyes that were sharp and aware.
    ‘The rain should help,’ he replied.
    ‘They could do with a good dose of fertiliser though. Haven’t seen the gardener to tell him.’
    ‘You’re a rose expert then?’
    ‘Always had them in my garden. And you?’
    ‘Never was much of a gardener.’
    ‘I’m Madeleine by the way. Only arrived a couple of days ago.’
    ‘I’m Bonnie. Only got here yesterday myself,’ he said as he half stood up to shake her hand.
    ‘Would you like to sit?’ he asked trying to be polite, then realised that he could only offer his wheel chair, which seemed a bit silly to him given the circumstances.’
    ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll sit on the bench,’ she said as she took out a handkerchief and made her way towards the bench. Bonnie instantly deciding to help with his own. Between their efforts they dried one end of the bench sufficiently.
    ‘So is Bonnie short for Bonaparte?’
    ‘No, it was my mother who coined it after Prince Charlie. Not sure she’d even heard of