later

In the park that backed onto the graveyard she found a bench near its edge and sat. Tall rhododendron bushes grew behind her amongst various trees; a monkey puzzle, a sycamore whose helicopter seeds had fallen all around, and an old oak filled the space between her and a high stone wall which blocked out the city’s noise from the quiet of the park. The park felt secluded, an oasis, with its own patch of sky and green playing fields that wandered away towards patches of trees and to other green spaces, and eventually on to a river which curved lazily beyond her line of sight.

  Looking out she watched a jogger all in red moving slowly around the path that edged the midmorning park. All at once she felt extraordinarily alone yet strangely ‘ok’ about it, as if she had finally arrived at some sort of natural default setting. Although she wasn’t particularly a morbid person, no more than most, she imagined, but she wondered whether being dead might actually feel something like this. Strange then, she thought, that it felt so ordinary. She was a part of the world, but also not. She felt the soft wind on her cheek, yet she also knew it too, knew where it travelled and why it did so. But then she had to get back to work in half an hour.

  She took out the sandwich she had made, carefully unwrapping the cling film around it and taking one half out and placing the other half on the bench beside her. As she did so she was startled by the presence of someone else.

  Excuse me, his voice was deep and hollow. Tina recoiled ever so slightly.

  I didn’t mean to startle you, he said softly.

  Tina smiled, I didn’t see you there, that’s all. It was true, she hadn’t noticed him walking round the park.

  You must have been in a daydream, he said.

  Hmm, was all Tina could say in reply.

  He was an older man, in his sixties perhaps, maybe early seventies. His hair a silvery-white. Tina wondered if she should recognise him.

  Do you mind if I share this seat with you? And pointed with a wooden cane to a spot on the bench. Who used canes these days, she thought. I’ve been walking a while and my knees could do with a rest, he said.

  Tina shuffled along a little, though she was already sitting towards one end of the bench. No, I don’t mind, she said. Though he was a slight man he sat, as if being relieved a considerable burden. He leaned back slowly onto the bench, keeping his back upright, then placed both hands, one cupped over the other on his cane in front of him. He exhaled slowly and quietly - a small performance.

  She hadn’t meant to stare, she wasn’t the type, but Tina watched him as he composed himself. Just getting my breath back, he said. Tina looked away suddenly embarrassed. She looked, self consciously, at her mostly-eaten sandwich. She tried to distract herself by trying to remember what she had been thinking about before the old man had sat down. But she could no longer concentrate. She glanced at him again without turning fully. There was something unusual about him, that was for certain, hadn’t she seen his face somewhere before? She ate some more of her sandwich and tried to think where.

  The jogger in red had reached the path in front of them where they were sat on the bench. The jogger passed them but at no great speed.

  A light wind blew as the jogger passed, following the jogger or pushing the jogger along. She imagined that for a moment she could see the wind, like some wild and free spirit, harrying and chasing, blowing leaves across the path and then curling up into the trees and swirling through the branches gently. Looking carefully she could see that the park was alive with it. She felt it cool across her skin, and it ruffled the pleats of her skirt at the back of her knees.

  A pretty time of year, don’t you think? The man said.

  Tina turned. She was slightly startled, but she nodded, almost embarrassed, her mouth still full of sandwich. She looked away again. People didn’t usually talk to her, she thought, finishing her mouthful.

She didn’t know why but just then and without any act of will on her part, she felt like a child again. She glanced across at the old man again. His gaze seemed to have been taken by something in the distance though as she followed it she couldn’t tell what. He looked serene, sitting there, peaceful.

  There was something about his face, though, lined and pocked with age, his grey-silvery hair swept back and across his head. Her memory flickered. An old client of the firm’s perhaps? She bit again into her sandwich and, looking away wondered how she could continue the conversation. The old man shifted his cane on the ground in front of him. Something was rustling through fallen leaves behind them. Before she could find the right words the old man went on. I think love looks a bit like autumn, he said, not turning to look at her.

And, you know, if you look close enough you can see that the leaves still hanging from the tree are holding on by tiny threads, invisible networks of connectedness. He angled his face towards her slightly. She watched him.

  You see, he said, The passing breezes can’t quite dismantle their attachments. But the love affair is about to begin. He paused then for what seemed like dramatic effect.

  Any day now, he went on, those stretched fibres, those chords of longing and hope, he motioned with his cane at a group of trees to their right, Will break and the bodies of leaves will drop, swinging, curling, floating or will be launched up and out and, for a moment, they’ll hang there before descending and eventually landing someplace else. He tapped his cane gently back on the ground again which rang dull and metallic.

  Tina, of course, didn’t know what to say but looked out where only the jogger in red followed the path away from them into the background of the park.

  For the briefest glimpse of time, the old man said, The leaves will be free. In love. And hardly anyone will notice, hardly anyone but me… and now you.

  She was looking at him now and he smiled back at her a brief yet uncomplicated smile.