Another Chance for Love

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Adam was glad when the office closed and he could go home. He enjoyed being out of doors, so he made his way across the bridge and through the busy traffic of the city centre to the bottom of the hill of Park Street. Yes, he could have jumped on a bus or tram to continue uphill, but not only was the exercise good for his leg but also his mind.

As he climbed the slope, he felt faintly remorseful, as always, for refusing his father’s offer of hospitality as they left the building together. “Your mother would be glad to see you,” he had said mildly.

Adam always felt swayed by such kindly meant offers, after all, he owed his family so much. However, it was now Thursday and he would see his formidable mother on Sunday, for church and then lunch in the family home afterwards, as always. That was more than time enough to prepare himself for her constant refrain that he should settle down.

His stride lengthened as he reached the top of Whiteladies Road and the freedom of the Downs. If he turned right, it would be a relatively short walk across this open stretch to the grand mansions of Clifton Down and his parents’ home.

He turned left, thankfully. His mother had raised outraged objections when he had decided to find his own accommodation. How could he tell her how stifled and trapped he felt under her roof? To his surprise, his father had backed him up, perhaps realising that having regained his health, Adam needed to feel like a grown man again, rather than an alternately pampered and bullied child.

Anyway, the salary the family firm paid him for turning up promptly each weekday and looking smart was more than ample for the lease of a bachelor flat. As he reached the Georgian spa of Clifton with its gracious buildings of a previous century, he felt a sense of release.

Now, for this portion of the day and evening, his time was his own. He would make his way to the gracious, tree-lined Victoria Square, let himself in with his latch key, and climb the stairs to his top-floor flat. There he would be undisturbed as the daily woman who cooked and cleaned for him would be long gone.

There would be something left for supper for him to reheat if he chose. He could change out of his formal office clothes, sit in the comfortable armchair by the window, and look out over the tops of the trees and roofs of buildings, a book in his hands.

Or if he tired of being alone, he could slip a slim volume in the pocket of his tweed jacket and make the short walk to one of the local pubs. There he could find a spare table and read over a quiet pint or two with the companionable chatter of the other patrons around him.

He felt the usual mixture of relief and guilt, knowing it was his parents’ generosity that afforded him such freedom. Much as he wanted to be a dutiful son, their expectations of him could be overwhelming and he sometimes thought that this slim piece of independence was the only thing that kept him sane.