Hudson by Barbara Samuels

My apartment block is in the centre of town.  It is busy with people coming and going all through the day.  It's how I like it.  There is a tube stop 200 yards from my block, convenient and fuelling human traffic.  En route is a popular coffee shop which I visit frequently.  It still has the daily news papers, attached to those wooden clips – a pleasure !  I sit at an outside table in clement weather, or position myself at a window seat if not.  I am happy to observe what is passing on the street and can easily spend between two or three hours fully engaged.

There are two sisters who live in the apartment above me. They have been living there for ten years, almost as long as I have.  Eileen, the younger one has sometimes shared a coffee late afternoon on her way back from work. But her sister Sylvie will just nod in passing, maybe exchange a few civilities.  Sylvie has a small dog and her daily routine revolves around walks to the park.

If I didn't come to the cafe I would be lonely.  I took early retirement last year and it helped me adjust.  There's a warmth here.  The familiarity of the owners, who see me as one of their regulars, is comforting. They anticipate my order, which does occasionally vary, but usually sticks to what they predict, or suggest.

I am meeting Eileen today.  She comes through the door around three, folds her umbrella and joins me at my table.  She looks tired.

“I only had to work until 2.30 today and was so glad to leave.”

“What happened?”

“Customers can be so difficult – hard to please!”

Eileen works for a dress designer, the clothes he makes are beautiful, works of art and way above my budget.

“Some of our clients have testing attitudes:  they're very demanding.  I'm really looking forward to a break.”

“Ah yes, Italy at the end of the month.  Will you go alone ? “

“Sylvie and I are going. One last arrangement to make – what to do with Hudson? “

Hudson was Sylvie's dog, a cute little bundle of fluff.  I was more than happy to volunteer.

On a crisp April morning, beneath a canopy of cherry blossom, we all gathered on the pavement outside our block.  Hudson and I waved the taxi goodbye then walked towards the park.  Surprising to me was the amount of attention Hudson drew.  People talked to him, then through him to me. He had an established circle of friends and I found myself drawn into conversation with strangers. 

On the way back I stopped at the coffee shop, looped Hudson's lead round the table leg and took a seat.  Coffee and a pastry appeared and a small bowl of water placed on the ground for Hudson. 

Halfway through my coffee an elegant man, around fifty approached my table.  He greeted Hudson then introduced himself as a friend of Sylvie.  We exchanged easy conversation with info about his, connection to 

“Would you like to have dinner this evening? I'll pick you up at 7.30.”

Hudson was opening doors for me. Dinner would be a fine treat. 

I turned on the lamp in the hallway, gazed in the mirror and adjusted my dress.  The buzzer went as I applied some lipstick.

“Hello.”

“Hi, it's Bill.”

 “I'll be right down.”