As Time Stands Still

[Eliot Parker]

A deep sigh escaped Eliot's lips as he strolled down the main road, eyes fixed on the cobblestones. This was his second visit to the antique shop and the only time he'd been there alone since his arrival. As with the first visit, he was too apprehensive to touch anything, and had made a point of avoiding the register. His father's assistant seemed to maintain a degree of order in the shop - not a surprise since in a non-tourist season he wouldn't have much else to do - but the apartment above, that was a different story. It smelled even mustier and was more cramped than Eliot had remembered. He wondered how a family of four had managed to fit in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in the first place; the unpleasantness of having to share a bedroom with his sister!

Other than the size and the smell, everything seemed to be just as they had left it, perhaps a bit duller in colour. As if time had stood still. The same old tv, bathtub without a shower, out of tune piano still out of tune, even the crooked floral kettle. He stared for a while at the family photo they had taken the summer before leaving Penchurch, his fingers curled into tight fists in his pockets, before pushing the frame face-down on the tv. Sentimental old fool...

Would it be worth renovating the apartment? He didn't have much savings anyway, what with spending so much on trips to the continent with-

The exhalation of the second sigh coincided with a growl of protest from his stomach. He remembered there was a cafe at the end of the street, and lifting his head he found out that it was still there. Things really didn't change much in the village.

Inside the cafe Eliot chose a place next to the window, took off his over coat and scarf and sat down. He decided to order English breakfast for brunch, and was about to check his watch when he realised he had left it on the bed-stand at the B&B. His mobile was deliberately switched off and left at the B&B, perhaps not a wise choice but a necessary one. When he looked up to ask the waitress what time it was, he found her looking vaguely familiar. He was sure he had met her before, but couldn’t recall how, until someone from behind the counter addressed the woman by her name.

"Roo?" He asked on reflex. "Roo Elliott?" Realising how impolite he must have sounded, judging by the confused expression on the woman's face, he explained: "pardon, I'm Eliot Parker, Valerie's brother. You were Valerie's school friend, I think? We used to live above the antique shop."

[Roo Elliott]

To hear her habitual nickname combined with the formality of her surname, and spoken by a stranger, made Roo a bit slower to respond than was normal, for her. She frowned, then nodded briefly to acknowledge her identity, but her shoulders immediately tensed as he introduced himself.

"Yeah, I remember," she said shortly, settling her hands on her hips, her lip curling into a fleeting sneer, though the contemptuous look that went with it lingered some. Until recently, Mr. Parker, senior, had still lived above the antique shop he loved so well, alone.

Valerie was living in America, now, which was some excuse, when it came to the fact that Mr. Parker's final illness and death had gone entirely unattended by either of his children. Nothing short of having been in a secure ward under quarantine for some devastating infectious disease would exonerate the son, who Roo had always understood to be elsewhere in Britain, or at least somewhere in Europe. He'd gotten to Penchurch quick enough once the funeral was over and all that remained were the legal bones of Mr. Parker's property to be picked. "What can I get for you?" she snapped, dipping her hand into the pocket of her flour-and-egg-spattered apron to retrieve the order pad. It wasn't that she figured she wouldn't remember it, but it gave her hands something to do that wasn't grabbing his nose and yanking.

[Eliot Parker]

Eliot was somewhat taken aback. This was not the first time he'd seen a reaction like that after introducing himself - his fatther's assistant had not been any friendlier - but he did not expect it from a childhood friend. Well, perhaps they hadn't been childhood friends, more like he'd hung out with her a couple of times when he had to escort Valerie and Roo to the town cinema... but still.

"English breakfast, please," he replied after an awkward pause. "It's strange to be back after all these years," he added with a weak smile, as a follow up to his previous remark. He was going to say 'nice', but somehow it came out as 'strange', which was closer to what he was thinking.

He should expect more of this sort of attitude, Eliot reminded himself. It was natural for the village to blame them for leaving his father after all. And while his mother hadn't been exactly popular - not after her marriage, at least - his father was quite well-liked, as far as he remembered.

[Roo Elliott]

Roo put her pencil stub to paper with enough pressure to leave grooves several pages down. He had some nerve. Was he trying to suck up to her, figuring she might know something he didn't? She probably DID know...she'd grown friendly with Mr. Parker when she'd moved back to Penchurch, and he'd often been in the cafe, at different points in the day. As much as he'd complimented her sticky buns and cakes, it was clear he wanted the company more than anything.

"How would you like your eggs?" she asked, keeping her tone even--which, if she hasn't had the practice of raising a child, she never would have managed otherwise. "White toast or multigrain? Tea or coffee?"

[Eliot Parker]

Eliot could feel his ears heat up. She'd ignored his attempt at making conversation again. It couldn't be just that she was having a bad day, or that she'd fallen out with Val...

"Scrambled please," he replied, "dark bread, and coffee- no sorry, tea."

He wished he had his mobile with him now, it could give him something to do.

[Roo Elliott]

Ruby put the order through to the tiny kitchen in the back, and went to pour the coffee before she thudded the cup down in front of Eliot.

"Milk?" she asked, hoping the fridge had died in the night and he'd have nothing but sour chunks to pour into his drink.

[Eliot Parker]

"No, thank you. It's fine," Eliot replied, although she had brought him coffee instead of tea. Maybe she hadn't heard him.

If his mother had been there she would urge him to ask for a replacement, he thought, wrapping his fingers around the cup. He would refuse and she'd blame him for acting like 'that man' again. He wondered if he was similar to his father at all. James Parker would probably make a joke of the misheard order and try to cheer up the waitress. Though he might have grown grumpy with age, and disease. At times he thought it unfair that his father had neglected to tell them about the illness that lead to his death; but if he wanted to be completely honest with himself he would admit that he was glad he hadn't known.

Breakfast tasted good, but he didn't have much appetite and being used to a fast pace he ended up spending much less time on eating than he had planned to. By the time he was finished it had started raining. Having paid the bill, he stood by the door waiting for the rain to mellow down.

[Roo Elliott]

Roo was more than ready for a break, having nipped into the back to check the rise on some bread dough and taken some muffins out of the oven and set them to cool before she put them into the display case, where they'd only fog up the glass.

She pour herself a glass of orange squash and sat at a corner table. She'd given up smoking since she had Ellie, but damn if she didn't still want one from time to time. The other staff were busy, and there was no one stopping in for lunch quite yet, so the cafe was quiet. She glanced at Eliot. He had finished his meal and paid, so why was he hanging around?

Roo took a sip of her drink and scratched at her head--a habit of frustration or nerves.

"I guess you'll be selling the shop, then?" she said curtly, just loud enough to get his attention where he stood.

[Eliot Parker]

It took Eliot a few seconds to realise he'd been the one to whom the question was directed.

"Yes, I believe so," he replied, approaching the table she was sitting at, his hands in his pockets. "Well, I haven't decided yet." He was not sure why exactly he had said that. It was decided long before he arrived at Penchurch that he should put the shop up for sale; what else was there to do with it?

"Did you go there often?"

[Roo Elliott]

"I'm not much for antiques, if that's what you mean," she said. "Your dad mostly sold to tourists. I went in to see him, when I did."

Unlike some, her dark tone seem to rather pointedly insert into the short silence that followed.

"He was in here, more often than not, most days."

[Eliot Parker]

Oh. She knew him then, which explained what seemed to be her disapproval at his sudden arrival.

"That's very kind of you," Eliot spoke in a soft voice. He felt somewhat relieved to hear she had been visiting his father. Seventeen years was long enough to erase any filial duties he might have felt towards the man. He couldn't say he felt particularly guilty for not being in her place. After all, his father had never bothered coming to London to visit them.

"I hope he was happy here."

[Roo Elliott]

"He was happy," snapped Roo. She was as surprised as anyone else might've been to find herself blinking back the sting of sudden tears. "...he was..."

Lonely.

"He missed you. He wouldn't say it, but I was a poor substitute for his kids." She tried to inject it with the same amount of venom as before, but the fire had burnt out, for the moment.

"He just...got old, Eliot. He seemed different, when I moved back. Not quite how I remembered him, when we were kids."

[Eliot Parker]

He felt his lump in his throat when she called him by his name. Everyone got old, he tried to think rationally. And though she remembered his father fondly, most of Eliot's memories were made up of his parents constant bickering which left his father in a gloom and his mother frustrated. He wished he could explain to Roo that by choosing to be a good son to his mother, he had to forego being a good son to his father. But this was only a pretext. Perhaps it would have been fairer if one of the children had stayed with their father, but it didn't end up that way. He wanted to tell Roo that he wished his father had married again, built a life for himself, lived until he was a hundred years old and all that came out was an "I'm sorry..." as he sat down without thinking.

"Val wanted to visit him many times," he resumed after a pause, avoiding Roo's eyes. "She moved to America as soon as she was eighteen." He doubted his sister had managed to visit their father, but if she had been in contact with him she never told Eliot. "She got married last year," he added with a small smile, meeting Roo's eyes briefly.

[Roo Elliott]

Roo had to smile, faintly, at the news of Val's marriage. That was something. She nodded a little, not quite meeting Eliot's eye across the table. It wasn't her she wanted him to apologise to...but it wasn't as if he could say it to the man who had perhaps most deserved to hear it.

"America's a fair way away," she said. "It's not an easy distance." Maybe Mr. Parker had understood that. It had been difficult to make him talk about things--it just happened, and when you didn't go asking him on purpose.

[Eliot Parker]

He could see in her justification of Val's lack of presence by their father's side a trace of blame on himself. His sister was living in another continent, but he had been living only a few hours away. Then again, he could be reading too much into her words.

"You mentioned moving back," Eliot said, followed by an enquiry: "when did you leave Penchurch?" Asking her where she had gone to might sound a bit too inquisitive.