Two red tomatoes

“Excuse me, may I sit here?” elderly Mrs Johnson indicated the seat next to the dark-haired young man on the crowded train into the city.

He smiled and nodded, seemed a bit unsure what to say, so she continued, “Would you mind moving your two tomatoes? They do look very nice, but I would squash them!”

“Oh, yes, ah, you see … they are not mine! They were here when I sat down. Perhaps they rolled out of someone’s bag!” Nevertheless, he picked them up, and smiling, he offered them to her.

“Oh, thank you, but no, I only have this small handbag, and I am on my way to a concert in the City Concert Hall.”

“What a coincidence! Me too." She looked at his jeans and tee-shirt in surprise. “In fact, I am playing in the concert. I have to get there early to change into my black suit.”

They continued to chat together amiably. “Looks like I’ll have to take the tomatoes with me then,” he grinned, as the train lurched to a stop.

She stumbled a little with the jerk of the train. “How about I walk with you to the Concert Hall, and make sure you get there safely? Then I’ll dash off … but would you like to have coffee with me after the concert? You can tell me how you enjoyed it.”

He seemed very pleasant and courteous. She hesitated. After all, she was old enough to be his grandmother. Was this wise? They had reached the foyer of the Concert Hall; he directed her to a comfortable couch.

“That’s very kind of you, but I'll be with my granddaughter – she’s taking me to this concert for an early Mother’s Day treat.”

“That’s fine. Three of us then. I’ve moved to the city for my music, but I often feel a bit lost and lonely. I’m originally from a small country town. Will you please meet me here afterwards? I would be delighted to have some company!”

Smilingly, Mrs Johnson agreed. “I understand. I’m lonely too since my husband passed away last year.”

He thanked her and hurried away.

Her granddaughter Rosemary arrived soon after, and the two made their way to their seats. Mrs Johnson searched amongst the musicians and noted the young man with the cello players. He did look very debonair in his black suit. The concert thrilled them both; the music of the symphony orchestra was brilliant, fresh, dynamic, and uplifting.

Afterwards, Rosemary and her grandmother made their way towards the foyer, trying not to get caught up in the crowds. “Rosey dear, we’re having coffee now – with a man I met on the train!”

“Nan!” cried Rosemary in alarm, “Is that safe? He could be a conman!”

“I don’t think so,” replied her grandmother, “We chatted all the way here. He’s very easy to talk with. He says I reminded him of his Nanna. He’s just a nice young man. It started with the two tomatoes ….” Rosemary looked at her Nan, her eyes revealing what she was thinking. Her Nan just laughed, “No, I’m not crazy, Dear.… I’ll tell you the story later ….”

“Nan! That’s even worse! A young man! They always trick people by saying nice things! Why would he….”

“Rosey, hush! here he comes, this young man in the jeans and black tee-shirt.”

When he reached them, he was apologetic. “Back in my old jeans,” he laughed, “It’s more comfortable, and I leave my suit in the players’ locker rooms.” They moved to the coffee tables and sat down. David placed the two beautiful firm red tomatoes on the table.

“Your suit? You were in the orchestra?” Rosemary asked in surprise. “It was a wonderful concert! We had an amazing time! I’m sorry, I don’t know your name ….”

“Actually, I don’t know your names either … we’d better introduce ourselves. I'm David Bartholomew, and I play cello in the orchestra,” he replied.

“I'm Susan Johnson, and this is my granddaughter, Rosemary Brown. Rosemary is musical too.…”
“Nan,” interrupted Rosemary, “I’m sure Mr Bartholomew is not interested in …”

“Of course I am! And please just call me David. What do you play, Rosemary?”

Rosemary blushed a little. “Mostly clarinet and flute, but I also play the piano. I teach music at a small country town, Valley View High School.”

“Unbelievable! My Nanna lives in Valley View! In fact, I’m heading there tomorrow to visit her for Mother’s Day. She moved to the Retirement Village last year.”

“Your Nanna's there? Mum and I are in a musical group which visits the Retirement Village every month – Mum’s very musical too. We give a little concert and then chat with all the people there over afternoon tea. Tell us about her!"

“My Nanna? She’s settling in, she likes it there. Her name is Rachel Frost.”

“I know Mrs Frost – she’s so sweet. We chat together every time! Mum loves her!" Thoughts of a conman had vanished.

They looked at each other in amazement. Susan Johnson started to chuckle, “Well, goodness me, what an amazing set of coincidences!”

“I’m driving Nan back to Valley View tomorrow to spend Mother’s Day with us. We’re all going to the Retirement Village in the afternoon to present a Mother’s Day concert," Rosemary continued.

“Looks like we’ll all be meeting again tomorrow at the Retirement Village then,” laughed David. Conversation was flowing smoothly.

"Are these your two tomatoes? Why did you bring them?” asked Rosemary, looking perplexed.

“Ah yes, these beautiful tomatoes,” David started. “How about, after your concert at the retirement village, I take you out for dinner, and I’ll tell you the story of the tomatoes.…”

Rosemary's Nan chuckled, giving her granddaughter an almost imperceptible wink. Before Rosemary could think how to reply, Susan turned to David.

“Yes, good idea,” she told him, “And while you two are dining out together, your Nanna can come over to my daughter’s place for dinner. She's a good cook! I have a feeling we’ll all be seeing more of each other ….”

Four months later, Rosemary married David Bartholomew. His speech included the story of the two red tomatoes, and their role in his meeting Rosemary. .

After the wedding she turned to her Nan.

“Sorry for not trusting your opinion of David. He’s certainly no conman!” Her eyes sparkled with happiness.

Three months later, she phoned her Nan,

“David has left me. He’s joined an orchestra in England ... I don't know which one, and there's no forwarding address – and he’s withdrawn everything I put into our shared bank account! I have nothing!”