Limp Dicks & Saggy Tits

by Tracie Podger

  “Harold?” he enquired as I climbed out.

  “Yes, Harold the Honda.” I waved as he reversed out and immediately took a call on my mobile.

  “Hey, are you around? Fancy a glass of wine?” I heard.

  I’d struck up a friendship with Jake, the landlord. I think he would’ve liked for that friendship to develop into more, but I’d been honest with him from the beginning. I wasn’t ready for that. My heart was still tender. I did, however, enjoy his company.

  “Give me five?” I said.

  I rushed in, slid off the yoga pants and washed and shaved my one leg. I pulled on some jeans and boots, and it was an utter relief to be able to walk normally—if still a little wobbly. I grabbed my coat, made sure my phone was charged, and that the torch that lived permanently in my pocket hadn’t run out of battery life. Then I set off for the short walk to the village green and the pub.

  “Lizzie, how are you?” I heard. “No crutches?” another called out.

  The locals greeted me and offered a drink, and a stool was pulled out for me. I was welcomed, and it felt wonderful. I chatted to Pam and Del, who kept me entertained with stories of their time owning a bar in Spain. I was the youngest of the group, but it was hard to tell. They were so active, always encouraging me to join their walking group, monthly dinner club, wine tasting, and gardening club. I intended to join all at some point. I accepted the glass of red from Jake and smiled at him. He had been widowed some years ago, and I was very fond of him, but not enough to take our friendship beyond that.

  It was a couple of hours later that I decided to walk back. I was accompanied by Pam and Del most of the way before they branched off to their lane. Del, bless him, although I wasn’t sure any neighbours would bless him, shouted until he knew I was back at my front door. I laughed as I inserted the key and switched off the alarm.

  Being in the barn always brought a smile to my lips. It was tinged with sadness, but that was lessening with each passing day. I found that I had been able to laugh about something that had happened with Ronan instead of having that pang of hurt. Later, as I lay in bed, I whispered a little message to him, wishing him well and hoping that he’d have a peaceful Christmas.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harold the Honda had been standing proudly on the drive for a couple of days, and Jake jangled the keys in his hand.

  “You reverse out. I’m not doing that. Then we’ll drive to the supermarket, and I’ll go round the car park,” I said.

  “You drove perfectly okay yesterday,” he replied.

  “I know, but that was in your car.”

  The previous day, Jake had graciously, or stupidly, allowed me to drive his car around the pub car park, around the green, and then back. It was a journey that took all of about five minutes, and that was only because I’d stalled it twice.

  “You are going to have to go backwards at some point.”

  “Yes, but not onto the lane,” I said, looking up and down it and not seeing one car on the horizon.

  Jake wasn’t moving. He stood, letting the keys hang from his finger by the passenger door.

  I huffed and held up my hands. “Okay, but on your head be it if I crash,” I said, grabbing the keys from his hand and stomping to the driver’s side. He chuckled.

  I turned the engine on and took two deep breaths, adjusted the mirror, the chair, the mirror again. I turned on the lights, the fog lights, and then the hazard lights. I cussed under my breath, and I readjusted everything back to how it was.

  I was ready. I put the car into reverse, looked over my shoulder and drove, so very slowly, out onto the lane. I turned the steering wheel to miss the hedge, and when I was into a straight position, I put the car into drive, and off we went. I screeched a little in excitement but was also thanking my foresight that I’d bought an automatic and not a manual. The last thing I needed was to worry about changing gear. My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard—they were not coming off.

  We arrived at the supermarket, and I drove around the car park and then, brazenly, I reverse-parked into a bay. I clapped with delight, and Jake laughed, then I drove us back to the pub.

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to come to your house?” he joked. “I mean, that’s a huge driveway you need to navigate onto.”

  “You’re so funny. Go. I’ll be fine, but if you hear a crash, it was me,” I said.

  I shook a little as he got out, and I pulled back into the lane. I cursed as I heard the crack of a bush as it hit the wing mirror, but I made it back. I parked, got out, and laughed. I threw the car keys in the air, missed catching them, and then found myself on my knees and reaching under the car where the bloody things had decided to settle.

  I winced as I stood; my ankle was still not back to full strength. I stood for a moment, just looking up at the house I’d lived in for nearly two months at that point. It seemed a lifetime ago that I’d moved in. The following day, I’d planned to decorate the front garden with Christmas lights—it was two weeks away, and I thought it a suitable time to start the celebrations. The pub was already decorated—half of the patrons loved it, half thought it too early still. I reminded them that some stores had Christmas items in from the end of October.

  I put a lasagne in the oven and sat at the kitchen table to catch up with some emails. I’d completed my Christmas shopping online, and all parcels had already been delivered. I’d sent some parcels up to Maggie and included a couple of items for Ronan, just a book I thought he might like, a silly Christmas jumper, and a framed copy of the photograph of the deer that I’d taken. It was a fantastic picture—a complete fluke.

  I planned to make arrangements with Jake, or maybe Pam and Del, to head to the local farm and collect a tree. The decorations I’d bought, stood in their boxes, in the corner of the living room, just waiting to be placed on it.

  I found that I loved driving. I went everywhere in my little car. I even ventured up to London to meet up with Joe and Danny for dinner and drinks before I ‘flew out to Spain’ and they left for Danny’s parents.

  It was the week of Christmas and it was chaotic. For the first time, I was glad I’d left London. Miserable people crowded on the streets, rushing in the rain to get to some place with sour faces. No one spoke; we barely got a grunt from the staff in the restaurant until it was time to pay. The prospect of a tip did wonders to activate the face muscles. Smiles were abundant; soon to be replaced with the sneer when the tip didn’t appear to measure up to what they believed their service was worth.

  “I’ll call you on Christmas day, okay?” I said. Joe had been hesitant to talk about the approaching day, and I wondered if he knew I’d lied.

  “You will have fun, won’t you?” he asked.

  “I most certainly will. Now, I need to get going. I think I’ve missed the traffic,” I said.

  I climbed in Harold the Honda, set the satnav to home and waved goodbye. I listened to the radio as I drove, never getting over sixty miles per hour by choice. I was sure the lorries sitting up Harold’s arse weren’t as happy as I was. I sang all the way home.

  I’d showered and sat in the living room with my PJs on when the sweep of headlights flew across the window. It was unusual, and for a moment, I sat still trying to work out why. When I realised it meant a car had pulled onto my driveway, I stood. It was rare to have visitors in the evening, and I picked up my mobile and brought up Pam and Del’s number. I didn’t call, but I kept my finger hovering just in case. I heard a knock at the door but was worried about venturing into the hall, the front of the property was mostly glass. Whoever was out there, would see me, and I’d have no option but to open the door. I heard a second knock.

  I stepped out into the hallway and then froze. It was raining, and he was standing there in a coat with a hat, holding a collie that was sporting a big red bow around his neck. I covered my mouth to hide the sob and felt tears sting at my eyes.

  “Do you think you could open the door? It’s pissing down,” Ronan shouted. �
�Max is getting wet.”

  I laughed and rushed forward, then stepped back to let Ronan walk in. At first, neither of us spoke.

  “Hi,” he said quietly.

  “Hi,” I replied, equally as quiet.

  “Max missed you,” he said, raising the dog as if I couldn’t see him.

  I reached out and took Max from his arms. “Hello, Max,” I said, as he licked my chin. He wiggled, and I placed him on the floor. He limped a little as he investigated.

  “He’ll always have the limp, and he might need an operation when he’s a year old,” Ronan said.

  I nodded as I watched Max piss on the stone floor.

  “I have things for him. A bed, and dog food, if you still want him,” he said.

  I looked up at Ronan. He’d lost weight, and he looked tired.

  “Have you just driven down?” I asked.

  “I have. I should have called but…” He didn’t finish his sentence and looked so very unsure of what to say or do next.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” I offered.

  Finally, he smiled. “That would be nice.”

  “How about you grab your… Max’s things, and I’ll get another glass.”

  Ronan walked back to the car and Max followed me to the kitchen. He sniffed around and bounced as I peeled off some kitchen roll to mop up his pee. He gave a little yelp and a wag of his tail. I noticed that when he did wag, his back leg would give way and he’d collapse to the floor.

  “Poor Max,” I said, picking him up.

  “I wouldn’t do that too often. He might expect it when he grows up,” Ronan said with a grin.

  He stood in the doorway with a holdall, a dog bed, and a carrier bag. He placed them all by the foot of the stairs and then removed his coat and hat. I walked to the downstairs loo to grab a hand towel. Even though he’d worn a hat, his face and hands were wet.

  “I should have called, I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Ronan, I’m glad you didn’t. I’m happy to see you.”

  He took a tentative step towards me. I met him in the middle. He began to raise his arms, and I didn’t wait as I stepped into his embrace. He rested his chin on my head, and I both felt and heard the sigh that left his body. I could also feel the pounding of his heart.

  “I was so nervous coming here,” he whispered.

  I pulled back to look up at him. “Why?”

  “I wasn’t sure of the reception I was going to get. I hurt you. I pushed you away. I hurt myself, and it’s taken me this long to understand.”

  “How about we have a glass of wine and let’s not talk about us, you can tell me what’s been happening at the estate,” I said, not mentioning that I knew most of it.

  He smiled, and it caused my heart to miss a beat.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hear what he had to say—I just wasn’t ready at that moment. I just wanted to be with him, to sit and listen to his voice and calm my racing heart.

  We sat, Max, obviously exhausted by the journey, curled up on the bed I’d placed near the log burner. Ronan detailed everything that had happened at the estate. He seemed animated as he spoke, a little like the Ronan I’d first met.

  We laughed as he told me about when the students first encountered the art group. Although the group were confined to the log cabin, Ronan told me, the students had stumbled across them when they’d taken a wrong turn. I laughed along with him, and it felt good. I told him about driving Harold the Honda and how Jake had helped me. He wanted to know about the people I’d met, and how I’d coped with the broken ankle. He frowned and bowed his head a little when I confessed to finding it hard during that time.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I know you’ve heard those words from me before, and I have no right to even imagine you could forgive me…”

  I picked up his hand. “I don’t have to forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive. You were, still are I imagine, grieving. You needed to get your head straight,” I said. I didn’t want to ask if he’d done that—it had only been a couple of months.

  “I know, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I have, but I made a start. I got some therapy. I’m still getting therapy, but I came to one startling conclusion…” He took a deep breath before he continued. “My life, even though troubled, was way less shit when you were in it, Lizzie.”

  “Way less shit, huh?” Inside, I was a mess. My stomach churned at his words and the way he looked, as if he had a big reveal for me, had my hand’s shaking.

  He smiled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah, way less. And those were totally the wrong words, but I’m terrified to tell you the truth.” He paused and then sat up a little straighter, determination evident in his face. “I’m going to, though. Lizzie, I love you. I fell in love with you when I met you, and I fucked everything up time and time again. Yet, you still stood beside me. Until you didn’t, and then I knew, I’d pushed too far. I have a habit of pushing people away, and I don’t want to do that with you,” he rambled.

  I was dumbstruck. I replayed what he had said in my mind, praying I’d heard every single word correctly. More specifically, and I whispered the words as I recalled them, the fact that he loved me.

  He took a deep breath. “I love you. I know I have a way to go before I’m not a dick, but I’d like to know if you and I could start again?”

  I felt a very slight shake to the hand I was holding. It matched mine.

  I leaned forward, and I kissed him, gently at first. When he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and pulled me further towards him—my heart started to pound. My stomach was a mass of flutters as we slid down into the arm of the sofa. He grabbed at my hair and moaned, and that sound reverberated through me. I was about to grind myself into him, such was my state of arousal, when I heard a yelp. I pulled my head back, not sure if that was Ronan.

  Max was sat at the base of the sofa looking up at us. He wagged his tail and yelped again.

  I laughed. “I think we need a little privacy, Max,” I said.

  We held hands as we walked up the stairs, and I led him to my bedroom.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered, as I stripped off my PJs.

  We made love, and he told me that he loved me, again. I wanted to say it. I knew that I did, but I held back just a little. I needed to be sure he meant it. He whispered it again as I fell asleep in his arms, and I was sure that I heard him tell me three or four times more throughout the night.

  I was dressed and downstairs early the following morning. I didn’t want to wake up to dog mess and bless him, Max had held on until I opened the back door and he shot out through my legs. He peed, he sniffed, and he left a nice little deposit in the middle of the lawn, and then peed some more. I called him and was surprised that he immediately returned and sat at my feet looking up at me.

  “Breakfast?” I said, to him.

  “As long as it’s you,” I heard. Ronan walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the side of my neck.

  “How about we eat…food…take Max for a walk, and then…” I turned in his arms. “We can make a decision about lunch and dinner.”

  Once breakfast was done, Ronan produced a lead and a plastic container of small poop bags. It seemed that Max had received some basic training as he bobbed along beside us. I heard a beep and waved as Jake slowed his car down. I leaned down and looked in the window.

  “Hi, how are you?” he asked.

  “Good, this is Ronan,” I said.

  “Ah,” Jake smiled and nodded, understanding immediately that Ronan had been the reason that our relationship was a friendship only. He reached out to shake Ronan’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. How about you both come to the pub tonight? It’s the last dinner club this year,” he said.

  I looked at Ronan, who shrugged his shoulders. “It’s up to you,” he said.

  “Thank you, Jake. Put us down for a table,” I said.

  I squeezed his arm as Jake gave me a kind smi
le. In another world, another time, I would have dated him, but I couldn’t when all the time I knew my heart belonged to a Scottish man who was both frustrating and annoying, and sexy, and…

  I watched Jake drive off and then turned to Ronan. “I assumed you were staying for more than one night,” I said. I had noticed the suitcase through the rear window of his Range Rover.

  “If you’ll have me,” he said.

  I nodded. “I’d like to spend Christmas with you, Ronan. And you, Max,” I said to the little dog jumping up at my legs.

  We continued our walk around the village green until we came to the hall. We paused and sat on the bench while I extended the lead to let Max have another pee and a sniff around.

  “What the…?” I heard.

  I turned to see Ronan pull a leaflet from the noticeboard of the village hall. I laughed as he read. “Limp Dicks and Saggy Tits Naked Gardeners. To raise funds for the Village Hall, come and join the photo shoot for the Naked Gardeners calendar. Tea and cake available.” He looked at me. “Limp Dicks and…” he laughed.

  “I thought it a bloody good title for our little fundraiser. Do you want to join in? I think we are missing a Mr December,” I teased.

  He re-pinned the leaflet and took my hand. We returned to my house and he took the key from me as I fumbled with the lock, then opened the door. Max was let off his lead, and he rushed to his water bowl and then flopped on his bed.

  “Lunch?” I asked, with a smirk.

  “Oh, yeah.” Ronan took my hand and led me back up the stairs.

  Ronan stayed for Christmas, and then New Year as well. He got on well with Jake, who told me he approved and for that, I was grateful. We still, however, hadn’t really had that talk. As snow started to fall one evening, I decided it was time.

  “It’s been so nice to have you here,” I said.

  Ronan turned sharply to me. “I think I can hear a but coming,” he said warily.

  “No, there isn’t. I just need to know where, if anywhere, we’re going with this.” I held my breath for a moment.