“We can cut up through here if you want?” I’d said, pointing at a path leading through some woods. It was a steep path, but I knew at the top was a recreation ground we could walk across to her flat. It would cut maybe twenty minutes off the walk.
“What?” Jennifer had said with her hand on her chest. “You want me to go into the woods with you?” Her sly smile told me she was joking.
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, young lady,” I replied. “My intentions are entirely honourable.”
“Are they?” Jennifer said before frowning, but the smile stayed on her face as she did so. “Damn. Okay then. If you insist.”
Jennifer looped her hand through my arm, and we made our way through the woods. When we got to the end of the path, the sky opened out in front of us.
“Wow, look at the stars,” Jennifer whispered, breathless from the steep climb. I looked up to see a black sky, dotted with white sparkling pinpricks of light. I’d never been one for stargazing, but I had to admit the sight was impressive.
“Let’s sit down, get our breath,” I pointed at a bench.
“Oh, you’re not just a pretty face, are you.” Jennifer laughed as she unhooked her arm from mine and made her way to the bench, sitting on it with an exaggerated sigh. I sat next to her and looked up at the sky. We sat in silence for a few seconds. “So,” Jennifer said. “Are you into the astronomy side of things then?”
“Oh, yeah,” I lied through my teeth, pointing up at the sky. “See, look there. There’s Capricorn.” I waved my finger around. “And that’s Sagittarius just there.” I looked at her as she stared upwards at the sky. The glare from the streetlights on the other side of the recreation ground shone on her face. In that moment, looking at her staring at the sky, I realised I liked her. Really, really liked her.
I looked back up at the stars and was about to put my hands behind my head when Jennifer punched me in the arm.
“Ow,” I said, rubbing the spot where she’d hit me. “What was that for?”
“For talking rubbish,” Jennifer said, moving herself a couple of inches toward me so our hips were just touching. “I’m getting cold,” she continued. “Shall we give it five minutes and then head away?” I could feel the warmth of her leg against mine and couldn’t work out if she wanted me to put my arm around her. The truth is, I’ve never been great with women. I glanced across at Jennifer, who was staring back up at the sky, and a mad jumble of thoughts ran through my head. What did she think of me? Was I just safe company? Or was there maybe, just maybe, something more? The thought of her being on the rebound from Robert was front and centre of my thoughts. I knew I only had a few minutes before we’d be walking again, and the moment would disappear. I felt like a teenager about to ask a girl out on a date but decided, what the hell.
“Jennifer, can I ask you something?” I said, after a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“Sure you can,” she replied, still staring up at the night. I paused, taking another deep breath and trying to keep my voice steady.
“What would you do if I kissed you?”
Jennifer turned her head and looked at me. She opened her mouth just a touch, as if she was about to say something, then she closed it again. Her expression was inscrutable, and I couldn’t tell if I’d made a huge mistake.
“Oh,” she said a few seconds later. “Well, I guess one of two things.” I waited, desperate to hear what she would say. “I’d either slap you round the face hard and run off, or…” Jennifer paused.
“Or what?” I said a few seconds later.
“Or I’d kiss you back.” There was another pause as we looked at each other. I couldn’t read her expression at all.
“Which would it be then?” I said. She didn’t reply but just carried on looking at me. I realised I would have to find out for myself. I leaned forward, angled my head, and brushed my lips across hers, only just making contact with them before I sat back and screwed up my eyes.
“What are you doing?” Jennifer said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Waiting for a slap,” I replied. She laughed, and I felt her cool hand on the side of my face. She slid it round to the back of my neck.
“You big daft lump,” Jennifer said as she pulled me toward her.
We sat on the bench in the dark, like teenagers do, and kissed. Like teenagers do.
And it was very fine indeed.
4
The first time I spent the night with Jennifer, which I will always think about as when our relationship began, things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would. We’d been out quite a few times since the night we’d puckered up on the bench. Other than a couple of chaste kisses at her door, it hadn’t progressed beyond that. I wanted it to, God knows I wanted it to, but I needed to be sure she wanted more than a kiss. Each time I walked her back, I was desperate for her to invite me in but too nervous to suggest it myself. One evening before we met for a drink, I’d even blitzed my flat, giving the hoover a rare outing and changed the sheets. I’d had every intention of inviting her back to mine for a coffee, but I’d bottled it and settled for a kiss at her door and a wave goodnight as it closed.
It was three weeks to the day since our first kiss when that all changed. We’d been out for the evening to grab a quick bite to eat in a pub by the river called The Town House. It was a nice enough pub, nothing too flashy, just one of those chain pubs with the same menu whichever one in the country you went into. It was a very relaxed evening, but there was a massive part of me that still thought I was a convenient drinking partner, as opposed to a boyfriend. Jennifer was only just out of a relationship that was bordering on abusive. The last thing I wanted to do was to push her into another relationship even if I knew it wouldn’t be one with any abuse in the slightest. An added complication was that I was fairly sure she wouldn’t be interested in a relationship with a part-time thief.
I remember sitting there listening to Jennifer tell me a story about her work. I can’t for the life of me remember what the story was about, but I remember thinking how beautiful she was. She was wearing a long brown jacket over a simple white t-shirt. Her blonde hair was in a loose ponytail, and she had a yellow daffodil in the lapel of her jacket. Black, skin-tight jeans, brown shoes that matched her jacket. Simple enough in terms of fashion, but she looked stunning. She continued her story as she shrugged herself out of her jacket, and as Jennifer turned to drape the jacket on the back of her chair, the t-shirt tightened against her chest for a few seconds. I tried not to stare but failed miserably
“You are so rumbled,” she said as she turned back to face me, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I mumbled an apology as she took a sip from her glass of wine before putting it down on the table and staring at me, a faint smile playing across her face. We sat in what was for me an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before I tried to move the conversation away from my embarrassment.
“So, is the daffodil just for decoration, or does it mean something?”
Jennifer’s smile disappeared in an instant, and her entire expression changed. I had no idea what I’d done, but I’d certainly managed to change the subject. She took a deep breath, blowing it out through her cheeks as she glanced back at the flower in her jacket.
“It’s for Marie Curie,” she said. I was none the wiser, and it must have shown. “The cancer charity. A kind of appeal thing they run every year.” She reached out and ran her fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass, but there was nothing seductive about the way she did it. “My mum died of cancer. It was a while ago now, but it still hurts. You know?” The truth was I didn’t know. My mother had died so long ago that she was a distant memory, existing only in the photographs I looked at once in a blue moon.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” Jennifer reached out her hand and took mine, rubbing her thumb across the back of my hand.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Gareth,” she said, the smile returning to her face. “But I love the fac
t you are.”
We spent the next hour in quiet conversation. Jennifer told me a little about her mother’s death, and the way it had affected her father, but soon steered the conversation away from the subject and on to something lighter — her brother. She’d mentioned him on one of earlier evenings out — I wasn’t sure whether they were dates or not — but I hadn’t realised that they were twins. She was the baby of the family by just under two minutes, and her brother Jacob never let her forget it. We spent a few minutes talking about him. As I was an only child, the whole concept of a sibling was an alien one to me, and the idea of a twin sibling was even stranger. No, they weren’t identical, and no, they didn’t finish each other’s sentences. One thing Jennifer told me was how protective Jacob was of her, and I wondered how much he knew about her ex-boyfriend Robert.
Jennifer finished her wine and declined a refill, saying she had to be up early for work.
“Do you want to walk back, or grab a taxi?” I asked. She looked at her watch, frowning.
“A taxi, I think. I hadn’t realised it was so late.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time and call a cab. It was only ten o’clock in the evening. Not late by my standards, but then I didn’t have to get up early. The taxi turned up within minutes, surprising both of us, and in no time at all, we were pulling up outside her flat. Jennifer leaned across and kissed me on the cheek before she got out of the cab.
“I’ll call you,” she said.
As the cab pulled away, I sat back in the seat and sighed. Home alone again then. I caught the cab driver looking at me with one eyebrow raised in the rearview mirror, and I gave him a stare to let him know I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Where to, mate?” he said, shifting his gaze back to the road.
“The Heartsease please,” I replied.
Three pints later, and I was outside in the beer garden of The Heartsease, smoking a cigarette. I’d missed Tommy and David by about thirty minutes, and Big Joe wasn’t in a conversational mood. I’d just finished my pint and was about to head home when my phone rang. It was Jennifer.
“Hey,” I said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied. I waited for her to say something else. She’d called me, but all I could hear was the line hissing. The beer swilling round in my stomach wasn’t helping, and I fought the urge to belch.
“Let me ask you something,” Jennifer said. “And I want an honest answer, okay?”
“Sure, scout’s honour,” I replied, lighting a fresh cigarette and waiting for her to continue. She laughed, and the sound brought a smile to my face.
“If you were here now,” she said. “As in, here with me.” A pause, but not an uncomfortable one. I imagined that scenario and wondered if she was doing the same. “What song would you play for me from your iPod?” I wasn’t expecting that. I scrolled through my music in my head and it was my turn to pause. This was going to one of those throw it out there moments.
“You sure you want me to answer that question, Jennifer?” I said, wondering what her response might be. There was a silence on the other end of the line.
“Yes, but I want an honest answer. Not something by Frank Zappa.” How did she know Frank Zappa when she didn’t know Gloria Gaynor? “And if it’s anything by Dire Straits, I’m hanging up.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture her in my head. I took a deep breath and decided that if I was in for a penny, I might as well be in for a pound.
“It would have to be “Fix You”, by Cold Play,” I said and waited for a reply.
All I could hear down the line was silence, and I thought for a moment that Jennifer had hung up. Not everyone likes Cold Play. Then I heard the opening bars of the song come through the phone. I sat in silence, listening to the song through Jennifer’s phone. As the final segment of the song faded away, I heard Jennifer say something but missed what it was.
“Sorry Jennifer, I missed that?”
“I said, where are you?” she replied.
“I’m at The Heartsease.” There was another silence. Each one was more electric than the last.
“Do they sell wine?” Jennifer asked. I didn’t have a clue.
“It’s a pub, so I think they must,” I replied. “It’s probably piss water though.” I was expecting her to laugh, but she didn’t. I heard her take a deep breath, start to say something. Another deep breath.
“Can you do me a favour?” she asked, her voice a notch higher than it had been.
“Sure, of course I can,” I replied. I waited for her to reply. It was her silence to break but as the seconds passed, I wondered if she was still there.
“Can you bring a bottle with you on your way over?”
I’d bought two bottles of overpriced wine from Big Joe — the only options he had available were red or white, so I got one of each. The walk to her flat didn’t sober me up anywhere near the amount I’d hoped it would. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I rang her doorbell, but I remember thinking things like this didn’t happen to people like me while I waited. When she opened the door, Jennifer was still wearing her clothes from earlier, minus the jacket and shoes.
“Hey, hello again,” she said with a smile that lit up her entire face. She’d removed what little makeup she’d been wearing, and let her hair down, but other than that she was just the same. “Come on in.” Jennifer walked back into the flat, and I followed her through the narrow hallway into the lounge. Her flat was tiny. The white hallway was maybe ten feet long, extending to a lounge at the end of it, and I counted three other doors. Bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, I assumed.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted red or white,” I said as I walked behind her. “So I got one of each. I don’t really drink wine.” Jennifer looked over her shoulder at me and grinned.
“Perfect,” she said. “I’m easy either way, and I haven’t got any beer, so you’ll have to help me drink it.”
Jennifer’s lounge was in proportion both to the rest of the flat and to her — small. It had a sofa, a television, and not much else. The only thing different from my lounge was that Jennifer’s didn’t have empty beer cans and Chinese takeaway containers littering the floor.
“Have a seat, make yourself at home.” Jennifer waved at the sofa. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere else to sit, so I plonked myself on the end away from the cushions. I figured from the way they were crinkled that was where she sat. “I’ll grab some glasses. Are they screw tops?” She nodded at the bottles I was still clutching.
“Yep, think so,” I replied. She disappeared back into the hall. I heard a door open, and a few seconds later, some glasses rattling. I looked around the lounge while I waited for her to come back. There was a music channel turned down low playing on the television, and a small bookcase against one wall. A photo on top of the bookcase showed Jennifer and an older man hugging on a beach. A few of the books on the shelves were about astrology, with some romance novels dotted about. At the far end of the shelf was a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey with a very creased spine. Interesting.
Jennifer came back into the room holding two large wine glasses and put them on the small coffee table. I opened the bottle of white wine and poured us both a glass while she sat down at the opposite end of the sofa. The main reason I didn’t often have wine was because it usually hit me like a sledgehammer, but I couldn’t sit there and watch her drink it on her own.
“Here you go,” I handed her a glass. “Chin Chin.” We clinked our glasses together and Jennifer took a large sip from hers before sitting back on the sofa, crossing her legs as she did so. “So, let me guess,” I said, pulling my face into an expression I hoped looked as if I was thinking hard. “You’re a Capricorn, right?”
“Oh my God,” she laughed. “I didn’t know you were into astrology?” I wasn’t, but I’ve always had a great line of bullshit.
I remember us talking for ages about nothing in particular. It hadn’t taken Jennifer long to realise that I knew bugger all about astrology. I ended up confe
ssing that I couldn’t understand how a bunch of rocks floating about in space knew more about my day than I did, which she claimed was because I was a Pisces.
The white wine didn’t last long, and the bottle of red turned out not to be a screw top. While Jennifer hunted in the kitchen for a corkscrew, I used her bathroom. As I peed, I looked around the small room. There was only a shower, a sink, and a toilet. Her bathroom was spotless and smelt pleasant, which was a distinct contrast to mine. The towels were neatly folded on a rail, not tossed on the floor, and the bottom of the shower was clean as a whistle whereas mine had a yellow ring effect around the plughole. I resisted the urge to peep in her bathroom cabinet and washed my hands after checking the toilet bowl for any sign of a poor aiming technique. At the last minute, I remembered to put the seat and lid back down.
When I got back into the lounge, Jennifer was sitting on the sofa, holding a large glass of red wine. Another glass, just as full, was on the coffee table. I picked it up and took a large mouthful. It was rancid. I didn’t like wine at the best of times, but even a philistine like me knew this was bad. But over the course of the next half an hour or so, we managed to work our way through most of the bottle. By the time Jennifer filled up my glass with the dregs from the bottom of the bottle, I was feeling woozy. So, instead of drinking it, I lay back on the sofa and listened to her talking. So I could concentrate on the sound of her voice, I let my eyelids close just for a couple of seconds.
“Hey, sleepy head.” I opened my eyes. Jennifer was kneeling in front of me holding a mug in her hand. I was stretched out on her sofa, with a blanket over me. No shoes but clothing otherwise intact. I groaned. I must have passed out last night, knowing me not long after we had started to drink the bottle of red. Anything stronger than lager just killed me. “I brought you a cup of tea,” Jennifer said. She put the mug down by the side of the sofa and stood up. “I need to head off to work soon,” she said. “In about twenty minutes.”
Gareth Dawson Series Box Set Page 3
