by Sue Watson
‘You’ll also need to work on your sexual techniques, buy lingerie, sex toys... a rampant rocket.’
‘I don’t want a rampant anything Sue—I’m going for a beer, not turning tricks.’
‘Oh, everyone’s got them these days, love. Men expect a lot in bed too; it’s not like when we were teenagers and you could get away with a quick blow job and half a pint of cider. They see it all on the Internet... they think we’re all bloody porn stars now. Take it from me that Dan will think there’s something wrong with you if you don’t have something with a battery in the bedroom. You can buy them online now. I blame the rampant rocket for Ken’s first affair... the one with Dawn from next door.’
‘Rabbit... you mean a Rampant Rabbit?’
‘Yes, at it like rampant rabbits they were. He was jumping over the fence... who’d have thought it? Dawn on the doorstep... all toothy smiles and big boobs and, “Can I have a cup of sugar?” No wonder that fence needed constant creosoting; it was worn down with him slipping over it every afternoon. And there she was with her big bust and her O-level French, turning his head with dirty talk and sex toys... men love sex toys.’
I swallowed hard. This brave new world of women on top and online toys in sparkly pink was scary for a separated forty-something who’d only slept with one man. How was I expected to compete with the likes of Dawn with her huge breasts, dirty French mouth and extensive collection of sex rockets?
‘It’s a jungle out there,’ I sighed, gazing ahead and rubbing up and down hard on a foaming water tap and wondering what I’d let myself in for.
* * *
A couple of nights later, Dan called me. He suggested we meet in The Bell, the local pub, the following evening. I said that sounded great and made small talk while trying hard not to dwell on Sue’s advice about taking along a bag of vibrators and sporting a push-up bra.
I arrived a few minutes after eight so I wouldn’t be standing there on my own and was relieved to see him already at the bar.
He smiled as I walked in, and as he embraced me to say hello, I felt sunshine warmth on my face.
‘You look lovely,’ he said. I was wearing Sue’s blue linen dress with wedges, a layer of fake tan and my hair tied up. I’d felt casual and very summery at home, but looking around the pub as he ordered my drink, I suddenly felt overdressed. I glanced over at Dan in jeans and an old T-shirt and realised I would seriously need to learn the art of dressing down if I was going to go out with younger men. It was all so new to me; the only time I’d been on nights out recently was with the girls and then we’d dress up to the nines. This was different—this was casual, it might not even be a date... and he was in his thirties.
He handed me my glass of wine and we went to sit in more comfortable seats in the corner.
‘So, Faye, you’re a single mum?’
‘Well... I suppose so. I’m separated... it’s quite recent, although we’ve been estranged for a long time.’
‘Oh... I’m sorry.’ He looked surprised. ‘Well, I’m not really sorry.’ He gave a wicked smile and my heart melted. ‘I assumed you were single—I’ve never seen you wearing a wedding ring.’
‘I had to take my wedding band off a few years back as it would get caught up in hair and the chemicals can damage jewellery.’ I said this like I believed it, but suddenly I wasn’t convinced it was true. I'd actually taken my ring off around the time I'd opened my secret savings account. Along with the pink rucksack of precious things, I reckon I’d been subconsciously planning to run away from home for quite some time before I found the courage to do it.
‘So, when will you go back? To Australia... you must miss it... the weather and everything?’
‘I’m planning to go back home in the autumn. It’ll be our springtime then and the right time... for me. I’d always planned to do Europe this summer...’
I did a quick calculation in my head. ‘So you’re only here for another four or five months?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. I haven’t really decided how long I’ll stay in the UK though. A friend of mine has a place in Santorini, said I can stay there if I fancied going... I went there a few years back. I love it there.’
My heart skipped a beat. A Santorini Sunset was on my living list. ‘What’s it like... Santorini?’
‘Great. Amazing place... I was there with an American girl I was seeing. We stayed a few days and my friend was there too. It was good, but they ended up sleeping together.’
‘Oh, my God—were you upset?’
‘Me? Nah... she wasn’t worth losing a friendship for.’
I was surprised at his lack of jealousy; he took everything in his stride.
‘So, why now? Why are you doing a gap year at the grand old age of thirty-three?’ I asked, keen to find out all about him.
‘When everyone else was doing Europe, I was too wrapped up in other stuff,’ he said. ‘My mum became ill, Huntington’s Disease. It damages certain brain cells and affects how you move, feed, live—it changes the person you are and it can take years, but you slowly get worse and worse and then... you die,’ he said slowly, looking into his beer.
‘Oh, Dan, that must have been awful... I'm so sorry.’
‘Yes, it’s a long, slow death sentence and it’s caused by a faulty gene, usually inherited.’
I stayed silent so he’d continue, but he didn’t need to; I’d heard, ‘faulty gene’ and ‘inherited’.
‘My bro and I were obviously high risk and were offered a test at eighteen. He went for it, but I was a coward; I... didn’t want to know.’ He took another sip of his beer. This was obviously hard for him to talk about, and I held my breath as he put down his glass and continued. ‘I dropped out of university and went a little crazy for a while... stupid stuff. Drugs, women, drink... you name it, I took it.’ He looked at me as if he thought I wouldn’t approve. ‘I broke some hearts, including my mother’s. Do you still want to spend the evening with me?’
I took a breath. ‘Yes, I do. I would never judge someone for reacting like that. Dan, you were losing your mother and there was every chance your own life might be cut short. Christ, I would probably have done the same.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this... but you are so easy to talk to, Faye. I like that about you. But I just feel like I failed everyone—my family, myself...’
He was clearly in pain and I just kept on talking to him to try and help him through it. ‘When we’re young, we all have these plans about the life we’ll lead, the sort of person we’ll be, but rarely does it match the reality... life gets in the way. We’re not always the people we wanted to be. I understand how you feel.’
‘I know you do.’ He looked up at me, reached out and squeezed my hand.
I squeezed mine back and looked at him; ‘Life gets messy. It has no respect for the plans you made when you were naive and filled with hope... You had such a lot to deal with at a very young age.’
‘Yeah, I guess. But it’s no excuse for running around town drunk and high while my Mum is dying. Anyway, I tried to turn things around, and on my twenty-eighth birthday, I realised that was how old my mum was when she first became ill, so I decided from that moment to live.’
I nodded, just listening.
‘And around that time, I met someone.’ He sighed. ‘If I was going to live a better, cleaner life with someone else, I had to know what was waiting down the road for me... for us. Mum’s agony had been the thought of leaving us all behind, and I didn’t want to do that to anyone, least of all myself. So I took the test—but it scared me; I had a tough time waiting for the results, just hanging around to see how long I’d got. I told myself that whatever the outcome, I was going to start to live and do and see all the things I wanted to before it was too late.’
He looked at me. ‘The chances of inheriting the gene are fifty-fifty... I tested negative. Guess my bro wasn’t so lucky.’
I squeezed his hand again.
‘My girlfriend couldn’t handle
it and she left. I knew if I stayed In Australia, I'd slip back into my old life too. The really terrible thing is that I haven’t seen my bro for a while...’
‘Why?’ I asked, gently.
‘Guilt? Fear? We were forced to play Russian roulette and he lost. His symptoms started last year and I can’t bear to watch another person I love being eaten away by the disease.’
‘Is there a cure?’
He shook his head.
‘You are still feeling the guilt about your mum’s death, aren’t you? About what was going on in your life when she died?’
‘Yeah... I guess.’
‘You need to work through that before you can begin to face what’s happening to your brother. I lost my mum and it’s taken me two years not to cry when I think about her, cook a recipe of hers, watch a film she loved... but you were so much younger. You need to allow yourself to grieve.’
‘Why should I be allowed that luxury? My mum spent her last few years wondering where I’d gone and my brother was told soon after mum died that he was going the same way... where’s his comfort?’
‘You’re both probably going through the same horrors, just different sides of the fence...’
‘I just remember how it was with my mum, and at the end I was there for her, when it mattered, but it was too late. I can’t... I just can’t deal with it.’ His head was now in his hands. This wasn’t the date night I’d been expecting, but my heart went out to him.
‘Is your brother dealing with it?’
‘Probably. He’s my big brother; he deals with everything. He taught me to ride a bike, drive a car... if there was ever a problem, he dealt with it, like he’s dealing with it now. I’m no use to anyone. He’s my hero... I can’t watch him die.’
I looked into his face and there were tears in his eyes.
‘Faye, I’m a coward.’
‘No, no, no. Don’t say that. You will find the time and space to... to come to terms with it and share the burden with your brother. Perhaps you’re just not ready yet?’
‘Perhaps I need to grow up first.’
He sat up, lightened his voice; he didn’t want to dwell on this. ‘God, I didn’t want to bring you down—this was supposed to be fun. Let’s talk about you.’
‘You don’t have to pretend it’s all okay just to keep things fun,’ I said. ‘If we’re going to be friends, I want to know all about you—the good and the bad and the bits in between.’
He leaned his head towards me. ‘Do you want to be just friends, Faye?’
I didn’t answer him. Of course I wanted more than that with him, but was it too soon? Was I risking just another broken heart further down the line?
‘I don’t know, Dan. I haven’t really had much experience with men,’ I announced, stupidly. I’m sure that’s on a list of one of the ten things not to say on a first date—and if it isn’t, it should be.
‘You’re special and I knew it when I first saw you and then when you cried that time... about missing your daughter. It touched my heart.’
It was lovely to hear, but I felt almost embarrassed; no one had said stuff like this to me before.
‘Oh, God, you make me sound wonderful, but really I’m not... I can be silly and childish and mean and... I say stupid things that are completely inappropriate at the wrong time and...’
He put his hand gently over my mouth. I had an urge to lick it. ‘And... and the way you can’t stop yourself from saying stuff, Faye... it’s funny. I love it. You can’t help it because you’re so honest and you’re just saying what you feel.’
I smiled and took a huge gulp of cold wine. It tingled into my chest. I was on a date and the guy was gorgeous, and despite the upsetting nature of our earlier conversation, he’d just made me feel like a million dollars.
‘Faye, I reckon us meeting was fate,’ he said, looking seriously into my eyes.
‘Ah, so you believe in fate?’ How romantic, I thought. ‘My friend Sue of the online dating disasters believes in fate. She reads her stars every day and makes decisions on what to wear, whether to go and meet someone, what to have for tea based purely on them. I’m a Leo and she’s constantly telling me I need glamour and passion... Who doesn’t?’ I giggled; ‘What star sign are you?’
‘I’m a Sagittarius, so, ironically, I’m the star sign that doesn’t believe in astrology,’ he smiled.
‘Well, it may be because I’m a Leo with the sun in my seventh heaven or something like that, but I would love to travel around Europe like you. I’ve said no to a lot of stuff in my life, and what you said before about deciding to live your life and really embrace opportunities struck a chord with me.’ I continued, ‘Since my separation, I’ve made a promise to myself to say yes to everything from now on.’
‘Yeah? Like what?’ He leaned his chin on his hand and looked into my eyes, waiting, interested in what I was about to say.
I was a little disconcerted; I wasn’t going to share my ‘living list’ with him yet. I knew he wouldn’t laugh at me like Craig would have, but I didn’t want him to think I was naive. ‘Oh... well, it’s early days and a bit scary, but nothing’s come up yet for me to say yes to... When I say ”yes to everything”, I don’t mean... anything—like I wouldn’t say yes to sleeping with someone on a first date or anything... or not... I mean I wouldn’t rule it out, it’s just...’
‘It’s okay, Faye,’ he chuckled, ‘I know what you mean. What you’re saying is that life’s short and we just have to take it and run with it—whatever it is. Sometimes it’s worth saying yes, especially to stuff that scares you.’
I nodded. ‘That’s it... exactly. And it’s what I intend to do from now on.’
Later he walked me home and we embraced on Sue’s doorstep like teenagers. There was no kiss—I wanted to, but I think all that talk from me earlier about not saying yes on a first date had made him wary of scaring me off.
‘Can we do this again?’ he asked.
‘Stand on Sue’s doorstep in the freezing cold? Yeah, sure,’ I joked.
And we both laughed and I leaned into him and he kissed me on the cheek like a friend. Then I heard the lock on Sue’s door, so I said I had to go and he said goodnight. I would have liked to stay talking to him a bit longer, but I wasn’t ready to have some awkward three-way conversation in Sue’s living room sipping tea from her best china. She meant well and I loved her but I would have given anything for some alone time and a little privacy. But just as I closed the front door and started to tiptoe upstairs, she was there. ‘Come on, you... the wine’s chilled and I want a blow-by-blow account.’
9
STRAPPY DRESSES AND MALEVOLENT BLONDES
By the beginning of March, the winds were dying down. Daffodils were emerging on side roads along which I walked from the car park to work. I’d been staying with Sue for almost three weeks. So much had changed and it was working well. I was slowly emerging from a marital cocoon where nothing had mattered—and now everything did. Life wasn’t predictable and grey anymore; it was in colour. Like a head of mousy hair after a vigorous session with Cruel Plum or Sarcastic Scarlet, life was taking on a new vibrancy, and I loved that.
The mild air held the promise of strappy dresses, blonde highlights and chilled rosé wine after work with Dan or the girls. I was on my way to the salon, imagining a holiday to a sun-drenched beach somewhere in another country. Now it was a real possibility. As much as I loved the autonomy of my new life, it came with responsibilities and I couldn’t blame Craig anymore for the things I didn’t or couldn’t do. It was up to me to do those things now and while I was giving myself time and space to work out what to do next, I was taking deep comfort in the fact my life was now in my own hands.
It had been over a week since I’d been to the pub with Dan. We’d chatted in the deli, exchanged a few texts and he’d suggested we meet up one night after work some time. It was all a bit vague and I was happy with that; I was enjoying my freedom and didn’t feel ready to start a full-on relationship. I wasn
’t going to stop at the deli that morning, but as I passed I was completely bowled over by the window display. Yellow bunting, creamy-coloured cheese wheels, piles of lemons and limes, and in the centre a beautiful pyramid of lemon cupcakes. I sighed at the little gingham triangles strewn across the window framing the lemony sponge with the buttercream icing. It was a work of art and I was imagining a mouthful of lemon cupcake with rich, creamy topping when the bell on the door clanged and it opened. ‘Hi, Faye.’ Dan was carrying a ladder and looked so pleased to see me, I blushed.
‘Hi...’ I managed, surprised again at how good-looking he was.
‘I thought I’d clean the windows—after all the hard work I’ve done on the display, I want everyone to see it,’ he smiled.
‘So you bake, you’re well-read and artistic too. Is there no end to your talents? Do you surf? You look like you surf... not that I was looking... or anything...’ I said, trying not to lick my lips at the thought of tongue-tingling lemon icing and Dan in trunks on a surfboard, hard thighs covered in sea spittle. He nodded. ‘Yeah, I love surfing. Bondi has the waves for that—as high as skyscrapers.’ He smiled at the memory as he straightened his ladder against the outside wall. He leaned on the ladder looking suddenly puzzled. ‘Why didn’t we talk about fun stuff like that the other night when we went for a drink? Sorry; I was on a bit of a downer.’
‘Don’t be daft. I had a great time.’
‘Me too,’ he said, holding me with his eyes. After a couple of beautiful seconds, he seemed to remember where he was. ‘I’m hoping the window will draw people in,’ he said, still leaning on the ladder and nodding towards the display. ‘My aunt Jen’s a bit worried; the shop’s been quiet, like everywhere else on the high street. I want this to work for her... she was so good giving me this job, I really owe her one. You know?’
‘Well it looks great; I’m sure it’ll bring in the customers. I can’t take my eyes from... it,’ I said, trying to drag my eyes from him.
‘Fancy a coffee?’
