by L M Bee
“I think there might be a rug in the boot,” mumbled Oliver, going to look for it and coming back with one tucked under his arm.
“I’ll bring my basket of goodies,” added Mary.
Spotting a small copse off to one side of the field, tranquil and inviting, they picked their way through the lofty sunflowers towards the tall trees. Delighted to discover a small lake hidden in the middle, they spread out the rug overlooking the still water, lying down and making themselves comfortable, appreciating their picturesque backdrop and the sound of silence.
“Have we got any wine?” enquired Oliver languidly.
“Yes, that bottle we bought from the market. Trouble is, we need a corkscrew.”
“No problem,” replied Oliver, confidently taking the bottle and striding across the field, peering down at the tinder dry soil, occasionally rootling around in the dirt with the toe of his shoe, until he appeared to have found what he was looking for.
“This’ll do,” he cried, holding up a sliver of rock in one hand as he returned. After rehearsing the move a couple of times, he held the bottle at arm’s length and sliced the rock along the length of it towards the cork. The glass neck around the cork shot off in a lump towards the lake, followed by a splosh.
“Ta-dah,” he announced, proudly holding up the open bottle.
“Clever trick, where did you learn that?”
“Misspent youth!”
“We’ve haven’t got any glasses either,” said Mary, “but we could use those mugs I bought from the pottery stall. Look, aren’t they sweet? Especially this yellow one with hand-painted olives.” She waved it in front of him to show off the design before pouring the wine into both.
“To us,” proposed Oliver, with a big grin.
“To us,” repeated Mary, tapping her mug against his, feeling over the moon.
Whiling away the afternoon together, basking in glorious sunshine surrounded by bright yellow sunflowers, felt like a dream – blissfully happy in each other’s company, simply watching the blue sky and idly chatting about whatever thoughts came into their minds.
Oliver had been quietly pensive for a while, lying with his head in Mary’s lap, looking up at the sun. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” he ventured tentatively.
Mary hesitated, not quite sure how to reply. In truth, she had always thought Henry would be the only man in her life. But since meeting Oliver, funnily enough, that had been a recurring question in her own mind too – he did seem like Mr Right.
“Maybe,” she answered coyly, avoiding his gaze.
“What does maybe mean?” he asked, sounding snubbed.
“It means, maybe you should mind your own business or I’ll tickle you to death!” Poking him in the ribs and provoking an energetic tickling battle between the two of them, their wriggling bodies writhed and squirmed until they both had to give up, falling flat on their backs, laughing and gasping for breath.
Mary rearranged herself comfortably, resting her head on his chest, secretly wondering if she would marry him. The more she thought about it, the more the idea grew on her. She’d always loved the romantic notion of a Christmas wedding, and closed her eyes to daydream about getting married and picturing Oliver as the groom.
Surrounded by a festival of sunflowers, seeded faces turned towards the sun, the only sound was a skylark, invisibly high, pouring his heart out with heavenly harmonies.
Oliver propped himself up on one elbow, moving slowly and carefully until Mary’s head was cradled in his lap. Selecting a long blade of grass, he started slowly stroking her with it in a dreamy way, running the seeded tip along the bare skin of her arm and down the side of her neck. Silently teasing her with it as her eyes closed in utter bliss. Tossing away the blade of grass, he softly stroked his finger along the exact same lines, and then leaned over to smother her with kisses. Mary moaned with pleasure.
Peering at the sunshine through half-closed eyes, she could feel Oliver’s fingers slowly unbuttoning the front of her sundress, and the warmth of his hand slipped under the fabric gently caressing her skin, reminding Mary how long it had been; she’d almost forgotten the thrill. Feeling her pulse beating faster, her thoughts momentarily strayed. She’d only ever known one lover.
She realised that Henry wouldn’t want her to live like this any more, depressed, every day overshadowed by gloom. It was time for her to move on, and perhaps this moment was an indication that she had to take a bold step if she wanted a brighter future.
She used to be a happy person, living each day to its full potential, and it was time to reclaim that sunny disposition. She had grieved enough, time to live again, starting with a positive outlook and the energy and enthusiasm to embrace whatever the future may hold. She was convinced this gorgeous man had been sent, like a gift from the gods, to drag her out of the doldrums. Maybe her daydream a few minutes ago had been a glimpse of things to come; visualising the wedding, and only by taking a leap of faith would she discover what manifestations lay ahead. The idea of having a man in her life again certainly appealed. Decision made, thrive not survive, time to move on – starting right now.
She nuzzled her face into his greying hair, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his scalp. The soft touch of his fingertips, exciting on her bare skin, was surprisingly more effectual than Henry. Pangs of guilt flickered across her conscience at the inappropriate comparison, before she brazenly arched her back with irrepressible ripples of desire.
She willed herself to leave the past behind, and absorb the moment. Her dress was now completely undone, discarded and crumpled underneath her. Biting her lower lip, sensual breaths in time to crescendoing heartbeats, she was excited but nervous.
Oliver paused to study her eyes. Soused with desire and holding each other’s gaze, Mary knew he would take her to a place she’d never been to before. Mind and body yearning to go with him, aching as she pressed her lips to his and reached down to swiftly unbuckle his belt, urgently pulling at his clothes.
Shamelessly wanting him, and crazed with lustful courage, just a singular thought remained in her mind as he carefully lowered his weight on top. Pounding hearts together, skin to skin, throbbing pulse to pulse. A deep groan of desire escaped as she wrapped her bare legs round him, her body begging to be taken here and now, now, now. She gasped at his strong thrust, head flung back in ecstasy, as he took her mind and body and soul. Their wild spirits burning to unite, discovering that place she’d never been to and exhaling a scream of unbridled passion, climaxing.
The birds flying in to roost woke her, cackling in the branches overhead. Carefully untangling herself from their entwined limbs, Mary felt high on happiness and blissfully content. Swamped by his cotton shirt, she stood up and shivered, brushing her hands up and down both arms, the warmth fast deserting the setting sun. Feeling chilly, she nudged Oliver with her hand until he reluctantly stirred.
“The sun’s going down, what time is it?” she murmured.
Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen.
“Gone eight. We’ve been asleep for hours,” he drawled lazily, stretching and yawning.
“Oh no!” gasped Mary, not noticing his nonchalance, “we promised to meet Sophia at six!”
“So? We can catch up another day,” he droned monotonously.
“So rude to forget! She’ll be really upset.”
“Not rude, we just fell asleep,” he stated, sounding bored.
“Yes but …” She ran out of steam. His complete change of mood made Mary wonder if he’d never had any intention of meeting Sophia in the first place. Then she recalled how strangely delighted he’d been when she’d cancelled at lunchtime. For a split second the scales fell from Mary’s eyes, replaying his tedious tone in her mind; had her perfect man revealed a flaw? She was still high from their lovemaking, and avoiding judgement, otherwise she would’ve recognised the almost imperceptible whiff of jealousy and control creeping in.
Chapter 8
Sophi
a waited patiently in the bar for them to arrive, from time to time trying Mary’s number, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Strange. Unlike Mary not to show up, and even more unlike her not to call either. Eventually, fed up with hanging around like a spare part, Sophia went up to her room in a huff.
Running a deep bubblebath to make herself feel better, she absentmindedly played with the froth wondering what could’ve happened to them. Feeling at a loose end with nothing to do, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and put on the big white fluffy bathrobe. Checking the time – gone eight – she wandered out onto the balcony. The sun was starting to go down, a distinct chill in the air, so she retreated back inside and shut the door. Feeling restless, and cross about being stood up without a word of explanation, her bad mood was slowly escalating.
Picking up her phone and flopping onto the bed, she lay on her front to study the photo of Mary standing against the fountain, enlarging it with her fingertips until she’d scrutinised every detail of Oliver’s face. The image still niggled her, just as much as it did the first time she looked at it. Nothing wrong with Mary, she looked genuinely happy, leaning against the mossy fountain with a big smile on her face. No, it was Oliver that rankled her, there was something disturbing about his expression. She couldn’t help her opinion, despite feeling slightly ashamed, Mary would be horrified if she knew. As far as Sophia was concerned it was simple, even though he had a nice smiley face for the camera – he looked fake.
Sophia tried to put it out of her mind but it wasn’t that easy, the suspicion persisted. She hadn’t even met this Oliver character yet but she was already certain, she didn’t trust him one iota. In a rapidly deteriorating mood, she slathered on a green face mask and climbed onto the bed clutching the room service menu.
Her phone pinged with a text from Mary; a relief to hear from her at last. The rambling apology explained that they’d accidentally fallen asleep in a field, in a rural area with no phone signal, too patchy to make calls thus the text. Huge apologies, but by the time they got back, it would be too late to meet. Eager to make up for it, Mary suggested meeting for breakfast at whatever time suited Sophia. Too pissed off to say much, Sophia texted back a curt 7.30am and the thumbs up emoji.
Her grotty mood making her crave comfort food, she ordered a large pepperoni pizza and cold beer. Settling back against the pillows, face still plastered in mask, she decided to call Mary’s home number and check on the children.
Kitty answered, telling someone in the background to turn the sound down.
“Hi Kitty, it’s Sophia. Just ringing to check how you all are.”
“Good, thanks.”
“What are you up to?”
“Got a friend round, we’re in my room watching make-up tutorials on YouTube. Arthur just came back from the pub, and I think Titty’s watching a film downstairs.”
“So everyone’s okay then?”
“Yeah, all good. To be honest, it’s quite nice not having Mum around for a change!”
“Have any of you spoken to her lately?”
“No, none of us, she hasn’t called since arriving in France.”
“Really? That’s odd, not like her at all,” said Sophia with concern, remembering that she hadn’t heard much from Mary lately either.
“I’ve called her loads of times, but it goes straight to voicemail.”
“Same here,” agreed Sophia, “maybe her phone’s playing up or something.”
“Whatever, doesn’t matter,” said Kitty, “it’s way more relaxing without having to listen to her moaning on, she’s been so ratty lately!”
“That’s not the point,” rebuked Sophia, “she should have called you. How about Arthur and Titty, are they okay?”
“Yeah, cool.”
“All right, sweetheart, well lots of love to everyone. I’ll be seeing your mum in the morning for breakfast, any messages?”
“Nah, not really, just say we’re fine.”
“Okay, call me if you need anything, I’m always here for you. Love to you all and speak soon.”
There was a knock on the door. Room service wheeled in a little trolley laid with a place setting for one, even a tiny vase of flowers from the garden. Still sulking, Sophia snatched her order off the trolley and climbed back onto the bed, sitting crosslegged to eat the pizza with her fingers and swigging beer from the bottle.
Chatting to Kitty hadn’t improved her mood; if anything she felt even more annoyed and cross with Mary now for ignoring her children.
Chapter 9
Keen to make amends, Mary swept into breakfast full of apologies.
“So sorry about last night, I can explain …”
But it wasn’t long before her remorse dried up, and the eulogy about Oliver Harrison was in full swing. Still smarting about being stood up, Sophia was sick to death of hearing his bloody name, and irritated that he was seeing more of Mary than she was. Not wanting to make a mountain out of a molehill, she put on a good face and listened, as Mary banged on and on about him.
“Can’t believe we tried twice yesterday, and still failed to meet up!” she exclaimed. “Dying for you to meet him, just know you’re going to approve.”
Sophia patiently admired all the photos taken in Aix on Mary’s phone.
Bizarrely the one of them both, taken by the waiter, irked her in exactly the same way as the one by the fountain. Same thing, at first glance Oliver had a nice smiley face, but when you looked closely at his expression it wasn't sincere. Sophia hadn’t even met him yet, but had already formed her opinion.
Leaning forward, Mary confided in a stage whisper, “I think it’s serious!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think I’m falling in love with him,” beamed Mary.
Fuck, yelled a voice inside Sophia’s head before she managed to rein it in and appear more diplomatic. “Are you sure?” she checked in a quavering voice.
“One hundred percent!”
“Sure it’s not just a flash in the pan holiday romance?”
“Yup, definitely not. Honestly never thought I would be this happy ever again, or hear myself say this, but there’s something really special about him. We’re so suited, he’s like the other half of me I never knew was missing, provides everything I need and makes me feel so good. Hard to explain, wish I could put it into words, wait till you meet him then you’ll see what I mean – can’t put my finger on it.”
My thoughts entirely, thought Sophia sarcastically.
Mary kept going. “Without doubt, head over heels in love!”
Fuck and double fuck, nothing about this feels right, thought Sophia. She disappears off all day, I barely see her, and now she wants me to be delighted that she’s fallen in love with some bloke she’s known for less than two days! Seriously? A good looking chap with a smarmy grin, who frankly I wouldn’t trust further than I can spit. Sophia was starting to regret asking Mary to join her in the South of France – this wasn't how she’d expected it to pan out at all.
“Mary, I am pleased for you – but if I can be honest, a bit concerned too,” broached Sophia, timidly testing the water.
“Why?” asked Mary, sounding confused.
Sophia stuttered, “It’s just … it’s just that it’s all moving so fast.”
“So what?” replied Mary confrontationally.
Trying to choose her words carefully, not wanting to get into an argument, Sophia responded with as much tact as she could muster. “I’m just thinking about your children. Don’t forget it’s vital you get their seal of approval before things go much further, or all hell could break loose.”
Mary paused to consider her advice, mindlessly flipping her phone over and over on the tablecloth whilst thinking it through.
“You’re right. I’ll give them a call later, and tell them about Oliver.”
“Mary, go slowly, remember they might not be as keen on him as you are.”
“Rubbish! They’ll love him when they get to know him.”
&nb
sp; Sophia despaired, wondering if she was banging her head against a brick wall – love does strange things to people, and Mary clearly wasn’t listening to a word she was saying – but having got this far, and determined not to wimp out, she boldly made another attempt to get her point across.
“Listen, Mary, don’t get cross with me, but I think you should slow things down. Today’s Thursday, you met him on Tuesday, you haven’t even known each other forty-eight hours!” Her voice rose with exasperation.
Mary’s face dropped, petulantly shrugging her shoulders. “So?”
God give me strength, groaned Sophia to herself, it’s like dealing with a teenager.
“So, you need to be really sure you’re doing the right thing, before you pull the pin out of the grenade by telling your children. They might not take it as easily as you think. Let’s be honest, Arthur’s never going to welcome any man taking the place of his father, Kitty’s a loose cannon ready to fly off the handle without any warning whatsoever, and Titty struggles to cope with normal life as it is – something like this could push her over the edge.”
Mary took a deep breath and looked pensive for a moment. “You’re right, I need to break it to them gently.”
Being in love was making Mary behave totally out of character. Never normally selfish, yet over the last forty-eight hours, she hadn’t spared a single thought for anyone or anything other than her own self-absorbed happiness. Her querulous attitude quickly worsening, she muttered under her breath like a sullen child, “But I don’t want to slow down …”
“Why not?” asked Sophia, trying hard to remain calm.
“In case I miss my chance! This might be my one and only chance to be happy ever again! Never dreamed I’d meet someone else, then Oliver appears out of the blue, intuitively knows everything about me, what’s missing from my life …”
“I get all that, but what I’m saying is, be careful not to ostracise your children over him.”
