The driver shouted, and Alan jumped up, thanked him and left the bus. Dalkeith Road stretched up a long hill past red roofed bungalows with neat gardens. About half way up he found the turn-off to Claire’s house. He glanced at his watch, he was far too early. He stood for a moment admiring the view across the firth of Tay to the Fife coast with St. Andrews just visible on the horizon. He decided to walk back to the bus stop, go a bit farther then return. He enjoyed walking. He could think while his legs carried him along without conscious effort. He’d often done this, lost in thought, then come back to awareness, to find himself way past his destination.
As he walked, he recalled how before his fifth year at school, he’d landed a summer job as a hotel porter at a hotel in Killin. He’d loved the freshness of the air in the picturesque village nestling in a valley, almost surrounded by hills. He’d taken to fishing and rowing one of the hotel boats down the river to loch Tay on his afternoons off. There had been a waitress. She’d been about nineteen, somewhat brazen, with pugnacious boobs, trying to punch holes in her tight jumper. She’d taken a fancy to him and had thrust herself against him a few times. When he’d felt her breasts push against his chest, he’d blushed with embarrassment. He’d tried to keep out of her way, but one evening she’d found him alone in the staff room, pushed herself against him and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, then asked him to take a cup of hot milk up to her bedroom when he finished work.
He grinned to himself. He’d been trembling with anticipation for the next hour and as soon as his shift finished he’d taken a cup of lukewarm milk to her room, knocked on her door and entered, locking the door behind him. She was in bed and as he’d placed the cup on her bedside locker, she’d sat up allowing her nightdress to fall displaying her breasts.
Although he was fifteen, he’d been very innocent and had never seen a girl’s breasts before. He still remembered the sensations that had pulsed through him. He’d been fascinated and could have fondled them all night, but she’d become very passionate, had put the light out and pushed his hand down between her thighs. But when his exploring finger had slipped into the warm slippery place inside her, it had scared him. He’d whispered that he would see her the next day and he had bolted. On the days following she’d been cool and distant and he’d sensed the reproach in her eyes every time she looked at him. She’d left soon afterwards. He squirmed at the memory. A few days later two black girls in their twenties, Eleanor and Robina, from Barbados who were on a working holiday were taken on. They’d both fancied him and tried to touch him and rub themselves against him whenever they could. Every time he’d blushed bright red. This seemed to delight them, and they’d redoubled their efforts. He smiled as he remembered late one night they’d caught him in the staff room. Eleanor, who was quite hefty had stood with her back to the door to block his escape while Robina had tried to seduce him. She’d taken off her jumper to reveal her bare breasts and asked if he wanted to touch them, but he’d been too discomfited to take advantage of the invitation. She’d then lain on the table and pulled her skirt up, revealing her bare thighs.
“Want to look?” she’d asked.
He hadn’t known what to do. Laughing at his flaming cheeks, they’d eventually allowed him to escape.
He’d been on late shift that night and after he’d locked up and gone to bed, he’d lain awake until, inflamed by the memory of Robina’s body, he’d crept to her room and knocked quietly on her door. She’d peeped out of the door, then grabbing his hand, had pulled him inside and locked the door behind her. And there he’d lost his virginity.
He remembered her warm body. She’d helped him undress in the darkness, guided him skilfully, pushed his head to parts he would never have dreamed of kissing and whispered encouragement to him in his awkwardness. Her response to his clumsy efforts had surprised him. Her throaty moans had aroused him to undreamt of heights of excitement and he’d lost all conscious control of his body, his automatic movements becoming wild and savage. She’d wanted him to stay afterwards, but he’d dressed and left quickly. He’d been in shock. Stunned at the sheer overwhelming intensity of the sensations he’d experienced. He’d gone for a long walk along the quiet roads around Killin and had trekked for miles, not returning until the early hours of the morning.
He’d tried to avoid them both, but two days later, when he was on early morning shift and stoking the boiler, Robina had come down into the boiler room, thrust her body against his and let her dress fall to stand naked before him. He’d again lost all control and again she’d guided him and encouraged him. He’d screamed at the intensity of his orgasm.
It had been like a drug after that and he was with one of them every night, sometimes until early the next morning. He smiled. It had been the most glorious month of his life. Some days he was like a zombie through sheer exhaustion.
He frowned. One of the barmen, Peter his name was, had made a dirty remark about his relationship with the girls. When Alan had replied with cutting sarcasm, Peter had lashed out and a fight had ensued. Peter a brash young man about twenty had treated Alan like a schoolboy. He still remembered the stupefaction in his eyes as he punched him almost senseless. Although not massively built Alan was immensely strong and fast, while Peter, although big, was clumsy and hadn’t landed a punch. He’d regretted it afterwards especially when he’d seen the bruises on Peter’s face.
He glanced at his watch then turned and retraced his steps, thinking of Eleanor and Robina. He remembered their merriment and the faint scent like iodine from them when they were aroused. They’d taught him a lot, not just about sex, but about himself, and he’d learned to laugh and not take himself so seriously. He remembered their easy compliance and their amusement at the indignities of physical love, but they had always been gentle with him, encouraging him when he got it wrong. He smiled fondly.
He was less inhibited with women after that.
“You’re still too serious though,” he told himself. His friends seemed able to chat up women and jump into bed with them easily enough. “Maybe Marc is right,” he told himself. “You are a romantic.” He had this thing about redheads, a certain colour of hair attracted him. It was as if he was searching for someone.
As he reached Claire’s house and turned down her path to the door, he thought again of Eleanor and Robina and other women he’d known. He remembered Maisie. She was a tiny girl but with a heart of a lion. He’d really liked her, but she’d gone to Germany to teach.
He told himself happily, “They are all marvellous.”
Chapter 29
Kirsty watched Claire limp into the lounge, dump her bag on the floor, kick her shoes off and flop down beside her on the settee, groaning “My feet are killing me.”
Kirsty smiled. “Had a bad day?”
“Mrs. Munro passed away.”
Kirsty smile faded. “She was a nice old lady.”
Claire nodded and was silent for a while then she asked. “How was your biology exam?”
“Fine.”
Claire gave her a look. “You study hard enough, you should get out more and enjoy yourself, meet some boys.”
Kirsty wrinkled her nose. “The boys at school are so immature.”
Claire raised her eyebrows. “If you went out more you might find someone who you liked.”
“Plenty of time for that later when I have a career.”
Claire sighed. “It doesn’t always work like that.”
“I’ll make it work like that,” Kirsty replied. She saw Claire open her mouth to retort, then change her mind and rake in her bag.
“I got you a shepherd’s pie from Markie’s. Are you going out?”
Claire smiled. “Yes. Alan’s taking me out for dinner.”
Kirsty wrinkled her forehead, she tended to lose track of Claire’s boyfriends.
“Which one is he?”
“He’s at the university doing a year’s postgraduate study.”
“What’s he like?”
Claire hes
itated. “Well he’s got fair hair, he’s medium tall and he’s got lovely greyish blue eyes. He’s got a smile that makes me go weak at the knees and when he talks to me it’s as if I’m the only person in the world.” She smiled dreamily. “He holds doors open for me.”
Kirsty rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Yuk! He sounds a real wimp.”
“I like it!” Claire retorted.
“Is he old?”
“He’s twenty-two.”
Kirsty was shocked. “That’s five years younger than you.” She saw her sister’s eyes narrow.
“So, what? Five years isn’t much of a gap, and he’s very mature.”
Kirsty felt it advisable to change the subject. “Where are you going?”
“The Stakis.”
“What’s it like?”
“I don’t know, it’s new.”
Claire stood up. “I’ll put the oven on now.”
Kirsty heard her voice from the kitchen muttering about the pile of unwashed breakfast dishes. She scratched Bonny’s ears and whispered. “Holds doors open. I wonder if he kisses her hand.” She giggled. “Men!” she exclaimed “Who needs them.” She wet her finger and touched it to the cat’s dry nose then jumped guiltily as Claire shouted.
“KIRSTY!” from the doorway. “I wish you’d stop that disgusting habit. Why do you do it?”
Kirsty felt flustered. “I don’t know.” The doorbell rang interrupting her.
Claire glanced at her watch. “Sugar! that will be Alan.” She appealed, “Could you entertain him while I change?”
She rushed through to the hall, without waiting for an answer and Kirsty heard her exclaiming, “Alan! Come in.”
A pleasant male baritone replied and something about the voice stirred some strange memory inside her and set her nerves tingling.
Claire led Alan into the lounge. “This is my little sister, Kirsty,” she indicated. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted while I get changed.” She hurried away.
Kirsty pushed Bonny off her lap and rose with an inexplicable sense of anticipation bubbling up inside her. Their eyes locked on to each other. Time seemed to stop. She heard him let out his pent-up breath. His eyes examined her face then focused on her lips. He started to lean forward as if he was going to kiss her, then stopped with a jerk. She blinked her closing eyes open again and re-focused on him. The longish fair hair, broad forehead and level grey thoughtful eyes combined to form a face that was at once masculine yet sensitive. A memory hovered, tantalisingly out of reach.
She stood entranced until he smiled and held out his hand.
“Kirsty, Claire talks about you a lot, she’s very proud of you.” His smile seemed to draw her inside him. She felt she was quivering like a jelly. As she took his hand, she felt a tingle like electricity and wondered if he felt it too.
“She is?” She tried to sound light hearted, to ignore the uncanny sensations this man aroused in her. “She treats me like a child of five, I’m always fighting with her.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears.
She led him to the settee where they sat close together as if they were old friends. Bonny jumped back, sniffed around Alan, then as if satisfied, settled on his lap. He scratched behind her ears and Kirsty smiled approvingly.
“She’s very choosy about who she lets stroke her.”
He smiled back. “I like cats. What’s her name?”
“Bonny.”
“Appropriate,” he declared.
“Have you known Claire long?” she asked. She sensed that he knew that she was asking a different question altogether.
He replied to both questions. “About a month. We’re just friends. I took my degree in Edinburgh then came to Dundee. I don’t know many people here and Claire is good company.”
“I would have thought you’d have plenty of girlfriends,” Kirsty teased.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.
“Nothing serious,” she smiled.
He lightly touched the back of her hand and again it was as if an electric current ran through her.
“I find that hard to believe, you’re gorgeous.” They smiled at each other. Their eyes kept meeting, sliding away then meeting again. She felt an overwhelming urge to touch him, his hand, his arm anywhere, but couldn’t think of an excuse. “You’re in your last year at school?” he queried.
“Yes. I’ve been accepted by Dundee University for a Maths degree course.”
“Maybe I could show you around the university?” He seemed to be holding his breath.
Her heart racing, she replied. “I’d like that.” She certainly wasn’t going to mention that she’d already been shown round the university on a school visit.
“What about tomorrow?”
“What time.”
“Outside the union at say ten o’clock.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” He looked intently into her eyes, then covered her hand with his. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone before.”
She looked away then gave him a sidelong glance. His eyes were level and serious. This was not the time for flippancy.
“I like you too,” she said.
She heard his sudden intake of breath then a slow smile curved his lips. She smiled back, and this time their eyes held. As if impelled by some overwhelming force, their heads drew closer together. She gazed up at him, her heart pounding as if it would burst.
“Will he?” Her soul seemed to be poised on her lips. “Please. Please, yes,” she prayed. She felt him stroke her cheek and tilt her chin. She felt her lips part slightly and her eyes close as he bent his head. She felt his lips touch hers, not passionately but softly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Time, the room around them, ceased to exist. They might have remained this way for an hour. It was only when she heard Claire approaching that they separated. They smiled at each other, completely unembarrassed, although she felt her cheeks were flaming. She saw Alan’s eyebrows rise, and turned to take in Claire’s low cut, revealing black dress.
As Alan rose Claire enquired, “Have you two been getting to know each other?”
“Oh! Yes,” Kirsty replied, with a look at Alan. “I think we know each other quite well now.”
Kirsty watched Claire take Alan’s arm with a possessive air and announce, “Let’s go.” Then look back and bade. “See if you can find time to do the dishes, but don’t stay up too late,” with a meaningful look that Kirsty was woman enough to understand.
She felt an unaccustomed pang of jealousy as she peeped out through the curtains at them walking down the path.
“It’s a wonder her boobs don’t jump out of that dress,” she muttered. She returned to the settee where Bonny jumped back onto her lap. “What did you think of him Bonny?” she asked. “Did you see him kiss me?” She smiled at the memory and her face flushed. It had thrilled her, setting every nerve in her body tingling. “What would it be like if he kissed me more passionately?” As Bonny gave a purr of approval, she added, “I think I’d like to find out.”
Unable to settle down to studying, she put the pie in the oven, set the table in the kitchen, then prowled around the house. She arranged and rearranged ornaments, tidied and re-tidied her bedroom, then hearing the oven timer buzz, took her pie from the oven and settled down to her meal. Afterwards she couldn’t recall tasting any of it. She washed the dishes then tried to settle down to some studying but couldn’t concentrate. She eventually switched on the television, but went to bed unable to remember a single thing she’d watched.
Alan and Claire settled down to dinner. On the walk to the bus, and into Dundee from the bus, Claire realised he was quieter than usual. He was saddened to hear of Mrs. Munro’s death. He enquired about her class in transcendental meditation and told her how his work was progressing. She might not have noticed the difference in anyone else, but in Alan who had the knack of listening with rapt attention, the contrast was striking. The thought crossed her mind that maybe h
e was going to suggest a more serious relationship. Over coffee she discovered the real reason for his reticence.
She caught his quick glance and smiled at him.
He cleared his throat. “Claire?”
She saw him pull his right ear lobe as if he was nervous and she smiled encouragingly.
“Yes Alan.”
She saw him take a deep breath. “I think you might be starting to feel more than friendship for me. I’ll be finished my M.Sc. soon and I might be going anywhere in the world. I hope we will always be friends but I’m not ready to settle down yet.”
“You invited me out for dinner to tell me that?”
He looked uncomfortable. “No, it was just the way you were looking at me tonight.”
Claire put on a good act and pretended that she hadn’t any feelings that way at all, but she knew by his concerned expression, that the lie was obvious to him. But she was honest with herself. He’d done nothing to lead her on. They were just friends.
She knew from experience that trying to rekindle a fizzled-out romance was useless, so she hid her hurt. When they went for her bus, she put her hand on his arm to stop him boarding, and told him with a forced smile.
“I’ll say my goodbye now Alan. It has been nice knowing
you.”
She left him looking shocked, and boarded the bus. She held her tears back until she was safely behind her own front door then burst into wracking sobs. She loved Alan, she knew that now. There was something about him that excited her, not just emotionally, it was something deeper that she couldn’t explain.
Kirsty tossed and turned. She heard Claire come back, and listened for Alan’s voice but didn’t hear it. She thought she heard a muffled sobbing but was wary about intruding. She smiled, remembering Alan’s kiss and touched her fingers to her lips, feeling the sensitivity of them. She fell asleep still smiling
As Alan walked home, he remembered the pain in Claire’s eyes and hated himself. Even though he’d done what was necessary and done it as gently as he could, he still felt guilty. But what else could he do? There was no way he could date Claire while he loved her sister. He stopped to examine his feelings, and yes it was true, something had happened to him. He smiled wryly. He was on a downhill slope and no matter how he struggled he would travel faster and faster. He remembered the film “Bambi” and how the males after agreeing to stay together, had gone off as if hypnotised with each one’s mate, with spirals going around in their eyes. He laughed, getting a startled look from an elderly couple who were passing. He smiled apologetically to them.
Love Patterns Page 18
