I park up at the train station and wind down the car window, allowing the freshness of the early summer evening air to try and cleanse my thoughts. The frustration and confusion I feel are making me nauseous, so I take a sip of cold refreshing Coke from the bottle I still have with me in an attempt to settle both my mind and the churning deep within my gut.
Stop it! Stop it, Chris! I think to myself. This is unhealthy, and you will drive yourself mad. I’ve hardly spoken two words to this girl in the short time I’ve been here. She’s not available, she has a boyfriend and she’s not shown any interest in me, so why am I so interested her? Clearly, I fancy her, but if all I wanted was a quick physical fix, it would not be that hard to get a quick root if I wanted one. I’m sure there must be some nightclubs in town where I could pull quite easily if I wanted to, so why am I so transfixed on this one girl? What on earth is so special about her and why do I feel like she has put a spell on me? Like she’s a magnet pulling me into her and I can’t help myself but be drawn towards her. It’s as if unconsciously she’s begging for me to rescue her.
“Hello, stranger. You were miles away there. Any chance of a cuddle for your old sis?” Michelle, having located where I was parked, has opened the driver’s door of the car to lean in, breaking me away from my thoughts.
I jump up to embrace her. Although we’ve spoken on the telephone since I arrived in the UK, this is the first time we’ve seen each other.
“Hey you. It’s really good to see you,” I say, meaning every word. Michelle is my oldest sister and the oldest of us all. Growing up she naturally assumed the third parenting role in the family and was very much involved in raising me. The eight-year age gap which gave her an air of seniority and authority when I was small, continues to shrink with each passing year as we grow older. Now she’s just a really good friend, older and wiser, with more life experience, and I love her dearly.
“Right, I believe there is a party going on. One that requires my attendance, young man. Take me there, driver.” She chuckles, leaning over from the passenger seat to pat my knee. At her instruction I turn the car around and head back out to Wootton Bassett.
The rest of the weekend passes in a whirl, partly due to the amount of alcohol consumed and partly due to the number of new people I meet. It’s great to have both my sisters in the same room together, something that has not happened for a very long time. We spend hours catching up, taking the piss out of each other as siblings do, sharing lots of in-jokes and basically having fun. Mellie assumes the role of Sergeant Major on Friday evening, mobilising her small army unit (including Vicky and the dickhead) to rattle through her ginormous task list, before ordering a communal curry for us all to share as our reward.
When Saturday arrives, Mellie puts me in charge of the barbecue, to give me a purpose and to keep me busy as people begin to arrive and the party gets underway. I notice that Mellie and Vicky make great hosts, both of them being naturally sociable and outgoing people. They expertly mingle with their guests, ensuring no one’s glass is ever empty and no one is left alone. They connect people together who do not know each other and ensure they spend just the right amount of time in conversation with each group. On more than one occasion, Vicky comes over to check that I’m OK, or that I have everything I need.
“I love the smell of meat on the barbecue, don’t you, Chris?” she inhales the smell of the sizzling beef patties as she stands next to me while I continue to flip burgers on the hot coals. Having her stand so close, yet not being able to touch her soft smooth skin is pure torture, my senses all heightened by her close proximity. I have to consciously stop myself from dropping all my cooking utensils, grabbing her around the waist, dipping her dramatically backwards and kissing her passionately. I scan her face looking for any sign she also feels this forbidden connection. As our eyes lock, I notice them twinkle and she shifts her weight from foot to foot and I observe a quickening of her breath, if only marginally. Could she possibly feel the same attraction?
She appears in no rush to return to the throng of guests milling around the back garden, or indeed her boyfriend, so instead we chat easily about our respective lives. She asks me about my life back home, my friends, my work and I find her absolutely charming. She talks to me about her hometown in the north of England, which sounds very different from the south of England. I can absolutely relate to what she’s saying. We both hail from island nations and I know how different the North and South Islands are back in New Zealand, except it sounds like it’s the opposite way round here in the UK.
The south of England, spreading out from London, appears to be where the majority of the population live, and where the wealth of the country appears to be, whereas the north sounds tougher, more rugged, less populated. ‘Gritty’ was the word she used to describe her hometown, but it sounds like it’s easier to find work in the south of the UK. In NZ it’s the opposite way round. We have a population of around 3.5million and around 1million of us Kiwis live in and around Auckland, so coming from the quieter Southern Island, I can totally relate to what she’s saying as she describes her transition from growing up in the north, before moving to the south.
She also paints a beautiful picture of the scenery and landscape in the north of England, which because of the lower population has large parts that are less developed and left untouched, just like the South Island of NZ. She talks to me about the beaches of Northumberland, in particular, a place called Bamburgh where she spent many childhood summer holidays with her family and their close friends. I tell her about Sumner Beach just outside Christchurch where I still go regularly to surf and bodyboard. She describes the dramatic mountains of an area a couple of hours west of where she’s from called The Lake District, I describe the Southern Alps that run the length of the South Island and a place I love called Hanmer, to the north of Christchurch where I love to go and chill out for a long weekend in the natural hot springs there, and even in winter when it’s surrounded by snow-capped mountains. She tells me about the large population of grey seals that inhabit a small crop of islands off the Northumberland coast, called The Farne Islands and I tell her about the native Hector Dolphins that swim in Akaroa Harbour on the Banks Peninsula, east of Christchurch. Like me, she also has a passion for travel, seeing new places and experiencing different cultures and although she’s never made it as far as New Zealand or Australia even, I find myself inviting her.
“You must come and visit. It’s absolutely stunning. I’d love the opportunity to show you around.”
Rather than rebuke my very forward invitation, she replies coyly, “I think I’d like that, Chris” and with that one comment my heart makes a little flip inside my chest. I decide then and there that I will make it my mission to show her my homeland.
“And likewise, Chris, even if I don’t get the opportunity to show you some of the places I’ve mentioned here in the UK, I’ll make you an itinerary of places to see if you make it that far north. Castles, beaches and pubs that are off the beaten track and away from the obvious tourist trail once you get into the north of the country. Most people miss out northern England when doing a tour of the UK. They jump from Stratford-upon-Avon, having ticked the ‘Shakespeare box’ and head straight up and over the Scottish border and onto Edinburgh, yet there is so much beauty and history in between. There is a place on the Northumberland coast where you can stand on the beach on a clear day and see five castles up and down the coast - where else in the world can you do that?”
She talks so passionately of the area I’m already thinking that I need to highlight some of the names and places on my map of the UK.
“That would be sweet,” I say, although I find myself hoping that she really does get the opportunity to show me in person. I feel it would not be the same visiting the area without her as my guide.
The only dampener in our easy flow of conversation, is that Jeremy insists on keeping Vicky under his watchful eye. Whenever we find ourselves deep in conversation, he appears and breaks the spel
l. What is it about this guy? Why can’t he just bugger off and leave us to our friendly banter? Without realising it, he must be sensing my inner thoughts and how attracted I am to his girlfriend. I can’t help it. I just am. Even when we’re not talking, it must be fairly obvious that my eyes are constantly following her wherever she goes. Everyone else fades into the background, blurred and muffled, while Vicky shines out at me from the crowd, like a lighthouse in a storm. I notice Michelle clocking me as I’m watching Vicky circulate amongst the crowd. She raises an eyebrow in my direction as I smile back at her, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly.
As the afternoon progresses, I’m introduced to a new cocktail, Pimms, which I’m told is a British thing. It’s served from a big glass jug with what looks like half the contents of a fruit bowl tipped into it! Who has mint, cucumber and strawberries in a drink? Apparently the British! Despite this, it’s very palatable and extremely refreshing in the hot sunshine as I continue flipping burgers over the hot coals of the barbie.
Mellie introduces me to one of Jeremy’s mates, a guy named Tim, who she used to share a house with, before her and Vicky rented this place. Tim, it turns out, is divorced and found himself rattling around a large executive 5-bed house in the centre of Swindon, so he rented a couple of bedrooms to a number of professionals, Mellie being one of them. Apparently, he works for a large international bank and has since moved up to London and now works in Canary Wharf. It’s through him that Vicky met Jeremy. Tim is another well-spoken Pom, but more down to earth than Jeremy. I find him good craic and we spend most of the afternoon and evening in conversation, discussing travel, fast cars and foreign exchange.
By late evening most of the guests have left and the remaining few move inside as the temperature begins to drop. Our bellies full of food and our heads full of drink, as the last guests leave we begin to disperse to our respective sleeping areas.
Mellie and Michelle are sharing a bed in Mellie’s room. I’m back on the sofa and I try not to think about Jeremy and Vicky sharing the other bedroom upstairs. I find myself needing to crack open another beer and switch the TV back on. Anything to distract myself from the muffled sounds of Jeremy and Vicky making love in the room directly above me. I attempt to block out the images that are forming in my mind of the two of them together. The only saving grace is that the rhythmic sound of the bed moving above my head lasts no more than five or six minutes before the house falls silent once again.
I open my pack and yet again pull out my maps of the UK and Europe. I grab my highlighter and mark up some of the areas in the north of England that Vicky mentioned to me earlier, putting a big circle round the name of her hometown wondering what it looks like, what her family are like and what her life was like before she met my sister.
After a few moments deep in thought, I give myself a metaphorical slap across the face. In order to maintain my sanity, I’m going to have to leave as quickly as possible next week because I realise now if I can’t have her, I simply can’t be around her, otherwise I will drive myself crazy. So I turn my attention instead to my map of Europe, and particularly Greece, as I focus back on my original plan to catch up with as many rellies as possible here in the UK and to see as much of Europe as I can fit into the summer. After deciding on my itinerary for next week, I switch the TV off and bed down for the night.
Over breakfast the next morning I share my plans to head off the following week and catch a flight to Athens at the earliest opportunity.
“I’ll have a look at some cheap flight options for you, as soon as I get back into the office tomorrow,” Mellie offers.
“You need to be back in London in time for my 30th birthday bash three weekends from now, Christopher.” Michelle always uses my name in full, it’s a big sister thing. “I’m having a party at mine and you’d better flipping be there, bro. Mum’s coming too, and I know she’ll want to catch up with you as well. You’ll not have seen her for a couple of months by then.”
“Of course. How could I possibly miss it … and miss the opportunity to constantly remind my big sister how old she is?” I reply, affectionately kissing her on the side of her face, as she reaches up to ruffle my hair.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replies sarcastically.
“Don’t worry I’ll be there,” I reassure her.
I glance across at Vicky, trying to read her mind and work out what she’s thinking. Is she even bothered that I’m taking off for a couple of weeks. Will she think of me while I’m gone, will she miss me, even the tiniest bit, and will she be pleased to see me again at Michelle’s in a few weeks from now? But despite our direct eye contact she gives nothing away. She just smiles her usual warm smile and says,
“Oh, to be able to give up work and just jump on a plane and go have some fun.”
So why don’t you just jack in work and take off with me? is what I really want to say, but instead I say out loud, “I’ll try hard not to have too much fun and make you all jealous,” when what I really mean is, I’ll try to not have too much fun without you Vicky and make you jealous.
Jeremy offers to drive Michelle back up to London as he plans to head off after lunch, but first we all roll our sleeves up, muck in and tidy up the remnants of yesterday’s party. Once Jeremy and Michelle leave the three of us who are left, Mellie, Vicky and I, we all settle in for a quiet night, snuggling down to watch a movie. Mellie and I on the sofa together and Vicky in the armchair adjacent.
Mellie gets up and heads to the loo at the same time Vicky jumps up to flick the kettle on to make everyone a fresh round of tea. I could almost kiss my sister who, without thinking, naturally goes to sit in the armchair when she comes back downstairs, meaning Vicky has to sit next to me when she returns with the refilled mugs of tea. It seems the most natural thing in the world to be sat next to her and she’s obviously feeling comfortable as well, as she kicks off her shoes and curls her knees up underneath herself, half leaning into me, munching on a biscuit whilst we all drink tea. She smells exquisite. A heady mix of sexy perfume and sweet cinnamon apple pie. I really want to place my free arm lightly over the top of the sofa and around the back of her shoulders, to pull her in even closer but I refrain. I know I can’t. Everything about this woman captivates me. The way she looks, the way she sounds, the way she smells and the energy she gives off. She’s like a drug and I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I realise if I can’t have my fix I’m going to have to go cold turkey, and quickly.
Chapter 8
Victoria
It’s two weeks since I last saw Jeremy, at the barbecue but I’m really looking forward to seeing him this weekend. Or at least I think I am. Or could it be that I’m just really really looking forward to what we’ve got planned later. It’s a big weekend for him. It’s his mother’s 50th birthday celebrations and he’s taking the opportunity to introduce me to his parents. So I’m not just meeting his parents and younger brother for the first time, but all of his extended family as well. They’re having afternoon tea at his parent’s house, in Teddington, South West London, before a group of us are going to the ballet in the evening. It was so kind of him to invite me, not least because of the occasion but also because he knows what a ballet fanatic I am and the opportunity to see this particular artist in this particular setting is a once in a lifetime dream of mine. Proper bucket list stuff and I’m very grateful. A part of me does wonder if I would have accepted the invitation if it hadn’t included the trip to the ballet this evening. But I’ve said “yes” now and I’m on my way up to London on the train.
Jeremy is planning to come up to Paddington station to collect me at 1pm before driving us both down to his parent’s house, which should take around another 45 minutes or so, traffic permitting.
It was difficult choosing what I should wear today. Obviously, I want to make a good first impression with his family, but I also don’t want it to look like I’m trying too hard. Added to that, what is planned requires practicality as well as the need to stay warm as evening
falls, so needs to be smart enough for the afternoon tea as well as the ballet later. I’ve opted for an all-white Laura Ashley long, linen, maxi summer dress, nipped in at the waist with a fashionably wide belt, flat pumps and a classic cashmere pashmina for later, teamed with pearl earrings today rather than my usual simple diamond studs.
Looking out of the window at the rows and rows of grey London brick terraces that whizz past outside, signally our imminent arrival into central London, I try not to think of my bedroom floor at home which is strewn with discarded outfits. Last night I drafted poor Mel in, to give me her opinion on every myriad of different outfit combinations. Two bottles of wine and about 50 outfits later, I’m sure she was just saying “yes” to anything and everything!
Stepping down from the train and into the throng of tourists and day visitors travelling up to town for the weekend, I spot Jeremy waiting for me on the opposite side of the ticket barrier.
“Gosh, you looked like an angel from heaven, walking down the platform towards me just then,” he says as we greet each other. “The sun was streaming through the roof making your hair shine as if you had a halo.”
He’s always had a thing about my hair. He loves to stroke it and touch it. I reach up and give him a peck on the cheek, then he leans down to take my overnight bag from me with one hand, and with his other, reaches for mine to hold, as we walk out of the station and towards his parked car.
He looks so pleased to see me and I suppose I am pleased to see him too. He’s been nothing but lovely, courteous and kind to me since we first met two months ago. He’s well mannered, well educated, earns a solid income, clearly has great prospects and I expect, as I’m about to discover today, also has a lovely family as well.
I haven’t yet introduced Jeremy to my mum and stepdad, but I know he is the exact kind of husband material my mum would have chosen for me. She’s already been grilling me as to his prospects and breeding. She wants to know where he went to school, where he works, what his parents do, where they go on holiday and so on. She’s coming down to London in a few weeks. We plan to do some shopping and see a West End show, so maybe I’ll get the chance to introduce them to each other then. Or maybe I won’t, I’m still not sure. I know that once my mum has met him, there’ll be no going back if she thinks he’s perfect, which I have a feeling she will.
Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1) Page 9
