Understandably by now, Erin has lost all of her patience and marched herself over to me. Waving her hands directly in front of my face, “Earth to Isabel, are you receiving me?”
“Yes, yes I'm still here...just! Come on, there's one more shop I'd like to go to.” I grab a hold of her arm and link it as we march outside.
Heading towards one of the town's gift shops, I take in the beautiful and traditional buildings on either side of us. There is a broad range of varied and diverse businesses. These range from restaurants to charity shops, bakeries to smallest pub in the country! The bright Suffolk pink flashing on some of them, is as much a part of the history as the Tudor black and white fronted ones, and the cobbled street, which is a nightmare to walk on in heels! The atmosphere surrounding us is buzzing, but I am still able to focus on what today is all about. I have done the reflection and soul searching part, now I can enjoy the girly day out I am having. Peering at the mixture of joyous and frustrated shoppers, makes me inwardly chuckle about the love hate relationship I have with this infamous pastime, that some class as therapy. I am however, thoroughly enjoying today because of the nature of it and the company I have- So I can sort of understand the retail therapy side to it from that angle. However food shopping, forget it! To have people tutting at me when I abruptly stop to turn down the wine aisle or to be stuck behind folk waiting to pass thoughtless shoppers who stand directly in the middle to have a good gossip with one another, really.....that's good therapy? I think not! If I wasn't so IT illiterate I would have taken up online shopping a long time ago. Having said that though, as sad as this may sound, I don't think I would be able to give up the ungratifying task that is the weekly food shop. The amused rolling of eyes that fellow trolley pushers give one another and the best bit waiting a few minutes longer than necessary, to ask for the assistance of a drop dead gorgeous man, who just happens to be passing by, to reach me a box of muesli (which I detest) from off the top shelf....then proceed to check his butt out! (Come on ladies, you have got to have done that at least once!) Yes, it has its perks. It is also my social life. That person, who grumbles at me for suddenly changing direction, could be the only adult communication I get for the whole weekend. No I don't think I could ever give that up.
Without giving any warning to Erin I stop suddenly, causing me to jerk on her arm, as I realise the shop I was looking for is next to us. I then turn to apologise to the guy who has accidentally walked into the back of me. Tutting, he strides around us with the face of a pit bull upon him. Deja vu! Erin and I glance at one another and I can't help but giggle.
“I just need to go in here. As there is something I would really like to get for erm!...someone.”
The nonchalant manner in which I say the words, leads to Erin eyeing me suspiciously. Damn it! I'm crap at hiding things and trying to back track only means I dig myself in further, give it up now Chambers! Why couldn't I have said I was getting a gift for James or Joseph? Then again, it wouldn't look good presenting the shot glass I am about to buy to a young lad.
“Spill Chambers! There is an ulterior motive here and my 'Spidey Senses' are telling me, something or should that be, someone has put a skip into your step. You know you are totally rubbish at lying as well.”
Right at that moment my phone rings. I've heard of the saying 'Saved by the bell', can we add 'saved by the ringtone' to that as well now? On second thoughts, how psyched would I be if it was Marc calling me? Tentatively reaching for it in my 'Mary Poppins' bag, I see it is Rose or quite possibly Joseph. So let out a sigh of relief.
“Hello.”
“Hi mum. Granny insisted, I mean said that I had to call you, to let you know how I was doing.” Smirking to myself, I can tell by Joseph's voice and choice of words that he must have been forced to call. I just roll my eyes and smile, shaking my head.
Searching the shelves that are displaying various ornaments, stationary, books and bookmarks, I finally spot the shot glass I am after. Clamping the handset in between my ear and shoulder, I am able to free my hand so that I can pick up a few more souvenirs. We all know how women are are experts in multi-tasking, don't we?
“Well I am glad you did sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
Half distracted by the phone call, manoeuvring around other tourists and shoppers, I come up on the perfect gift for Joseph. An aeroplane, that he can assemble himself and then paint. I know he'll love it, especially as it's a Spitfire. Ooo!! There's a Lancaster Bomber as well! Oh go on! He absolutely loves his war planes and wants to be an engineer in the Army or RAF when he's older.....older! Jeez, time is running away quick enough, never mind thinking about when he's older.
“I'm okay mum, it hurts a bit still, but granny and grandpa are taking me to the Fitzwilliam Museum today. They say it'll help take my mind off it.”
I can see where they are coming from, but I can't say I'm not worried about the fact he sustained had a head injury only yesterday.
“Mum, I'll be fine.”
What is it with these men and their mind reading skills? I half wonder to myself, if I thought hard enough for a diamond rind, would one magically be presented to me in a beautiful velvet box? Nar! I don't think so.
Sighing to myself I carry on walking around the shop.
“I know you will be matey. I wouldn't be much of a mum if I didn't worry about you though, would I?”
The next moment, I hear a woman's voice come from behind me.
“Erm, excuse me Dear. Would you like to pay for those?”
I spin around to see the middle aged lady standing behind the counter and it is then, I suddenly realise that I was about to walk out of the shop without paying for what was in my hands. So much for being an expert in multi-tasking.
Embarrassed isn't enough of a word to cover what I am feeling right now. Blushing profusely, I quickly retreat back into the shop. You've got to be kidding me! I seriously cannot believe I have just very nearly shoplifted the items I'm holding. Oh my God! About four or five people, excluding Erin who is trying her best to look as though she is not with me, are all now staring towards me. They start to mutter to one another as I guiltily approach the till. In Tudor times, I'd be hearing calls for me to be hanged for my crime. I really don't know what to say to defend myself, other than...
“I am so, so sorry. My son isn't even with me and yet he still manages to distract me in anything I do.”
I am transported back in time to an occasion when me and my mum went shopping for some new clothes. We had legitimately bought and paid for everything, but the bloomin' assistant had left one of the security tags on. Bloody hell, the only way it could have been any more embarrassing would be; had there been a huge illuminated neon arrow, pointing directly down at us. With a loud voice, coming over the tannoy system, repeatedly alerting all and sundry to 'Stop thief!'
Luckily for me, this time, this lovely lady seems to be pretty understanding.
“Joseph, can I call you back later, well say in a five minutes or so please matey? I just have some gifts to pay for and then we can talk.”
“Are you buying me anything?” I hear the anticipation in his voice. Bless him!
“Maybe!” I reply in jest. “I really need to go though, speak to you in a moment.”
Once I had finally got round to purchasing the goods from the shop and my blushes had faded some what, I rang Joseph back to finish off our brief chat. And I mean, very brief. I am lucky if I get one word answers out of him, instead of the pre-historic grunts. So I am happy to have had that at least.
It also seems for the moment, that Erin has forgotten about putting me through the Spanish Inquisition. I can hear the numerous cogs whirring around in her ever inquisitive, head and I am sure it won't be long before she sits me down to be questioned. I can see it now; sitting in a darkened room, with nothing but a single wooden interrogation chair situated slap bang in the middle of the floor space, and a bright fluorescent lamp there to be shone into my eyes while she demands answers....Believe me when
I tell you that Erin is one tough cookie. She's a determined woman and when she wants answers, she'll get them. The number of kids she's had quaking in their black, patent leather school shoes, when they have been put on detention in the 'Grey room' (even I was scared shitless of her!). She got her answers though.
Right, according to my watch Ms Chambers it is officially Wine O'Clock! What do you say to sharing a bottle or two together?”
I take a hold of her wrist and look at the imaginary watch she has just told the time from.
“Well Mrs I would say, tell me where you bought that watch from as I would like one for myself.”
Marc
Before I have even one second to reply to Emilie's threat, she has put the goddam phone down on me. Clutching my head in trembling hands, I lean forward onto the desk trying my best to calm myself down. I hate feeling this way. A feeling of helplessness or, the feeling I have no control over any of the situation or any decisions. Those along with my life, are left in the far too capable hands of Emelie, Stefano and my Father. They are the one's pushing all of my buttons right now and it's something I'm not comfortable with one bit. I can understand my Father's decision in not letting me in on what is happening from their end, but it is also killing me at the same time, as I feel that Emelie is the one who always seems to have the upper hand with everything.
Slamming my fist down hard on to the table, I feel the need to take my anger out on something before I take it out on someone. I am not a violent person, but by God, right at this moment, if Emelie or Stefano were standing in this room with me...
Letting all of the flaming hatred I have for the both of them, spill over like molten rock erupting, I push the research papers and stationary off the desk. It is done with such force that they propel in each and every direction, across the room. With some objects hitting the door at such a velocity, the noise attracts the attention of the secretary who has been assigned to work with me. I see her hesitantly open the door and peek around it.
“Is...is everything all right Sir?” I can sense the nervous energy in her voice and yet why is it that the British can be so damn polite, even when the room she has just entered, looks like a bomb has hit it and so obviously looks as though all is not ok?
Mustering all of the energy I can to regain composure, I close my eyes for a couple of seconds and release a long controlled breath.
“Yes, thank you Justine, it is now.” I doubt very much that the 40-something woman standing in front of me has witnessed such an outburst, so to this extent I apologise to her. She graciously accepts what I say and walks into the room to help clear up the carnage I have just created.
Between the two of us, we make light work of clearing it up and it doesn't take us long before the room is nearly back to how it was.
“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee once we're done here, Sir?”
Sitting back on to the floor, I draw my knees up and I cannot help but roar with laughter at her question. In fact, I laugh so hard that it hurts. A cup of tea is most definitely the answer to life's problems!
I am not surprised to find Justine is staring at me with bewilderment and as if I have gone stark raving mad.
Thinking that I ought to answer her, I look up at her, “That would be great, thank you.” I continue to chuckle to myself as we pick up every piece that is covering the floor and I sit back down in my chair.
Leaning back and I glance down at my watch. I work out that it'll be approximately 10am in Washington, therefore not too early to phone my Father. Seeing that we have nearly tidied the room back to it's original state, I dismiss my secretary with thanks having had her help.
“I'd really appreciate that cup of tea. You're a godsend you know that?” And I mean it. Since I turned up in Cambridge at the beginning of the week, she has not moaned once about the load of work that has been put up on her. In order for me to be able to enjoy the time I have spent with Isabel, she has done so much. I must remember to order a bouquet of flowers as a gesture of thanks, to be delivered before I leave for the states.
I sigh at the thought of leaving here and going back to Boston though. It leaves a gaping hole in me, a hole that Isabel is filling right now. I can't control the sensations and the feelings I have for her. As I sit here thinking about her now, all of the blood in my body is rushing to the core of me. I have never met a woman who has made me laugh right from the very beginning of knowing them.
I shake my head as I think back to the first time I laid eyes upon her. I had a sense that I was being watched and listened in to, as I checked into the hotel. It does happen all too often and so have developed a sixth sense for it! However, where I usually ignore the attention I am getting, I couldn't help but watch Isabel as I witnessed her mumbling and cursing to herself, after she had just spilt the wine over her pants. She had such an air of innocence about her, so as not to cause her any more embarrassment, I pretended not to have seen the spectacle and headed up to my room.
From that day, from that moment I couldn't get this funny, little lady out of my head.
Then it came to the evening of when we first spoke to each other...
Again, watching her from the corner of my eye as she read from her kindle, she made me laugh from the start. The expression she was giving was a dead give away as to which genre of book she was reading. I cannot help but smile to myself remembering.
The way her beautiful Jade green eyes widened to large orbs, her full cheeks flushed with a bright rosy glow, and oh! How she bit down on that ravishing lower lip, a lip I have now come accustomed to tasting. I feel the smoothness of them every time I dream about her. Beautiful, sensuous dreams that have helped to overcome the nightmares I was once having. Although Isabel won't admit to it herself, she is an intelligent woman. She says she has her 'Blonde' moments, as she calls them, but her intelligence comes through her knowledge of life. Sometimes we can talk for hours and I know that I'll never get bored of that. She hasn't spoken much about her family, as she admitted that she doesn't see much of them, apart from her father and she sees Jackie more like a sister, than a best friend. I hope to introduce her to Simon, a buddy who I went through college and University with, he is more of brother to me than my step-brother ever was. Laughing to my self, I can't see how my other one can be classed as a brother. Like me, Isabel lost her mother some years ago, having lost their lives to similar battles. My mother went through several years of battling cancer which spread to her brain. Isabel lost hers to a battle of alzheimers; we have spoken fondly about each of them intensely. Continuing to be lost in my thoughts, I go over all of the things we do have in common and all of the little aspects of Isabel I love.
Not that I think she knows it, but she has a tendency to shake her right leg while she is reading with such concentration. I couldn't help but notice those fine-looking, shapely legs that were on display and the heels.....I can feel myself growing hard with the deliciously naughty thoughts I now have
running through my mind, meaning I have to adjust myself in my pants and typically, just as Justine raps against the door.
Thank the dear Lord I have a desk in front of me, covering what is now, one God almighty hard on.
“Come in.” I hope that she doesn't notice the quiver that has appeared in my voice, as I beckon her in.
As she sets the tray down in front of me, I lean forward to reach for the cup, causing extra strain on the humongous bulge in my pants and I am sure I make a pained expression which attracts the attention of my secretary.
“Are you okay Dr Sanders? You didn't hurt yourself earlier did you?”
Shifting slightly in my chair, to a more comfortable position, I wave my hand in response and clear my throat before replying.
“Oh no! I have just got a cramp in my thigh, that's all.” I am not too far off the mark, as both involve the tightening of muscles!
“Give it a rub Sir! It will soon ease.” I have the sudden urge to laugh out loud, but force myself to stifle it before I land myself into mor
e trouble and having to explain or come up with yet another excuse.
“Thank you for that Justine, I will.” Pouring my tea, I hope that the conversation diverts quickly away from the debilitating state I am in.
“Is that all Dr Sanders?” I inwardly sigh with relief that she hasn't offered any other remedies to help my condition. I am also extremely grateful she didn't offer her very own hands to ease the 'cramping' I have.
A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) Page 2
