CHRISTMAS LINDA – PART 2 – ONE SPECIAL NIGHT

 

I found myself stranded in a strange town

With less than a week to go before Christmas

Stranded two hundred miles from home

With a seriously ill car in the garage

And a lack of will to contemplate train travel

In truth I was in no hurry to return home

To the empty soulless house that once was home

But now held no comfort for me

My wife of twenty five years had died a year before

Finally loosing her battle with cancer

And my children were all grown up now

With homes and families of their own

The house would be full at Christmas

Full of noise and hustle and bustle,

And the usual mix of love, laughter and tears

But for now it was cold and empty

So I booked into a hotel for the weekend

And I would drive home on Monday

So finding myself in a strange town

Just a few days before Christmas

And with more than a little time to kill

I decided I could fill part of my day

By doing some last minute Christmas shopping

As I stepped out of the Hotel I shivered

The day was cold, grey and damp

And clouds scudded across the December sky

It was the kind of day that chilled you to the bone

I made my way towards the high street

It was only a five minute walk

The receptionist assured me with a smile

As she jotted down some brief directions

In an effort to warm myself up

I walked briskly following her directions

Down the narrow almost Dickensian lanes and ally ways

Passing picturesque Victorian and Tudor buildings, well mock Tudor

As I went and it was indeed five minutes when I emerged

Onto the busy cobbled pedestrianized high street

It was a curious mixture of ancient and modern

At one end of the street a Norman church was visible

And at the other was what appeared to be a municipal building

With rather pretentious Georgian columns

There was still evidence of a row of Edwardian shop fronts

But much of the street was modern

With a little too much sixties influence to be easy on the eye

The street was crisscrossed along the full length

With festive lights and decorations

Which did there best to brighten the scene

I decided to familiarize my self with what the town had to offer

In the way of shops so I turned left and joined the throng of shoppers

Faces gloomy to match the weather

And headed towards the Georgian pillared building

This turned out to be the public library

As I dodged between the Christmas Lemmings

I made a mental note of shops I would return to

My progress was hampered by erratic shoppers

Who moved it appeared independently to any logic

Some seemed to zigzag everywhere and very few possessed

The ability to walk in a straight line for more than a few paces

And others would take a few steps then stop for no apparent reason

Then after a few moments pause carry on normally in the same direction

The sound of cheery Christmas songs and carols

Could be heard from every shop I passed

Though the cheeriness of the music

Was clearly not reflected on the faces

Of the shoppers going in and out of them

As I passed one shop Noddy Holder screamed “it’s Christmas”

Just in case any of the reluctant shoppers were in any doubt

When I reached the other end of the high street

Where the church stood there was a little square

Which I wasn’t able to see before

In the centre of which was the war memorial

And to its left was a magnificent Christmas tree

Covered in baubles and adorned by a beautiful angel

Assembled around the tree was the Salvation Army band

I took a few moments to admire the tree and listen to the band

And I was taken back to a distant time and place

The clock chimed and I was brought back to the present

I took a few more moments while I decided on my first port of call

Not realizing just how important a decision it was

I decided on Woolworths, always a favorite of mine at Christmas

But it also happened to be the closest

So I walked towards the store and pushed open the door

As I entered I paused to hold the door open for a woman coming the other way

I waited as she put her purse away into a huge handbag

And I wondered what I would get for my trouble

I had found the older I got the less women appreciated courtesy

The simple act of holding open a door could provoke a range of responses

A smile, a thank you, a nod, a sneer, a tut or a colorful mouth full of abuse

And you couldn’t always tell who was going to do what

When she had finished fiddling and securing her bag

She moved to step through the open door

As she passed me she looked up said “Thank you” and smiled broadly

And then she stopped as I returned her smile and then I just stood there

Both of us stood motionless as slowly the recognition set in

We both stood there dumbstruck not believing our eyes

I’m not sure how long for but long enough for a queue to form behind each of us

We both blushed and excused ourselves

And stepped out onto the street away from the door

Neither of us knew what to say I couldn’t believe it was Linda

Who I last saw 30 years before being driven off in a taxi

Disappearing off through the snow

With her palm pressed against the glass her neck craned to keep sight of me

And here she stood before me as beautiful as ever she was

The soft curls of her brown hair still danced on her shoulders

Yet with fine strands of silver threaded thru it

Her smile was still able to melt my heart even after all those years

Her smiling eyes still had the same sparkle

The years had been kind to her and too me much less so

I was still fumbling for the words to say as I studied her

When she reached up and hugged my neck

Kissing my cheek at the same time

And spoke softly in my ear “Paul, Is it really you?”

I simply said yes and we stood in that long comfortable embrace

I don’t know how long we stood there not wanting to let go

Then as she relaxed her grip and I kissed her forehead

“It’s so good too see you” I said feebly

She put her head on my chest, squeezed me and sighed

Then released her grip and pulled away slightly

And put her hand up to my cheek and caressed my grey beard

“Do you have time for coffee”? She said almost pleadingly

I said of course and she put her arm through mine and led me across the high street

Asking quick fire questions as we went

And I explained about my car breaking down

And that I was staying at the Cromwell hotel

She said “oh really” and “oh dear” delighting in my misfortune

We sat on a large comfortable sofa in Starbucks

And told the tales of our lives spent apart

Throughout I looked at her with adoring eyes

Pinching myself expecting to awake from a dream

As I had done so very may times before

I told her about my wife and children

She told me of her marriage and subsequent divorce

The good man I gave her up for turned out to be a violent drunk

She had no children which although unsaid was clearly a regret

With the aid of several cups of coffee we managed to talk away the entire morning

I suggested we might spend the day together

And have dinner together at the hotel

She accepted the invitation to dinner with a delightful smile

Then she looked at her watch and suddenly jumped up

“Look at the time, I have to go” she flustered

She said she had a prior commitment

“Lunch with mum” she said rather unconvincingly

She said it was something she couldn’t get out of

As I helped her back into her coat the smell of her hair

Evoked memories of our past embraces

She fished out her mobile phone as we left the coffee shop

From her huge handbag and we exchanged phone numbers

And we firmed up the details for the evening

Then with a hug and a kiss she was off

I stood and watched her walk away her coat tails swishing behind her

She stopped briefly and turned to give me a smile and a wave

Then with the phone to her ear she hurried off again talking animatedly

I stood watching until she disappeared from sight

Then I went back to my Christmas shopping

And treated myself to a new shirt for the evening

I bought the gifts I was looking for and paper, tags, cards etc

And with all my shopping complete I returned to the hotel for lunch

The rest of the day seemed intolerably long

In an effort to kill some time I went for a swim

Used the gym, went for a walk

I got a haircut even though I didn’t need one

I even wrapped the Christmas presents I had bought

But the time passed so interminably slowly

I walked into the hotel bar at 7 o’clock an hour early

Partly for some Dutch courage and in part because I had run out of things to do

I ordered a drink and then sat at the bar

Even though I wasn’t expecting her until eight

Every time the door opened I turned to look for her

And when it wasn’t her self doubt crept in

And with every false alarm the doubts got worse

What if she doesn’t come?

What if she changed her mind?

What if she never intended to come?

What if? What if? What if?

Then at a quarter to the hour the door opened and there she was

There she stood wearing a simple black knee length dress

Black tights or stockings and four-inch stiletto shoes

Her legs as shapely as I remembered them

And in one hand she held a black leather clutch bag

Her face looked a little anxious until I stood up

And then it lit up in the most radiant smile

Then she walked towards me

Almost tottering on her heels and she laughed

I took her hand as she climbed onto a stool

And kissed her cheek the fragrance of her perfume was intoxicating

Going straight to my head like a strong spirit

The combination of her scent and my desire for her almost made me swoon

I ordered her a drink and we nervously made small talk

Like two strangers on a blind date

Until the waitress led us through to the restaurant

Once we were seated at our table

I asked her how her lunch with mum went

And she blushed the deepest red

She told me the lunch date was a little white lie

Because she needed the afternoon to get ready

And the animated phone call was to her sister

To rally the troops to get her presentable

We both laughed and any awkwardness was gone

We talked with such an easy familiarity

As if her departing taxi had only been a week ago

By the time we had finished our coffee the restaurant was empty

Except for us and a weary waitress waiting to clear our table

The evening seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye

And had all too soon come to an end

We got up and made our apologies

Linda went through the door to the ladies and I settled the bill

I said good night and had made my apologies again

Then went in search of Linda through the same door she had used

I found her standing by the Christmas tree

She had retrieved her coat and scarf from the cloakroom

Which were draped over one arm her bag was in her hand

Linda stood with her back to me gazing out of the window

She could see my reflection in the glass and smiled

I gasped at the beauty of her and pinched myself again

I wanted to kiss her so much but I was afraid 

Afraid to break the magic of that special kiss

That perfect moment when we kissed in the snow

All those years ago when I let her slip from my grasp

For 30 years I had revered that moment

Relived it whenever I felt a snowflake on my skin

Or stood in a taxi queue on a winters night

Or when I hear the Salvation Army play

Or when the snow falls during Christmas time

For 30 years I had wanted to be back there holding her in the snow

And here I stood a few steps away and I was hesitant

As if sensing my turmoil she turned away from the window

And I took those few steps to face her

We stood for a few moments just looking at each other

Then she smiled her most heart melting smile  

As she caressed my cheek then she pulled me to her

And kissed me gently on the lips, a tender and sensitive kiss

When our lips met electricity ran down my spine

And it was as if we were young again

Our lips parted for a second then met again

And her kiss became more intense, more passionate

Her coat, scarf and bag fell to the floor as our arms enveloped each other

We stood locked in our passionate embrace as the tree lights twinkled

Then she pulled away for a moment before burying her face in my neck

And spoke softly in my ear “you see that was as good as the first time”

How could I have doubted it would not be perfect?

I slid my fingers beneath her hair caressing her nape

And gently turned her head so I could kiss her sweet lips again

This time when we disengaged she put her head on my chest

Still holding on to me so tightly

I kissed the top of her head and smelled her hair

I didn’t want to let her go, and then I said “please stay”

“I can’t watch you disappear from my life in another taxi”

She lifted her head and looked at me and said

“I’m not letting you go again, not now not ever”

Then she smiled at me coyly and blushed like a virgin

And buried her face in my chest again

Then she scooped up her coat, scarf and bag from the floor

Took my hand and we walked in silence to my room

Outside the room she looked into my eyes and kissed my mouth

Then I opened the door and let her walk inside

She dropped her coat and bag onto a chair and turned to face me

Reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck

And whispered in my ear “I never stopped loving you”

My arms enfolded her and pulled her to me tightly

Then we kissed at first soft and tender then more urgently

And I began to un-wrap my most special Christmas gift

Wrapped in lace and silk instead of paper and ribbon

Caressing her body from neck to Lacy stocking top

And our love was at last made absolute

When our act of love was complete, and our dreams realized

We lay holding each other in the afterglow

Silently content until we drifted off to sleep

I awoke to find her stood silhouetted against the window

Gazing out wearing my shirt to cover her nakedness

She turned her head to me and said “it’s snowing”

I slipped out of bed joined her at the window

Standing behind her and enveloping her in my arms

We watched as the snow settled on the courtyard

She hugged my arms and said “How perfect is that”?

Both of us thinking back to the last time we enjoyed the snowfall together

We stood for a few minutes taking in the snowy scene

Then she inclined her head so I could kiss her

When my hands moved from her soft belly and cupped her breasts

She led me back to the bed and we made love again

I woke early and lay in the half light and held Linda’s sleeping form in my arms

As I lay there I thought how good the fates had been to us

If my car hadn’t broken down, and had I not rejected the idea of taking the train

I would not have been shopping on that cold grey morning

I thought about the moments I spent admiring that tree in the square

And listening to the Salvation Army band

And what thought processes made me do what I did

Was it destiny that I chose Woolworths at that very moment or just blind luck?

All I knew was that 24 hours before my life had been so empty

And now it was full and I was finally with my soul mate

Linda was in my life at last and I wanted her never to leave it again

But if fate decreed that this one special night

Was all we could have I would have to be content

Uncanny Love Tales – (18) A Dusty Tome on the Shelf

 

Grace Rawlins had worked in the same bookshop for twenty years, but not one of those trendy impersonal places, O’Brien’s was a proper old-fashioned shop full of dusty well-loved secondhand books, where she started straight from school and now it was hers.

It wasn’t her chosen path, she wanted college and University and ultimately to write books of her own.

But on the eve of her bright future, life got in the way of her plans when firstly her father was killed aboard the RFA Sir Galahad during the Falklands War when she was 15 and then on the day of her 16^th birthday her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

 

In the beginning Grace worked part time at the shop in between grieving for her dead father and caring for her mum while also limping her way through two years of college.

She had no siblings to share the burden and no Cousins or Aunts and Uncles to turn to, she had to cope with it all on her own.

Then in 1984 when she finished College, she watched all her friends go off to Uni and she went full time at O’Brien’s.

 

With each passing year, of days spent in the shop and evenings and weekends caring for her mother drained the very life from her and by the time her mum finally succumbed, Grace was as dry as the pages of the books she tended.

After the funeral, in order to fill the void, Grace gave herself totally to the shop, which is why five years later on her death, Maureen O’Brien left the shop to Grace.     

Year by year her life consisted of the shop, book auctions and house clearances other than that she had no human interactions outside the bookshop so as a result, at the age of thirty-six Grace was a cold grey dowdy frump.

She was not an unattractive woman behind the spectacles and the tweed suit, if anyone chose to look that closely, but they didn’t.

When she first took over the running of it the shop was struggling to stay afloat in a sea of apathy in which the world seemingly fell out of love with quality literature.

She did make one concession to the modern publication by giving over one window and a corner of the shop to new titles.

Also, over the years she developed the internet side of the business, which she rather liked as she didn’t have to face human beings.

It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t a people person it was just they were a constant reminder of what life might have been.

 

One rainy Friday afternoon in May a rather tall gaunt looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting raincoat entered the shop and stood dripping on the doormat for several minutes before he ventured further, although it was 2002 the place felt much older.

Harry Edwards took no more than three steps and then stopped, he looked around at the rows of shelves full of old musty tomes and sighed with resignation at the enormity of the task ahead.

“Oh hell” he muttered

“Can I help?” Grace said flatly with a weak smile

“I do hope so” Harry replied brightly

“I’m looking for a leather-bound copy of “The Coral Island” by R M. Ballantyne”    

“We have several copies of that” She said, “Did you have any particular date of publication in mind?”

“Anything from the 19^th century” He replied

“I have a nice clean late Victorian copy that might suit” Grace said and went off to retrieve it.

“Here we are, 1890, red leather binding, very good condition”

“Excellent” he said handling the book “How much?”

“£150” She said without emotion

He thought she was probably overcharging him, but it was exactly what he was looking for and it was well within his means, and it was his Uncle’s birthday the very next day and he didn’t fancy going in search of another bookshop in the foul weather.

Also, there was something about her that he liked behind the mannish spectacles and frumpy tweeds, he wasn’t sure what it was but there was more to her than the cover suggested.

“Great I’ll take it” he said

 

Harry Edwards had lived and worked in Brassington all his life and after getting his Law degree he started working at his Uncle Henrys firm of solicitors where he was now a partner.

It was fairly unexciting work involving quite a lot of conveyancing, but he liked it.

Incidentally, Barrowman, Clarke, Braithwaite and Edwards were the executors of Maureen O’Brien’s will.

Not that that has any relevance to the story, but it adds a certain symmetry.

Harry was forty-five years old and had himself suffered tragedy in his life, his father died suddenly when he was at University, his mother was struck with early onset Alzheimer’s and was now in a care home and the previous year he had lost his wife Celia to breast cancer, but unlike Grace he didn’t lock himself away from the world but then he did have a network of family and friends to draw comfort from.

 

On the Monday morning after a big family weekend to celebrate Uncle Henrys seventieth birthday, Harry was feeling a little jaded and in truth was almost relieved to get back to work for a rest.

By lunchtime however he was feeling a little more with it so as it was a bright warm spring day and as his office was only a ten-minute walk from O’Brien’s the notion popped into his head to pop in and tell the proprietor how delighted his uncle had been with his gift.

He wasn’t quite sure why the notion entered his head nor where it came from, but he still thought it a good idea.

 

The shop door opened, and sunlight spilled deep into the shop, Grace was at the back cataloguing some new acquisitions while Karen and Iris, students from Brassington Uni, were putting the new stock on the appropriate shelves.

She relied heavily on students to staff the shop as there was only her and Graham in the shop on a permanent basis.

She had inherited Graham from Maureen’s time but now he was slowly cutting down his hours as he headed towards retirement.

While she was cataloguing, Graham was out the back packing some books for delivery.

She looked up from what she was doing and briefly studied the new arrival.

Grace recognized the man instantly as the person who paid over the odds for a copy of “The Coral Island”

The ill-fitting (borrowed) raincoat of Friday had gone, and he was now sporting a well-tailored double breasted blue suit.

She had thought about him a lot over the weekend and had felt more than a little guilty at fleecing the dripping wet untidy looking man but now she saw him in his handmade suit that guilt melted away.

“He’s quite a handsome man though” she thought to herself, shaking her head at such an unaccustomed thought. 

 

He walked further into the shop and was surprised at just how big it was, it had seemed much smaller in the gloom of Friday afternoon.

He could see there were three or four other customers milling around and a couple of young girls stacking shelves and then he caught sight of the young frumpy woman at the back of the shop and strode off towards her.

 

“Oh God he’s coming this way” she thought to herself. “He’s going to complain about the book”

She hurriedly replaced the book she was holding and tried to slip away but she had inadvertently trapped her foot and as she tried to extricate herself, he was on her.

“Hello again” he said

“Oh hello” she said abandoning her escape attempt.

“I just wanted to say my Uncle loved the book” he said

“Well, that’s what we do” she responded flippantly and then inexplicably giggled

“In fact he was so impressed with it, he has a request” Harry said fishing in his jacket pocket and removing a piece of note paper which he handed to Grace.

“My Uncle collects book from his past, they are like special memories to him”

On the paper was written The Pathfinder by James Fennimore Cooper. (Third book of the Leatherstocking Tales pentalogy)

“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem” she said “I know we don’t have one in stock but if you come back tomorrow, I should have it”

“Excellent” Harry replied “I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“What name should I reserve it under?” Grace asked

“Harry Edwards” he replied “Miss…?”

“Rawlins” she replied “Grace Rawlins”

 

After he left the shop, she chastised herself for lying, she knew very well that she had a copy of “The Pathfinder”, and it would definitely have suited.

Why on earth had she lied, what on earth had gotten into her.

 

As Harry walked back to the office, he had an unaccountable spring in his step and he was actually glad she didn’t have that book in stock as it meant he didn’t have to make an excuse to go back the next day.

 

On Tuesday he found the morning passed by interminably slowly in fact at one point he thought the clock had stopped, but eventually the morning passed and the moment the clock struck twelve he was out the door.

“I’m taking an early lunch” he said

“Ok Mr. Edwards” his PA said

He walked briskly along the street towards O’Brien’s and was surprised by the presence of butterflies in his stomach.

“How ridiculous” he muttered to himself

 

Grace had been kept very busy all morning as she was alone in the shop on a Tuesday morning, but she was well aware that lunchtime was approaching.

She had her back to the door and when she heard it open, she took a deep breath and turned around with a smile.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Graham asked

“Oh no reason” Grace replied “it’s just such a lovely day”

“You don’t normally smile when the sun shine’s” Graham said “come to think of it you don’t normally smile”

“I smile” Grace said defensively

“Not often” he answered as he went to the back of the shop

“I do smile” she said to herself crossly as she turned and watched him

“I know” Harry said

Grace was speechless when she turned around and saw Harry standing there and for a moment felt like she was fifteen again.

Before she stuttered and stammered her way through a sentence.

Harry laughed at her discomfiture before saying

“I’m sorry if I startled you”

“No its fine, really” she said

 

Harry left the shop half an hour later, minus the book that he’d gone in for but he didn’t care, he was just pleased to have seen her again.

It was the first time since his wife’s death that he had even noticed another woman and as he enjoyed the spring sunshine, he was blissfully unaware just how significant that was.   

 

Grace had told him the book wouldn’t be in until the next day and didn’t even feel guilty for lying to him this time as it meant she would see him again, and then she realized she’d have to give him the book eventually or he’d stop coming anyway.

 

For Harry, the rest of the afternoon was spent very unproductively as he tried to reason in his mind why he was so drawn to a dowdy young bookworm.

“Well younger than me” he said out loud

She wasn’t even his type at all, and she had cheated him on that copy of “The Coral Island”.

 

The next day Harry couldn’t make it to the shop as he was at the magistrate’s courts in the morning and had two funerals in the afternoon.

Grace however was unaware of the reason for his failure to appear and thought herself a fool and chastised herself for lowering her guard, she didn’t smile at all that day.

 

On Thursday morning Harry left his office about 10 o’clock and ran through the rain in his borrowed ill-fitting raincoat to the shop.

He had not mentioned his movements the last time he was in the shop and had no reason to think his absence would be noticed, but strangely it meant something to him that he had missed seeing her.

 

At O’Brien’s, Karen, Iris and Graham were bemoaning the return of the unsmiling Grace who had awoken that morning with fresh resolve to return her life back to its previous unadventurous course and not allow herself to be disappointed again.  

 

Having reached the shop Harry just stood outside and stared at the rain-streaked windows wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Why would this young woman see him as anything more than just another customer?

“You’re being ridiculous” he said to himself and turned around and started back towards work, but he only took a few paces before he stopped and returned to the shop.

He stood again looking at the shop and taking a deep breath he said 

“Nothing ventured nothing gained” and pushed open the door

 

Grace was feeling wretched and made everyone’s morning miserable.

She had placed the copy of “The Pathfinder” by the till and resolved that should he come in again she would give him the book and that would be an end to it, after all he was just another customer.

 

Grace sighed and headed towards the back of the shop, Karen and Iris kept their heads down as she passed them and when Graham appeared from the storeroom and saw her coming his way he performed an immediate U-turn, then she heard the door open behind her and she sighed again and prepared to deliver a withering look upon the person responsible for the intrusion.    

 

“Harry” she said when she saw him and instantly her sternness melted away “um Mr. Edwards I mean”

“No please Harry is fine” he replied and returned her smile

“I have your book” Grace said producing it like an exhibit in a court case.

“Oh great” he said “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come in for it yesterday Miss Rawlins”

“Please call me Grace,” she said coyly

He then went on to explain in depth all the ins and outs of his previous day and why he hadn’t come to the shop.

All this was done in her inner sanctum over a mug of coffee.

“She’s never had a guest in her office before” Iris whispered as she and Karen listened through the door.

“And she’s laughing” Karen said in disbelief

 

An hour after he arrived, he left the shop and walked back towards his office with the book tucked under his arm and more importantly than that a date with Grace for the following evening.

 

So it was on a bright Friday evening just one week after his first rain soaked visit that he walked into O’Brien’s bookshop and found the dusty tome that was Grace Rawlins had been rebound and the dowdy bookish young woman was transformed.

Harry took her hand and led her from the shop, and she stepped out from the narrow confines of her stale and musty domain and rejoined the world of infinite possibilities with her heart full of hope and not a little trepidation.

It was now her turn to live life rather than reading about other peoples.

Snippets of Downshire Life – British Pie Week

 Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills Nation Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south, to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story begins in the West, to the south of Northchapel, in the beautiful village of Chapel Hill.

There was an expanse of green at the center of the village complete with duckpond and a weeping willow tree.

On the north side of the green was the pub, The Woodcutters Tavern and attached to the side of the pub there was a Stephenson’s general store and post office, across the green from the pub was the Church, St Peter’s, with the vicarage to one side and a row of shops ran alongside the road on the West of the green, Buckley’s Greengrocer and Fruiterers, Boddington’s Butchers, Harvey’s Pharmacy, Bizzie Lizzie Florists, Mazzone’s Hairdressers, Harrisons Hardware and Addison’s Bakery.

Chapel Hill was also the home of Amy Bettis and Addison’s was one of Bettis Bakes biggest customers.

 

Amy was married to Ray Boddington who like all the Boddingtons was employed either at the pig farm in Fallowfield or in one of the many Butchers Shops throughout the county, and possessed the unmistakable classic good looks of the clan with thick black curly hair and wild gypsy eyes, dark, mysterious and sexy, and Amy fell for him instantly.

They met at a time when she was trying to secure a regular supply of good quality meat, but on favourable credit terms.

Because at that time Bettis Bakes were on the brink of extinction because her feckless father had run the business as his own private cash cow until the point the cow ran dry and he took all the remaining cash he could get his hands on and disappeared without a second thought for the firm or his daughter.

The only thing that her father didn’t take with him was Bettis Bakes greatest asset, the rights to the Downshire Duchess, for which they held the Royal Charter.

The “Duchess” was a heavily spiced meat and potato pie which she had turned into the company’s flagship and in five years she had turned their fortunes around and had worked hard to revive the family business culminating in winning the prestigious National Best Bake award during British Pie Week, which gained them national exposure.

But it also gained them some unwelcome attention, when a figure from the past contacted Amy out of the blue.

 

It was just at the end of British Pie Week, two days after receiving the award, when she received a phone call from her Father.

No one in the family, or their circle of friends had heard word one from him since he absconded with what remained of the Companies money, with the police hot on his heels, so it was quite a shock for her to hear from him after five years had elapsed, though perhaps that was not really a surprise.

He had deserted both the her and the Bakery when they were on their uppers and now when things were on the up and up he resurfaced with his hand out, from whatever rock he’d been hiding under, and wherever that might have been he had obviously got to hear of her success.

“Amy Bettis!” she said

“Amy darling” the voice said

“Father” she said flatly “Long time no hear”

“Well you know how it is, time flies when you’re having fun” he said

“So to what do we now owe the pleasure?” She asked

“Well I don’t like be indelicate” he said “but I’m a little short on funds”

“So?” She responded unsympathetically

“Well I heard on the grapevine that the Bakery was doing well now”

“Yes it is doing well” she snapped

“Bloods thicker than water” he said

“Well Father give me an address and I’ll send you a cheque” she said

“No need” he said “I’m in the neighbourhood on Friday, I’ll pick up the cash personally” 

“Ok then” she said “after all, as you said blood is thicker than water”

 

On Friday her Father walked into the boardroom, immaculately dressed, in Italian silk, and his skin was deeply tanned from five years spent in sunnier climbs.

“Amy darling” he said and moved to embrace her “it’s so lovely to see you again”

“I wish I could say its mutual” she said and evaded his embrace

“Well just give me my fair share and I’ll be on my way” he said “isn’t that why you’re here?”

Amy had toiled hard to make a go of the Bakery so she was not about to let a thieving cheating bastard like her Father take a penny from the family or the business, blood or no blood.

“I’m here to ensure you get what you deserve” she said which was when the police emerged through the door behind him, and a tirade of ungentlemanly language followed, words that should never have been uttered by a Father to his daughter, but she just looked on as he was taken into custody.

She felt no more remorse for him, as the police took him away, than he had shown over what he had done to her and his employees.

Amy felt even less when she refused his request to pay his legal fees and left him to apply for legal aid.

Amy’s only feelings regarding her Father were those of justice being served when he was sentenced to 7 years in Prison. 

She would never see him again and he would never know the child she was carrying.

 

ARROWS DOTH FLY FROM CUPIDS BOW

Arrows doth fly from cupids bow

And an enchanted cascade of arrows

Lays the unsuspecting lover low

Who then his heart he must bestow

HELD IN A CASTLE KEEP

 

A woman's love

Held in a castle keep

In a prison tower

Where passion cools

And time dims desire

She waits in her prison

And dreams of a knight

Who will release her bonds

Rekindling the fire

And returning her to the world

CHRISTMAS LINDA – PART 1 – BRIEF ENCOUNTER

 

Snow spattered, unseen, against the steamy glass

As the train rattled out of the station

It was a fairly crowded train, but not full

With weary shoppers, shopping bags bursting

And commuting workers the weeks work done

Journeying homeward at the dark days end

A cheerful crowd though

Pleased with themselves bright faced and hearty

Full of seasonal cheer anticipating the holiday

Seemingly oblivious to the drafty carriage

I sat alone and felt lifted by the quiet jolliness

Contemplating the collective countenance

Of the self satisfied passengers

Then she appeared and I was lifted higher

There she was larger than life vivacious and self assured

Covered with snowflakes and laughing to herself

My snow angel, with snow covering her like sugar on a doughnut

Wrapped up against the cold in a woolen hat and coat

And a long knitted scarf draped about her neck

She shook her head and her light brown hair danced about her shoulders

And the snowflakes melted away from her soft curls

There was a rosy redness on her cheeks

Almost matching the hue of her coat

Either from the cold winter evening or a liberal taste of Christmas spirit

A little of both probably

She made her way down the train between the seats

Leaving wet snowflakes in her wake

Full length coat swishing side to side

She moved almost gracelessly, which suited her well

As she tottered a little in her high boots

Perhaps due to the lurching motion of the train

Or the Christmas punch and eggnog

She was still laughing softly to herself which also suited so well

And then she saw me, and her eyes lit up like beacons

Those wonderful sparking laughing eyes

She stopped and stood momentarily open mouthed

Then her smile illuminated the carriage

My heart soared at the sight of her

I returned her smile and she flushed a little deeper red

It had been almost a year since I last saw her

My lovely lost love, Linda

I had locked all my feelings away but now they were back

Like a door had opened in my heart and they all rushed out

And I missed her so much I didn’t know just how much till that moment

We were never lovers, only ever friends

But very special friends very close friends though no more

We laughed a lot together, shared confidences

Best friends but no more than that,

Though I wanted more, so much more

But I didn’t want to lose what we had so I said nothing

I loved her so much, but she was not free for me to love

And Linda was not free to love me even if she wanted

So I contented myself with our special friendship

My unrequited love remained so

If that was all then better that than nothing

I was happy to love her unconditionally

Then circumstances changed, my father died

I had to move away and I didn’t see her again, until now

Now she was in front of me, my angel, larger than life

Smiling, blushing, laughing and so lovely

I stood up and smiled at her again

She threw herself at me and she hugged me so tight

I smelled her hair as I held her and was intoxicated by her scent

All the old feelings flooded back over whelming me

I had often dreamt of being reunited with her

But never in my wildest dreams had I expect such a reaction

Could it be my love was not unrequited?

We sat down on the lumpy seats in the rattling carriage

And were completely alone

We sat looking at each other not wanting to lose sight of one another

In case the spell were broken

She removed a glove and put her hand on mine

As if testing it was not a dream then she slipped her hand into mine

Her delicate fingers so small in my grasp

For the remainder of the journey we reveled in each other’s company

We caught up with the lost months filling in the gaps

Still oblivious to our companions

It was as if we had never been apart

Then the train shook to a halt as all too soon we had arrived

Our fellow travelers rushed off to their Christmases

Reluctantly we left our seats and disembarked arm in arm

Then hand in hand we walked slowly along the platform

Still talking and laughing and then out onto the street

Where the shops were now closing and the town was relatively quiet

From one pub Noddy Holder screamed “it’s Christmas” to the world

Only the pubs and restaurants seemed to hold any attraction to most

But we joined a small group gathered round the Salvation Army band

And joined in with the carol singing in the town square

Before strolling towards the taxi stand

As the snow again fell onto Linda’s soft curls

We took our place in the queue of travelers eager to be home

I was eager to be nowhere else but with her

I shuffled along for the last few steps like a sulky schoolboy

Smiling, Linda turned to face me and kissed me gently on the lips

Such a warm sensitive and tender kiss

When our lips parted she smiled at me coyly

And flushed a deep shade of pink

Then I kissed a snowflake off her nose

Cupping her flushed cheek in my palm I slid my fingers beneath her hair

Caressing the soft downy hair on her nape

And pulled her sweet lips to mine and returned her kiss

Her arms enveloped me holding me so close, so tightly

Not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose what we had found

Not wanting to lose me again

We stood locked in our embrace as the snow fell softly on the scene

She pulled away for a moment then buried her face in my neck

And spoke “I’ve missed you so much, I’ve missed your love for me”

I had waited so long for this moment waited so long to here those words

To hear my love returned and then we kissed again

Cabs arrived and departed through the slush

The queue around us just kept moving as if unaware of our love

After a while we moved from the queue sat on a bench and talked

My love was not unrequited after all she felt the same for me

She had always done so yet still she was not free

She was torn between the two of us

Torn between the comfortable familiarity for a good man

A loyal and dependable man, safety

And the passion she felt for a soul mate

It wasn’t fair on him he hadn’t done anything wrong

I had been on the receiving end of that kind of pain

And I found myself unable to inflict it onto another 

So our love had to be a forbidden one

Best friends no more, I wanted more, so much more

And could not content myself with a special friendship

Now I knew my love was not unrequited

There was no going back, now Pandora’s Box had been opened

But at least now I knew she loved me

With the same depth as I loved her

We walked back to the taxi rank and kissed again in the snow

All too soon she got into a taxi

And through the winter wonderland departed taking my love with her

With her palm pressed against the glass she craned her neck to keep sight of me

Through the snow spattered window until the very last moment

Till the cab had gone out of sight

She was gone from my arms, gone from my view, gone from my life

But a Christmas happening had changed my life forever

A brief encounter, fleeting, here and then gone

Her scent still in my nostrils, the taste of joy on my lips

My soul mate gone forever, yet forever in my memory, forever in my heart

I would never see her again and moved away in the New Year

Making a life elsewhere but I never forgot her

And when on a winter’s night I hear the “Sally army” play

Or when the snow falls during Christmas time

Or I feel a snowflake on my skin

I feel her small hand in mine and then she is once again in my arms

And I smell her soft brown hair and the taste of her is on my lips

I hear her say “I love you” and she is mine forever