CHRISTMAS LINDA – PART 3 – FROM EVE TO EVE

 

Christmas Eve

  

It was Christmas Eve, and the house was decorated for the season

A large fresh cut tree stood in the corner and perfumed the room

Adorned by a myriad of assorted baubles and lights 

Christmas cards of all shapes and sizes adorned every surface

And more hung on bright red and green ribbons from the picture rails

Bright colored Christmas garlands hung gaily crisscrossing the sealing

While outside through a break in the dark clouds

A shaft of week winter sunlight shone through the window

Reflecting off the garlands and painting random patterns on the walls

I sat watching TV in my favorite armchair in the front room

Of the house I shared with my wife and soul mate Linda

The woman I loved more then life itself

Both of us had been married before but Linda was the love of my life

We had spent 30 years apart before we found each other again

When our own Christmas miracle happened 20 years ago

And we have had 20 years of incredible happiness together

We had made good use of the years we had together

To make up for the lost time we were apart

And together we had had the fullest of lives

Christmas had always had particular significance for us

It was our favorite time of year and had always been so

Our most meaningful moments together happened at Christmas time

Finding love together, losing each other, finding each other, marrying each other

That’s why I called her Christmas Linda

We did Christmas big, and we relished every moment

We would pack away all the ornaments and pictures

Replacing them with festive decorations we had collected over the years

There would be a houseful on Christmas day and Boxing Day

Sharing the celebration with family and friends

Then we would fly off to the sun for a few weeks

Neither of us could abide the New Years holiday

So, we took ourselves away to enjoy each others company

But this year the season held no joy for me

Even James Stewart in “It’s a wonderful life” could not lift my spirits

And the reason for my gloomy disposition

Lay in the next room, where the dining table used to stand

Where we had so many wonderful Christmas dinners

The room full of the happy chatter of good company

The table heaving under the weight of Christmas fare

But in its place now stood a stark and clinical a hospital bed

And laying upon it the most precious thing in my life, Linda

Surrounded by all the paraphernalia of terminal illness

Her once vibrant body riddled with inoperable tumors

Their evil spread consuming her from within

The cancer was to far advanced when it was discovered

And she refused what little treatment there was on offer

She also stubbornly refused to die in hospital or a hospice

Saying she wished to die in our home where she had known such happiness

How could I refuse her that simple wish?

We had a private nurse who sat with her at night, and I tended her by day

And I watched her dieing by inches every single day

The cruelest punishment for being so happy

My first wife was taken by cancer

And that was hard enough to bare

It’s always so hard when someone you love suffers

But as much as I loved my first wife and as hard as it was to watch her die

It was nothing compared to the intolerable despair I felt losing Linda

She was not only my wife she was my love, my life,

My soul mate, she was the one

I would sit with her and read to her

Sometimes Dickens, Stephen King or Tom Sharpe

Depending on her frame of mind

On her brighter days she would have me tell her jokes

She always said I was the only one who could make her laugh

Her brown hair with its soft curls had long since turned silver

And the sparkle was only rarely present in her eyes

The laughter that used to play around them replaced by pain

And it was on the morning of that Christmas Eve 

When she told me what she wanted for Christmas

She was always at her best in the morning

But on that morning, she was having a good day

After she had eaten breakfast, she asked me to pass her jewelry box

It was the very first Christmas gift I gave her

She often told me it was her most precious possession, after me

As I handed it to her, she smiled and just for a second

There was a glimpse of her loveliness shinning through the pain

She patted the bed and bad me sit next to her

I sat on the bed next to her and she took my hand

“I have to say this to you today because I’m having a good day and

I don’t know how many good days I’ve got left”

I protested that she was being silly, she squeezed my hand

Then gave me a look which said that I knew she wasn’t

She opened her jewelry box and from a draw within

Took out a neatly folded handkerchief which she carefully unfolded

And inside were a dozen capsules containing her medication

She looked at me with her soulful eyes pleading with me

As the realization of what she was asking sank in I shook my head

On her good days she had salted away some of her medication

Until she now had enough to hasten the end 

She squeezed my hand again and said “Please do this for me”

She didn’t want me to do it there and then

She just wanted me to agree to do it when the time came

But the time would be very soon

“It’s the only gift you can give me this Christmas”

She looked into my eyes and said

“I love you more than anything in the world

And I know with all my heart that you love me”

I could say nothing as tears welled up in my eyes

“Please do this thing for me” she pleaded

My heart was breaking at the choice I must make

Let her suffer or end her suffering and kill her

I said, “I just can’t do it” and I got up and left the room

She didn’t call after me she knew I would be back

With tears streaming down my face, I grabbed my coat

And went out the door and went for a walk

The day was cold, grey and damp

And clouds scudded across the December sky

Any hint of the promised sunny intervals was not in evidence

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

But I didn’t feel it at all I just felt numb

You had to be alive to feel the cold and I was dieing inside

I walked for miles under the grey skies

Along the woodland paths we used to walk together

My mind in turmoil my eyes red with tears

If I did what she wanted I would lose her forever

The loss of her would be devastating

But not to let her go would just be selfish

My head was spinning I didn’t know which way to turn

Images of the happy moments together swam in and out of focus

Then as I walked into a clearing in the woods

Where once we had made love on a sultry afternoon

There was a sudden break in the clouds

And the woods were bathed in winter sunshine

And all at once I knew what I must do

When I returned to the house, I went straight to her bedside

She was sleeping; so, I sat on the chair beside her bed

And rested my head on the bed beside her

Then I felt her hand gently stroking my hair

I sat up and her hand moved to my cheek

I took it in my own and kissed it softly and said

“I’ll do what ever you want me to do”

 

New Years Eve

 

Christmas had past and I was glad of it

It was without doubt the worst Christmas of my life

Full of tears and sadness instead of happiness and laughter

There was no wondrous Christmas feast

No table laden with Christmas delights

No hearty laughter or lighthearted banter

Just an endless stream of visitors, friends and family

As cheery as was possible, putting on a brave face

All coming with forced smiles to bring the seasons greetings

But all leaving with tears knowing she would not see the spring

I know I sound ungrateful and I’m not really

But every visit ate into the precious time Linda and I had left

I knew how important it was to Linda to see everyone

Even the doctor called in to make sure she was comfortable

And in between visits I would sit watching the needles dropping from the tree

As if each dropping needle symbolized Linda’s plight

And as I sat alone in my favorite armchair on New Years Eve

Staring at the pine needles scattered beneath the tree

I tried to come to terms with the fact that Linda would die with the old year

Since Christmas Eve when she made her request

Linda had been in good spirits

She had seen everyone in the world that mattered to her

And said all the things she needed to say

So, Linda had decided that morning that enough was enough

I tried to remain cheerful for her, but she could see through it

“I know you’re hurting too” she said the pain etched in her face

And with that we made our plans for our last day together

I phoned the nurse telling her she should have the night off

To enjoy the celebrations with her family

She was very grateful and accepted my explanation without question

I filled the room with lighted candles and in the flickering light

Linda and I spent the evening together looking at photographs

And reliving the great times of our life together

We played the music that formed the soundtrack of our lives

Then an hour before midnight she handed me the folded handkerchief

I opened it and inside were now close to twenty capsules

One by one I broke them open emptying the contents into a wine glass

I filled the glass with Port and gave it a stir

And I put the glass on the bedside table before sitting on the bed

Then I took her hand and kissed it and lent forward and kissed her mouth

I started to say goodbye, but she put her hand to my mouth

Then I reached over and picked up the glass

And held it up to her lips and she took a drink

Then a little more and a little more until the glass was empty

I wiped her mouth with the hanky, and she burped

And she laughed that wonderful laugh

The candles sputtered and the flames flickered

Then she said “I love you so very much” squeezing my hand

“I love you too” I said as I sat holding her hand in mine

And then we just sat in silence looking at each other until her eyes closed

The Village clock began chiming the hour

Her hand went limp, and her breathing became shallow

And then all the pain in her face was suddenly gone

The clock chimed twelve marking the passing of the old year

And also unknowingly marked Linda’s passing 

I don’t know how long I sat there holding her dead hand

With the tears streaming down my face

But as I sat there, I knew what had to be done

I poured myself a large whisky and sat in my favorite armchair

Where I wrote a long letter explaining what I had done

And what I was about to do

With the letter written I put it into an envelope

And placed it on the mantelpiece where it would be easily found

Then I drank my whisky and reached into my pocket

And removed the contents placing them on my lap

Then I filled the syringe with the insulin I had stolen from the doctor’s bag

And injected myself with the full syringe

And as my eyes grew heavy, I could feel Linda’s hand on my shoulder

And felt her fingers in my hair as I drifted into a coma

And she whispered “I love you” in my ear as my eyes closed

When my eyes opened again, I couldn’t believe what I saw

It was a place that was familiar to me and it was snowing

And the street was full of happy smiling people

And there amongst them was Linda larger than life, vivacious and self assured

Covered with snowflakes and laughing

My snow angel, my Christmas Linda

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 fell away from her soft curls

Only to be replaced by fresh ones

There was a rosy redness on her cheeks, and she was young again

We were both young again and we had gone back 50 years

She threw herself at me and hugged me tightly

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

We were stood at the taxi stand and snow fell onto Linda’s soft curls

We took our place in the queue and we kissed

All too soon a taxi arrived but this time we both got in

And through the winter wonderland we departed this time never to be apart again

THEY SAY YOU SHOULD APPROACH LOVE

 

They say you should approach love

And cooking with the same reckless abandon

Well, I’ve seen my girlfriend make an omelette

So, I don’t think I need to go on

WE HAVE THE MOST PERFECT LOVE

 

We have the most perfect love

We fit together like a hand in glove

Because our love for each other

Is greater than our need for each other

Snippets of Downshire Life – Commonwealth Day

The medieval Village of Withery, was located between Purplemere and Finchbottom, which was where once upon a time the Monks of St Vitus Abbey were the first to grow grapes in the county.

The Abbey was long ago reduced to rubble and provided much of the fabric of the Village cottages surviving from the 15^th and 16^th centuries.

Withery Grange Nursing Home was the 21^st century incarnation of the Manor House, and it was from the Grange that Sir Clive and Lady Catherine Ravensdale, departed in his Rolls Royce, along with Sophie Nolan, who was family friend, family doctor and Clive’s lover.

 

Catherine was suffering from a brain tumour and they were travelling to London from the village of Withery to see an oncology specialist at a private and exclusive clinic in Harley Street.

The Langham Hotel was close by, but they chose a small and intimate Hotel which they thought might offer a little more discretion, there would doubtless have been guests at the Langham who were known to the Ravensdale’s, and neither he or his wife were up to dealing with people they knew and the awkward conversations that would accompany the meeting.

So, they went to a place that a friend had recommended in the road adjacent to Harley Street, called the Commonwealth, but their first port of call was to Harley Street.

 

When they finally reached the Hotel, Clive was in sombre mood because the news from the Oncologist was not what he was hoping for, although for Sophie it merely confirmed her suspicions.

Catherine was quite sanguine about events as she had long since come to terms with the fact that she was dying, and soon, she merely went along with Clive to humour him.

 

At the Hotel, Clive had booked a suite but, on their arrival, they found it had not been yet been vacated, but rather than sit around in reception waiting for it to become available he chose to accept two rooms instead, which were next to each other, but not adjoining. 

 

Despite the negative prognosis and the travel, Catherine had a comfortable evening.

Clive requested to have their food sent up to the room as his wife was ill, but the manager wouldn’t accommodate them.

“This is a Hotel” he announced “not a Hospital”

“Pompous arse” he said as he left the Hotel and went out to find a Chinese takeaway, where he ordered a broad selection of dishes and took the order back to the Hotel.

A kind waitress called Elisa smuggled plates and cutlery upstairs to the room for them and they ate their Chinese together.

 

When the time came for Sophie to do her Doctor thing, Clive went across the hall to Sophie’s room, as Catherine didn’t like him present for the clinical stuff, so he repeated his trip to the other room several times.

 

It was on the last occasion when Sophie was settling her down for the night, and when she returned, he asked

“Is she ok?”

“Yes” she replied, “she wants you to go and say goodnight”

“Ok” he said

“Don’t be long though,” she ordered, “she’s very tired and she’s had her meds”

 

Clive knocked lightly on the door and heard a faint

“Come in” so he opened the door and entered

“Hey” he said

“Hey yourself” she replied “come and sit on the bed”

He obliged her and sat next to her and she took hold of his hand.

“I’m sorry” he said

“For what?” she said weekly “for trying to keep me alive”

“I had to try” Clive said

“I know” she said, “but you’ve fair worn me out”

“Ok then, just rest now” he said and kissed her forehead and continued to hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep, then he kissed her again and said

“Goodnight darling”

 

He quietly left the room and crossed the hall and opened the door to Sophie’s room.

She was in bed lying on her side and he slipped in and snuggled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I think we did the right thing” she said, “didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did,” he agreed and for the first time ever they went to sleep without making love.

  

When morning came, he awoke to find he and Sophie were still in each other’s arms in much the same position as they were when they went to sleep.

It was a unique experience for them to occupy the same bed and not to have made love but it happened, nonetheless.

They didn’t make love that morning either, but only because it was late and Sophie had to get Catherine ready for the day and the journey back to the village, there was certainly no lack of will or urge.

 

After they had gotten Catherine settled comfortably in the car Clive and Sophie went back to check out and the obnoxious manager announced loudly as they approached the desk.

“I have to say that the comings and goings between your rooms did not go unnoticed, and I must further add that we do not entertain any of those shenanigans at the Commonwealth Hotel”

Clive gave Sophie a sideward glance and he could see she was close to tears as she turned to walk out, but he wasn’t having any of that, so in a similar volume to the one he had used, he said angrily.

“The lady in the car is Lady Catherine Ravensdale, my wife, who is terminally ill and the lady you have just reduced to tears is her Doctor, and the “comings and goings” between the rooms was necessary as my wife requires constant nursing”

And to finish he added “you pompous condescending little arse”

This was greeted by a murmur of approval and even a ripple of applause from those in earshot, then he took Sophie’s arm and walked her to the door, on the way he spotted Elisa, the friendly waitress who smiled and he paused and tipped her generously.

“Thank you for your kindness Elisa” he said and escorted Sophie to the car.

The journey back to Withery was uneventful and when they delivered her back to the Grange it was for the final time.

LOVE DOESN'T MAKE THE WORLD GO ROUND

 

“Love doesn't make the world go round”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning said with a smile

Before she added by way of qualification

“Love is what makes the ride worthwhile”

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.