SWEETHEARTS

 

Put you trust in me my love

I will never let you down my dear

My darling, dry your tears

My angel set aside your fears

Our life together will be sublime

Sweethearts till the end of time

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (04) The Reverend Edwards Daughter

 

Katie Edwards was the daughter of the Vicar of St Hilda’s in Forestdean and Mark Holt was the village “Jack the Lad” and apart from them both being 28 years old, they had nothing in common whatsoever.

Katie was a good Christian girl, whose life revolved around her widowed fathers Church and the associated parochial duties, Mark on the other hand was an agnostic, albeit a church going agnostic, but above all he was an unashamed hedonist.

Katie was steady, diligent, and chaste and was an innocent but Mark had no morals whatsoever but to his mind that was more than compensated for by a belt full of female scalps.

 

However all of that however seemed set to change when Mark was walking through the village one rainy morning.

“Hi Katie” he said

Katie Edwards was a very attractive young woman by any measure, with a warm open manner, a willowy figure, and shoulder length brunette hair, intelligent green laughing eyes and a broad toothy smile and altogether a very pleasant demeanour.

“Hello Mark” she replied “What’s brought you out into the rain”

Mark was tall, dark and muscular with wild gypsy eyes. 

“I’m avoiding mum,” he said trying to keep a straight face, Katie gave an understanding nod

 “And you?”

“The Miss Devonshire’s” she replied “it’s their turn to do the flowers” and she bowed her head with shame.

“I think we need to be fortified,” he said

“The Royal Oak?” she suggested

“I thought you were barred for calling the landlord a godless heathen,” he queried

“A simple misunderstanding” she assured him “I’ve forgiven him”

 

Due to the inclement weather the pub was almost deserted so they sat and unloaded their burdens on each other.

Mark detailed the haranguing his mother gave him for getting home at 3 am in a state of inebriation and she talked about how the Miss Devonshire’s were making her life a misery.

To make her feel better Mark revealed some rather unsavory gossip about her protagonists which made Katie feel much better as did the Guinness.

The alcohol also aided Katie to reveal more and more about herself and the more she drank the more she rambled.

The Guinness helped her speak a lot about time and sand running through her fingers and choices and not knowing.

He couldn’t really follow her train of thought all the time, the drink wasn’t helping and as neither of them had eaten since breakfast the beer took its toll very quickly and two hours later they were fortified as newts and he had to steer her through the pouring rain to the vicarage, and thankfully the rain was falling so hard that no one noticed their drunken progression.

Once he reached the front door he had to wedge her against the wall while he opened the door, unfortunately as the door swung open she fell into the hall.

Mark instinctively reached out and grabbed her in an effort to prevent her from hurting herself.

Unfortunately in trying to avoid grabbing anything intimate he only succeeded in falling to the floor before she did.

As a result Mark landed on his back and she landed on top of him.

“You know Mark if I wasn’t the Vicar’s daughter I’d shag you” she slurred before planting an almost Labrador like kiss on his mouth.

“And if I wasn’t a gentleman” he said after extricating himself from her embrace “I’d let you”

And then he struggled to his feet and helped Katie to do the same but as soon as she was vertical she said

“But you’re not a gentleman so there’s nothing stopping you”

And launched another assault on him and even put his hand on her breast before Mark regained control and steered her through the hall and into the sitting room and plopped her into an armchair and she immediately grabbed him by the lapels and planted another kiss on his mouth, a much more controlled and unhurried kiss than before.

He wondered as he was starting to reciprocate if she thought that having sex with a philanderer like him was sin free, making him like a vegetable in a slimmer’s diet plan, and then he broke away from her embrace again.

“But you are the Vicar’s daughter” he replied and kissed her on the forehead

“And you’re drunk” he added

“What’s that got to do with it?” she slurred

“Everything, because you wouldn’t want to shag me if you were sober”

“Oh yes I would” she said after he left.

 

On the short walk home Mark had mixed feelings, he felt rather proud of himself, after all Katie had offered it to him on a plate and he had turned it down, and not because he didn’t fancy her, on the contrary, and he also reflected on the wonderful kiss and how much he enjoyed it.

Katie ticked a lot of boxes for him and he was not possessed of any high moral principles, so why didn’t he take advantage of her was a mystery.

He didn’t have the foggiest idea why he didn’t accept her invitation to canoodle, it certainly wasn’t a lack of attraction on his part or even being put what she was wearing, he liked uniforms and outfits, and vestments certainly didn’t put him off.

Nor did he think it was because she was the Vicars daughter after all he had made many immoral choices in the pursuit of sexual gratification, so he was left with only one possible conclusion.

However having come to that conclusion he immediately dismissed it, it was the obvious conclusion but it had never happened before, so he wasn’t sure how to proceed in the new territory.

It was a strange feeling that he was experiencing which had hit him right out of the blue.

But strange though it was it was impossible to ignore because the genie was very much out of the bottle and there was no putting it back.

Mark never imagined in his wildest dreams when he escaped his mother’s scathing tongue that morning that bumping into Katie Edwards would turn his entire world upside down.

“Thank you the Miss Devonshire’s” he said aloud “Thank you for taking your turn to do the flowers”

But after his revelation he didn’t know where to go from that point.  

And more importantly he didn’t know if she would still be receptive to him without the aid of several pints of Guinness.

It was an interesting position for him to find himself in, caring whether or not a girl would come to her senses in the cold and sober light of day.

 

So when Katie knocked on his front door he knew it was a game changer.

“Hi” he said

“Hey Mark, I’m sober”

“So I can see, come in” he said “But I’m still not going to shag you”

“Really?” she said as she followed him inside

“Really” he confirmed

“But why?” she asked “it’s what you do isn’t it?”

“And that’s why I’m not doing it to you” he said

“I don’t understand” she said and sat down heavily on the sofa

“You’re better than that” he said “you deserve better than that and I’m not going to let you settle for less than you deserve”

“What does that mean?” she asked

“It means we are going on a date”

“A date?” Katie asked

“Yes, a date” he replied “and after we have dated for a while we can talk about the other stuff”

“Oh” she responded and then he kissed her

LOTHARIO

 

Just let me gaze into your eyes

His words did not disguise

His unsubtle advances

Of flirtatious talk and furtive glances

But I fell victim to his charms

And he held me in his arms

But I held him in mine as well

And then had him under my spell

As I gazed into his eyes

I had the lothario hypnotized

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (03) In an Overstuffed Armchair

 

It was late when Alan Nelson travelled the short distance from Finchbottom to his home in Lower Gracewood.

It was the final leg of a journey that had begun 11 hours earlier with a taxi ride to Tegel airport from the Berlin Hilton.   

Thus followed a 2 hour delay at the airport, a 2 hour flight, two trains and another taxi from Finchbottom Station.

So when his house came into view through the windscreen of the cab, it was greeted with a feeling of relief, he had been away for 5 days and he was so pleased to be back home.

Alan paid the cab driver and carried his case to the house, there was a light on in the hall but it was late and the rest of the house was in darkness, so he let himself in.

He dropped his bag quietly in the hall, and opened the lounge door and when he walked into the room he saw her, and his heart soared.

She was wearing her favourite fleecy pink dressing gown and was curled up in his favourite arm chair with her little feet tucked beneath her.

Celia was hugging a cushion, almost as big as she was and her tiny delicate frame was almost lost in the overstuffed chair and instantly an unabated wave of love washed over him and he immediately wanted her.

He had missed her so much while he was away, but there she was, a scrawny little thing barely a hundred pounds soaking wet but in his opinion worth her weight in gold.
Alan had seen her that way many times, sleeping cuddled up in his chair but he loved her totally, with every fibre of his being, even after ten wonderful years of marriage.
And furthermore she still excited him and making love to her was electric, from the first time to the last it was like being plugged into the national grid.
The first time he saw her he thought she was the sexiest girl he’d ever seen and he thought so still.

He stood over Celia and stared affectionately down at her for the longest time, as she slept so soundly.
He didn’t really want to wake her, he should have let her sleep, but if he had she would not have thanked him, in fact she would have been very miffed.
So he knelt beside her and roused her gently and as she stirred from her slumber her eyes slowly opened and then widened

“Hello Baby” he said and when she saw him she smiled him her come to bed smile.

“I waited up for you”

“You didn’t have to” he said

“I did”

“Why?”

“Because I’m feeling fruity” she replied

“Are you?” he asked and kissed her

“Hmmm” she responded “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too” he replied and with his sexy girl roused and aroused he took her in his arms and carried her to bed.

WANT

 

I want you every day

In each and everyway

With every breath I take

I want to inhale you

I want to consume you

I want to undress you

Slow and controlled

I want to peel you

Like a piece of fruit

Whose consumption

Is to be anticipated

Each layer more revealing

Exposing the sumptuous flesh

Ripe in its perfection

A sight to be savoured

A delight to be relished

I want to touch you

Feel the warmth of you flesh

Sense it tremble beneath my fingers

Feel the beating of your heart

Beneath your perfect skin

Listen to your breath sounds

Altering with each touch

I want to caress the shape of you

Touch the heat of your passion

Feel your moistness

I want you every day

In each and everyway

With every breath I take

But to you I don’t exist

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (02) Paige Turner’s

 

Paige Rawlins had worked in the same bookshop in Finchbottom for twenty years, but it wasn’t one of those trendy and clinical impersonal places that seemed to spring up everywhere during the eighties, O’Brien’s was a proper old fashioned book shop, full of tall wooden book cases crammed with dusty well-loved second hand books. 

Paige had started working at the book shop straight from school and now it was hers lock, stock and barrel.

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

But on the eve of her bright future, as quite often happens, life got in the way of her well laid plans.

Firstly her father was killed aboard the RFA Sir Galahad during the Falklands War when she was only 15 and then on the day of her 16th birthday her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

 

In the beginning Paige just worked part time at the shop, in between grieving for her dead father and caring for her terminally ill mum at home in Finchbottom while also limping her way through two years of college.

She had no siblings to share the burden and no cousins or aunts, uncles, grandparents or even a boyfriend to turn to for support, she was completely and utterly alone and had to cope with the whole painful mess all on her own.

In 1984 when she finished college she watched all her friends excitedly planning for the future and then one by one they went off to University and that drew a line firmly under those friendships and she took the only course that was left open to her and she went to work full time at O’Brien’s.

Her mum subsequently underwent surgery to remove the tumor followed by a course of radiation, but it came back, so she had rounds of Chemotherapy together with radiation which kept it at bay but the treatment was almost as bad as the disease.

 

Each passing year, full of days spent in the shop and evenings and weekends at home caring for her dying mother, drained the very life from her.

Eventually her mum’s cancer metastasized, and she was told the average life expectancy after a diagnosis with metastatic disease was just three to six months, her mum lasted two years, and by the time her mum finally succumbed Paige was as dry as the pages of the books she tended.

 

After the funeral, in order to fill the void in her life, Paige gave herself totally to the shop, she became its life blood, which was why five years later on her death, Maureen O’Brien left the shop to Paige shop, stock and vellum, which she decided to rename Paige Turner’s.

     

Year by year her life consisted of the shop, book auctions and house clearances, book fairs and car boot sales and other than that she had no human interactions outside the book trade at all which was why as a result, at the age of thirty six Paige was a cold grey dowdy frump.

However she was not for all that, an unattractive woman, the blue eyes behind the spectacles were striking and the trim figure beneath the tweed suit were more than agreeable, if anyone chose to look that closely, but they didn’t, and were she to have worn her brunette hair down instead of scrapped back they would have looked harder.

 

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 had seemingly fallen out of love with quality literature and it took all of Paige’s wit and guile to make the shop pay.

Generally she was quite old fashioned in her outlook but she did make one concession to the modern world and the modern publication by giving over one window and a whole corner of the shop to new titles.

She figured that if she could lure the magpies into the shop with the bait of shiny new books she could actually get them hooked on the old classics.

Also, over the years she developed the internet side of the business, which Maureen had dismissed as a fad, but Paige rather liked it as trading that way she didn’t have to deal face to face with human beings.

It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t a people person it was just that happy smiling people were a constant reminder of what life might have been for her had things been different.

 

It was on a rainy Friday afternoon in May when, Harry Edwards, a rather tall gaunt looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting rain coat entered Paige Turner’s and stood dripping on the doormat.

The raincoat was ill fitting because he had to borrow it from a colleague when he realized it was raining so hard.

He stood on the mat for about a minute with the rain dripping off him before venturing further.

He was immediately struck by the fact that, although it was 2003 the overall ambiance of the place felt much, much older.

When he moved he took no more than three steps and then stopped again as he looked around at the rows of shelves full of old musty old tomes and sighed with resignation at the enormity of the task ahead of him.

“Oh hell” he muttered

“Can I help?” Paige said flatly accompanied by 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 19th century” He replied

“I have a nice clean late Victorian copy that might suit” Paige 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 he didn’t care, 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 given the inclement weather he didn’t really fancy going in search of another bookshop.

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

“Great I’ll take it” he said

 

Harry Edwards had lived and worked in Finchbottom all of 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, wills and minor boundary disputes but he liked it well enough.

Incidentally Barrowman, Clarke, Braithwaite and Edwards were the executors of Maureen O’Brien’s will and although that has no relevance to the story it does add a certain symmetry to it.

 

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 Paige 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 human so as it was a bright warm spring day and as his office was only a ten minute walk from Paige Turner’s, the notion popped into his head to call 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, Paige was at the back cataloguing some new acquisitions while Karen and Iris, students from Finchbottom College, were putting the new stock on the appropriate shelves.

She had to rely 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.

Paige recognized the man instantly as the man 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 soon 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 but on that day with the sun streaming through the windows it looked huge.

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 so he strode off in her direction.

 

“Oh God he’s coming this way” she thought to herself. “He’s going to complain about the book, he’s probably checked on line and knows I over charged him”

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 that 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 Paige.

“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?” Paige asked

“Harry Edwards” he replied “Miss…?”

“Rawlins” she replied “Paige 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 has gotten into you” she said to herself

 

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 despite that, 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 Paige Turner’s and was surprised by the presence of butterflies in his stomach.

“How ridiculous” he muttered to himself

 

Paige had been kept very busy all morning as she was alone in the shop on a Tuesday 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” Paige 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” Paige 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

 

Paige 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.   

 

Paige 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.

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 anyway” 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.

Paige 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 Paige Turner’s, Karen, Iris and Graham were bemoaning the return of the unsmiling Paige 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

 

Paige 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.

 

Paige 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 store room 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 “er Mr. Edwards I mean”

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

“I have your book” Paige 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 Paige,” 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.

Which was all done in the inner sanctum of her office 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 Paige for the following evening.

 

So it was on a bright Friday evening in May, just one short week after his first rain soaked visit to the antiquated bookshop that was Paige Turner’s.

When inside the bookshop he had found the dusty tome that was Paige Rawlins, just like any other dusty tome amidst many others on the shelf

But she 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.

Thanks to Harry it was now her turn to live life rather than to read about other peoples.

MY

 

My skin yearns

For your gentle touch

That silken caress

Of velvet joy

 

My body yearns

For the warmth

Of your tender embrace

Enveloping me

 

My heart pleads

For you presence

To be replenished

To be refilled

 

My lips beg

To be softly kissed

By petal pink mouth

Of honey sweetness

 

My essence craves

That other entity

Which makes me whole

My soul mate