A Message

I’m sitting and staring at the rain, wishing that you were here, but you’re not. I’ve missed seeing your beautiful face, your enchanting smile, and your sparkling eyes. I remember all the fun we’ve had, the places we’ve been and the things we’ve seen. From museums to castles, planes, trains and cars, concerts and plays, we’ve shared them all. And all the wonderful things we’ve seen have been enlightened by your enjoyment of them. Sure, there have been trips that didn’t work out as we wanted, it rained or something was closed or it wasn’t what we expected, but you never complained. You just smiled and made the best of it, and I love you for that, it was never my fault. I bought you things, never wanting anything but that wonderful smile in return, which I always got. But I got so much more back, not especially material things, but things I treasured: Thank you’s, hugs and kisses, but mainly memories. Memories of your enjoyment and excitement at seeing something new or special. I tried not to impose my views on what was special on you, and I think I succeeded. You love the same things I do, and usually in the same way, so our trips were always an adventure for both of us.
So, I sit and watch the rain, waiting for the time you return, planning our next escapade, missing you while you’re doing what you have to do. Come home soon my beloved daughter.



This is a follow on from 'Two Notes' I suppose. Same wonderings, same thoughts.

Two Notes, Two Calls

One of favourite things to write. Began as some ramblings about what it might be like to be a father. Then I thought I could turn it into something else. Had the idea about the format and everything just fell into place. I used the characters from 'Grid Girl' but not for any real reason. I don't know if fathers really feel like this, but I do know that this is how I would feel about a daughter.



My Darling Daughter Emerald,
You are off to Uni and we are not parting under the best of terms, so I’m slipping this note into the book you’re taking on the train in the hope you’ll read it. I realise the argument today was mainly my fault. But I’m just being your father, you know, over-protective of my little girl, because you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you are, sorry. I’ve always loved you since before you were born, but the moment that clinched it was when I first held you in my arms and saw your beautiful eyes. Then your tiny hand clasped around my little finger and I was truly hooked, a father at last. In the eighteen or so years since then we’ve had our disagreements, especially the last five, but I can never be angry with you for long. I said I’d never interfere with your life, but that was what I was I doing tonight and I’m sorry. You must do what you think best. Your mother has told me I misunderstood what you were trying to tell me, but wouldn’t elaborate, saying we must work it out between ourselves. I agree with her as I nearly always do, so here goes.
I have and always will love you. We have grown apart as you grew up. It was inevitable I suppose. When you were a toddler I was always your protector, the one you came too if you were in trouble and I miss that. I was your mothers ‘ultimate deterrent’ if you misbehaved, but you and she both knew that the worst I would do was withhold your sweets, and even then I’d give in after a couple of hours. As you became a teen, you had questions that I wasn’t comfortable with answering so you had to turn to your Mom. That couldn’t be helped as she is much better qualified to answer those questions than I, but it pained me not to be able to help you.
I won’t apologise for terrifying your boyfriends, that is what Dad’s do, no boy is ever good enough for our daughter, but I do hope I didn’t put too much of a crimp in all the partying you deny went on.
I loved giving you things that made you smile; an ice cream, sweeties, my old camera, they all resulted in that beautiful smile and a ‘thanks Dad’. You always thought I was jealous of all the views your pictures got on the web, but you were wrong: I was proud, so proud that I bought you a better camera than I had! And you repaid me handsomely by taking even better photo’s, (and of course with another beautiful smile AND a hug!) Emerald, your pictures have always been better than mine, except when it comes to old planes of course, and that is the crux of the matter. NEVER give up with the camera, even if it’s only taking pictures of your life for your old Dad.
I’ll end now, as my eyes are watering. I just want to say you will always be the apple of my eye and will never disappoint me. Call me so I can apologise properly.

Your Doting Dad


Dear Daddy,
This wasn’t how I wanted to leave for university, so I’ve written this note for you and left it on your desk in the hope you’ll read it. I’m sorry about our argument, but you were trying to do the one thing you said you wouldn’t; interfere with my life decisions. The fact that you misunderstood what I was telling you is immaterial, I lost my temper and didn’t tell you that and was just arguing for the sake of it. For that I am truly sorry. Forgive me for that.
You were always the one I came too if I had a problem or when I was in trouble and I suspect Mom doesn’t know half of the things you did for me. As I got older I came to you with questions that I now realise you could never answer and I had to go to Mom. I suspect that was when you realised I was growing up faster than you wanted me to, but that was something beyond both our control. I’m grateful that you took a step back and didn’t try to keep me as your little girl.
I’ve left you my camera, the one you got me when I was ten, because I think you should use it. It must have cost an arm and a leg and needs to be used. Take it to some airshows and get some of those wonderful shots you take so well of those beautiful planes. I always enjoyed the airshows and the other places you took me and Mom, and they pleasure they gave you (and me I suppose!) You are always so proud of my pictures, even when I was little and you couldn’t fool me when you moaned I was getting more views than you: I know you probably built them up by looking at them all yourself so I never had a picture without any views at all.
Dad, I’m desperately sorry that we argued and really want to call you once I’m settled in, but I don’t know if you’ll answer me. Suddenly there seems to be no one between me and the world and it scares me.

Your Loving Daughter, Emerald


“Mom, is that you? I’ve just found the note that Dad left for me. Oh Mom, it’s so beautiful, it made me cry.”
“Emmie, I’m glad you liked it. You should know by now that your father is better at writing how he feels than saying it, even to us.”
“Did he show it you? Has he found the note I left him?”
“I read both of the notes before you left Emerald.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when you dropped me off at the station?”
“Because this is between you and your father dear, I wasn’t there, I don’t know what you were arguing about. You and he need to work this out.”
“Mom, I left my camera there! I thought he could use it. But he wants me to use it. He must think I did it to spite him.”
“And that’s what you really think is it my girl?”
“No! Never. But… but he might.”
“Your father might?”
“He won’t will he? What should I do Mom? These are the situations Dad gets me out of.”
“So call him and ask him to bring you the camera, you silly thing.”


“Dad? This is Emmie…”

The Grid Girl

Another story with a stop-start creation. First began in July after the Silverstone Classic, got stuck, came back to it, stuck again. Then had an idea about giving it two endings. Wrote the first one, liked it so much never wrote the other one. Just had to work to the ending then. The girl does exsist, she's on my Flickr photostream, but everything afterwards is wishful thinking.


I can’t say that I noticed her particularly to start with; she was just one of the girls who came out to mark the grid positions. After three or four races I realised that each girl always marked the same grid row, and as I was generally on the corner looking up the paddock (the cars were lining up in the paddock before exiting out into the pit lane) she was often in the viewfinder of my camera. And she was always smiling and turning towards any camera pointed in her direction. I smiled back, but if she saw me she didn’t let on.
I spent most of the first day dodging between the grid line-up and one or two of my favourite spots to take photos from. (There aren’t that many at the circuit, the catch fencing gets in the way a lot.) She always seemed interested in what was going on around her, and, like I said, she always had a smile on her face. Row 4 was her station, a big pole with the number on so that the drivers could see where they were to pull up. A pretty blue-eyed blonde. She wore what all the girls wore; a white sponsors t-shirt, shortish black skirt and flat shoes. When the girls had first appeared, walking down the pit lane, they mostly had been carrying heeled shoes, but they were obviously unsuitable for standing around all day.

After the last race had started I wandered off to take a few pictures of the race, and then made my way to where the concert, the Santana concert at that, would be taking place. I found a spot not far from the front and sat down on the ground to wait. I went through the day’s pictures and started to weed out some of the ones I wasn’t going to use. In the background I could hear the last race winding its way to its finish, and then that too went quiet. On the stage the roadies checked the instruments, and the lighting guys tested the spots and the stage lights. The sun had left the sky, daylight bleeding gently from the sky. As it got darker, the concert started, Carlos Santana playing like the rock god he is. I raised my camera. After a couple of songs there was movement beside me. I glanced around and saw that about half of the grid girls had just arrived. They were milling around each other laughing and chatting. I looked back to the stage and took a few more shots. The crowd was swaying, singing along, playing air guitar, most of the usual concert activities. I switched my weight to try and relieve some of the ache in my legs (it had been a long day). As I did so, the person next to me moved as well. We bumped each other. “Sorry.” We both said looking at each other. She smiled. It was number 4. She looked a bit different in her civvies.
“You’re one of the girls from the grid aren’t you? Number 4?” I said.
“I am indeed.” She said, still smiling. “You’ve been photographing me all day haven’t you?”
“Not exactly.” I said a little shamefaced. “To start with I was trying to shoot round you, then I thought ‘what the hell’ and started shooting you and the others as well.”
“Get some good pictures?”
“Of you? Yes actually.”
“Good.” She grinned and held out her hand. “I’m Gemma, my friends call me Gem.” I shook her hand.
“Pleased to meet you Gemma. I’m Dave.” I was about to say something else but stopped.
“What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say something like Gem was a perfect name for such a beautiful jewel, but thought you’d probably heard it all before.”
“That’s sweet of you.” She smiled again. “He’s not bad for an old guy is he?” She said indicating the guitarist on stage.
“He is one of the great guitarists, maybe not as good as Jimi or Gilmour, but he has his own style.”
“Jimi?”
“Hendrix, and Dave Gilmour.”
“Oh, I have heard them.”
“I thought no-one under thirty would have heard of them.”
“My parents, I hear a lot of older music.”

We stood next to each other for the rest of the gig, swaying to the music, singing, playing air guitar. The music ended and Santana left the stage. The crowd began to make its way out. Gemma stayed by my side as we walked amongst the many that had stayed for the concert. I asked her where she was from, and then laughed when she told me, only twenty miles from me; I passed it on the way here. Gem looked at me so oddly I had to tell her why.
“Where are you staying?” She suddenly asked me.
“I’m camping in the field beyond the grandstand, near the hotel.” I replied, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning.
“We’re all at the Hotel.” She said, indicating some of the other grid girls around us. “It’s a bit cramped though, three to a room.” A smirk crossed my face. “What are you thinking about?” Gem prodded me.
“Sorry.” I said, reddening. “It’s a bloke thing, three pretty girls in one room, I was getting visions.” She giggled.
“You didn’t need to tell me that, you know.”
“I have a problem with not telling the truth. I can never remember who I told what, so I always tell it like it is.”
“Can’t make you popular?”
“Nope! But it does save time, and little white lies are easier. If you always tell the truth, little fibs slip through unnoticed.”
“I think I like that.”
By now we had crossed the infield of the circuit and were heading towards the exit. The crowd had thinned out as people went different ways. The other grid girls were ahead of us. Gemma stopped me. “Can we meet in the morning? We’ve got an early meeting, but then a gap until the first race, about eight?” I looked into her eyes for the first time and saw she was serious.
“All right. How about that coffee stand there?” I pointed. “But maybe you shouldn’t come alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was up to no good.” She giggled again.
“I suppose I could ask Adele to come with me, if it worries you.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning then?” She nodded, and then scampered off to catch up with her friends.

It was about ten to eight when Gemma and her friend Adele appeared. They were wearing similar clothing to the day before. I was waiting near the coffee stand which was just opening. “Good morning ladies. How would you like your coffee?”
“White, no sugar please.” Gemma answered. Adele just nodded, looking at me suspiciously. As I waited for the drinks I could hear them talking.
“Are you sure, Gem? He looks a bit old?” Adele was asking.
“Oh Ad! Don’t be so judgemental. He’s a sweetie. And he asked me to bring a chaperone.” Gemma admonished her friend. I collected the drinks and carried them over.
“And how are you two lovely ladies this fine if chilly morning?” Gemma giggled while Adele rolled her eyes.
“Well I’m fine, but I think Ad has a hangover!” Adele grunted.
“How can you both be so chirpy at this time of day?” She moaned.
“Well, I’m meeting two pretty girls, why should I be sad?” I asked. Gem giggled again, and Adele even smirked.
“Personally, I think Gem is off her head, and you’re no better.” Gemma and I both burst out laughing. Adele gave in and laughed too. “So, Mr Photographer, you going to be taking our pictures again today?”
“I may snap you a few times, but I thought I might get some car shots. It is why I came.”
“All right Gem. You win. He’s for real.” Adele gave me a genuine smile and held out her hand. “I’m Ad, and it was me that got Gem here into this.”
“Pleased to meet you Ad.” I shook her hand. “Going to be a busy day?”
“Maybe not so much for me. I’m marking row 10. Only about half the races have twenty or more cars. Gem will be busy though.”
“I did offer to swap Ad.” Gemma said quietly.
“Oh don’t worry babe, the pay is the same whether I have to walk all that way or not.” She looked over at the burger bar that was just opening. “I could do with a bite to eat, anyone hungry?” Gemma and I both shook our heads. Adele went to get herself something to eat.
“Will we be able to meet during the day?” I asked.
“Not sure. The races today are close together.” Gemma looked thoughtful. “The last race is a two hour one. Once it starts I’ll be free.”
“Can we meet for a while then?” I asked a little tentatively.
“Oh, yes please!” She said.
“Gem! We need to be going.” Adele called over. Reluctantly Gemma stood and followed her friend. Again I could hear them talking.
“What do you think Ad?”
“Weeelllll, he seems genuine, but are you sure Gem?” Their voices faded as they walked off.

I managed to speak to her two or three times during the day. She was right about the races; most of them were shorter ones. This meant almost as soon as one started, the next one was forming up in the paddock. The girls were kept busy. During our brief discussions Gemma and I agreed where I would meet her after the start of the last race and an approximate time. The rest of the day I spent doing what I had originally planned to do, taking pictures of cars.
I took a few pictures of the final race and then headed for my appointment. We had agreed to meet where we had split up the previous evening, about halfway between the hotel and the campsite entrance. Although I was a little early, I was disappointed Gem wasn’t already there. I hung around, looking at my watch and trying not to worry that she’d stood me up. Suddenly a breathless Gemma was stood beside me. I had been expecting her to come from the racetrack. Instead she had come from the hotel.
“I was starting to worry.” I said, a shade reproachfully. Then I noticed she had a case with her and had already changed into her jeans. “Rushing off already?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Well, there’s a party tonight, but I don’t really want to go. Ad does though, and I thought perhaps you could drop me off on your way home? You did say you pass through on your way here.” I didn’t know what to say. I was more than happy to give her the lift, but did wonder if I should be driving off with a girl who hardly knew me.
“Are you sure Gem? I mean, we only just met. I could be an axe murderer or something.”
“I doubt it somehow. And Adele says you’re honest, and she’s never wrong.” I shrugged.
“On your head be it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up tomorrow on a chain gang!” I joked. “Come on then. I’ve still got to take down the tent and pack everything away.”
“I’ll help.” I handed her my camera bag and picked up her case.
“This way then.”

The journey took about an hour, less time than it took to pack up all my gear. We chatted the whole time. Gem telling me about her promo work, her other jobs, things like that. I talked about my work a little, but more about my love of photography, especially those I took of aeroplanes. The time flew by, and now we were entering the village where she lived. I pulled up where she asked me. She leant across and kissed me.
“That was for the lift.”
“Want to drive around some more?” I joked. She held my head still and kissed me again.
“And that was because I think I’m in love.” I was about to ask jokingly who with, until I saw the look in her eyes. We stared at each other for a while, and then I kissed her back.
“Gemma, before we get in too deep. You need to know what you might be getting into.” She shrugged.
“Tell me.”
“I get jealous easily. I don’t know if I can watch others ogling my girl. So before we make any plans, please think about what could happen. I tell you this now, because I don’t want to hurt you later on. It will be easier to split now than later. Not that I want to split, but …” I ran out of words. Gemma’s lip trembled a little, and her eyes watered.
“I’ll get out now.” She slipped out of the car. I scrambled around after her.
“Gem, I’m just being honest. Just take some time to think things through, ask for advice. Then call me tomorrow or later if you like. Take what time you need, but call me when you decide. I’ll be waiting.” I handed her my mobile number on a scrap of paper. She took it carefully. I held her hand. “Please?” She smiled suddenly.
“All right. I’ll have a think. And call you soon.” She scrabbled in her purse. “Here’s my number, so you’ll know its me.”

I answered my ringing mobile. It wasn’t a number I knew, not even Gemma’s recently added one. “Hello.”
“Is that Mr Photographer?”
“Is that you Adele? I was hoping it was Gemma.”
“She’ll be calling later. I just need to ask you a couple of things.”
“Ask away.” I said, wondering what this was about.
“Are you in love with Gem?”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” I didn’t even have to think, which surprised me a bit.
“Then why are you talking to me and not her? Why is she calling me and asking for advice.” A light dawned. I sighed into the phone.
“I just thought she’d better know what she’s letting herself in for. I honestly don’t know if I’m going to get jealous, and I know that sounds hypocritical after all the photo’s I took of you all.” I heard Adele humming. “Ad, I have what you could call a short but damp fuse. It takes a lot to rile me, but when something does, I explode quickly.”
“So?”
“I wouldn’t want Gemma to be on the receiving end if I get jealous, and I won’t ask her to give up a job she obviously likes.”
“Don’t you trust her?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Yes, I trust her. It’s me I don’t trust.”
“You love her enough to lose her.”
“I do. I want her to be happy.”
“You, Mr Photographer, are too honest for your own good.” She paused. “I think you need to take a chance for once. If she wants to give up the promo work, let her. If she wants to carry on, trust yourself. I’m going to tell her the same thing.”
“Adele, I know you less than Gem, but you are a good friend to both of us. Thanks.”
“Just don’t name your daughter after me.” She laughed and rang off.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again.
“Hello Gemma.”
“Hello Dave. What are you doing next weekend?”

“How long is your mother going to be?”
“I don’t know daddy.” I smiled down at my daughter.
“Sorry Emerald, I wasn’t really asking. Are you enjoying today?”
“Really a lot.” She nodded.
“As much as last week?”
“Nearly. I think I like the old aeroplanes better though.” I smiled.
“That’s my girl.” I patted her curly hair.
“Is this where you met mom?” She looked up at me, her green eyes shining.
“Yes it is. Six years ago.” She squirmed in her seat, obviously unsure whether to ask her next question.
“Can I use your little camera again Daddy?” Emerald asked eventually.
“Sure. But you won’t get very good pictures of the cars from here in the grandstand.”
“S’alright. I like to take pictures of people anyway.”
“Okay, here you are.” I said, handing her my old Fuji. She accepted it gleefully. Gemma appeared down below us and walked up the steps carrying three “99’s”. I heard Emmie clicking away.
“You little minx, you’ll be telling everyone these are all for me.” Gemma smiled at Emerald, handing us both one of the ices.
“I won’t mommy, honest.” Our little girl said.
“Meet anyone you know?” I asked.
“One or two people. They’re all so young now.”
“You’re not exactly ancient love.” I said.
“It’s just so… Strange, seeing it from the other side.”
“Miss it?”
“A little, but I know I made the right choice, if only for Emmie.”
“I’m glad you talked to Adele that day. You know she phoned me?” I put my arm around her and licked at my ice cream.
“She asked for your number. Said she needed to talk to you before she gave me advice.”
“I never asked. What did she say?”
“Told me not to let you slip away.” She laughed. “In fact she said we should have flipped a coin to see who got that number 4 station.”
“Unfortunately for her, I don’t think it was where you were stood love.” I laughed. She looked over to where Emmie was licking at her ice.
“Emerald, don’t get that on your dad’s camera.”
“I won’t mommy. He said if I’m good I can have it.”
Gemma looked at me.
“Last week.” I shrugged. “She has a good eye for a picture, especially for a 4 year old. I thought she should have some encouragement.”
“All right I suppose, it’s your camera.” Gemma said, snuggling up to me.
“Can I go down to the front to take some pictures?” Emmie asked.
“Just stay where we can see you poppet.” I said. She toddled off down the steps.
“She does take after you.” Gem said.
“Oh I don’t know. She’s as pretty as you. Good thing too.”
“Sweet talker.” She grinned.
“SMILE!” Emmie called out as she pressed the shutter.

The Moment

Written around December 2008, used as the caption for the pic below




The picture is mine.


It is that time of year when you look back and decide what your favourite memories are. This year it’s easy for me and many others I suspect. One Saturday in June at RAF Waddington.
The outlook wasn’t promising. It rained all the way there and continued after we arrived. But, SHE was there. We could see her parked away from everyone. They moved her closer to the crowd and the rain began to ease. The Red Arrows, normally bringers of blue sky, appeared, but they had to do a low-level display. Surely they wouldn’t let HER display in this?
The other displays began and the skies started to clear. Please, oh please! And then! SHE was moving along the taxi path, past her equally famous sister. Looking back, I can’t remember what was displaying at the time, can anyone? Now, there SHE was, sitting at the end of the runway. The commentators got excited and then went quiet. We all went quiet, the only sound that of four mighty Olympus engines building up to full power. And then SHE was moving down the runway, faster and faster until SHE was up, up where SHE belongs, in the sky above an air show crowd.

That was the moment of the year.

For anyone who doesn't realise, "She" is Avro Vulcan B.2 XH558, last flying Vulcan in the world. For more see http://www.site.vulcantothesky.org/

Ghost of the ‘Flying Arrow’.

Written from a suggestion from my step-dad, who also suggested it could be longer. It makes a great opening certainly, but I can't think where to take it. Any suggestions?



There used to be a railway line here. Now the old track is gone. It is silent now, deserted, unused, alone in the dark of the night. Once mighty steam locomotives ran here, but now grass grows. Nothing moves but that brushed by the breeze. It is quiet and peaceful, only Mother Nature making any noise, except…
Suddenly, a far-off whistle is heard, a steam whistle. The sound of an engine, a steam engine approaches. A piece of precision engineering, lovingly crafted, immaculately kept, working hard. There is the clack of steel wheels on non-existent rails. The sound of hissing pistons pounding away gets closer. It’s here, upon us, but nothing can be seen of the mighty machine, only its sound and the smell of hot steam and oil. It passes and recedes into the distance, the once common sound dissipating into the night.
The Arrow still runs!!

Trauma

Fairly old piece, can't remember why I wrote it. Probably something nasty.



Deep in the woods,
Well after dark,
Something bad moves,
Hunting its mark.

As black as the night,
Difficult to see,
I hear it moving,
It’s coming for me!

All that I hear,
Is the sound of its breath,
Moving so close now,
To hound me to death.

Unable to see it,
Only to hear,
I’m frozen in place,
As it draws near.

Suddenly I feel it,
Fingers at throat,
Breathing is difficult,
Escape is remote.

Spots before eyes,
Everything goes black,
Neck is turning,
Spine goes crack.

Bones grind together,
It’s too late my friend,
Oxygen gone now,
It must be THE END

Musings Of An RCV Driver After A Bad Week

Composed whilst driving on a Friday after a nasty week at work.


Alone with my thoughts,
As I drive all day.
The brain gets bored,
And the mind goes astray.

Sometimes I’m happy,
Sometimes I’m sad.
At times it’s so boring,
At others, not so bad.

Sometimes it’s hot,
Sometimes it’s cold.
Sometimes it’s hard,
To do what you’re told.

Drive in here,
Reverse up there.
Only one bin,
Not two in a pair.

Squeeze through that gap,
Avoid that parked car.
Pull up just here,
No! That’s too far!

Was that a bin there?
Better not miss it.
What’s that car doing?
Silly Old twit.

House after House,
Bin after bin.
They go on forever,
But we’re starting to win.

Trucks nearly full now,
Time for a break.
Off to the tip then,
How long will this take?

Back on the road,
To empty more bins.
A little child waves,
I return it, she grins.

That bins a pullout,
That’s an assist.
I’ll get it myself,
To ensure it’s not missed.

Another damn spillage,
That bins not on.
It’s taking so long,
Where has the time gone?

Start in the dark,
Finishing late,
It’s this time of year,
I really hate.

Finally finished,
Lifts stowed away.
Parking her up,
In the wash bay.

Engine turned off,
Everything done.
Time to go home,
Hope next weeks more fun.

In love with Kitty

Just thinking about my favourite character.



I have a problem. I’m in love with a married woman. A fictional married woman. A fictional married woman that I created. It didn’t start out like that. True, Kitty was based on a real person, but I never knew her name, and I only spoke to her a couple of times. So all her personality I invented, all her likes, dislikes, sense of humour, everything. I never wrote down her physical looks as they seemed unimportant to the story. Perhaps they aren’t important. I can picture how she looks, but I don’t have the necessary words to truly describe her. That never seemed to matter. But the personality I created for her is that of a woman I’d like to meet.
As I said, it didn’t really start like that. The girl Kitty was based on was nice enough, and kick-started my story writing. The first part of ‘Summer Rain’, the first couple of paragraphs, was something I had to write after our brief encounter. But she is not the same Kitty as the one at the end of ‘Full Circle’, not as filled out as a character although she does display some traits towards part III. It all points to me ascribing to Kitty the personality of the woman I’d like to love. She cares for her husband, her children, her parents, and her friends. She has a sense of humour to match mine and a way with words better than me. She isn’t perfect, she can be snappy, but deep down she doesn’t mean it. She is kind and helpful, but will put her foot down when she wants to stop something. Possibly she can be a bit moody, but we all are, it’s something you accept. Kitty knows what she wants, but she won’t trample over people to get it, but she will find a way. She recognises that life creates problems and does her best to help smooth them over for her family. In short Kitty is the woman I love, and I can never have her for two simple reasons: She’s in love with her husband Eddie and she doesn’t exist!

Tangled Web

Written after hearing 'Sylvia's mother' by Dr Hook, and 'Living next door to Alice' by Smokie within an hour. What would it be like to love the girl next door and lose her?



Nearly twenty years had passed since they moved in next door. For most of that time, Melissa and I had been friends. As children, we had played and as we got older, we became each other’s confidante, talking over the fence or in each other’s garden or house. It wasn’t as if we were alike. She grew into a beautiful ‘girlie’ girl whereas I, I have to admit, became a bit of a geek, but she liked to talk to me and valued my views. I was in love with Melissa by thirteen years old, but never told her. Now, ten years on, she was back from University for the summer, her studies complete. I’d not gone on to higher education. Instead, I’d gone to work for a local computer builder and repairer and had helped build up a reasonable business. She wanted to talk to me still, but I was in for a shock.
“Dougie, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Unsuspecting, I replied.
“Bring her round; I’ll put the kettle on.” She was always asking me to meet her friends, almost as if she was trying to set me up with them. It never worked; I only had eyes for Melissa. This time was different though.
“It’s not a “her” this time. We’ll be round in a second.” A little puzzled, I opened the front door, went back to the kitchen, and boiled the kettle.
I heard the door shut and Melissa came into the kitchen, leading a tall man with a friendly smile on his face.
“Doug, this is Peter, my fiancé!” Luckily, I had turned my back to them at that moment and neither saw the look of despair cross my face. I turned around, shook Peter firmly by the hand, and kissed Mel.
“You kept that quiet my girl.” I said. “Peter, you are a very lucky man.”
“I am, I know” He replied. “Now, can I help with the kettle?”
“Never mind the kettle, news like this needs something a bit stronger.” I went under the stairs and brought out a bottle of wine. Mel got some glasses out and we toasted their news. I was prepared to hate Pete, but as we talked for about an hour, I found that I liked him. He wasn’t just a friendly face; he was a genuinely nice guy.
After they left, “To spread the news” as Mel put it, I put the wine away and found out my bottle of Jack Daniels, taking it out into the garden and sitting against the fence, our fence. I’d only had a couple of swigs when I heard a voice from the other side.
“Unrequited love eh?” It was Vanessa, Melissa’s younger sister by 4 years.
“Pardon?”
“Unrequited love, it’s a terrible thing.”
“I suppose.”
“Come on Doug, admit it to someone.” I looked into her face.
“All right, I love Melissa, but I never told her and now it’s too late.” She clambered over the fence, she always had been a bit of a tomboy, and sat beside me. She took the bottle from me and took a swig.
“You’ve managed until now, why will her marrying make a difference?”
“Because… Because.” I was stumped. “Because there was always a chance, however small, now there isn’t.”
“So find someone else.”
“Nessie, I don’t know if I can.”
“Doug, pull yourself together, I hate to see you like this.” She paused. “And so would Mel.”
“You think?” I took the bottle back. “Anyway, what do you know about unrequited love?”
“You don’t think you’re the only one do you?” She looked down sadly. I passed her the bottle back.
“Let’s get drunk and start from scratch tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan!”

The hangover the next day was horrendous, but I survived, apparently Nessie did too. A couple of days later she rang the doorbell.
“Hi Nessie! Come in.”
“No need, this will only take a minute.” She paused, drawing breath as if worried about what she was about to ask. “Can you take Mel and me to our dress fittings?” Dad’s having trouble with the car and wants to get it fixed.” Momentarily I was unsure, but my feelings for Melissa told me yes.
“Sure, when?”
“In about half an hour?” She looked sideways. “Mel didn’t want to ask, but mom and me thought you might.”
“You mean, you knew I’d say yes.”
“Well, not “knew”. Hoped, maybe?”
“See you in half an hour Vanessa. And tell your sister…” I stumbled, a million thoughts coming at once. “Tell her it would be an honour.”
So, here I was, accompanying a bride and bridesmaid to their dress fittings. Melissa was the first out to look at herself in the mirror.
“What do you think Dougie?” I just stared, open-mouthed. Finally I spoke.
“Mel, you look beautiful.”
“You think? I don’t know whether to believe you, you always say that.”
“Believe me Mel, you’ve never looked better.” She twirled around.
“I must say that it feels right.”
“Don’t change a thing; you’ll stun them all, walking up the aisle like that.” At that moment, Vanessa came out of the changing room. I couldn’t help myself, I gasped.
“What’s the matter?” She asked, looking round.
“Nothing, nothing at all Nessie. You look… You look perfect.” It was true, she had never looked better. As I said, she’d always been a tomboy. When I’d noticed her before she’d always been in torn jeans and scruffy t-shirt, but now… Melissa looked over at her younger sibling, whom she’d barely seen for five years.
“Ness, you’ve finally grown up.”
“And how!” I muttered. Vanessa hummed to herself, querying our comments.
“I don’t feel comfy in a posh frock.”
“Nessie, you wear a dress all day in that shop where you work.” Melissa admonished her.
“That’s work, this is different.” I finally found my tongue again.
“Miss Vanessa, if I may say, you are in grave danger of outshining your sister on her wedding day, which would be some achievement.” Both girls looked at me and giggled.
“Doug, how come no girl has caught you?” Melissa asked.
“Just lucky, I guess.” I said, trying to make light of her question. Nessie gave me a hard stare, as if she was trying to work out if I was telling the truth. What she didn’t realise was that this was the first time I’d looked at her as a woman, instead of the little girl next door, or the sister of the girl I was in love with. And I was awestruck with her beauty. Immediately I was worried that I was trying to replace one sister with the other, that Mel’s marriage was making me look at Nessie as a replacement. However, the fact was that Nessie looked truly stunning in that dress.

And now it was Melissa’s big day. I’d ummed and ahhed about whether I should go. In the end, Vanessa asked me to be her escort. I questioned whether her boyfriend should go with her.
“What boyfriend?” She’d asked. “You must know I’ve never had a steady boyfriend.” I scratched my head; it was true I’d never seen her with anyone more than twice.
“Why not Nessie? You’re very pretty.”
“I told you, I’m in love with someone who doesn’t know I exist.”
“So why not find someone else?”
“Like you with Melissa?” She had me there.
“All right, little miss clever, I’ll come with you, but only with one provision.”
“And that is?”
“I sit at the back so if I can’t watch I can slip out unnoticed.”
“Doug, if you think anyone will be watching you…”
“They will if I suddenly run down the aisle screaming!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. If you want to sit at the back, sit at the back.”
So here I was, sitting at the back of the church watching the woman I loved marry someone else. At least that was what I thought would happen. Instead, I found myself mesmerised by Vanessa, standing behind her sister. Almost the whole service had passed before I got my attention back to the ceremony. I’d missed the bit about just impediment and the exchange of vows and now they were about to sign the register. Ashamed and confused I stumbled into the churchyard. Ashamed because I thought that losing Mel would be heartbreaking and it seemed it wasn’t. Confused because of my growing feelings for Nessie. I still thought I might be trying to replace one sister with the other, and that wouldn’t be fair on Vanessa.
Nessie came out and found me in the graveyard. The wedding photo’s had been taken and I was sat looking out at the view from a bench. She sat down beside me.
“Nearly made it then?” She asked.
“Nearly, but it wasn’t what I thought that made me leave.”
“What was it then?”
“Nessie, I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. I’m very confused at the moment.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the hip flask of Jack that I’d brought with me.
“You can’t drink that if you’re going to drive me home so I can change out of this dress for the reception.”
“That’s a bit against protocol isn’t it? In any case, you look wonderful in the dress.”
“Stuff protocol and I really don’t like dresses.” She smiled and stood, pulling me up with her. “Take me home please.” She grinned.
“Okay, but I’m going to see your mother first.” She frowned. “Just in case she gets worried.”
“Mom won’t worry about me today, and especially if you’re with me.”
“Then it won’t hurt to tell her will it?”
I sat downstairs, idly toying with the glass of wine she’d poured me. We’d decided to walk to the reception; it was only five minutes down the road. Vanessa’s mom had asked me to try to get her to wear some sort of frock, not her usual jeans and t-shirt; I’d said I’d try. Nessie came down the stairs unusually shyly. She peered around the corner of the door before inching her way into the room.
“What do you think?” She asked, twirling around in a very pretty, very simple summer dress. For a second I was dumbstruck again. “You don’t like it? I’ll change.”
“No! No, don’t. You look amazing, perfect. Don’t change, please.”
“Come on then, let’s drown our sorrows again. This time dad’s paying.” She flashed me that smile again. I rose and took her hand.
“It would give great pleasure to escort such a beauty anywhere.” She giggled.
“I love it when you talk like that, lets go.”
The reception was well under way by the time we got there. I hadn’t wanted to hurry because walking with Vanessa had been so nice. We’d swapped jokes and memories as we strolled along. I was beginning to realise that Nessie was not like her big sis at all, that I was attracted to something different in her to Mel, but still I worried. I delivered Nessie to her mother, who smiled at me, silently thanking me that her younger daughter hadn’t donned her usual attire. I shrugged, hoping to convey that it was Vanessa’s doing.
As the evening progressed, I danced a couple of times with Nessie, but tried to avoid Mel, unsure what to say to her. Finally, she cornered me and led me by the hand out into the garden.
“Thank you for coming, and for looking after Nessie.”
“I couldn’t miss your big day Mel, and despite what everyone thinks, the summer frock was Nessie’s idea.”
“You think?” She raised her eyebrows. “Anyway, I know how hard it was for you to be there.”
“I don’t think you do, Mel.”
“Doug, I know. I’ve always known, but, try as I might, I couldn’t love you other than as a brother, I’m sorry.” I looked at her, shocked. I had really thought she didn’t know how I felt.
“Mel, I’m sorry too.” I held her hands. “I should have said something, and then you wouldn’t have had to pretend…” I faltered as her blue eyes began to water. “No, don’t cry. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, don’t let me ruin it.”
“You don’t hate me, or Pete?”
“I’ll never be able to hate you, and Pete is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I must admit, I did try to hate him, but I can’t. If he makes you happy, that’s good enough for me.”
“So, we can still be friends?”
“Dear Melissa, we’ll always be friends, nothing you can say will stop me loving you. If that’s too much for you or Pete, say now, and I’ll stay away.”
“No, you don’t need too. I told Pete everything about you, and he likes you too. Please, stay in contact with us. I still value your views.”
“Well, if you’re sure?”
“She is, and I happen to agree.” Pete came up behind us. “Doug, I know this has been difficult, but I can tell you are a man of honour, and I’m happy for you and Mel to talk from time to time, and I’d like to talk with you too. Maybe you can fill me in on some of her secrets.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s have a drink.”
“One last thing. I’ll tell you both, but no one else is to know.” I drew breath, knowing I couldn’t tell the whole truth. “I’m ashamed to say, I think I might be in love with someone else now, sorry Mel.” She laughed.
“That sounds wonderful, who is it, and do I know her?”
“I’d rather not say yet, but you do know her.”
“Another reason for a drink! Come on.”

So now, Christmas was upon us. Mel and Pete had been married for six months. I’d been over to see them about three times in their new home. Each time Nessie had begged a lift. I was happy to oblige. Any time I spent in her company was time I enjoyed. She always seemed to dress up for the occasion, putting on a dress or skirt rather than her habitual jeans. She could have worn a Donkey Jacket and dungarees and I would have still enjoyed her company, but I didn’t think it was for me, I thought it was to show her elder sister that she had grown up. However, this close to the festive season Vanessa was working some serious overtime and I was visiting alone for the first time. The computer repairs, the part of the business I was mostly concerned with, had slowed a bit, but was bound to pick up when people wired their new presents up wrong, or deleted something vital, my busy period was ahead. Pete greeted me at the door like an old friend, and to be truthful, I did feel that I’d known him for ages. His first question was, as always, did I intend to drive back tonight, or did I want a drink. Without Nessie, I was inclined to accept the offer of a bed and a drink for a change. This pleased him enormously.
“Great! I’ll go and air the spare room, get Mel to pour you a J.D.” I went into the lounge, where Mel was already pouring out a Jack Daniels for me. I handed over the presents I had brought, not just from me, but my parents, her parents and Nessie. She fussed over them, adding them to a small collection.
“Can you take these back in return?” She asked, indicating a pair of bags bulging with wrapped parcels.
“No problem, that was the idea of me coming down.”
“I’m sorry Vanessa couldn’t come. I like to keep in touch with her.”
“Perils of shop work I suppose, especially this time of year.” I paused. “In a way, I’m glad she couldn’t come, it means I can talk to you and Pete about something.”
“Douglas, you intrigue me, please continue!”
“Yes indeed, do tell!” Pete said, coming into the room.
“Well, I need some advice.”
“About Nessie?” Mel asked, innocently.
“Yes.” I said, and then realised what she’d said. “How did you know that?” Pete clapped me round the shoulder.
“Even a rugby player like me could work that one out mate, simple observation.”
“You mean, you knew?”
“Dougie, I worked that out at the wedding. You were the only one not looking at me.” She frowned. “It was very disconcerting for a girl to find that the boy who apparently loved her as much as her new husband spent almost the whole day staring at her sister.” They both grinned. I was dumbstruck. Pete spoke quietly.
“Don’t ask me how she managed to see what was happening behind her old boy. Just accept it.”
“I … I do. My problem is…” I stumbled over the words. “My logic tells me that I’m trying to replace Mel with Nessie, but …But it doesn’t feel like that.” Melissa leaned forward and topped up my glass.
“I can’t tell you what to do, or clarify your feelings, but I can give you some additional info.” I perked up a little.
“Yes?”
“You think Nessie is in love with someone?”
“That’s what she told me, unrequited love; someone who doesn’t know she exists was what she said.”
“I can tell you who she loves.”
“Who?”
“You, you fool. Why do you think she dresses up when you take her anywhere? Won’t she drop everything when you ask her if she’s free? I’ve known it as long as I’ve known about your feelings for me. I’ve seen her watching you, following you, just as you did with me.” Suddenly I felt ashamed.
“Mel, I’m sorry. I never …” I tailed off.
“Doug, I’m telling you. She loves you.”
“But what if I’m wrong and I am trying to replace you with her?” Pete sat beside me.
“Douglas, I know I barely know you, but it seems to me you’ve created a huge dilemma for yourself. ‘What if’ this and ‘what if’ that. What you must ask yourself now is, if I can’t trust my own judgement, whose can I trust?” I nodded, his words seemed sensible.
“I need to talk to my Mom, and Mel’s Mom too, I think.”
“Well I know mom will be asleep by now, so that will have to wait Dougie dear, go to bed, and sleep on it.”

I did sleep on it, and knew that I needed to talk to someone more experienced: Some mothers in fact. It wasn’t too hard to get the two of them together. Neighbours for more than twenty years, they loved to talk, and here was one of their favourite topics asking them for advice.
“Mom, you know about how I felt about Melissa?”
“Yes dear, we all did.” I was about to ask why no one had said anything to me but let it pass.
“Well, since the wedding, before the wedding actually, I’ve begun to feel the same way about Vanessa.”
“And your problem is?” Nessie’s mom asked.
“The problem is, logic tells me that I’m replacing Mel with Nessie, and she deserves better than that.”
“Son, you have always thought with your head. Now would be a good time to think with your heart.” Mel’s mom nodded in agreement.
“Douglas, for many years now I have watched Vanessa watching you watching Melissa. I thought it was a little complicated, but now it seems that the only complications are you and Nessie. Tell her what you feel and let her decide.” I looked at the two women I had gone to for advice for so long and nodded.
“All right, but the moment has to be right.” My mother muttered something I didn’t quite catch, but it sounded like ‘just ask her’. “I’ll speak to her at the New Years Party.” The girl’s mother grinned.
“Oh good, I like fireworks on New Years Eve.”

All our friends were at the party, including Mel and Pete; everyone was enjoying themselves, except me and Nessie. We were both trying to deal with our demons. It was after eleven that I plucked up the courage to ask her if I could have a word. Again, she was wearing a dress: it was a beautiful tight-fitting black dress that wasn’t best suited for a talk in the garden in the middle of winter. I draped my jacket around her shoulders, as we leant on the dividing fence.
“Nessie, there is something I have to ask you.”
“Oh yes?”
“More than one thing actually.” I was beginning to wish I’d drank a little less, but then I may never have asked her into the garden..
“Doug, its cold, what are you trying to say?”
“Nessie, it has been brought to my attention that I have been a prize pillock, and can’t see what is happening in front of me.”
“Dougie, get to the point, I’m freezing out here.”
“Miss Vanessa, I realise that I love you. I thought I might be trying to replace your sister with you, but I’m not. I love you for yourself.”
“Doug…I don’t know…” She faltered. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve been in love with you for so long without you knowing.” She began to cry.
“No, don’t Nessie. It was me who wasn’t looking, not you. It came to me in the dress shop, when I saw the two of you together. Melissa looked beautiful, but you were even more so. That isn’t supposed to happen to a bride. And the reason I left the church, that was you. I was confused about who I was in love with.” She shook her head defiantly, tears pouring down her face.
“Why now?”
“Do the words ‘unrequited love’ mean anything to you Nessie? Until a week ago, I thought you were talking about someone else, but some heavy hints have been dropped that you meant someone closer to home.”
“Yes, next door.” She replied, looking at me through teary eyes. “All the time you were thinking of Mel, I was thinking of you. What does that make us?”
“A pair of idiots I think.” I grinned and hugged her, kissing away her tears. “How about a new start? As if we don’t know one another?” She nodded.
I took a couple of steps back and then held out my hand.
“Hello, I’m Doug. What’s your name?” She giggled and blew her nose before taking my hand and shaking it.
“I’m Vanessa, pleased to meet you.” I pulled her towards me, and as the clocks rang in the New Year, accompanied by our fathers letting off rockets, I kissed her.
“Pleased to meet you Vanessa.” I whispered in her ear. “Will you marry me?”

Daybreak

This about my true love MH434 Spitfire Mk IX owned by the Old Flying Machine Company

The roar of the Merlin starting
Greets the rising sun
The aircraft starts to taxi
And then begins to run
The light of early morning
Catches the spinning blades
And as she leaves the ground
It seems the present fades
She leaves the ground behind her
And heads into the blue
Paintwork catching the sunlight
Glistening as if still new
Above the trees she soars
Climbing higher yet
Banking, rolling, looping
A sight I’ll not forget
And now she comes in lower
Mere feet above the ground
The Merlin roars much louder
As she banks and pulls around
Standing here and watching
Reminded of summers past
A mere machine of such beauty
But a spell she seems to cast
In times of trouble she protected us
With others of her kind
But memories are still strong
With those still left behind
The display is nearly over
And she glides in now to land
The wheels running on the grass
As she taxi’s to her stand
The engine cuts to silence
The propeller slows and stops
In the stillness of the moment
The cooling engine pops
She stands a thing of beauty
A link from now to then
A perfect piece of history
That we’ll never see again.

copyright Dave


Both photo's are my own. Larger versions on Flickr

Someone Else’s Girl

(I have reservations about posting this one for two reasons. 1, I don't think its that goood. 2, It has the least disguised character ever.)


It was a sunny autumnal day when I first met her. She joined our office on a temporary contract, filling in while someone else was away. In the beginning she was just another face, someone who asked me questions about what to do about this or that. It wasn’t as if I was a supervisor or anything, I’d just done so many of the jobs in the office at one time or another that everyone, even my nominal superiors, asked for my advice at some time, so it was no surprise when the newest member of our team did the same. She fitted in easily, and we got on quite well, despite the difference in our ages. We actually had a few things in common, a rare occurrence for me, but I learnt early on that she already had a boyfriend, so I didn’t really think of her in any way other than as a workmate. I suppose we all became a little bit infected by her enthusiasm, and after only a week or two I became fairly fond of her.
And then came the conference. She really wanted to go this conference and the boss agreed she should go, but wanted to send someone else as well. As I said, I’ve done most of the jobs in the office and was reliable so I was asked to go with her. I agreed, mainly on the understanding I was to make sure nothing untoward happened at the after-conference awards. The journey to the conference was illuminating, even if it did exhaust all of my small talk in one go. I learnt a little about her upbringing, more about her ambitions. I told her about my fondness for writing, doing myself down at every opportunity. This upset her a little, making her declare that if I was that bad at everything how come I was always being asked to do things, and she wasn’t going to keep massaging my ego by saying I deserved it or I could do it. This made me stop and think. I realised I had been unconsciously fishing for compliments, and had been trying to impress her. This was my first warning.
Upon arrival at the conference, we found that our hotel was several miles away but a coach would be laid on for the runs to and from the venues. This suited us both as neither of us was keen on too much more driving. It was my turn as we drove to the hotel, so most of the chatting was left to her as I followed the directions. Upon booking in we discovered that our rooms were not adjacent, in fact they were not even on the same floor. We agreed to meet in an hour or so for dinner somewhere. As I unpacked my small bag I began to wonder what I could say to her now, without revealing anything I didn’t want revealed. As it happened it wasn’t too bad, I fell back on the old tales told too me when I started, such and such a thing happened, I did something like this once, etc, etc. The old hand repeating to the newcomer, tales of a different era, and the evening passed without incident. There would be a long day ahead, so we both retired to our rooms early.
We caught the coach in next morning and settled into the conference hall. The speakers varied from interesting and pertinent, through to uninteresting and unconnected, At least that was what I thought, but she seemed enraptured by almost every one of them. I suppose that was my cynicism breaking out, or possibly just boredom. Some of what they were saying was just so much same old same old. The breaks were interesting. Queuing for coffee with some high-powered company directors or government representatives led to some interesting conversations and exchange of business cards. We quickly decided as everyone else seemed to be much higher up the managerial tree than us that we were not going to be merely administrative assistants. She became an assistant projects officer (a wonderfully vague title) and I became the company trouble-shooter, mainly because I’d done nearly every job in the company at one time or another. This seemed to satisfy most people we talked to and made us feel more like we belonged.
And so to the party. I met her in the bar as we waited for the coach to take us. I was feeling more than a little self-conscious wearing a bow-tie and white shirt, although I was surprised that I didn’t look as bad as I thought I would. Then she arrived. Up to this point she had always worn slacks, and now she arrived in the bar wearing what can only be described as a little black dress. I was gob smacked, she looked wonderful! I managed not to stare and carried on a normal conversation as we sipped drinks waiting for the coach. The awards themselves were almost like torture for me. As the drinks flowed I could hardly keep my eyes off her. The meal was fine, the ceremonies enjoyable, the company interesting, and then came the dancing. We danced on a couple of occasions, but as I am a poor dancer, most of the time I could only watch as she danced with some other man. By now I had stopped drinking anything alcoholic as I was due to drive home the following day; she had no such inhibitions and was becoming more than a little merry. The coaches would be arriving soon when she said something about feeling like she’d been mauled. I went straight into over-protection mode. Time we were leaving, lets get your coat, you don’t need that last glass of wine. Too much. She took exception, called me bossy and some less pleasant terms. Nevertheless the coaches were there, so I shepherded her on board. She relaxed, said she was sorry, but she didn’t like being told what to do, and fell asleep, her head on my shoulder.
The coach arrived back at the hotel and I shook her gently awake. She awoke with a start and I had to lead her to the desk to get our keys. We took the lift to her floor with several other party guests. I wasn’t sure about how they viewed us, me holding her upright, her holding my hand tightly. Ignoring their looks I helped her to her room, waited as she took off her coat and shoes, asked if she would be alright, and receiving a quiet yes, left her for my own room, two floors down. As I closed my own door, several thoughts crossed my mind. The first was that it was a good job I had been there to help her back. The second was that I had wanted to kiss her as she had struggled with her coat. Luckily I had been in control enough to save her from me as well as anyone else. I slept little that night.
The next morning we met for breakfast. She looked a little sheepish, and said she couldn’t remember much about the previous evening and apologised if she’d said anything regrettable. I waved her aside, saying she’d done nothing to be sorry for. We decided to drive to the conference so that we could leave when we liked and make our way home. The second day of speakers was much the same as the first and by lunch we had had enough and decided to leave. By now I had used up nearly every anecdote I could remember and she now knew more about me than almost any woman I had known and I suddenly realised I was falling for her. I remembered how jealous I was when someone else was dancing with her, and when I’d thought she was being groped how I’d gone off at the deep end. And she was someone else’s girl. How stupid could I be? I dropped her off at home and then went home myself, worrying about what would happen next.
Luckily I was relieved from office duties at the end of the week and went back to my nominal job. This would have been alright except for not long after our mutual supervisor had to have an operation and it was decided to temporarily split their responsibilities between, yes, you guessed it, me and her. This meant I was in almost constant contact with her, either on the phone or face to face. I could only hope I was managing to keep my feelings hidden. To help me in this I took the other admin assistant into my confidence. She has been a good friend for many years and I asked her to just keep an eye on me and stop me if it looked like I was going to do something silly. This worked well for a week or two until the team meeting in the pub. It was a Friday afternoon and we all gathered and talked and laughed, played a game or two of pool and generally enjoyed ourselves. Except for me. One or two of the others began pulling my leg about not working any more, and about brown-nosing. Normally I would have laughed back, but she was there. They were putting me down in front of her and I didn’t know what to do. I left not long after her and spent a miserable weekend angry with myself and the others.
On the Monday morning I decided I was going to have to tell the boss, if only to explain why I didn’t want to be in the office anymore. To my surprise, the boss already knew. Either my confidante had said something or I wasn’t keeping it to myself as well as I thought. Now things were talked out and I can work in the office and only occasionally find myself staring at her. Sometimes I find I have to write, much as I’m doing now, just to get it out of my system. All I can do is hope she stays happy, and if by some miracle she doesn’t then hope she still likes me enough. That is the only way I’ll get her, because she’s someone else’s girl.

FREEDOM

Old poem, inspired by the book 'Callanish' by William Horwood.


On the top of the cliffs,
Where the land meets the sea,
Is a wonderful place,
Where the Eagle flies free.

Where the crash of the waves,
Fills the break of the dawn,
The Eagle soars up,
In the light of the morn.

Across lands green and pleasant,
And seas cold and grey,
On thermals he rises,
Seeking his prey.

With each beat of his wings,
With each haunting cry,
He rises higher,
Across the lightening sky.

The skies are his realm,
He is their king,
Gliding gracefully,
The sun on his wing.

In the still quiet air,
Where spirits are free,
The Eagle flies on,
I wish it was me.

To leave the ground,
And fly so high,
Saying to worries,
A brief goodbye.

Things Unsaid

Started wondering what happened to a friend of my sister. Wanted to do a 'flashback' story. Combined the two and ended up with this. One of my favourite stories to write.


I’ve lost her, I know. It was a stupid argument. And I told her to go, to leave me alone, that I would be better off without her. How senseless was that? She went, crying her eyes out, and I let her, I waved her goodbye. I cannot believe I did that. As she slammed the door, I picked up a bottle, and drank. Actually, what I did was drink some more. I must have been drunk to have argued with her in the first place. I knew she was right, but stubbornness made me argue. Stubbornness and alcohol. I took another swig from the bottle, my mind wandering through our relationship.

Kim was a friend of my sister when I first met her, about four years younger than me. It wasn’t love at first sight or anything like that; she was just there, hanging around. I hardly noticed her for quite some time, until she blossomed. And how she blossomed! From a skinny, gawky teen to a real beauty in a little more than a year. She became a gorgeous young woman. Kim came with us on a couple of family trips. They were just trips out for the day, the more the merrier sort of thing. It was the first one to the seaside when she caught my eye. I think I was playing beach cricket when I saw her in her bikini, paddling. My concentration went to pieces and I cried off from the game. I went to sit amongst the rock pools and watched Kim from a distance as she swam in the sea for a while. Then she emerged from the waves like some modern Aphrodite. That was the moment I knew, I knew she was the one.
However, being me, I didn’t say anything to Kim and she didn’t appear to have noticed the extra attention I was paying her. I agonized about what to do. I felt attracted to her but wasn’t sure that it hadn’t just been that moment. Eventually I asked her out. Just to the cinema, some rom-com or other. It went well enough, well enough for me to ask her out again now and then, a movie again or a meal maybe. If she was at a loose end she’d agree. We were never really a couple then, just, well, backup dates, if neither of us was otherwise engaged. This not very serious state of affairs went on for a few months until I went away to college.

I took another swig from the bottle. College was where I had learnt to drink, drink and party. Back then I could handle it easier, youth and a prodigious metabolism meant that I never lost control, never letting my temper rise. Now it seemed that those days were gone, along with Kim. More and more I found my temper rising, and every time it was harder to control, to calm myself down.

I came back from college and found that Kim had got herself a job in a shop rather than going further with her education. She was good at it too, already assistant manager. On the other hand I was drifting, unsure about what I wanted to do now. I got in touch with Kim and asked her out again, totally forgetting that she may have a boyfriend. She agreed and we went to one our old haunts, the cinema, and then for a meal. As we ate we talked, catching up a little. She asked if I could afford this, as at the moment I was just back from college. Looking back, she was only asking as a concerned friend, but I didn’t take it that way. I stormed off after paying for the meal, leaving Kim stunned. Our first row. As I left I felt the anger leave me, and felt ashamed, realising that she was only showing that she was grown up too. I called her early next morning, before she went to work, almost too early. Kim was calm and accepted my apology and hoped that I understood that she was only trying to help. I told her I did and that I was really sorry for taking her help the wrong way, and could we still be friends? A smile broke on my face when she said ‘of course’.
I took several temporary jobs that summer, all boring and menial, and then found something that I enjoyed. Driving a lorry around the county, making deliveries. Probably a waste of my education, but it was something I liked doing. On my own for most of the time, no set schedule as long as everything was delivered. It suited me down to the ground. One of my regular drops just happened to be to Kim’s shop, once or twice a week. I looked forward to these, trying to make them the last drop of the day so that I knew how much time I could spend talking to Kim. After my earlier embarrassing moment I steered clear of asking her out for quite some time, until Kim asked me out. I accepted, eager to make up for my earlier mistake. When I asked if she was serious with anyone, she said that none of her dates had ever led to anything serious, and I her only constant admirer. I said I didn’t believe her, surely a girl as pretty as her could find a serious boyfriend? Her reply was that she tended to focus on her career and that seemed to put most guys off, except me. I just said that I’d know her longer than most, and she’d have to do better than that to get rid of me.
We started to go out occasionally, still not serious. This went on for more than a year. We asked nothing of one another other than companionship. Movies and meals, the odd day trip here and there. Then at the New Year party Kim dropped her bombshell. She was being transferred, to become Manager at one of the smaller branches, but it was out of my delivery area. I was happy for her, she deserved the recognition, but sad that I would rarely get to see her anymore. She seemed to sense my conflict, but said nothing. All I could do was offer my congratulations. I drank too much at the party, drowning my sorrows. Kim saw me home. On the doorstep I asked when she was going. “Soon” she told me. How soon came as a shock however. My next delivery to her shop a couple of days later found me talking to the new assistant manager, Kim was already gone.

I looked at the bottle and put it down, staring around the room instead. Here and there were little touches of Kim. A picture she’d bought, a framed photo of the two of us on a beach, some CD’s and DVD’s of hers. I picked up the bottle again.

This parting had been the worst. I had got used to Kim being in my life, even if it was only on the edge. Except she wasn’t on the edge. As the weeks passed I realised that she had become the centre of my life. Any day that I saw her or talked to her was a good day; a day with no contact was a bad day. Now she was a hundred miles away, I could call her, but there were no more ‘whim’ dates. No “Are you free tonight?” calls. I couldn’t handle it and began to phone her less and less. Part of this was because of my promotion to manager of the dispatch department. I had less time to talk, more to worry about. I suspect that Kim had a lot on her plate too; I gathered from other friends in her old shop that the branch she had taken over was not one of the more successful ones in the chain, but that Kim was beginning to turn it round.
We had barely talked for almost six months when I met her in a bar in town. I didn’t know it was her at first. I just saw a woman being hassled by some drunk at the bar. I walked up behind him and grabbed his arm, forcing it up his back, pushing him across the bar. “Bud, the lady doesn’t appreciate your attention. If you don’t apologise I’ll keeping pushing on this arm till it comes off and then I’ll stuff it down your throat.” He squealed in pain as I increased the pressure to make the point.
“Okay, okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He turned around as I let go. “What’s it to you anyway?” Now I had recognised Kim. Her hair style had changed, but as soon as I saw her face and her blue eyes I knew it was her.
“As it happens, the lady is a good friend of mine, and if I’d known it was her I’d have pushed harder.” He scuttled away. I smiled. “Hello Kim, what are you doing back in town?”
“I’ve had a job offer. Manager of the big new superstore that’s opening.”
“I’m impressed, but not surprised. Where are you staying?”
“Hotel for the moment.”
“Sounds dull. Busy tonight?”
“You offering to take me out?”
“I know a new restaurant if you’re interested.”
“Then I’m yours for the night.” She laughed.
That evening we caught up with each others news once again, something we always seemed to be doing. I spent a lot of the time just looking at Kim, wondering how I never seemed to be able to hold onto her, how no-one could hold onto her. For a change it was Kim who had a little too much to drink and I had to help her back to her hotel room. She paused on the threshold and seemed to be waiting for something. Her sparkling blue eyes seemed to be willing me to speak.
“Kim, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” I spoke from the heart, not caring what she thought, she’d probably not remember anyway. She smiled and pecked me on the cheek.
“Not really, but I thank you. I had gathered how you feel.”
“And I know I’ve never told you I love you.” She looked stunned for a moment.
“The feeling is mutual you know.” She pulled me towards her; our lips meeting in a kiss that had been a long time coming. I broke off the contact.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Thus began the final stage of our relationship. We went out together at least once a week, sometimes Kim came back to my place, and sometimes she didn’t. She was so busy preparing to open the store that it took her over a month to find a flat. After she did we occasionally went back there, but mine was usually the preferred venue for a nightcap. Gradually Kim left her presence in my flat, just little things. Some of her DVD’s after a night watching them, the odd CD she’d lent me, bits and pieces of jewellery she left behind, the odd piece of clothing. Her flat collected some of my things too, mostly laundry, only much tidier. And then things began to slip.

The store opening was a huge success, but that had never been in doubt with Kim behind it. My firm however was struggling a little, I had to lay off some of the drivers, something I didn’t like doing, and it was making me tetchy and on more than one occasion I was very short with Kim as she talked about how well things were going for her. When she found out why (I hadn’t told her) she apologised to me, but I told her it was my fault for not saying anything. Sometimes I had to go out and drive, which I didn’t mind, but more than once that meant cancelling a date with Kim, which pleased neither of us. The store was running itself now thanks to Kim’s organisation, which meant that she had more free time. In my case I was having to work harder and more often, meaning that our time together was often short, sometimes no more than a quick hello. It was beginning to affect me, I was getting short tempered again and I was drinking more often alone. It came to a head this afternoon.

It was the weekend. Kim had gone into work in the morning for some minor housekeeping, leaving me on my own. By the time she returned I was most of the way to being drunk. Kim was disappointed in me when she came in and said so. This was where I took exception and the row started, culminating in me telling her to leave.

Again I looked at the bottle in my hand. By now it was half empty, or was it half full? As I stared at it I was suddenly disgusted with myself, and with this bottle. Combined with my temper and stubbornness they had driven away the best thing in my life, the only thing I cared about. I stood a little unsteadily and walked to the door, the door Kim had slammed behind her on her way out of my life. Outside were the bins. I walked over to them. I unscrewed the bottle and poured out the contents, and then flung the empty into the recycling bin, smashing the glass satisfyingly. I turned around and Kim was there, leaning against the wall.
“Dramatic.” She said. “Any reason?” Her face was still tear-stained, but she looked at me steadily, her blue eyes challenging me once more.
“My temper and alcohol don’t make a good mix.” I said. “No alcohol, no temper, simple.” She continued to stare me down, her eyes drawing words out of me that I’d always wanted to say, but never had. “We’re supposed to grow old with someone, not because of them.” Still she stared. Uncomfortably I continued to speak; I needed a reaction from her. “I’ve realised that I can do without almost anything, except one precious thing.”
“Only one?” Her eyes dropped from the survey of my face.
“Yes. You.” I stepped up to her and lifted her chin with my finger.
“Me?” Her eyes shone with tears again.
“Don’t tease me Kim. I can’t take back what I’ve said; all I can ask is that you forgive me and come back.” She smiled and hugged me.
“Fool. I never went away. I just hoped that you’d realise that you wanted me as much as I wanted to be with you” She kissed me gently and led me back indoors. “But the drinking will have to go.”
“Just as long as there’s something to replace it.” I joked, kissing her again.
“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

My Favourite Endings

Not a story, just some jottings. Started when I was working in our office during a slack period. Feel free to add your own favourites in the comments.



I started thinking recently about endings, initially about the final scenes of TV series. My personal favourite one was the ending of Cheers, when Sam Malone is sat in the bar alone and someone rattles the locked door. “We’re closed.” Just about perfect.
The opposite of that was the last episode of Soap, when everybody is involved in some cliffhanger ending the same as normal, but they freeze frame the scenes. But then again Soap always was unique.
Blakes Seven. Now that was an example of how to go out with a bang. It hadn’t been that good for a couple of series, but the last episode and especially the last scene, when everyone but Avon has been shot by the federation and he raises his weapon, laughs that laugh and... It fades out. You hear a final shot, but who has fired it? They’re all dead right? Or are they? Has Blake had a plan all along? Could Avon possibly escape? We never do find out.
Fawlty Towers. Just about all the endings were great. “Ducks Off.” Sybil shouting for Basil who has hidden in the laundry basket. Basil with the gnome under his arm off to visit Mr O’Reilly, “And then I might go to Canada.” “How did they ever win the war?” Basil Dragged out by his heels as the Hotel inspector stares at the space where just moments before he was offered a rat. Basil dropping Mrs Richards’s vase. “That cost eighty five pounds!” Basil ordering a room for the night with lashings of hot screwdriver. Possibly they were all so memorable because that was the point the whole episode was building too, but still, for every one of the stories to end that way was some achievement.
The Italian Job. The coach dangling over the edge of the cliff, the gold and the team balancing each other, Michael Caine trying to grasp it and it slides further away. “Listen lads, I’ve got a great idea.”
Then I started thinking about other sorts of endings. Doctor Who companions for a start. I thought Sarah Jane’s last scenes were wonderful. Looking around expecting to be in Hill View Rd, in Croyden. She looks around, discovers she’s not in Hill View Rd, shrugs, says to herself its probably not even Croyden, and walks off looking up into the sky. My other favourite leaving scene was for Tegan. She’s suddenly sick of all the death and destruction and storms out of the TARDIS. The doctor turns away unhappily and the TARDIS leaves. Tegan comes rushing back, as if she’s changed her mind, but it’s too late. Echoing the Doctors words she murmurs “Brave Heart, Tegan.” Is it a coincidence that these two were two of the longest lasting and most popular of the companions? My other memorable Doctor Who Ending was the last one ever before the TV movie, when they knew it was finishing. The Doctor and Ace walk off into the sunset, with the Doctor saying, “Come Ace, there’s work to be done.”
And then my mind began to wander. Bon Scott’s final recorded words on Highway to Hell were “Shazbar, Nanu, Nanu.” Weird but wonderful as always, thanks Bon. Thin Lizzys final performance at Reading was inevitably “Still in love with you.” A beautiful song any way, but infused with extra poignancy by the fact this is it, the final song of the final set, and the rapport between the fans and the band was still as strong as ever.
What about the ending to both the first radio series and the television series of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Louis Armstrong’s “What a wonderful world.”? What a brilliant finish! Of course they carried on afterwards with a second radio series but it was still an inspired ending.
And then I started thinking about book endings, you know, the bit everybody reads first. The Cruel Sea is one of my favourite books anyway, but I love the ending. For five and a half years they have been battling against the Germans and the ocean and the Captain turns to Number One and says, “I must say, I’m damn tired.” The film ends the same way, sort of just fizzling out. Nice counterpoint to the harshness of the war.

Love In The Air

Challenged to write a holiday romance, I came up with this. I don't know what trans-atlantic flights are really like, or US customs for that matter. Hope that doesn't spoil things for anyone.


Half an hour into the flight and I was bored. I’d seen the film on offer and had long ago found that I couldn’t read whilst flying. I began to look around at the other passengers. My eye was drawn to a red-headed girl sitting on her own a row in front and on the other side. She too seemed to be bored and was looking out of the window distractedly. The flight attendant was walking by and I called her over.
“Excuse me, but do you know if that girl is with anyone? She looks as bored as me, and I wonder if she’d like to talk.”
The flight attendant looked from me to the girl and back again, obviously weighing up what she knew about us both. She smiled.
“You’re in luck. She’s travelling on her own to visit some friends.” I must have looked a bit surprised. “A bit like you in fact. Do you want me to ask her if it’s all right for you to talk to her?”
“Yes please.” I nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.” The flight attendant moved across to the girl and bent down to talk to her. The red-head looked around at me and nodded. She beckoned me over.
I eased into the seat next to her, murmuring my thanks to the flight attendant.
“Hi! My names Rob, Robert, and I thought you looked as fed up as me, and might like to talk.”
“Hello. I’m Madeleine, and you are right, I’m bored stiff.”
“That’s the problem with these long flights. My problem is I can’t read or write or even sleep without feeling sick. Ironic really, because I love planes but hate flying.” She laughed sweetly.
“I can’t say I have either problem, but stupidly I left the book I was reading in my luggage, leaving me with nothing to do.”
“Is this your first long haul flight then?”
“Yes. Some old friends of mine invited me across to stay for a while and I leapt at the chance. Three weeks in the US.”
“I’m going to visit my grandparents. Second trip in three years. I’ll be there three weeks too.”
“What a coincidence! What flight are you getting home?” I had to get my ticket out to check. Madeleine looked down as I read it. “That’s the flight I’m on too! Strange forces are afoot.” We both laughed.
After that we just talked, what books do you read, what’s your favourite film, what makes you laugh, what music do you like? Things like that. We didn’t really read the same sort of books, but we had read some of the same things. Our movie tastes were different too, but again we liked some the same. Our sense of humour was similar, but our music tastes only coincided at the heavy end of pop and the power ballad end of rock, me being the rock, Maddy the pop. None of this seemed to matter as we chatted. Madeleine was easy company, easy to talk to. I found myself telling her things I’d never told anyone else. Perhaps she was a good listener, or more probably I was subconsciously thinking I’d not see her again, except maybe on the flight home.
We were half an hour from landing when Maddy wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The phone number of my friends place, where I’ll be staying. I was thinking…” She paused, suddenly unsure of what she was doing. “I was thinking that you might phone me once or twice, while we’re here, if you get bored?” I looked into her green eyes and saw her uncertainty. I smiled and took the proffered note.
“I will phone you every day if you like.” I took out a napkin and wrote my grandparents number on it, passing it to Maddy when I’d finished. “That’s in case you want to phone me back.” I grinned at her and her face cleared of the sudden cloud that had crossed it, breaking into a smile herself.
The plane had landed and we were all collecting our bits and pieces ready to disembark. I slipped into the aisle behind Maddy and followed her to the battleground that is luggage retrieval. Because I had come over here before, I’d realised that my usual tiny case was not big enough for a three week stay and had used the medium-sized one this trip. I spotted it soon enough and grabbed it. Madeleine had got a large case, but seemed to be waiting for another one. I stood beside her until it appeared. She breathed a sigh of relief as she picked it up.
“There’s always a horrible moment when you think they’ve lost your case, isn’t there?” She said. I nodded in agreement.
“Sometimes it’s worse than that. A couple of years ago I went to Portugal, waited for my case that never came.”
“Oh no! What did you do?” Maddy exclaimed. I smiled at the memory.
“It turned out that I’d checked in so early that my case had made the journey ahead of me. I found it in the lost luggage!” We walked slowly towards the customs desk and joined the queue. It took ages as always but eventually we got to the front of the queue.
“You two together?” The official asked. We shook our heads, looking at each other and giggling. “Sorry, but the way you were talking made me think you were. Who’s first?”
“After you Maddy.” I said. She giggled again. The official rolled his eyes.
Once she was through, Madeleine waited for me. The Customs official looked at where I was staying.
“You could be eligible for a US passport bud.”
“I could? But that would mean I wouldn’t have been able to talk to Maddy for so long.” He looked around at her and smiled.
“I guess you’re right. Have a nice stay.”
“Thanks.”
I walked with Maddy towards the arrivals door. She spotted her friends at around the same time I picked out my folks.
“Well, see you in three weeks then Maddy.”
“Yes.” She paused. “You will call me, won’t you?”
“Of course. Tomorrow too early?”
“Depends on what time.”
“Oh, after breakfast at least.” She laughed and we parted.
“Who was that nice girl you were talking to?” My Nan asked.
“A girl I met on the plane Nan.” A sudden thought struck me. “I said I’d call her while we were here, that will be all right won’t it?” She smiled benevolently at me and ruffled my hair as she had done for years.
“Of course you can Robert. It’s nice to see two people in love.”
“I wouldn’t say that Nan.” Again she just smiled as the three of us made our way out of the airport.

The phone rang and rang and rang. I was obviously calling too early. Suddenly they picked up.
“Hairl low.” A cheerful if somewhat out of breath male voice said.
“Errrr, could I speak to Maddy please?” I asked, my confidence vanishing like frost in sunlight.
“Mads, it’s that guy you said might be calling.” I heard him call out. “She’ll be here in a second or so bud.”
“I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?” I said as politely as I could.
”Naw! She’s just been trying to prove she could swim faster than me.”
“Can she?”
“I still got her beat over a short distance. Here’s Madeleine for y’all.”
“Robert! It is you, I’m so glad. Ignore Nigel’s terrible accent, he’s not really a yank.” She sounded out of breath.
“I thought I might be calling too early and it seems that you’ve been up and exercising for ages!”
“I wouldn’t say ages Rob.”
“But exercise, on holiday! It’s so un-English Maddy.” She laughed. I could picture her face as she did. I shook my head. This was ridiculous, I hardly knew her. We talked for a while, just banalities about where we were, the weather, and then I rang off. Maddy said she’d call tomorrow.
That was how it went for eight days, I called Maddy, she called me, we talked about nothing at all, we rang off. Into the second week of our holidays and Maddy was sounding… Not bored, but jaded. Everything was different and she needed something familiar to cheer her up. At least that was what she told me when she asked if we could meet. I borrowed my grandparent’s car and headed off to the city, carefully following a map. Maddy was where she said she’d be. I pulled up and opened the door. “Hello Maddy, jump in!” She slipped into the car.
“Hello Rob, thanks for coming.”
“Hey, why not? I can only photograph so many trees. What’s the plan?”
“Well, my friends live here all the time and everything seems natural for them, I just felt the need to be a bit ‘touristy’.”
“I know what you mean; to me and you it’s a whole new country, to the people who live here, it’s just where they live.” I looked at the gleam in her eyes and knew I’d hit a chord. “So, what do tourists in the US do?”
We decided to alternate our ideas. Madeleine went first and we ended up having breakfast at a diner. I spotted a place where you could face a baseball pitching machine and thought I’d like a go. Maddy wasn’t sure, but I persuaded her to face a few pitches too. The afternoon was taken up with a visit to the zoo. We wanted to go to a baseball game, but the home team were out of town, so we looked for a hockey game instead. Maddy had only ever seen British Ice Hockey before, but I had watched the NHL on TV for some time, so I knew what to expect. Or so I thought. The atmosphere at the game was phenomenal, and it was really exciting to watch.
Madeleine hung onto my arm as we wended our way back to the car, a contented look on her face. “I’ve been thinking.” She announced.
“Oh yes?” I replied cautiously.
“Could we hire a car from the airport and then tour the countryside for the rest of our time here?” I paused before answering; I knew my gran and gramps wouldn’t mind me going off before the end of my holiday, but this was a girl I had only met less than a fortnight ago. So what! I thought.
“All right, you get a car and then pick me up, I’ll organise a sightseeing route. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds perfect!” She looked at me, her eyes shining once more. “I’ll call you tomorrow and you can tell me where to pick you up.”

Madeleine honked on the horn of the hire car as she pulled up. I rushed out with my luggage and threw it into the trunk next to Maddy’s two cases. My Nan and gramps waved us off: My Nan’s parting word’s being. “Two youngsters in love.” I still wasn’t sure what she was hinting at.
“Which way now?” Maddy asked as I jumped in beside her.
“First star on the left and straight on till morning!” I said. She looked at me and laughed.
“Peter Pan?” She said.
“Actually I was thinking of ‘Star Trek’.” I said. “Head for the highway.”
My plan was to circle the city at a distance over the next nine days, spend the last night near the airport, and then we could catch the plane home. I hadn’t given much thought to where we might be staying. The first four days passed without much incident or drama. We cruised around, looked at scenery, took photos and then found a motel as it got dark, taking a room each. The fifth evening we had a problem, only one room available! It had separate beds though, so we took it, just being careful about each others privacy. The morning after, as we got back on the road, Maddy asked whether we needed separate rooms. “Why do you ask?” I said, a little surprised.
“Because one room, even with two beds, is cheaper.”
“Good point. We’ll do that then.”
That worked right up until the last night. The night before we were to catch the flight home after dropping off the hire car. The only motel with a vacancy only had one room, but it had only one bed! I was about to suggest I slept in the car when Maddy said we’d take the room and pulled me towards it. She must have seen the surprise on my face. “What’s the problem Rob?”
“Maddy, I can’t sleep in the same bed. Who knows what might happen?”
“You mean you might suddenly become a rabid sex maniac?” She laughed.
“I’m serious, I won’t be able to sleep, I know it.”
“Robert, I trust you, and I hope you trust me, so what’s the problem? Half a king-size bed each is probably more room than those skinny beds we’ve been sleeping in.” Unable to find a coherent argument I agreed, but insisted I slept above the sheets, while Maddy insisted that I have most of the duvet.
We dropped the car off and made our way to the check-in. I kept yawning.
“It looks as if I was wrong and you should have slept in the car.”
“Or on the floor.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“I worry.”
“What?”
“I worry. Last night I worried about what would happen if I started dreaming.”
“Dreaming? Everyone dreams.”
“What if I started dreaming about you? Called out your name or something? It could ruin everything.” She hugged me.
“You sweet nut! What a thing to worry about, to lose sleep about.” She pecked me on the cheek. “But thank you for worrying about me, it was very thoughtful. At least you should be able to sleep on the plane.” I shook my head.
“I think I told you on the flight over, I can’t sleep on a plane.”

I awoke with a start, my head resting on Madeleine’s shoulder.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Well, the man who can’t sleep on aeroplanes has been snoozing with his head on my arm for the last two hours.”
“Two hours! And I don’t feel in the slightest sick.”
“Nearly three.” Maddy reached across and brushed my hair down. “Do you realise that’s the longest time you’ve left me for over a week?”
“Sorry… I…” I started to say, and then realised that she was teasing me. In a flash I also realised what my Nan had been hinting at, I had fallen completely for this woman that I had only met three weeks ago. Was it some sort of holiday romance? Or was it for real? How did she feel about me? These and a hundred other little worries all queued up to be heard.
“Can you help me finish this crossword?” Maddy broke into my escalating thoughts.
“Sure, I’ll try. What have you got?”

We spent the rest of the flight on inanities, at least until we were on the final approach into Heathrow. Maddy handed me a business card with three or four numbers on it.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“So that you can call me now we’re home of course. Unless you don’t want to…” A look of disappointment started to cross her face.
“Sorry, I meant this business address. Of course I want to call you.”
“I run a business from home, web-based, so all I have to do is direct orders.” She perked up. “You never told me what you do.”
“Well.” I gulped, make or break. “I work for local government.”

Maddy and I parted as we left the terminal, she to get a taxi home, me to walk to the long stay car park.
“Call me!” Maddy said as she got into the cab.
“Sometime tomorrow!” I called out. The drive home would usually have been boring, but my mind was all of a fervour, thinking about Madeleine and our time together.

For the next few weeks, barely a day went by without us talking, either by phone or e-mail. Her phone was ringing and ringing, and then someone other than Maddy answered. It was a male voice. I suddenly realised that I’d never asked her if she had a boyfriend!
“Is Maddy there?” I asked nervously.
“Hold on a moment.” The voice said. I heard it calling away from the phone. “Hey sis, your guy’s on the phone.” I breathed a huge sigh of relief. She came on the line.
“Hi!”
“Hi yourself.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” Maddy asked me.
“I was going to an airshow.”
“Was?”
“Well, I’m open to suggestions.” She laughed.
“Be serious Rob.”
“Okay, serious. Wanna come?”
“Yes.”
“Now who’s not being serious?”
“I am being serious. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

I still didn’t believe her until I saw her waiting for me at the gates of the airshow.
“Jump in.” I said. “How did you get here?”
“My little brother dropped me off.”
“The one who answered the phone the other day?”
“Yes.”
“He gave me a scare. I suddenly realised that you might have a boyfriend.”
“I would have told you.”
“I know Maddy, I never doubted you. It was the worrier in me again.”
“Him again, he’ll have to go you know.” We both laughed.
“What made you want to come to an airshow?”
“Well, I thought a husband and wife should share interests.” I hummed in agreement as I parked the car, and then nearly crashed it as I realised what she’d said. “Careful, you’ll miss seeing the planes otherwise.” Maddy grinned at me.

“Dad, dad, that girl over there looks lonely. Can I go talk to her?”
“Son, I don’t know. I’ll ask someone shall I?” The flight attendant was passing so I called her across. “My fifteen year old son would like to know if he can talk to that girl on her own over there. Could you ask her if she minds?” She smiled and went to the youngster, who looked back and nodded. My son was off as soon as he got the nod.
“Like father, like son.” Madeleine leant her head on my shoulder and kissed me. I grinned and kissed her back.
“And where is our daughter?” I said, nodding at the empty seat at her side.
“She had to… well, you know.”
“So why is she sat two rows ahead of us with that striking looking young man?” Maddy peered ahead.
“He is quite cute looking.”
“Maddy!” We laughed. “There must be something in the air at thirty thousand feet that affects us.” I said.
“And our children.” Replied my beautiful red-headed wife.