Light Up My Life

Done the film star, now it's the rock star. All song titles don't exist (except 'Wish You Were Here')I haven't actually written any lyrics for any of the songs, they wouldn't be as good as they should be.

***




Excerpt from the interview with Dave Barrett in the Magazine ‘New Rock’.
NR: You seem to be coping with your increasing fame rather well?
DB: I suppose I am. I’ve always just taken things as they come, not taken them for granted. I’m happy to be well known, but if it all went away I hope I’d still be happy.
NR: No tales of booze, pills and groupies from you then?
DB: (Laughs) That’s because boringly, there aren’t any. I won’t deny I like a drink now and then, but never to excess. As for drugs, well, I find the buzz from performing more than enough.
NR: And the groupies?
DB: They’re still around of course, but not as many as in the days of the rock giants. Some unbelievably pretty girls have made it obvious what they’re offering but unfortunately for them I’m still hung up on a girl I went to school with.
NR: Does this girl know?
DB: (Shaking his head in sorrow) No. I never told her how I felt.
NR: Any idea if she is going to be at the special concert you’re holding in your hometown in a few weeks?
DB: Unfortunately I don’t know. But I can hope. (Wry smile)

***

“Hello out there.” I said as I came out onto the stage, peering out through the evening gloom at the thousands of attentive faces, one or two I thought I recognised. “It’s good to be home.” This elicited a huge cheer from my fellows. The free outdoor gig in the park where I had hung around as a kid had been my idea. One reason was that I wanted to give something back to all those fans who had been there at the start: The people who went to the tiniest places just to see me play and set me on the road to fame. That was the explanation I gave to everyone who asked, but there was another reason.
“Lets start with something I know you all want to hear.” I told them. With that we launched into ‘Torn Between Pink And Led’ the song that got me noticed. A song about two rock behemoths and how they inspired me.
We went through most of my back catalogue from the loud ‘No Line Between Rock And Roll’ to the quieter ‘No Fool But Me’ with one or two Floyd and Zeppelin covers thrown in for good measure. We played for over two hours and then did a couple of encores before we played ‘Wish You Were Here’, our usual finale.
Everybody expected the stage lights to go out at this point and most of them did, but one spotlight stayed on, focused on me. I had one more song I wanted to play; a new song, sort of.
“That last song doesn’t quite say what I want to say. What I actually want to say is ‘Hope You Are Here’ and it, and the new piece I’m about to play for you, are both for a girl who is special to me, who I really do hope is here. She doesn’t know who she is, because I never told her back then, but maybe someday I will. This is called ‘Light Up My Life’.”
I began to play it as I’d written it, just me and an acoustic guitar, how I’d started more than fifteen years ago. It wasn’t a long composition, just four verses and no chorus; a simple ode to an unrequited love.
As I finished, the last note hanging in the still night air for a moment, I looked down at the stage. The crowd was silent for a second then exploded into cheers and whistles and calls to hear the song again.
“Glad you like it.” I looked up and smiled. “But the curfew is up, no more time allotted I’m afraid. Thank you all and goodnight.” The spot went out and I left the stage, the cheers still ringing in my ears. I was immensely proud of the reception that ‘Light Up My Life’ had got. That song was the other reason I’d wanted to do this gig. It wasn’t really a new song; I’d written it a long time ago, before ‘Pink And Led’ even, but I felt that I wanted it’s first outing to be special, at the right time and in the right place. This was definitely the right place and I’d decided that tonight was finally the right time.

***

I had invited as many old school friends as I could contact to a club after the gig. I moved around greeting most of them and they all had the same question: Who was the girl in the song? It seemed to be the main topic of conversation. I just shook my head, telling them that it was a secret for now. Apparently there was no real consensus as to her identity, but a lot of suggestions. Some serious, some ridiculous, but no one mentioned the one name I knew it was. Eventually I sat down with what most people would have realised were my ‘core’ friends: John, who had introduced me to the freedom of playing a guitar; Andy, his younger brother, who had been the drummer in a short-lived band we’d had at school; And Gary, an old neighbour who had been the singer in the same band. The band had broken up because the other three, Andy, Gary and a bass player called Rob, thought they might be holding back the guitarist; me. I would have been happy to keep gigging with them even now, but they insisted I was destined for greater things and encouraged me to strike out on my own.
“I reckon if anyone can work out who this mystery girl is, it’s us three.” John said with a smile.
“Go ahead, you’re welcome to try.” I smiled back. I had known it would be like this when I’d introduced the song that way and was determined to keep quiet.
“Okay then,” He paused, “She’s most likely a copper-top, you always seemed to have a thing for a redhead.”
“No point in denying that.” I laughed.
“Probably in your year at school.” He continued.
“Maybe, but not necessarily.”
“And most likely someone we’d not suspect.” He finished and rubbed his chin in thought.
“Never in a million years.” I smirked, but thinking ‘Not bad, he’s nearly there’.
“I know! It’s Mad Mandy!” Gaz shrieked.
“Mandy Ellis? The girl who thought it was funny to kick every boy on the shins at least once a week? You’re kidding right?” I laughed. “And she was a blonde, you berk.”
“Sounds like true love to me!” Andy added.
“Pillock.” John said before going back to his original line of thinking. “It isn’t Miss Harmsworth the music teacher is it? You seemed to spend a lot of time with her.”
“That was because she was helping me write music and teaching me to read it as well. Though I will admit she did have red hair, she was a good ten years older than us, well me, anyway. She was just pushing me in the right direction.” I said.
Not long after I’d first begun to play the guitar I’d gone to see Miss Harmsworth, the junior music teacher, to ask for her help with an early version of ‘Light Up My Life’. She had been delighted to assist me, showing me how to read and write music; she had helped me get ‘Light Up’ finished and even gave me the idea for ‘Pink And Led’. It was also Miss Harmsworth who suggested I try performing some local gigs on my own after the band had split up, even finding the first few for me. If any one person was responsible for setting me on the road to music as a career it was her, so I suppose John’s guess hadn’t been that wide of the mark, but for her it had always been about spreading the love of music, all sorts of music. I was still in contact with her and she kept telling me about children with one musical talent or another. In fact I had dedicated my first album ‘Sunshine After The Storm’ to her, but few people realised that.
“I thought I had it then.” John said ruefully.
“An interesting guess, but I knew this girl way before then.” I gave them a clue before I could stop myself, I did want to tell them.
“Hey! It’s not my little sister is it?” Gaz exclaimed. “She had red hair.”
“Ha!” I laughed. “Your sisters hair was every colour under the sun at one time or another.”
“But you used to walk home with her.” Gary persisted.
“We lived next door to each other Gaz.” I reminded him, rolling my eyes to the ceiling before the four of us collapsed to the floor laughing. As we recovered I saw one of the club’s doormen trying to catch my eye. “Oh well, much as I’d like to hear more of Gaz’s strange suggestions, I have to circulate some more. I’ll catch you later guys.” I got up and walked over to the doorman.
“You requested to be informed if a particular lady arrived sir.” He said in a low voice. “Well I’m pleased to say she gained admittance five minutes ago and is now in the bar I believe.”
I had to know one thing. I asked.
“Was she alone?”
“Her ‘plus one’ was not taken up sir.”
My heart leapt.
“Thanks. There’ll be some drinks for you guys later on.”
“We will appreciate that sir. And I thank you in advance.” He said and then returned to his post. I smiled to myself; she was here!

***

I’d known (perhaps not the right word in the circumstances) Elizabeth Mary Patterson since my early school days, attending the same schools as she did without ever being in the same classes. To begin with she was just part of the background to schoolboy life, one of those kids who didn’t play football and who ran funny; a girl. As we reached our teens and passed through puberty (although not necessarily in that order) I began to look at girls differently and at Elizabeth Mary in particular. However I was shy of actually going up to her and asking her out. Talking to her was manageable; I’d been doing that for years now; but asking her out on a date? No chance. That’s not to say I didn’t go on dates with other girls. There were a fair few I did date at one time or another, but always my thoughts returned to Elizabeth Mary Patterson. She was a redhead of course, and probably the cause of my long-standing fascination, John had been spot-on there. She was a little bit on the short side but with everything in proportion to her height. By the age of fifteen she was to me the most gorgeous creature on the entire planet but I found I couldn’t tell her that. Instead I got tongue-tied and tried to make witty remarks that instead came out as banal and unfunny. I persisted with my attempts for a while but, to me at least, it became obvious that all I was doing was alienating her. I stopped because I couldn’t bear the imperceptible glazed look of ‘not him again’ that flashed across her face. She was still polite to me though, long after other girls would have told me to shove off. That politeness endeared her to me even more but I had to give up for my own sake if not hers. However she was still the girl my mind defaulted to when I was writing a song; I had to make an effort to imagine someone else. Now I wondered if I might finally be able to talk to her properly so I went to the bar area to find out.

She was standing away from the bar looking a little lost and lonely, but observing those around her. She still looked as beautiful as I had always pictured her.
“Hello Elizabeth Mary Patterson.” I said and kissed her hand. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” There was no reaction so I felt safe in assuming she wasn’t married.
“I wasn’t sure I should.” She smiled her heartbreakingly pretty smile, her green eyes lighting up in the way I was fond of recalling.
“Why on earth not?” I asked.
“To be frank, I didn’t think the big rock star could possibly remember me and had just picked my name out of some old records or something.” She looked a little ashamed at the thought. This also seemed to be good news to me.
“Elizabeth Mary, you don’t know how far from the truth you are.” I grinned.
“My parents are the only ones who still call me that.” She grinned back.
“Well, you did tell me that’s what your name was.”
“Twenty years ago, at our first school.” She giggled. “And look at you now, famous and everything. It’s hard to believe that the writer of that beautiful ‘Light Up My Life’ is the same person who couldn’t string two coherent sentences together.”
I blushed at the praise from an unexpected source.
“So you were at the concert then?” I asked to cover up.
“Not as close to the front as I’d have liked.” She said nodding.
“No.” I smiled. “Somebody at the site told me that those at the front had been camping out for two nights to make sure they got good spots. I don’t think I would have. Not just to listen to me. AC\DC maybe, but not me.”
“Oh I don’t know. I might have if I’d thought about it.”
“You? I don’t remember you as a rock chick?”
“I’m not really. But the guy who was playing guitar went to school with me.” She smiled.
“There is that I suppose.” I grinned again, I couldn’t help it, she had that effect on me. “So you enjoyed the new song?” I asked.
“A lot.” She nodded. “I felt that it was as if it was written about me, but I can’t see why.” She laughed nervously. “I suppose a lot of girls say things like that?”
‘NOW!’ My sub-conscious screamed. ‘TELL HER NOW!!’ But I bottled out.
“Well, we did go to school together for a long time, maybe some of it rubbed off on me.” I said instead.
“You wouldn’t care to hint about who that song is really about would you?” She smiled.
‘She knows, she knows’ the inner voice said.
“I don’t think I ought to, it might cause problems.” I told her.
“I suppose.” Elizabeth Mary grudgingly agreed, disappointment in her tone.
“Listen, can we talk later? After everyone has gone home?” I asked. “I’d like to catch up with you, but at the moment I sort of have to circulate.”
“Well…” There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
“You’ve got someone waiting for you? I understand.”
“No, it’s not that. I just think I shouldn’t be hanging around with a rock star.”
“How about hanging around with an old school friend?” I countered but Elizabeth Mary still seemed unconvinced. “I promise I’m not going to whisk you off to some secret sex dungeon.” I smiled.
“Another illusion shattered!” She laughed. “All right I’ll wait here for you.”

Everyone was leaving noisily via the front door of the club now. I found Elizabeth Mary waiting for me more or less where I’d left her.
“Hi!” I said.
“Hi back!”
“I don’t suppose you know of somewhere we can go to talk?” I asked. “Only I wouldn’t feel right taking you to my hotel room.”
“That’s not proper rock star behaviour.” She laughed.
“No, but it is Dave Barrett behaviour.” I grinned back.
“I suppose we could head to my place, if you don’t mind a walk that is. We can cut through the park, and talk as we go.” She suggested.
“Sure. It’ll certainly fox the paparazzi out the front.” I said with a smirk. “Lead on Elizabeth Mary Patterson.”
We slipped out the rear of the club and into the park unobserved. The cool night air was invigorating as long as we didn’t dawdle.
“So then Elizabeth Mary, no romantic attachments to speak of?” I asked as we followed one of the paths through the park. It was one of the things I was still concerned about.
“Why do you say that?”
“Apart from being nosy? Well, you came alone, you’re not worried about taking me to your place, and you have no wedding band on your finger.”
“Well, you’re right; there is no special person in my life. Congratulations, very Sherlock Holmes.” She grinned. “But it still sounded like you were fishing.”
“I was I suppose.” I went red.
“Any reason?” She asked mildly.
‘Now or never’ the inner voice said. I took a deep breath.
“Because Elizabeth Mary Patterson ‘Light Up My Life’ actually is your song. I wrote it for you back at school.”
She stopped suddenly, a look of shock on her face. For a brief moment I wondered if I should have kept quiet, but I wanted, no, I NEEDED her to know at long last.
“You’re kidding right?” She said finally.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m serious. At school I could never tell you how I felt, that was how all those ridiculous conversations came about.”
“If that’s the truth...?”
“It is.”
“…Then why wait until now to tell me? You’ve been getting famous for a while now.”
“I told you; at school I couldn’t express my feelings for you, now I’ve learnt how. And I actually have something to offer you other than pipedreams.”
“You’re offering me fame and money? What sort of woman would that make me?” She was genuinely upset at the suggestion and I knew I’d said it all wrongly. Some things never change. “I’m not some sort of gold digger. Go to hell!” Elizabeth Mary shouted and stormed off.
“Wait! That’s not what I meant at all.” I called out into the now empty night, but she was gone. ‘ You’ve buggered it up again’ the inner voice said quietly.

***

I was heartbroken and mortified by inability to say the right things in the right way to the woman I loved. I contemplated slipping into a world of despair but I realised that I had work to do. ‘Light Up My Life’ had to be got ready for release. I was going to use the live recording from the park, its debut performance. My original intention had been to leave the spoken introduction on the release but instead I edited most of it out. The producer thought it should stay. I wondered if my state of mind was clouding my judgement on the issue so we compromised and released two versions; with and with out the intro. Download sales seemed to indicate I had been wrong as the version with the intro outsold my edited version by two to one, aided no doubt by the concert footage. Still feeling sorry for myself I began to work on some new songs for another album but it became clear I needed to cheer up or I was going to end up with a totally depressing record. Then I got into a spat with the music press because I still steadfastly refused to talk about ‘the light up girl’. And was getting fed up with having to find off questions about her identity. I still felt that I had to protect Elizabeth Mary; it wasn’t her fault that some idiot guitarist had written a song about her.
I’d been trying for the past six months to get in touch with Elizabeth Mary so that I could apologise and try to explain what I’d really meant, but it was all to no avail. She refused to reply to any of my various attempts to contact her. I felt I had to do something and soon. My malaise was worsening and I was turning more to alcohol for relief. I recognised that was a downward spiral that I needed to avoid. To that end I decided that I must do something dramatic or inventive or both. The ‘all or nothing’ approach appealed greatly to me. Add in some old fashioned romancing and I might have a shot. I had found Elizabeth Mary Patterson’s address (I’d tried writing to her) so I decided to go for broke. I knew there was a good chance that I was going to make a complete and utter fool of myself at best and a very real possibility I could end my career at a stroke; but Elizabeth Mary was worth chancing everything for.
I had been investing my money in property for a while now, buying buildings, fixing them up and selling them on or renting them out, so I had bought the house where Elizabeth Mary lived by the simple expedient of offering twice what it was worth. It did cross my mind to just knock on the door and introduce myself as the new landlord but that wasn’t the effect I wanted to achieve. What it did mean was that in my plan the question of trespass became moot, or at least debateable.

***

It was a cold November evening when I finally put my grand scheme into action. Elizabeth Mary’s front room light was on as I pulled up in a battered old van that I had borrowed, so at least she was in. A possible hiccup suddenly occurred to me: Perhaps she had a boyfriend? I shrugged it off; it wouldn’t make me any bigger a pratt than I felt I was already. I pulled my old guitar and the battery-powered amp that I’d used at the start of my gigging career out of the back of the van and set them up in the front garden. It took me back to those early, simple days when I had to set up my own equipment; sometimes in rooms that were even colder than this garden! I switched the amp on and checked it was connected up properly, slightly amazed that I could recall how, and then I spoke into the microphone in the guitar.
“Hello in there!” It didn’t exactly boom out, but it was louder than I remembered. A curtain twitched aside and I saw Elizabeth Mary’s face appear. “This is most definitely just for you this time Elizabeth Mary Patterson.” I said and then began to play ‘Light Up My Life’ just for her in her front garden. I grinned inwardly as I saw a look of complete and utter astonishment appear on her face but didn’t let that stop me from finishing the song. Other residents had heard me and several of them had come outside to see what was happening, one even recognising me. After I finished I waited, hoping that Elizabeth Mary would open the front door, even if it were only to tell me I was an idiot and to get lost. That would at least provide me with some closure. So it was with some relief I saw the door open and Elizabeth Mary poke her head out.
“What are you doing you bloody fool? Get in here, people are staring.” She snapped.
I picked up my gear and followed her inside. She shut the door behind me and span around.
“Are you deliberately being embarrassing? What are you trying to achieve here?” She frowned.
“Actually I’ve achieved my aim.” I said smugly. “I’m talking to you.”
“Pardon me?” She looked confused.
“You’ve been ignoring all my attempts at communication so I devised a little scheme that I thought would do the trick, even if it was only for you to tell me to take a running jump. Again.” My smug grin began to sag as I saw the discomfort on her face.
“I’m… I’m sorry about that. I needed a couple of days to get to think about things. You telling me I was the subject of ‘Light Up My Life’ caught me off guard; shocked me in fact.”
“And then?” I probed gently.
“And then I realised what an ass I’d been.” She went red. “I said some stupid and hurtful things and I was too embarrassed to get in touch with you and say sorry.”
“No. You shouldn’t feel bad. I didn’t say what I wanted to say in the right way, it came out twisted and was easy to misunderstand.” I hung my head.
“Thank you for that.” Elizabeth Mary said, lifting my chin and looking into my eyes.
“Friends again?” I asked.
“Friends.” She said, hugging me.
“Could…could we be more than friends Lizzie?” I asked nervously, using her shortened name for the very first time.
“Maybe, if we work at it.” She smiled. I’d missed seeing that smile in person for a long time. “Hey! What gives? You called me Lizzie!”
“Everyone you know seems to call you Liz or Lizzie so I thought it was about time I did too. If that’s all right with you Elizabeth Mary Patterson?”
“Of course it is, you nitwit.” She threw back her head and laughed.
I smiled with joy. I’d finally got something right. A thought that had been teasing me popped up into my mind.
“Lizzie, how would you like to come and sit in for a while when I record my next album? I still need to finish off writing a couple of songs but that won’t take long now.”
“Won’t that reveal your secret?” She asked matter-of-factly. “I know you’ve been keeping my name out of the press.”
“That was more to protect you than me. And I think I’ve rather let the cat out of the bag with tonight’s little escapade, don’t you?”
“Very probably I suppose.” She giggled.
“So, are you interested?” I persisted.
“Well, I would like to see how it works, the whole process I mean. It’s always interested me.” Lizzie said thoughtfully.
“It’s a deal.” I said. “You do know my studio is at my home, don’t you?” I asked, the thought suddenly coming to me.
“Aren’t they always?” She smiled back.
“I mean you can stay over, if you want. No hanky panky, I swear.” I added as I saw that look cross her face again. “My housekeeper won’t allow it.” I grinned.
“Who is your housekeeper then? Your Mom?” Lizzie laughed, the green in her eyes sparkling in amusement.
“Funny you should say that…” I reddened.
“It is?” She burst out laughing. “Are you sure you’re a rock star? You’re supposed to be throwing TV’s out of windows, not looking after your Mom.”
“Says who?” I grinned now.
“Isn’t it in the manual?”
“There’s a manual?” I managed to look dumbfounded, but couldn’t keep it up. The two of us burst out laughing.
“Why do you call your Mom your housekeeper Dave?” Lizzie asked after we’d recovered.
“It’s an in-joke. She wanted a job title when I put her on my payroll.” I shrugged. “She said if she was being paid she should be doing something. I told her she didn’t have too, but she wouldn’t accept it unless I made it official. In any case she’s there more than me so it works out nicely.”
“It sounds logical when you put it like that,” She mused, “just not very ‘rock star-y’ I suppose.”
“Not really if you put it like that.” I held out my hand. “ “But is it a deal? You come and see how I record an album.”
“How long? For the whole record I mean.”
“Depends. Sometimes we can get most of it down in a few days, sometimes it’s longer.”
“Well, I think I can take a few days off soon, so the answer is yes.” She gave a shy grin.
“Great!” I could hardly contain myself, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll let you know when as soon as I know.”

***

It was barely three weeks later when I pulled up outside Lizzie’s place in my Aston-Martin. As I braked she was already out of her door with her suitcase.
“Nice wheels.” She said as she dropped her case in the boot.
“Courtesy of your song.” I smiled. “I always wanted one, so I thank you.”
“Hey, you wrote the thing, not me.” She grinned at me. “Come on then, show me how you do it.”

I had to leave Lizzie to settle in and be shown around by my ‘housekeeper’ mom, as I had to take a call from my manager. Apparently a couple of magazines had heard about my little performance in Lizzie’s garden and were keen to interview me. They hadn’t wanted to get in touch directly as they usually did because of my previous attitude about anything concerned with ‘the light up girl’. After a moments thought I told him it would probably be okay but I would call him back; I had to check on something. What I wanted to check was Lizzie; would she be prepared to be revealed formally as ‘the light up girl’?
I found her still in the room that was to be hers for the next week or more.
“Elizabeth Mary, I need to ask you something.” I said.
“Oh dear, that sounds ominous: I’m back to being Elizabeth Mary.” She smirked.
“Sort of serious.” I started, and then paused for a second. “I want to ask if you’d come to a magazine interview with me. I’d like to tell them who ‘the light up girl’ is.” I managed to explain.
Lizzie’s brow furrowed.
“Well,” she said slowly, “revealing all: Not a problem, carry on. But I’m not sure I should be there.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because… well, because they may think we’re more than friends, and that makes me uncomfortable.”
“The ‘gold digger’ thing?”
“Yes.”
“We could always tell them the truth; that we’re just starting to work up a relationship. But you shouldn’t worry about what people think of you Lizzie. Some of them will think the worst whatever you say or do, but we know the truth and so do our friends and family. They’re all that’s important.” I took her hand to reinforce my reassurance.
She looked at me for a long moment, obviously running through things in her mind.
“Okay, I’ll come with you. I’d like to learn as much about your life as I can.”
I smiled.
“Me too. Maybe I can come and watch you at work?”
“At the bank?” She laughed. “You’d be bored in five minutes flat.”
“I never get bored around you Lizzie. Never have, never will.”
“Oh!” She said, taken aback a little. She recovered. “When is this interview then?”
“In the next couple of days.” I shrugged. “I just need to confirm it. But first I want you to come and meet the guys in the band. They should be here by now.”

The three guys who made up the rest of the band; John Henry the drummer, Jonny Twist the bass player and Jimmy Turner the second guitarist, were already in the studio setting up their instruments. Steve Topp, my long time roadie, was there too. He also ran the recording desk for us and was checking it over. I introduced Lizzie to them before I popped back outside to confirm the interview with my manager, telling him there would be two of us present. When I re-entered the studio a couple of minutes later I found Steve showing Lizzie how to work the mixing desk. One look was all I needed to tell me that she wasn’t going to be content with just watching!
I was proved right on that count: Lizzie was soon helping Steve run the desk and quite successfully. However, having tried for most of the day, we found that we couldn’t get the right sound for the song we were trying to get down.
“I can’t put my finger on why, but it just doesn’t sound right.” Jim said as we listened to yet another playback.
“No, it sounds sort of thin.” I agreed.
“The sound?” Jonny asked.
“Yeah. It needs something else.” I said. “Something light and twinkley.”
“How about a piano?” Lizzie suggested.
“That’s right!” I exclaimed. “It needs a piano in the background.”
“Pity none of you can play one,” Steve said, “cos we’ve got a keyboard.”
We all looked over to the rarely used instrument and gave a variety of sighs.
“I played piano at school if that helps.” Lizzie piped up.
The rest of us looked at each other, considering her offer.
“If nothing else, it’d give us an idea.” Jimmy said slowly.
“It would, wouldn’t it?” I mused, rubbing my chin. “Okay then Lizzie, if you want to give it a shot.”
“Weeelll…” Now she sounded dubious. “It’s been a while you know.”
“If it don’t work we ain’t lost nothing Miss Patterson.” Steve said reassuringly, patting her on the shoulder.
“All right then,” Lizzie made up her mind, “I’ll give it a go as long as you don’t expect too much.”
It wasn’t a perfect rendition, but it was good enough to tell us we needed a piano in the mix.
“Sorry, but I am out of practice.” Lizzie apologised.
“But you nearly nailed it.” I said enthusiastically. “If we gave you some time to sort it out, you could play on the track.”
“I could? Would that be okay?” She was goggle-eyed at the suggestion.
“Guys, what do you say?” I asked them.
“Sure.”
“Why not?”
“She’s practically there already.”
“Go for it.”
“There you go Lizzie, you’re voted in as a guest artist.” I turned back to the band. “You lot go and get some grub, I’ll stay and help Liz with the tune.”

***

That first session started something I hadn’t anticipated but was happy to accommodate: Not only was Elizabeth Mary integrating into my personal life she was integrating into my professional life with the band as well. That integration became almost complete a few days later, the day before the interview was scheduled. Lizzie and I were having a morning cup of coffee, waiting for the others to rise (“Like real rock stars.” Lizzie sniggered.) When she asked me to look at something.
“Sure, what is it?” I asked.
“Over the years I’ve written some bits and pieces, poems,” she said nervously and blushing a bit, “and I was wondering if any of them might be worth making into songs.” She gave me a wane smile.
“Let’s have a look and see.” I smiled.
She pulled a sheaf of papers from a bag by her side and, still reddening, passed them to me.
“I doubt that they’re very good, but I’d still like you to see them, tell me what you think.” Having brought up the subject Lizzie was now looking hot and flustered, possibly wishing she hadn’t.
I read through the first few papers that she’d given me, not saying anything as she sat opposite me nervously chewing her lip. I looked up.
“Some of these are really good Lizzie.” I said, looking up.
“You sure you’re not just saying that?”
“No, I’m not. These first two are nearly perfect. Got any ideas for how they’d sound?”
Slightly disbelievingly she looked at the two sheets I was holding up.
“That first one I saw as a gentle song, like ‘Light Up’ is.”
“Yes, I can see that working.” I said looking back at the lyrics.
“That second one I imagined as drum-driven, slowly building up to a climax. Finishing with a bang.”
I nodded. Again I could see what she meant.
“Oooh kaay then. Lets go see.” I said and stood up.
“What? Go where?” She said, startled.
“Down to the studio. To see if we can fit some tunes to these words.”
“You sure? I only wanted to know if they were decent rhymes you know?”
“Liz, these are excellent lyrics. I’m sure with a nudge in the right direction you can put them to music.”
“What do you mean?” Now she was puzzled.
“I mean if you hum it, I’ll play it. And then when its right, we’ll write it down.”
“You’ll write it down you mean?”
“I can’t teach you how to write music that quickly, but I can write down what you want it to sound like.” I smiled. “Though we might have to wait for John Henry to get the second one right. My drumming isn’t that great.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes. My drumming sucks.”
“Not that nitwit! Are you serious about turning these poems into songs.”
“Sure. They’re good lyrics. Good enough to go on the album.”
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
“We can wait and ask the others if you like, but they all know a good lyric when they see one.”
“Don’t they just do as you say?”
“I suppose I have the last word, but they have to be able to play this stuff live don’t forget.”
“Look Dave, I don’t want you to put these on your album as a favour. It’s going to have your name above the title.”
“And your name as the composer don’t forget.” I reminded her with a smile. “But only if we can get the tunes right.” I held out my hand. She took it and stood up.
“What are we waiting for?” She grinned as she stood. “Lets get to the studio.”

By the time Steve and the boys in the band arrived Lizzie and I had put together a reasonable demo of the ballad and sketched out some ideas about how the other song should sound.
“You two have been busy.” Steve said with a smile, knowing my work ethic of old.
“Hey, I don’t remember seeing these before.” Jim said, picking up Lizzie’s words.
“What do you think?” I asked, shushing Liz as Jim passed the two pieces of paper around.
“Bit different to your usual stuff.” Jonny said. “Damn good all the same.”
“I like them.” John Henry added. He never talked much unless he felt he had something to add to the conversation.
I smiled and then swept my arm around towards Lizzie.
“They’re not mine. May I present the author.”
The guys all looked to a beaming but blushing Liz.
“Good grief girl, is there anything you can’t do?” Steve asked incredulously.
“I can’t write music.” She giggled.
“Yet.” I added for her.
“So you say.” She became serious again. “Look, I don’t want to put anyone’s nose out of joint. You guys have all been with Dave for years.”
“There’s something you should realise about all of us Liz.” Jim said. “That is that we’re all in this for the music, not the fame and the money.” The others nodded in agreement.
Liz looked at me.
“Miss Harmsworth?” She asked.
I nodded.
“You remember too?”
“I do.”
Steve clapped his hands together.
“So Liz’s songs are in. Lets get them recorded.”

***

Lizzie had been nervous before the interview with the two journalists, asking me what she should say. I told her to just answer the questions they asked, reminding her they weren’t expecting her to be there so any prepared questions they had would be for me. And all they really wanted was the story behind ‘Light Up My Life’.
In the end it was the two journalists who were the most nervous at the start of the interview. They had been thinking I was going to stonewall them again and they’d struggle to get a decent article out of the process. As it turned out it was a very pleasant couple of hours for all of us. Right at the start I had introduced Elizabeth Mary Patterson, telling them that she was ‘the light up girl’ and after answering a few questions about the song; my reasons for writing it and why I’d taken so long to unveil it, it became more or less an interview with ‘the light up girl’ herself. Despite her initial trepidation Lizzie soon settled down, talking easily to the journalists. However when they asked about our feelings toward each other she seemed to become a little twitchy.
“My feelings for Dave are still a bit confused.” She started. “I’m certain of our friendship; we’ve known each other for a long time now. And I’m certain that he wrote a beautiful song about me, and sang it just for me. I would be foolish to deny the depth of feeling Dave has for me, but to me it all happened so quickly; I’m still trying to process it. I have to say that I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, but bit at a time I’m sorting my feelings out. So all I can say for now is that I do have feelings for Dave, but I’m not sure how deep they are compared to his for me.”

After the journalists had gone Liz and I were sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee.
“I didn’t say anything silly did I?” She asked.
“Not at all.” I smiled. “Although I was happy to find out you had feelings for me.”
“Fool! Of course I do. I’m just not prepared to say how deep they are.” She grinned back. There was a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. During our schooldays I had spent a lot of time looking into those green eyes. Always looking for some hint of benevolence towards me that until recently had never been there. Now there was generally a more caring look; probably not actual love, but caring at least and that was enough for me.
“Why are you staring at me?” Lizzie broke into my thoughts.
Caught off-guard and suddenly flustered I said the first thing that came into my head. Not usually a good idea.
“Sorry. I was lost in the depths of your eyes.”
“Very poetic.” She grinned. “Your next song perhaps?”
“Been done before.” I laughed. “To be serious for a moment, would you like to come and work for me? You’re wasted at the bank you know.”
“As what?” She asked a little suspiciously.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through yet.” I replied helplessly. “You’re still worried about being labelled a gold digger?”
“I am. So unless you’ve got a job that I can do it’s not happening, okay?” Now there was a steely determined look on her face. She meant it. The word ‘wife’ suddenly presented itself to the front of my brain as an alternative, but, attractive as the idea was, I discarded it. It was still too soon to make that suggestion. Instead I changed the subject again.
“Are you going to stay until we’ve finished getting the album tracks down?”
“How long will that be?”
“Maybe five days.”
“Too long. I’m due back at the bank on Monday.” I could tell she was tempted though. “I think I’ll have to stick to the original plan of a week.” She sighed.
“We’ll miss your help.” I suggested.
“You managed before without me, so I know you’re trying to entice me.” She smiled. “But I thank you anyway.”
“You know you can stay as long as you want Lizzie.”
“I think it’s time I returned to the real world.” She gave a shrug.
“Been there, didn’t like it much.” I laughed. Lizzie joined in. The easy laughs of people comfortable with each other. “How about if I take you out to dinner before I run you home Sunday then?” I asked.
“As long as you promise not to try to make me stay on.”
“Promise.”
“Then you’re on.”

***

I was going to take Lizzie out to dinner as promised. She was getting ready in her room and taking her time so I went to chivvy her on a bit. I was about to knock on the door when I heard her singing through the shower door in her room. She was singing ‘Light Up My Life’ and was word perfect. But what really caught my attention was the quality of her voice. It was exquisite. I knew I had to find a way for the rest of the world to hear it; Miss Harmsworth would never forgive me if I didn’t. A sudden recollection hit me: I had never mentioned Miss Harmsworth to her, but she knew about the music teacher’s devotion to all forms of music. Lizzie had played piano at school; that probably meant Miss Harmsworth had taught her. So why had she been working in a bank? The only thing I could think of was that the redoubtable Miss Harmsworth had been unable to inspire Lizzie the same way she had me. Liz obviously had musical talent, but also tended to be realistic. Music hadn’t been the haven for her that it had been for me. Nonetheless I wanted to find a way to get her to sing. Hoping that the band hadn’t left yet, I went to find them. They needed to be in on this as well.

“Guys, I want to find a way to get Lizzie to play at least one concert with us. Any objections?” They shook their heads. “The best way I can think of is for us to play a warm-up gig for the next tour in my and Lizzie’s hometown; get her to play the keyboards as a guest star.” Now they nodded.
“You think she will?” Steve asked.
“I hope so, because that’s not all I want. I want her to sing ‘Light Up’ with me. I’ve just found out what a beautiful singing voice she has.”
“I could’ve told you that boss.” Steve grinned. “She was singing to herself half the time we were recording. I thought you knew.”
I looked at him mildly stunned.
“I wish you’d told me earlier Steve. Now I’m going to have to make something up off the cuff rather than have time to think it through.”

***

The dinner was… well, a bit strange. For a change Liz was doing most of the talking; chattering away about how much fun she’d had ‘watching’ us in the recording studio. This was because I was trying to think of a way to ask her to play with us but couldn’t come up with a way to broach the subject without sounding like I was breaking my promise not to nag her about staying on. Instead I let myself be pulled along by her enthusiasm. By the time we ordered dessert Lizzie was running out of things to say and had noticed my lack of involvement in the conversation.
“What’s the matter?” She asked. “Have you had a relapse and can’t speak to me again?”
“What!? No! Its…” I spluttered, caught off guard by the question.
“Spit it out Dave.” Liz said patiently.
“All right.” I sighed. “Me and the guys really want you to play with us, at least for the warm-up gig we’re planning at home, and I can’t think of a way to ask you without it sounding like nagging.”
“Me? Play with the band? In front of people?” She looked at me in astonishment. “I don’t know if I could Dave.” She said, frowning.
“That’s what I thought you’d say. But I’m not giving in that easily. I’m going to keep on asking for the next couple of months.”
“Why a couple of months?” She asked, smiling at my intensity.
“Because that’s when the album is due out and the tour starts.”
“Then there’s time for you to convince me.” She grinned evilly.

***

It was the warm-up concert for the tour we’d called ‘Green Depths Of The Universe’, the title of the new album. We were in my and Lizzie’s hometown. I’d finally convinced Lizzie to be part of the band; we knew she could play the keyboards and two of the new songs were hers, so I’d kept asking her, almost begging her to join us, at least for this one show. Ever since I’d heard her singing ‘Light Up My Life’ in the shower that evening I did have that other reason. She’d finally said yes, although I was beginning to think she’d been teasing me since the dinner date.
“Hello again!” I called out to the packed theatre, receiving the usual cheer in response. “Shall we start?” I asked. Another cheer greeted the question, so we launched into ‘Pink And Led’.
Two hours later and we were just finishing ‘Wish You Were Here’ having run through most of the new album and our other crowd favourites. Lizzie’s songs had been well received and I caught her smile of satisfaction at their reception. Now was the moment to spring my surprise.
“I know what you’re waiting for.” I smiled to the crowd. “And it’s coming. But it’s going to be a little different.” I turned and motioned for Liz to come and join me at the microphone. Somewhat dumbfounded, she came over. “I thought ‘the light up girl’ herself could help me out.” There was a barrage of applause.
“You can’t be serious!” Lizzie said quietly, her words masked by the cheering.
“Deadly.” I grinned. “I know you can sing it, I’ve heard you.”
“But it sounds wrong when I sing it. The thing is written from a male point of view.” She protested.
“I’ve tweaked it. Your words are on the card on the mike.”
“I can’t…”
“You can Lizzie. You can. Just wait for the noise to drop then we’ll start.”
She gave me a helpless look but took up position behind the mike. The crowd quietened and I began to play. Lizzie began to sing ‘Light Up My Life’ with me joining in. We sang alternate verses; girl version and then boy version. By the time we finished the audience was watching open mouthed at the sheer beauty of the revised song. Lizzie had tears in her eyes as I sang the last verse, joining me in the last lines. There was something else too; the thing I’d been hoping for since childhood, a look of love. We finished and I wrapped my arms around her.
“Thank you Elizabeth Mary Patterson.” I whispered as the audience erupted once again.
“For what?” She sniffed, the tears in her eyes now running down her cheeks.
“For lighting up my life of course!” I said softly. Then, for the first time, and in front of my home crowd, I kissed her properly.

***

Excerpt from interview with Elizabeth Mary (Lizzie M) Patterson in the magazine ‘New Rock’.
NR: So, what’s it like joining a famous band and being the only girl?
EMP: (Laughing) Not as intimidating as I’d feared. All the guys, not just Dave, wanted me to join and I found them to be very protective of me, particularly where the negative reactions to my joining were concerned. There was a fear amongst the fans that I was going to be some sort of ‘Yoko’ figure.
NR: Those fears were dispelled straightaway at the warm-up gig in your hometown though?
EMP: Yes. ‘Light Up’ again. When Dave got me, tricked me really, into singing the revised version with him everyone could see what it meant to both of us. I have a lot to thank that song for: Dave too. He does ‘Light Up My Life’.

Serial Bad Decisions

This was going to be longer, but the other ideas I had for this story seemed to be tacked on, so I left it as it is.

************************************************************************************


I was walking home in the cold drizzle when the car pulled over a short way ahead of me, the engine stuttering. The driver, who I could just about make out in the evening gloom as a woman, got out and opened up the bonnet, peering in at the engine. As she looked over the recalcitrant motor I heard her speak.
“Oh you silly cow Carla, you didn't do the radiator cap up properly.” She breathed.
The name 'Carla' hit me like it always did: The name of the girl I’d grown up with, the girl I’d fallen in love with but couldn't tell, the girl I’d stupidly left in France with my supposed best friend over twenty years ago.

* * *

The three of us, Carla, Mark, and me, had grown up together, walked to the same schools together, and generally just hung around together. Not that surprising you might think; we were all roughly the same age and lived close to one another. What was surprising to me, at least in retrospect was that Carla continued to enjoy being with us even after she began to develop as a young woman; a beautiful young woman who could have garnered the company of any guy in town if she'd wanted. Being around Mark I could understand; he was a sporty athletic type with a dazzling smile and a hearty laugh, but me? I got tongue-tied talking to shop assistants and could have made a Tuxedo look scruffy. I suspected that Mark kept me around because it made him look good and he wasn't threatened by my presence, but Carla? What could she possibly see in me? She had no real reason to keep me around other than our long standing friendship. But she did. She made sure I got invited to all the parties she did and I went along because it was her asking me, even if I did feel like a fish out of water most of the time.
As we finished our final term at school I was totally devoted to Carla, but never said a thing. And I was beginning to feel like an extra wheel when the three of us were together. I was so in love with her that I couldn't bring myself to turn down the invite to tour Europe that summer with the two of them. I knew they weren't the 'item' that Mark pretended to everyone else, so I thought that one last blast for the three of us would be a laugh. And that had been when I lost her through my own stupid thinking.

* * *

I came back to the present, before the litany of similar bad decisions on my part could begin to play through my head again, and instead began to wonder if this 'Carla' could be 'MY' Carla, a ridiculous hope I knew. I pushed it from my mind and hunched up my shoulders as I walked past the stranded motorist.
“Excuse me?” The woman called out as she saw me. I looked up, it wasn't Carla. “I was wondering if you knew where I could get some water, my flatmate topped up the radiator yesterday but didn't tighten the cap properly and now poor Lizzie here is overheating.” She waved her hand over the car. Much as I didn't want to get involved I couldn't bring myself to ignore her.
“Errrm, sure. I, errr, live just round the, errr, corner. I can get you some water.” I blushed. I just couldn't talk to women without feeling foolish.
“Thank you. You're a sweetie.” She smiled.
“Errr, s'all right.” I gave a quick smile and then found myself frowning.
“What's the matter?” The girl asked.
“Nothing, I was just trying to think of a way to ask if you wanted a cup of coffee that didn't sound like a come-on or a trap that made you report me to the police.” I said with a sad smile.
“Oh, it's too late for that,” she grinned, “I am the police.”
“A pretty girl like you?” I said in surprise.
She gave me a hard stare.
“Are you suggesting that in some way some of my sister officers do not possess womanly charms.”
“Errrrrr, no. Not at all in fact. And if I did, I didn't mean too.” I said in a bit of a panic.
She laughed.
“Only teasing. Some of them can seem a bit butch. Lead me to the coffee.” She held out her hand. “I'm Tina by the way.”
“Dave.” I said, shaking her proffered hand.

Tina sipped at her coffee after I had handed her the mug.
“Mmmm, that tastes familiar.” She said.
“It's only the Instant that I’ve drunk since I was a boy.” I shrugged.
“I think it's the same stuff Carla likes though.”
A little bell went off in the back of my mind. My Carla had always liked the same coffee as me; the stuff our mothers had given us when we were kids. Was it actually possible...? I shook myself.
“You seem to think a lot of Carla?” I said.
“I do. She took me under her wing when I was sent here. I owe her a lot.”
Again that sounded like my friend.
“In what way?” I asked.
“The usual. If I was doubting myself she'd give me confidence; If I was down she'd cheer me up with some story about her travels on her own in Europe after she'd left school.”
It sounded more and more to me that Tina was talking about my Carla.
“So, she and Mark split up?” It slipped out. I cursed myself silently.
“Right after the other guy left.” Tina nodded. “Mark had got annoyed when she said it wouldn't be the same without Dave, I think she said his name was, so she ditched him.” I thought for a moment Tina hadn't spotted the connection, but then realisation spread across her face. “It's you isn't it? You're the guy who did the vanishing act?”
I went red and bowed my head.
“Yes, that was me. I thought I was helping, doing the right thing, but from what you say, the one decision that I thought I’d got right was as wrong as all the others I’ve ever made. I’m bloody useless.” I sighed deeply. “Could you tell Carla I’m sorry?”
“No.” I looked up in surprise. “No, I think you'd do better to tell her yourself.” Tina grinned.
“Will she even want to see me after I just upped and left?”
“You'd be surprised. She talks about you a lot.” She smirked. “Come on, tidy yourself up and I’ll take you home.”
“Home?”
“Flatmates remember?”
“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Hey Carla, I’ve brought someone to see you.” Tina called out as she opened the front door to her flat.
“It's not one of your strange university mates is it?” A voice that I’d missed hearing for twenty years called back from the kitchen.
“Nope,” Tina laughed, “just some lost soul who claims to know you.”
“Someone who knows me?” Carla said, coming out into the small hallway while drying her hands with a tea-towel. As she saw me she stopped and stared, the colour draining from her face in shock.
“Hello Carla,” I said quietly, “long time, no see.” I gave her a watery, apologetic smile, worried that despite Tina's confidence she was wrong and Carla didn't want to see me.
The huge and much-missed smile that spread across her features proved my fears groundless. Carla dropped the tea-towel and threw her arms around me, hugging me in the way she'd always used to.

* * * *

We'd had a fun day in Paris; taking in all the usual sights and amusing the Parisians with our faltering attempts to speak their language. In the evening all three of us had imbibed perhaps one glass of wine too many and consequently were all a bit giggly as we got back to the cheap hotel on the outskirts of the city, making a bit too much noise on the landing as Carla went to her own room and Mark and I went to ours. He pulled a couple of cans of lager we'd bought on the ferry from his backpack and passed one over to me. We sat down and sipped at the cans in silence for a while and then Mark spoke.
“I gotta tell you Dave, I’m getting a bit fed up with waiting for her to make up her mind.” He declared with a little slur.
“Who? About what?” I replied, mystified by his statement.
“Carla of course. About us.” He'd definitely had one too many.
“What 'us'? You and me?” I asked, more confused than before about what he meant.
“No, me and her. I’ve been asking her out for two years now, but, but it's always got to be all three of us she says.” He tipped back his can. “I dunno if she don't trust me, or she don't wanna upset you, but I can't get her alone for more than ten minutes.” Mark sighed and drained his lager.
Suddenly that extra wheel feeling came back to me; I was getting in the way of my friends.
“Sorry mate.” I mumbled.
“Iss not your fault.” He muttered.
“Why not say something to Carla?” I suggested, hating the idea.
“Maybe t'morrow. Get her to decide.”
“Yeah. Sleep on it.”
“Yeah. Thanks Dave.” Mark said, rolling up in the blanket.
He was soon asleep, a release I could not find forthcoming. I tossed and turned for two or three hours until I came to a conclusion: I couldn't, wouldn't, make Carla choose, so I’d make it easy and leave them to it. They were my friends and they deserved the chance to be alone. As I made my decision I acted on it. I rose quietly and gathered my gear together, stuffing it into my pack before slipping out and down to the front desk. After I’d paid my part of the bill I headed for the central railway station. I knew we had been planning on going to Germany and Italy, so I used my rail pass to board a train going the other way, south to Spain.

* * *

“ So you just gave up and left?” Carla said, a glimmer of annoyance in her eyes.
“Mark had as good as told me I was getting in the way.” I shrugged, reddening under her glare. “It seemed to be the best solution.”
“You were both drunk.”
“It still seemed to be the right thing to do.”
“Mark was an idiot who thought all he had to do was smile at a girl to make her go weak at the knees.” She snapped, her eyes again blazing momentarily.
“It looked like it worked most of the time.” I replied, remembering how easy Mark had made picking up girls seem.
“And you're no better.” She gave me another glare. “You didn't once think about how I might feel.”
“I promise I did Carla,” I said as soothingly as I could, “I thought that a clean break you could do nothing about would be easiest all round. For everybody.” I stood up. “I think I should go now. It looks like I’m raking up things you would rather forget, messing things up as per bloody usual.” As I turned to go, Carla reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Stay.” She said softly, all annoyance gone from her voice. “Please, this time, stay.”
I sat down, clasping her hand in mine.
“Tell me what to do to make things right.” I said. “I'll do anything for you, I always would.”
“I know you would.” She gave me a watery smile. I gave her a little grin in return.
We sat in silence for a while, just holding hands, until Tina passed into the room, evidently on her way out somewhere. She looked at the two of us and rolled her eyes.
“Good grief! Hasn't he guessed yet?” Carla shook her head. “And you still haven't told him?” Carla shook her head again.
“Told me what?” I asked, more than a little puzzled.
Tina went to open her mouth but Carla spoke first.
“No Tina, I’ll do it my way.”
“Do what?” I asked, now thoroughly bemused.
“Tell you the reason why I wanted to keep us as a trio.”
“It wasn't some sex thing was it?” I said jokingly. Tina sniggered eliciting a glare for both of us from Carla.
“Dave, I’m being serious here. I liked having you around; you made me laugh and treated me like a real person.”
“You are a real person.” I interrupted, but Carla carried on.
“Mark, in those last four years, seemed to think I was some sort of trophy, something to be won and then paraded around.”
“But you were, you still are, astonishingly beautiful.” I said, feeling some need to explain my former best buddy.
“Thank you,” Carla blushed. I’d forgotten how red she could go. “but that didn't mean that I was some sort of prize; I still had feelings; I wasn't some dumb bimbo desperate to win popularity by any means. But that was how Mark saw me, how he treated me.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I thought that you and he were mutually attracted; in love in fact.”
“Maybe we were, sort of, at the beginning.”
“I knew I wasn't completely wrong.” I said thankfully. “What happened?”
Tina was shaking her head.
“I thought YOU were going out?” Carla said to her pointedly.
“I was, but this is getting interesting.” The younger girl grinned.
“Just go Tina please; You're putting me off.” Carla sighed.
“Spoilsport.” Tina grinned, poking her tongue out as she left.
A pregnant silence fell on the room after Tina left. Carla obviously wanted to tell me something but didn't know how. Equally obviously she was hoping that I would guess what it was; but I was drawing a blank. Whatever it was wasn't as obvious to me as she thought. To break the deepening quiet I asked a question.
“When we were at school you never mentioned wanting to be a rozz.... a police officer.” I hurriedly corrected myself.
“At school I didn't,” Carla smiled, “it developed at university. I wanted to make a difference to society. I haven't the patience to be a nurse so I became a cop.” She grinned at 'cop'. “What about you? What are you up too?”
“Well, when I went to Spain I found myself a job at one of the British bars in Malaga; found I had an strange aptitude for it. I worked there for about five years and then came back home. I work the bar at the big hotel outside of town now, plus some handyman work. You know the sort of thing, painting, gardening, other repairs, you know the sort of thing.” I wasn't proud of what I did; there were no qualifications needed other than I could do it. Being a police officer seemed much more responsible. At least I had a job I told myself every day.
“A man of many talents then?” Carla grinned.
“Not really,” I grinned back, “I'm just about adequate at the things I need to be.”
“Surely that’s a talent in itself?” Carla said reproachfully. “You do yourself down Dave, you always did.”
“Carla, dear Carla,” I shook my head, “the only thing I’m good at is making bad decisions. If you don't know what to do, ask me, and then do the opposite of what I would.” I smiled although I wasn't really joking.
“You seem happy enough about it though?”
“Happiness is relative. I’ve not been truly happy since that one day we had in Paris.”
“Not even now?” Carla asked.
“Sorry, not even now. The thought that both you and Tina, who I hardly know, both think that there's something I should have realised makes me feel more than a little foolish.”
“You shouldn't be.”
“But you're still not going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope!” Carla laughed. “Even with your gloomy outlook I reckon you'll work it out for yourself, and I’m prepared to wait.”
“Don't be so sure: I’ve got bugger all right for the past twenty years.” I warned her.
“Oh, I don't know. Coming here to see me wasn't a bad idea.”
“Not entirely my idea I must say: Even then it was a bit touch and go early on I thought.” I gave her a grin. I had grinned more in the past twenty minutes, genuine grins, than I had for the previous twenty years.
“It was a bit wasn't it?” Carla said, pecking me on the cheek.
We lapsed into silence again for a short while until I felt the need to speak.
“Carla, can I ask you something? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I’ll understand.”
“Try me.” She replied.
I took a deep breath.
“What happened after I left in Paris? Between you and Mark I mean?” It obviously wasn't the question she was expecting as she gave me a surprised look. “You don't have to tell me.” I added hurriedly.
“No, it's okay. I’ll tell you.” She sighed and looked away for a moment before turning back to face me. “ I woke up that morning feeling full of beans; I was out on a big adventure, away from parental control for the first time. And suddenly you weren't there; one of the props of my life was gone and everything felt wrong.” She paused for a moment. “When Mark suggested maybe it was for the best and he and I could be alone together at last I freaked; I called him all sorts of horrible names; told him that I was never going to go out with him. I grabbed my stuff and stormed off to the railway station on my own, catching the first train out and finding myself in Switzerland.” Carla looked down at the ground. “I was really mean to poor Mark. I blamed him for messing up my carefully nurtured plan, even though I soon realised most of it was your fault, you idiot.” She thumped me on the arm.
“What happened to him?” I asked. “I never found out, even after I came back.”
“I'm not really sure what he did in Paris. I have seen him about a couple of times since, in the distance. I think he owns a car showroom, BMW's, a couple of towns away.”
“Perhaps I should go and find out?”
“That's up to you. I never felt the urge to find him myself.”
“That's something. How come I’ve never seen you around before. You know, out and about on the beat so to speak?”
“When I was a beat copper I was stationed somewhere else. After I was promoted I wangled a posting back here as a desk sergeant, so unless you'd come into the station we had no chance of bumping into each other.” She flashed me another grin. “Won't be there much longer though.”
“Oh?”
“I'm packing it in. Too many cheeky young devils on the force now. I’ve got it all planned out.”
I missed her implied invitation to ask what she was going to do as another, more important question occurred to me.
“Carla, I have to ask; how come you never looked for me? I mean, I thought that you were with Mark, so I never tried to find either of you.”
“I went around to your Mom's house when I got back from Europe, but they didn't know what you were up to, and then I went to uni. I never forgot you, but I had no idea about where to look.”
“Of course. I should have realised, sorry.” I looked down and then back up, catching sight of the clock. “Carla, I have to go. I have to be at work in less than an hour. Can I come back and see you again?”
“Of course you can,” She smiled, “but not in the mornings please; I’m on duty until six.”
“The graveyard shift?”
“You got it. Ten til six for a month.”
“I'm glad you're not still mad at me.” I said.
“I'm just happy to see you again; at least at the moment.” She laughed.
I held out my hand at the door. Carla looked at it in amusement for a second and then grasped it as if to shake it. Instead she pulled me towards her and then planted a kiss firmly on my lips.
“See what you missed.” She smirked mischievously as we broke apart. I couldn't think of a coherent reply I was so confused.

I was still confused later, behind the bar, when I saw a grinning Tina ordering a round of drinks.
“Hiya Dave. She tell you yet?”
I shook my head no.
“She wants me to work it out for myself it seems.”
“Maybe I could give you a clue?”
“I'd appreciate it Tina. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be working out.”
“Okay then.” She paused for a moment to think. “Okay. Think about what she doesn't say rather than what she does say: And her reactions rather than her actions.” I gave her a bemused look that said she wasn't really helping much. “Sorry if that seems a bit cryptic, but you'll work it out. Carla says you're not as stupid as you like to pretend.” With that she took her drinks and disappeared into the crowd.
I mused over Tina's 'hint' whenever I got a slack moment, which wasn't that often as we were busy that night. It wasn't until after we'd closed and I was cleaning up alone that I could really put my mind to the issue. I pondered on Carla's words and actions earlier and things began to click into place. The way she'd held my hand to stop me leaving; the way she seemed to prefer my company to Mark; her description of 'freaking' in Paris when she found I’d gone; and finally, and most tellingly, the kiss she'd planted on me as I’d left her flat. Carla seemed to be telling me she loved me. My first instinct was one of denial; there was no way on this earth that Carla had ever, would ever, be in love with me. My deductions were wrong, they had to be. But the more I thought about it, the more I went over what had happened, the more sense everything she had said and done made. It all fitted together so neatly. I nearly dropped the tray of glasses I was putting away when I suddenly realised what I had done, what I had thrown away. I had to see her; I had to see Carla now! Locking up quickly, I hurried to the police station where she had said she would be on duty tonight.
I don't know why but I expected to see Carla behind the desk at the station when I went in; I mean that’s what 'desk sergeant' implies, right? Instead there was a bored looking, baby-faced youngster who looked like he should still be at school. He looked up as I walked in.
“Is Carla around?” I asked politely. A look of incomprehension crossed his face. “Sergeant Owen?” I added helpfully.
“Oh, the Headmistress.” He grinned as he realised who I was talking about. “She's checking the drunks in the cells at the moment sir.”
I smirked at her nickname, knowing immediately how she'd come by it, and wondering if she knew about it.
“Well could you ask her if she'll see me when she's done? It's a personal matter.”
“A personal matter? I didn't know the sarge still had those.” He beamed. “What name shall I tell her sir?”
“Tell her it's the idiot from earlier today. She'll know who that is.”
“Very well. If you'd like to take a seat, I’m sure she won't be long.”
As I sat down the young policeman went off to locate Carla and pass on my message. He was soon back with a smiling Carla.
“I guessed it was you Dave; I don't meet that many idiots when I’m off-duty.” She said laughingly as I stood back up.
“I worked it out Carla; at least I hope I have or every stupid thing I’ve done before will pale into insignificance when I tell you what I think it is.”
Carla took my arm.
“I'm sure you're right, so come outside and tell me without an audience.” With a nod of her head she indicated three or faces watching us from the other side of the desk.
She led me out of the station and around a corner until we were out of sight of prying ears and eyes. There was a hint of hope in her eyes as she said: “Okay, tell me.” That reinforced the feeling that I was right about this. Taking a deep breath I plunged in with both feet.
“I'm sorry that I didn't realise earlier that our feelings toward each other were mutual and not one-sided on my part.”
The relief on Carla's face told me I was spot-on for once.
“Not entirely your fault; I could have said something.” She said meekly.
“Why didn't you?”
“Because of the lack of attention you gave me. I thought you had someone else.”
“Someone else? Carla, I worshipped the ground you walked on.”
“You disguised it well.”
“Of course I did. I thought you were in love with my best friend, not me. And in any case, what girl ever looked at me twice?”
“You'd be surprised. Quite a few girls at school expressed more than a passing interest in my broody friend, but I put them off. Sorry.” She added at the shocked look that crossed my face.
“I don't believe it.” I said.
“It's true. I wasn't the goody-two-shoes you think. I let them think there was something wrong with you, without being specific.”
“Not that, shocking as it is. I don't believe that any girl, especially you, was remotely interested in me.”
“I forgot about your innate ability to do yourself down; I’ve missed that.” She stroked the side of my face, looking into my eyes to reassure me that it was true.
“Is it permissible to kiss a police officer?” I asked softly before I brushed my lips against hers.
“Depends which officer you're thinking of kissing.” She breathed in my ear.
“I was thinking, maybe Tina?” I smirked and then crushed my mouth to hers.

The Long Wave

Some things that happened, some that didn't, a bit of the usual anxiety, all mixed together.


I was stood in front of the little dustcart, watching some of the participants of the ‘walk for life’ as they walked around. The ‘walk for life’ was a twenty-four hour charity thing and the council had donated the use of the little dustcart to keep the site tidy without charge to provide support. Several of us had volunteered to crew it throughout the twenty-four hours, also free of charge. Bill and I had just taken over for the last eight-hour shift. The idea of the walk was to have at least one person walking at all times throughout the whole twenty-four hours. According to the pair we had not long relieved the night had been full of fun and frolics as people tried to stay awake, to keep others awake. Now it was early morning and things were much quieter, only two people determinedly marching around. Bill had nipped off to Maccies to get us some breakfast as the smell of bacon from the various tents was making the pair of us ravenous. People who had managed to get some sleep were waking and taking over from the heroes of the small hours. I poured myself a coffee from the flask and sipped it, smiling at a couple of people who walked past. A girl of no more than twenty years old came up and dropped a pair of black sacks onto the pile at the rear of the truck.
“Can I have some replacements?” She asked, coming up to me.
“Sure.” I replied, opening the cab door and grabbing a handful of fresh bags. I handed them over and caught her looking at me somewhat intently. At first I was a little put out by this until I looked closer at her and realised her face was familiar.
“Do I know you?” I asked as she took the refuse sacks from me.
“You’ve seen me, but you don’t know me, no.” She said, cryptically.
“You a friend of my niece then? She’s about your age.”
“I don’t think so.” She grinned enigmatically.
“Oh come on, make an old man happy. Exactly where have I seen you?” I smiled.
The girl smiled back.
“All right then. You emptied the bins in Bastogne Close for a few years?”
“I’ve done most of the closes in this town at one time or another, but yes, until about three years ago I drove the dustcart that did Bastogne Close.” She was giving me an amused look, waiting for the recognition she was sure would come, a sparkle in her green eyes. And then it hit me. “You were one of my four girlfriends!” Four schoolgirls had always waved at the RCV when we saw them.
“What!!?” She laughed.
“The rest of the crew always called the four of you my girlfriends, because you all seemed to wave to me whenever school was out and we were collecting, that started about six or seven years back.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly why the other three copied me waving,” She smiled, “But I liked to see you smile when you waved back.”
I was actually quite surprised by her reply: It had been a joke between the crew, four schoolgirls waving at someone old enough to be their father. Then I remembered something else.
“You were the one who gave me the Christmas cards; the blondish one who could actually roller-skate. The other three were very wobbly.”
“Oh my god, you were looking at us after all!” She laughed, shaking out her now properly blonde hair. “And what were you thinking about while you looked at us; something bad?” She was teasing now.
“If I remember, I was thinking ‘why are these girls waving to me?’” I said and then decided I was allowed some teasing in return. “And ‘that one who actually can skate is developing a nice looking bottom’.”
I smirked as she reddened slightly.
“I’d better get back.” She said, trying to cover her embarrassment as she turned and walked away.
“I see I was right!” I called out to her retreating back. She stopped, looked over her shoulder, grinned, patted her backside and then carried on, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. I laughed and gave her a wave as she ducked inside one of the tents.
Bill came up beside me and handed me the bag with my breakfast in it.
“What’s going on? I leave for a couple of minutes and you suddenly start chatting up attractive young women.”
“It’s not like that Bill,” I grinned, “In fact it’s better. You remember ‘the four girlfriends’?” He nodded slowly. “She was the cute one who started the waving!” I laughed.
“Huh! I don’t believe you.”
“Ask her yourself.” I shrugged.
“What’s her name then?” He asked grumpily.
“I didn’t ask.” I shook my head.
“Pillock!” He clipped me around the back of the head. “You still can’t get it right can you?”
“Never could, never will.” I grinned and took out my breakfast.
“Looks like you’ll get another chance.” Bill nudged me and pointed: The girl was coming back over to where we stood. As she got closer Bill called out: “Hey sweetie! You don’t want to bother with him,” He jerked his thumb in my direction, “He’s gay, you know?” Bill was always pulling my leg about my lack of success with women, saying I must give off the wrong vibes.
“I bloody well am not!” I said through a mouthful of breakfast.
“I don’t think so.” The girl smiled. “I’ll prove it.”
“How?” Bill asked.
“Like this!” With a jerk she lifted her jumper and momentarily flashed her bra at us. Bill and I both stared open-mouthed in shock. “See, same reaction from both of you; if he’s gay, so are you!” She laughed, we joined in. “Anyway, I was wondering when you were going to start chucking that rubbish away, we’ve got a broken chair we want to get rid of.”
“We were going to leave it until everyone seemed to be awake; it makes a lot of noise. Just drop the chair with the rest and we’ll throw it on.” I said.
“I remember the noise. And I was sort of hoping I could sling it into the back myself, I always wanted to try that.” She gave us a huge grin.
“That’s okay with me, but it’s a strange thing for a girl to want to do.”
“Maybe I’m not like other girls.” She said shyly.
“No, I don’t think you are.” I smiled. “I’m Dave, this scruffy git is Bill.” I held out my hand.
“Emma.” She said, shaking my proffered hand in amusement. “I’ll bring the chair over when I hear you start the truck.” With that she turned away again. Part way back to her tent she twisted back around. “After over six years my fantasy guy has a name at last.” She called before disappearing into the tent again.
Bill and I looked at each other astounded.
“Did she just say what I think she said?” I asked Bill.
“She did,” He said, “And I don’t believe it, it was a joke, not reality.” He shook his head slowly. “I just can’t believe it.”
“What? That I’m an attractive girl’s secret crush?”
“No. That she can find her way about without her guide dog.” He laughed.
“Git!”

---

We threw the collected sacks of the night into the dustcart about an hour later. Emma came over and she threw the broken chair in and I got her to press the button that ran the back. She seemed remarkably pleased with such a simple act. After that Bill and I settled back to watch the event for a while. Now there were more people awake and walking it was mildly diverting. The walkers thinned out again and then the organisers blew a whistle. Suddenly the course was packed again, and with all the walkers in fancy dress, mostly as some sort of medical staff. I looked at Bill and he looked at me. We both just shrugged, neither of us had any idea what was happening. Emma walked around past us as one of the sexiest nurses I’d ever seen. On an impulse I fell in step beside her.
“Hi! What’s the deal with the whistle and the dressing up?” I asked.
“Hello again Dave.” She gave me a sweet smile. “It’s a friendly competition to make things more interesting. At certain times they blow the whistle and we all come out in the appropriate costume. They award points for originality, authenticity and so on, to each entered group. We’re doing quite well.”
“So you’re not really a nurse then?” I asked with a grin.
“Maybe I am?” Emma teased again, a sparkle in her eyes. “Why?”
“Well, I’ve a terrible pain in all the diodes down my left hand side.” I laughed, putting my hand on the faux injury.
“Are you in BUPA? I don’t do NHS work.” She laughed.
“Just the RAC.” I grinned. I had done a complete circuit with her, so I stopped by the truck again. “Thanks for the info.”
“No prob. Pity you’re not covered.” She waved and went on.
“What the hell was that about Dave?” Bill asked.
“I think I was flirting.”
“You? Flirting? With a real girl?” He shook his head.
“That’s what it seemed like. It’s been a while, so I can’t be sure.” I grinned.
“Huh! As if the day isn’t weird enough already, now you’re getting delusional. It must be getting up so early on a Sunday.”

---

And so it went for the rest of the event, sarky comments and brief periods of keeping the field tidy. I missed one of the fancy dress sections when I went to the nearest shop to get a snack but I caught the final one. The theme seemed to be something like ‘Law and Order’; there were cops and robbers, prisoners, a wild west sheriff, some guy in a suit claiming he was an embezzler, even a couple of superheroes. This time Emma was a policewoman. It didn’t look like a costume, more like the real thing. I wondered if it might be hers. As I fell in beside her again she greeted me with a grin.
“Hi Dave. What are you meant to be?” She asked.
“I’m an RCV driver who breaks all sorts of traffic laws.” I smiled back.
“Really?” She said raising her eyebrows. “In that case….” She tailed off.
I felt something metallic encircle my wrist and when I looked down I saw that she had handcuffed me to herself.
“I hope you’ve got the key for those.” I half joked.
“Of course I have.”
“You really a member of the constabulary then? The uniform looks real.”
“The uniform is: I’m not. It was my mothers, she was with the police.”
“It looks good on you anyway Emma.”
“It’s a bit tight around my bust and my bottom.” She said wriggling a little.
“Like I said; it looks good.” I grinned wolfishly.
“You’re awful.” She laughed.
“So, if you’re not a nurse and you’re not in the police, what do you do?”
“I work part-time in a shop at the moment but I’m actually studying to be a physiotherapist.”
“That sounds interesting. Any reason?”
“Well, you remember a couple of years after we started waving you’d sometimes see me out jogging in the morning?” I nodded, remembering that she had still waved although her friends only did so when the four of them were together. “I hurt my ankle late that summer and had to go and get physio on it. It sort of caught my imagination for some reason and I decided that it was something I’d like to try and do.”
“And that decision had nothing to do with running your hands over studly young athletes I suppose?” I asked jokingly.
“NO!” She snapped and then reddened. “Maybe a little bit.” She said sheepishly. I just laughed.
We continued going round for a while, just talking, until I felt I ought to get back to what I was supposed to be doing. I held up my cuffed hand.
“Well officer, I should get back to work, what about these?”
“Oh, I suppose I can let you off with some community service.” She gave me her prettiest smile.
“Meaning?” I asked.
“I volunteered to stay and help tidy up after the event, and being as you and your dustcart are going to be here too, I was hoping to scrounge a lift home.”
“I can’t really drop you off in the truck,” I said dubiously, “someone might report it.” Her face fell a little. “But if you’re prepared to come to the yard while I take it back, I can take you home in my car.”
Her face brightened again.
“That would be fine.”
“You just want a trip in a dustcart don’t you?” I mockingly accused. Emma nodded enthusiastically. “You are an odd girl Miss.” I smiled.
“So everyone tells me.” She laughed.
“All right. When we’re done, come and find me.”
“Thanks Dave.”
At that I started to move away, back to the truck. She gave me a little wave, just like the first time I ever saw her all those years ago. I was slightly dazed by the events of the day, the half day really, but I knew that in that short time Emma had become special to me although I was sure nothing would come of it. Then another thought hit me: It wasn’t a short time; it had been over seven years building to this. The waving, the Christmas cards, the glimpses of her jogging, it had all been leading to this day. I shook myself. ‘Don’t be so bloody silly man,’ I told myself, ‘she’s a girl half your age who is interested in oddball things. Get a grip.’
I got back to the dustcart and was met by a grinning Bill.
“You can shut up before you start.” I said.
“I never said a word.” He smirked.
“Your unaccustomed silence speaks volumes.” I leant against the cab door. “I just told her I’d take her home after the tidy up at the end.” I sighed. “I must be mad.”
“You know Cindy is picking me up from here when we finish?”
“Oh hell! I forgot that. What is it going to look like when she finds out it’s just me and her?”
“You’ll have to tell me tomorrow.” He grinned. “Just don’t leave anything incriminating in the truck when you leave it in the yard.” He stepped away as I swung at his amused face.
“You know nothing will happen.” I snapped.
“No. You THINK nothing will happen. Or maybe you HOPE nothing will happen.” He was really enjoying taking the Mickey.
“Sometimes Bill, you’re a real pain in the ass.” I stormed off to try and think things out.

---

I was still wondering what I should say when Emma came over and met me at the dustcart after the tidy up, a large carryall over her shoulder, presumably holding all her clothes.
“Hi Dave! Thanks for this.” She said brightly before noticing the worried expression I was wearing. “What’s up?”
“Well,” I sighed, “Bill’s girl picked him up already.”
“So?”
“So there’s only the two of us: I’m worried that you might think I planned it, that I’ve some evil intent.”
“The fact that you’re so worried means I don’t have to be.” She smiled. “Now come on, I’ve wanted a trip in a dustcart for ages.”
I smiled in relief, suddenly realising what a wonderful girl Emma was, but knowing she was way too good for the likes of me. I opened the cab door for her.
“All right, I’ve warned you. Now hop in and I’ll pass you your bag.”
Luckily she had changed out of the tight skirt of earlier, into jeans and a t-shirt. Otherwise it might have been a bit tricky for her to get into the high cab. I climbed into the driving seat and started the truck. I glanced sideways at Emma and saw her eyes shining in excitement as she did up her seat belt.

---

The trip back to the depot didn’t take very long, no more than fifteen minutes even taking the scenic route, nowhere near enough time. All too soon I was swinging the truck up to the locked depot gates.
“You enjoy driving these don’t you?” Emma asked as I snapped the hand brake on. It was the first time she’d spoken since she’d got in.
“I do actually, although this one is more like a supersized van, the proper ones are much more fun. But what makes you say that?”
“The way you drive, all wide sweeping turns, only one hand winding the wheel around, that sort of thing, but mainly I think it’s the big grin you wear while you’re doing it. A bit of a giveaway.” She laughed.
“Most of it’s just showing off for you, always was,” I laughed back, “and the grin is more about the company than the driving.”
“You’re very sweet.” She said, another grin lighting up her face.
“And you are very pretty.” I replied, somewhat to my own surprise. I had been thinking it all day but had convinced myself not to say so, thinking she didn’t need to hear it from a guy like me. And now it had slipped out. Emma blushed, seeming to confirm my fragile theory. “So if the pretty girl would slip out of the cab and wait here by the gate, I’ll park this up and get my car.” She nodded, still looking a little flushed. “Sorry to have to ask, but I don’t want to answer questions when the CCTV catches you in the yard.” I apologised as I unlocked the gates.
“S’okay.” She smiled again, her apparent discomfort disappearing.

---

I was as quick as I could be; parking the truck and then dropping the keys into the office before jumping into my car and rushing back to the gate, fearful she may have gone for some reason. She was still there when I pulled up though.
“Drop your bag in the back and jump in. I just have to lock up again.” I said as I hopped out. When I got back in Emma gave me a dazzling smile for no apparent (to me) reason. For the first time I really thought that maybe this whole day hadn’t been one big tease on her part; there was so much that I found hard to believe; chief of which was the notion that I had been her fantasy guy.
“All right then Miss Emma, where am I taking you?” I asked.
“Do you know Beechfield Avenue?”
“I’m a bin man, I know everywhere in this town.” I grinned. “Aren’t the houses there a bit big for a single young lady?”
“Not the ones converted into flats and bed-sits.” She laughed.
“I stand corrected. Beechfield Avenue here we come.”

---

We chatted a little more during the short trip; inconsequential stuff about the day mainly. I realised she was definitely teasing me now; the way she phrased innocent questions so that they had dual meanings, and all with a twinkle in her eyes and a hint of a naughty grin. I decided I didn’t care and let it roll over me. This girl could say anything she wanted to me and I didn’t mind as long as she was talking to me.
I pulled up outside the address she’d given me.
“Want to come in for a coffee?” Emma asked. I hesitated momentarily, wondering if there was some sub-text to the question. She seemed to sense this. “It’s just a coffee, to say thank you for the lift.”
“In that case, how can I refuse?” I grinned and followed her in, carrying her bag for her.

---

I was leaning against the kitchen door as she busied herself making the drink. Even while she was doing such a mundane thing I felt myself entranced by her. Suddenly, without looking around at me, she spoke.
“Dave, I have a bit of a confession to make.”
“If it’s about teasing me all day about me being your secret crush it doesn’t matter. I enjoyed the idea.”
“I was teasing you a bit about some things, but not that. Never that. You really were my fantasy guy.” She smiled earnestly. “My confession is that I talked to your mate Bill behind your back.”
“Well, I wouldn’t believe most of what he told you, Bill is prone to exaggeration.” I said, my mind reeling from her assertion.
“He said you don’t date much. If you don’t mind me asking, why is that?”
“Apart from Bill’s ‘gay vibes’ theory?” I laughed.
“Seriously Dave.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t not tell her.
“I had a lot of bad dates as a teen and into my twenties, a lot. After that I figured it was me and just gave up trying.”
“What do you mean by ‘bad dates’?”
“I just kept messing things up. Trying to be funny at the wrong moment or serious when they were joking. I appear to have two brains; the more immature one seems to have control of my mouth most of the time, making me blurt out jokes and dumb comments at the most inappropriate times. However the other brain, the one that over thinks everything, always takes over when the mouthy one would be more use. The clever clogs part always worries too much, and then smartarse says something bloody stupid and the moment is gone.” I shook my head sadly. “So, there it is: I didn’t ‘get’ girls then, and I still don’t. To me you are strange and scary creatures Emma, strange and scary.” I sighed.
“And that’s why you don’t believe you could be my fantasy guy?”
“More or less, yes.”
Emma turned around, the coffee mugs in her hands. Her eyes looked watery, as if she was trying not to cry. My heart lurched as I wondered if I’d screwed it up yet again.
“Well believe it. Whenever I thought of my perfect guy it was you.”
“But why me? I’m twice your age, overweight and can be cranky as hell at times.”
“All that may be true, but I couldn’t tell that by just looking at your top half through the dustcart windows could I?”
“I suppose not. I must be a big disappointment to you.” I said looking down at the floor.
“Only for the fact that you haven’t even tried to kiss me yet.” Her hand went to my face. I looked up and she grinned at me. I could tell she really meant what she was saying. This beautiful young woman wanted me to kiss her!
I stepped forward and took the mugs from her hands, placing them on the counter.
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes.” She said, her eyes now shining.
“You might be really disappointed if I do.”
“I doubt it, but I’ll take that chance.”
All throughout this exchange we had moved closer and closer until she was looking up into my face only inches away. I gently brushed my lips against hers and pulled back again.
“Now who’s teasing?” She breathed.
“That would be me.” I said softly before planting a firm kiss on her waiting pliant lips. She responded by placing her hands behind my head and holding me there. The kiss seemed to last forever and no time at all at the same time.
“Mmmm. That was worth waiting for.” Emma said as we finally parted. “I’m glad I didn’t give up on my five year plan.”
“Your what?”
“My five year plan. If I couldn’t find you again after five years I was going to give up on you.”
“How long ago did that start?”
“Only a couple of years, after you got switched around. I was still working on it. The next phase was going to be to find out where you were working every day.”
“How were you going to do that?”
“Like I said, I was still working on it.” She laughed.
“I’m glad you’re patient.” I looked into her eyes again. “And to think, this all began with a girl on roller skates waving.”
“And a bin man who smiled when he waved back.” She laughed.



.

Daydream Believer

This started off as something else, until they knock heads and then this weirdness happened. If anyone can think of any problem I might have missed for either character, get in touch and i'll try and put it in.




I suppose it all began with a daydream. Mandy was new to our office and had been given the desk next to mine. I always found it difficult to talk to girls, and even more difficult to talk to pretty girls. Just passing the time of day with Mandy was nigh on impossible, she was that beautiful. Anyway; the daydream. I was stood here waiting for the tube when I had it, my mind wandering to Mandy. We had actually exchanged more than automatic greetings that day, she had asked me for some help regarding a piece of paperwork. Although it was just work talk it was an improvement on ‘good morning’ and I relished the chance of a conversation with her, even if I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. That was what the daydream was really about; it had made me think. There was nothing sexual involved, such as what she looked like naked. It was simply musing about asking her out for a drink, something I knew I’d never be able to do.
I smiled to myself and opened my eyes.
“Hello Dave. I don’t remember seeing you smile like that before.” It was Mandy, standing next to me on the tube platform with a wry grin on her face.
“M…M…Mandy. W…What are you d…doing here?” I managed to say.
Her grin widened into a smile.
“Catching the tube silly, what else do you do at a tube station?”
I went a bright red.
“S…sorry. S…stupid question.” I was really flustered now.
“Are you always so suave around women?” Mandy laughed, taking pity on my woeful attempts at conversation. I was about to try and make a witty retort when I dropped my briefcase that I had been nervously fiddling with. As I quickly bent to retrieve it so did Mandy. Our heads met with a thud.
“Ow! That hurt.” I said, looking back up and seeing……my own face wearing a puzzled expression!
“What the hell just happened?” The other me said.
Only one thing occurred to me.
“Mandy? Is that you in my body?”
“I think so.”
“Then that must mean…”
“You are in mine. This is surreal, it can’t be happening.”
“But it is. What can we do?”
There was a pause, then the Mandy-me suggested.
“We could try banging our heads together again.”
“Worth a shot I suppose. When you’re ready?”
Mandy nodded my head. We pressed our foreheads against one another, pulled back a little and then smacked into each other.
“Oww!”
“Damn!”
We looked at each other.
“Didn’t work did it?” I said.
“No. Try again, but harder?”
“Okay.”
SMACK!
“Good grief that hurt.” She said. “Anything?”
“Well, I’ve got a splitting headache now, but other than that…” I shrugged.
“No point in me asking for a date now then.” Mandy grinned. Briefly I wondered if I looked like that when I used that face to grin.
“That’s a very boyish thing to say.” I accused instead.
“Well, I am a boy at the moment.” She laughed.
“Well, I wouldn’t say something like that to a pretty girl.” I muttered, forgetting that I was the pretty girl just now. Then suddenly the same thought appeared to occur to both of us. “You’ll see my…” I said, my eyes closing.
“And you’ll see…” Mandy said, her hand going to her/my mouth.
“I think we’d better stay together. Who lives closest, me or you?”
“Fifth stop down the line.” Mandy said.
“Mine is the sixth. So we’ll get off for your place and then have another think. How does that sound?”
“First sensible suggestion I’ve heard from MY mouth.” Mandy smiled. I was sure she was making better use of my face than I ever did.

The tube train arrived, giving me a surprise when a blast of air lifted my/Mandy’s skirt. Luckily I had my hands down already. Mandy silently nodded her thanks. She led me onto the train, grasping my hand amidst the crush of people. We couldn’t afford to lose each other, both having the keys to one flat and the knowledge of the other flats location.
We must have looked like a pair of apprehensive lovers, the way we clung to each others hand as we left the station. Mandy said her flat was only a short distance away, but even that brief walk was giving me problems.
“How do you manage walk in these high-heels?”
“Those? Those aren’t high.” She smiled. “It’s just practice. Relax, that body knows what it’s doing. Try taking shorter steps.”
Grumpily I did as she suggested. It was a little easier.
“This skirt keeps blowing open.”
“That’s the long strides you still keep taking.”
“And these tights…”
“Are you going to criticise my entire outfit?”
“Sorry.” I said shamefacedly. “I’m just not used to girl’s clothes.”
“Do you think it’s any easier for me?”
“Well, you have probably worn jeans or slacks at some point.”
“But not boxers.”
“How did you know about them?”
“I peeked.” She grinned.
“MANDY!”
“Oh come on, face up to it. Sometime soon we are both going to have to get undressed and then we’ll see…well, everything.”
I sighed.
“I suppose I knew that, but I didn’t want to think about it. It’s embarrassing.”
“Why? Got yesterdays boxers on?”
“NO!! And why are you teasing me so much?”
“Must be because I’m the boy.” She gave me another one of those grins that I wanted to try when I got my body back. “Anyway, here we are.” She indicated a front door. Inside was a flight of stairs up to another front door.

It was not a huge flat, but it was a reasonable size, certainly larger than mine.
“Nice.” I said. “Do you think it would be big enough for the two of us, at least in the short term?”
“Why?” She asked suspiciously.
“Because I get the feeling that we both want to keep an eye on what the other is up too with our bodies.”
“Sounds sensible enough I suppose.” She said.
“Plus, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely going to need some help.”
“With what?”
“Girl things. Make-up for a start; your body can’t go to work looking like some clown is trying out a new face. Same with your clothes; I don’t know what goes with what. And how do you put a bra on? I’ve taken one or two off, but…”
“I see what you mean. How do you go to the lavatory standing up?”
“Well, it’s not actually compulsory.” I smiled. “Just quicker and easier.”
“Oh!” She went red.
“Are we agreed then? We base ourselves here and help each other as best we can? Hopefully we can switch back somehow, but until then we try not to mess up each others life?”
“Yes. That seems to be a plan, for now.”
“Then we’ll need to pop down to my place to get you enough clothes until the weekend at least.”
“Good idea.” She wandered off into the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Do you want a sandwich?”
“I wouldn’t mind. What I’d like most is to get out of these damn shoes and tights and this skirt.”
“There’s a pair of jeans on the chair in the bedroom.” She called out. “Some socks in the top drawer, and trainers in the bottom of the wardrobe.”
“Thanks.” I said, slipping off the shoes before I went into the bedroom. Here I was confronted by a world I’d barely glimpsed; a woman’s boudoir. I took off the skirt and folded it up; it seemed the right thing to do. The tights followed, but other than untangling them I couldn’t work out what to do with them. The other clothes were exactly where Mandy had said. I put them on, thankful for her tidy mind, trying to remember if my flat was anywhere near presentable. In comparison to here, it probably wasn’t, I decided. I picked up the tights and walked back out of the bedroom. “Where should I put these?” I asked Mandy, who was carrying a plate with some sandwiches on.
“Did you ladder them?”
“Err, I don’t think so. I didn’t check.”
“Drop them in the laundry basket for now. I’ll have a proper look later. Have a sandwich.” She offered them to me. I took one, taking a big bite out of it. Mandy nibbled more daintily at hers. I looked at the two of us and couldn’t help smiling at the way we were doing everything back to front. “What are you grinning at?” She asked.
“Just the way we’re eating. You taking little bites and me huge ones. The wrong way round for the bodies we have.”
She stopped for a moment, looking at the sandwich in her hand.
“Old habits I suppose.” She shrugged.

We finished our snack and prepared for the visit to my flat.
“How are we getting there?” Mandy asked.
“I’m not sure which way would be quickest. My place is a bus ride away from the tube station. Perhaps we could get a taxi?”
“Might be expensive.” She cautioned. “The tube and bus might be better.”
“Why not? It’ll give me a bit more practice walking like a girl at any rate.”
“Short strides, remember?”
“I’ll try, I promise. Come on then, before I change my mind.”

My flat wasn’t in quite the state I thought, but it still looked messy compared to Mandy’s. I went and found my suitcase and threw some clothes into it.
“Fold them properly!” Mandy snapped. “I’ve got to wear those.”
“Sorry.” I apologised.
“What else do we need from here?”
“I could use my laptop. And we need my shaver and toothbrush.”
“And some clean boxers.” Mandy grinned. “Why the shaver? I’ve got a razor for my legs and under my arms.”
“Those are specifically for those areas. I don’t think you can shave my face with your leg razor.”
“I could have you grow a beard.”
“I had a beard, but it grows straggly. Clean shaven looks better.”
“You know best.” She shrugged.
“Not always, but in this case I think so.” I smirked. “Anyway, if I’m going to have to shave your legs, you can at least shave my face.”
“Good point.” She giggled. “Got everything?”
“There might be some stuff in the fridge we can use. It’s better than letting it go off anyway.”
“I’ll find a carrier.”

We walked back to the bus stop. Mandy had the case; I had the laptop and the carrier.
“You’re getting the hang of swinging your hips.” Mandy said.
“I’m not overdoing it am I? I wouldn’t want to ruin your image any more than being seen with me will do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on Mandy. Everyone at work knows I’m a hopeless dork when it comes to women.”
“Maybe the guys think that, but from what I’ve heard from the other girls, most of them think you’re cute.”
“They do? You mean all I had to do was ask them out?”
“Well, I can’t say for certain, but most of them seem to be prepared to go out on a date with you.”
“You?”
“Maybe, if you’d asked.” She smiled.
“Bugger!” I swore at my own stupidity.
Mandy laughed.
“Why so down on yourself?”
“Low self-esteem mainly. Bad experiences at school, lack of self confidence. Take your pick.”
“You know people are going to wonder why we’re sticking so close together. We’ll have to give them a reason.”
“Like?”
“Like we’re dating.”
“I told you, no-one will believe that. There’s no way that Dave would be able to get Mandy to date him.” I said flatly.
“Rubbish. It’s what I’m telling everyone anyway.”
“I can try I suppose.”
“I told you, some of the girls will actually be jealous of me. Or you as it stands.”
“The guys won’t believe you.”
“Then we’ll have to convince them.”
“How?”
“Good grief, how do you think? You be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. What did you think I meant? Make out in the canteen?”
“An interesting thought.” I waggled my/her eyebrows. She burst out laughing.

Back at Mandy’s flat we prepared a meal and then sat down to discuss a few things.
“Do you exercise much?” I asked.
“Not really, a three mile jog every morning before I shower is all.” My eyes widened. “Only kidding.” Mandy laughed. “Just a few stretches now and then.”
“But you are a morning shower person, same as me?”
“Right.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Other than how to dress? I don’t think so. What about you?”
“Nothing that springs to mind. Oh, watch my chin when you shave it. There’s a little scar that sometimes gets caught by the blades.”
“Scar on chin, careful when shaving. Got it.” She yawned. “Time to turn in I think.”
“Where shall I sleep?” I asked.
“The bed of course. It’s that body’s bed, and I’m the guy at the moment, so I’ll take the couch. There’s a nightdress under the pillow.”
“Are you sure? We could share the bed; keep an eye on what the other is doing with our bodies.”
“Why are you so worried about what I might do with your body?”
“I’m not. I’m worried about what you might think I’d do with yours.”
“Idiot.” She sighed. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can share. But keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’m hardly likely to feel up my own body Mandy.”
“Good point.” She giggled.
“The time has come then. Nakedness.” I said nervously.
“We can’t put it off forever. We have to change clothes sometime.” Mandy shrugged.
We went to the bedroom. By unspoken agreement we split either side of the bed to undress. I took off Mandy’s clothes, folded them neatly and then slipped on the nightie before I turned around. Mandy still had her back to me, having donned my rarely used pyjamas.
“Err, Dave, I seem to have a problem.” She looked around at me. Her face, MY face was bright red.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“A certain part of your body appears to have become…aroused. I didn’t do anything, I swear.”
I nearly laughed out loud at her discomfort.
“Relax. It’s just a natural response to being around a beautiful half-naked body.”
“But it’s my body, I’ve seen it before.”
“My body doesn’t recognise that. That secondary brain blokes keep in their pants just likes what it sees and reacts accordingly. With practice you can out-think it.”
“But I need control now.”
“Just think of something off-putting, it’ll get the message.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know; try the smell of new paint.”
“Does that work for you?” She sounded desperate.
“Most of the time. Just sit on the edge of the bed and think of something horrible.”
She perched on the edge of the bed.
“I’m so sorry.” She said turning around.
“I told you, it’s not your fault. Well, not directly. I always felt that way about this body when I had that body.”
“You did? Always?”
“Not exactly always I suppose. But there were times when I didn’t want to move away from the cover of my desk.” I smiled reassuringly.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“I swear.” I said, crossing my heart.
“And it is controllable?”
“Within reason. I mean, you never noticed me like that before did you?”
“No. I can’t say that I did.”
“See? You’ll find something that works. Now get into bed. We have to get up early so you can show me how to do your make-up.”
“All right.”
We climbed into the bed.
“Goodnight Mandy.”
“Goodnight Dave.”

I awoke the next morning, remembering the evening before, hoping that it had all been a dream, or if it wasn’t, then things had returned to normal. I was wrong on both counts; I was still in Mandy’s body. I heard the shower running and realised that Mandy had taken the plunge and decided to wash my body. I got out of the bed and padded into the kitchen to get something to eat. The cupboard was full of healthy eating. I grabbed something and ate it. Mandy came in half-dressed, carrying a shirt for today.
“You didn’t pick up any vests.” She said.
“I don’t own any. If I wear something under my shirt, it’s a t-shirt.”
“Oh! Okay then. I’ll make do.” She suddenly grinned. “Time for you to hit the shower now.”
I looked at her uncomfortably.
“What if I touch something I shouldn’t?”
“It’s all got to be washed Dave. Now go on. And don’t forget to shampoo my hair.”
I went.
To begin with I felt somehow ashamed. Ashamed that I was running my hands over Mandy’s soapy body. Then I realised that they were her hands anyway and that she had already managed to do the same thing with my body without freaking out. After that I relaxed and made sure I did a proper job. It was the least I could do. She was entrusting me with the health of her body, as I was doing with her. I got out of the shower and after drying off, went into the bedroom. Mandy had laid out a set of clothes for me to wear. A white blouse, a trouser suit and simple underwear. Oh, and a pair of socks and some flattish heeled shoes. I picked up the bra and studied it, trying to envision the order you did things to get it on. I thought I could see how it worked and tried it. As it turned out I was right.
“Managed to suss it out then?” Mandy said from the doorway.
“Seemed obvious when I really looked at the thing.” I replied, slipping the matching knickers on.
“It usually is.”
“Why the trouser suit Mandy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing it.”
“I prefer a skirt to be honest, but it’ll be easier for you first time out, not having to worry about skirt problems. We can try a skirt or dress tomorrow if you think you’re ready.” I put on the outfit and then Mandy sat me down in front of the dresser with her make-up spread out on it. “I’m not going to do this for you Dave, but I will tell you how.”
“What if I mess it up?”
“Then we wipe it off and try again.”
“All right I suppose.” I sighed. “Where do I start?”

The end result didn’t look too bad. We’d kept it simple, just lipstick and eye-liner. Mandy’s face was so pretty it didn’t need much enhancement. I certainly seemed to be catching one or two admiring glances on the tube. It made me feel pleased and embarrassed at the same time. This predicament was so difficult to deal with. On the tube we decided on the details of our ‘dating’ story. That was kept simple too. Dave finally mustered the courage to speak to Mandy at the station. Despite his nervousness, perhaps because of it, Mandy agreed to go for a drink. They discovered that they have things in common and agreed to go out again. The elements of truth made it believable and we could add to it as time went on.
From Mandy’s desk I could hear the other guys coming up to Mandy at mine and asking if it was true, had Dave really got Mandy to go out with him? Mandy made a good show of saying all it had taken was the right approach. She kept grinning at me as she said it. The guys kept giving me sidelong glances of disbelief. Most of the girls came and asked me the same question at some point. I copied Mandy’s answer, saying that Dave wasn’t that shy once you got to know him, but warning them off subtly at the same time. I think between us we managed to convince most of them that we were really dating and by the end of the day interest was waning, other gossip pushing this strange new friendship from their minds.

“I can’t believe they bought it.” I said when we got back to Mandy’s flat that evening.
“Why not?” Mandy asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Again, why not?”
“I wouldn’t believe that dorky Dave had actually got up the nerve to ask the beautiful Mandy out for a drink, let alone get another date out of the deal.”
“You’re doing yourself a disservice you know? And how do you know how I’d have reacted if you had asked me for a drink.”
“Well, would you have come for a drink with me if I’d asked?”
“I might have, depends how you’d asked.”
“Very diplomatic answer.” I smiled.
“What if I’d asked you?”
“I’d probably have thought it was a trick.” I paused. “But I’d have walked into it anyway, on the off chance it wasn’t.”
“You like me that much?”
“Yes. Yes I do Mandy. I’d have gone stark naked into a bar with you if you’d asked.”
“It’s probably a good job I didn’t then.” She grinned. “How about if I’d asked you to dress up as a woman?”
“That too. Why?”
“I was just looking at these legs of yours. With the right clothes they’d look pretty good.” She said, waving a leg in the air.
“You’re teasing, right?”
“Nope. You have a nice pair of legs.” She couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing. I threw a cushion at her.

We spent the rest of that week practising being each other. I became pretty good at applying make-up and Mandy learnt how to shave with out nicking the skin. I learnt how she sat in a dress or skirt and she was able to listen to a dirty joke without blushing, something she was better at than me. That first weekend we went to my flat and collected some more of my clothing for Mandy. I picked up my i-pod as well; I needed some of my own sort of music to listen to. The stuff Mandy listened to was all right, but not exactly what I liked to hear. We grabbed a few DVD’s as well, film’s she’d not seen, to take our minds off the fact that we had no idea how long this situation would last.
On the Saturday night we were both feeling restless.
“Why don’t we go out for a drink?” I said.
“Do you really want to go to the trouble of dolling yourself up just for a couple of drinks?” Mandy asked.
“It doesn’t take that long in the morning.”
“I suppose if we go somewhere quiet and dark no-one will notice.”
“Are you questioning my skills with a lipstick?” I asked jovially.
“Actually, yes. Just this once, I’ll do it for you.”
She sat me down in front of the dresser again. Within minutes she had transformed my face, her face. It had always been pretty, but now it looked stunning.
“Wow!” I said as she finished.
“Pick out a dress while I get changed.” Mandy said.
“Are you sure?”
“I can always tell you to change it.” Mandy shrugged.
Slightly worried I opened the wardrobe and peeked in. There seemed to be a lot of clothes in there. A green shimmering dress caught my eye; I took it out and looked at it. This was the one, I thought. I slipped into it. It was a tight fit and I wouldn’t be able to take my normal long strides, but that was a good thing. Another outfit grabbed my attention. I couldn’t believe Mandy still had one of these!
“This schoolgirl outfit is just right.” I called out mischievously.
“What! You can’t wear that!!” Mandy came rushing in.
I smirked at her, dangling the uniform from its hanger.
“Why have you got one of these? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She was reddening with embarrassment.
“It’s my old school uniform. It doesn’t fit anymore, but I don’t want to throw it away. Okay?”
“And there was me hoping you had a secret side.”
“This was because of the make-up crack, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Don’t doubt a man and his make-up skills.” I smiled. “Now let’s go and have a drink.”
“What are you going to do if some guy tries hitting on you?”
“I’ll set my boyfriend on him of course.”
“We meeting someone else then?” She laughed.

The next morning Mandy ran her hand down my leg as we sat at the table. Slightly startled, I asked her why.
“As I thought, they’re getting a bit rough.”
“Rough?”
“Stubbly.”
“I need to shave them then?” I asked.
“I think they need waxing.”
“What!!? Isn’t that painful?”
“Not that much.” She shrugged. “The effects last longer than shaving though, so I find it’s worth a little discomfort.”
“All right.” I sighed. “It’s still your body. What do I have to do?”
“I’ll show you.”

I suppose it wasn’t that painful, if you like having hairs ripped from your legs that is, but worse was to follow. Towards the end of that second week I awoke feeling hot and bothered and unaccountably grumpy. Mandy asked me what was wrong while we ate breakfast.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I snapped.
“Ahh!” She said knowingly. “I should have warned you; my period is due, you’re suffering from PMT.”
“What!” I snapped. “As if things aren’t bad enough already?”
“Sorry. It’s a natural function of my body.”
“There’s nothing natural about any of this.” I practically snarled.
“Calm down Dave. If women throughout history can get through this, so can you.”
“It’s easy for you to say.”
“Yes it is; I go through it once a month, remember?”
“Sorry. Of course you do. But it’s a problem I could have done without.” I was calming down. “What do I do?”
“If it’s affecting you that badly, I suggest you ring me in sick today, and stay here out of everyone’s way.”
“On my own? What will I do?”
“Shout at the telly? Tell the kettle it’s slow? I don’t know. Get blind drunk perhaps. Unconscious would be good for me.”
“What do you do Mandy?”
“Put up with it; hold my temper in check and suck it up.”
“You do that every month?”
“It doesn’t seem to affect me as badly as it’s affecting you.” She shrugged. “Stay here; look for solutions on the net. Maybe there’s something there that will help you. But stay out of people’s way, please.”
“All right. I don’t want to annoy your friends at work. I’ll find something. Go to work. I’ll call in sick; say I’ve got a bug or something. How long will I be like this?”
“A couple of days at least. Until the period starts.”
“How will I know?”
“You’ll know. Believe me, we’ll all know.”
I can’t say that it was the most enjoyable week I’ve ever had, but I survived. I reasoned if half the population of the world can put up with it, I could too, but it wasn’t fun for me or Mandy. She managed to keep me reasonably calm and told me what to do when the period started. I just wished I’d paid more attention in health education classes.

We were nearly three weeks into our strange experience when I took the phone call.
“Hello sweetie.” A mans voice said.
“Hi… Dad?” I hazarded.
“Your mother and I were just saying we haven’t seen you in a while. Is it all right if we come over for a visit tomorrow?”
“You want to come and see me dad?” I asked so that Mandy would hear. She just shrugged helplessly. I took a deep breath. “You don’t need an invite dad. You know that.”
“We thought we might this time, what with your new boyfriend and everything.”
“Oh. You heard about me and Dave then?”
“Yes. Do we get to meet him?”
“I can safely say he’ll be here. See you tomorrow dad.” The line went dead. I looked at Mandy. She didn’t seem terribly happy. “What else could I say?” I protested.
“It’s going to be a hell of a test for you Dave. No-one knows me like my parents.”
“Then I’d better get it right hadn’t I?”

I thought we’d managed to pull it off. Mandy’s parents seemed more interested in Dave than reminiscing about Mandy’s past. Then her mom suggested she and I go to the kitchen and make some coffee. Helplessly I followed her. She filled the kettle and put it on and then turned to face me.
“It’s Dave in there, isn’t it?” She said.
I went cold, but tried to bluff it out.
“With dad? Yes.” I said, looking towards the other room.
She didn’t buy it, and reached up and tapped my temple.
“No. In there.”
My shoulders dropped.
“Yes.” I said quietly. “How can you tell?”
“Little things really. You’ve got most of her mannerisms down, but, for instance; she holds her cup differently, the result of a childhood accident. And she doesn’t drum her fingers, she uses her thumb.”
“I hadn’t picked up on those. But why aren’t you surprised?”
“Because it always happens sooner or later to women in my family. I should have warned her earlier, but she never seemed serious about any of her boyfriends.”
“But I’m not her boyfriend. We made that up so we could keep an eye on each other. I’d barely considered even asking her out.”
“But you had thought about it. When?”
“I was daydreaming about it about thirty seconds before we clashed heads and switched.”
“That would explain it.” She smiled at me. “It seems to click into action around that point usually.”
“So you and your husband went through this?” She nodded. A thought struck me. “I take it you have swapped back?”
Again she nodded.
“After about four weeks. It’s like you’re given a taste of what it’s like to be the other person, gives you a better understanding of them. It works too. How long have you been switched?”
“Around three weeks now. I’ve known Mandy longer in my body than in hers.”
“Soon be over anyway.” She smiled encouragingly.
“I’ll be glad when it is, but a bit sad too. We won’t need to be together after that.”
“I think you might, but for different reasons.” Mandy’s mom grinned knowingly.
I found out later from Mandy that she was having a similar conversation with her father.
“Mandy? Are you all right sweetie? I know it’s you in there love.”
“How dad? Dave is very good as me. No-one has spotted the difference.”
“He is good at it, but we knew this might happen. We came to warn you and Dave, but saw quite quickly that we were too late. Sorry love.”
“You mean you and mom switched?”
“And back again. It is only temporary. And it only happens with your soulmate.”
“Soulmate? But I barely know Dave. He’s been me for longer than I knew him before the switch.”
“So?”
“He hadn’t even asked me out.”
“But he was thinking about it?”
“Daydreaming about it, he says.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before, but you never seemed to have found the right boy, so we kept putting it off.”
“This doesn’t happen to everybody does it?”
“No. As far as I know it only happens through the female side of your mother’s family.”
“And she’s telling Dave this now I suppose.”
“Yes.”
At this point Mandy’s mother and I came back in.
“She told me.” I said. “You are sure this is only a temporary thing? I don’t want to forget how to be me.” Both of Mandy’s parents nodded. “Good. I believe we were waiting for coffee?” I heard the kettle begin to boil.
“I’ll help.” Mandy said following me.
“So, they saw through me?” I asked her.
“They were half expecting us to be switched anyway. Dad thought you were very good as me.”
“I hope that’s a compliment?”
“Yes it is.” Unexpectedly, for both of us I think, Mandy gave me a quick hug. It’s a very strange thing to be hugged by what you know is your own body. That’s why we quickly broke apart, but it did set me thinking.

The fourth and hopefully last week of our body-swap seemed to drag for both of us, but at least we knew we would soon swap back. We avoided talking about ‘after’ in case it put a jinx, another jinx, on us, but it didn’t stop us thinking. Something came to me on the (hopefully) last Saturday. Although when I’d first seen her it had been Mandy’s looks that had captured my interest, since the switch I had become more and more preoccupied with her mind, the only bit that was still her. She was actually a bit shy, but a lot helpful. She had helped me through this month a lot more than I had helped her, and not just the clothes and the make-up. She had kept me cheerful and supported me through all my whining and bitching. And all I had done in return was show her how to shave my face with cutting it; at least that’s how it seemed to me. But I knew that I’d fallen in love with her and she seemed to like me too. I made a decision, a weird decision.
“Mandy.” I said quietly, unsure how she’d react. “Mandy, can I ask you something?”
She looked up from the magazine she was reading.
“Okay.”
“C…can we k…kiss?” My hesitancy had returned suddenly.
“Why?”
“I …I d…don’t k…know. It j…just seems t…to be the r…right th…thing to d…do.”
She looked directly at me, considering it.
“We never have kissed have we?” I shook my head. “All right. One kiss. Just to see what it’s like.”
She came over and sat next to me on the sofa. I looked into my face and somehow saw Mandy in there, in my eyes. Our lips met. Not many people can claim to have kissed themselves. And I’m not sure I can. As Mandy and I moved apart we both realised that we were back in our own bodies!
“You were right Dave. It was the right thing to do.” Mandy grinned at me, with her own face, lighting up the room more than I ever had. I hugged her and grinned back, trying to replicate the grin she had used so often in the past four weeks. I was about to kiss her again but I stopped suddenly. “What’s the matter?” She asked.
“What if we swap back?” I said.
“I’m willing to risk it.”
“Me too!” I moved back in for the kiss. I kissed her as me and stayed as me. “Thank you Mandy, you got me through this. Without your help I’d have gone nuts.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have got into this at all.” She looked down sadly.
“I told you before; I’d do anything to be with you for even a short time. Maybe this was a little extreme, but we’ve been together for four whole weeks and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”
“You mean that?” She said, a tear in her eye.
“Well there were some things I could have done without, but the good far outweighs the bad I promise.”
She gave a watery smile.
“You are a nice person. All you thought about was protecting my image the whole time. You didn’t once say you wouldn’t do something. You are a special friend.”
“I want to be more than that Mandy. I fell in love with the only part of you I wasn’t, your personality, your mind I suppose. You were kind and helpful, fun to be with and mostly sympathetic. Apparently we’re supposed to be soulmates. I think that’s true. What about you?”
“It’s a strange way of getting to know someone, but you may be right. So what do we do now?”
“There are a few things we could do. But right now that school uniform is calling.” A smirk crossed my face.
“I told you, it doesn’t fit any more.” She laughed.
“How about a couple of beers and a takeaway curry followed by ‘Where Eagles Dare’ instead then.”
“A proposition no girl who’s just spent four weeks as a man could resist. You phone for the curry, I’ll get the beers.”
“But first…” I took her in my arms and we kissed again. A proper kiss with no worries about consequences or what the future might hold. A kiss of a daydreamer and a daydream believer. A kiss of soulmates.