A KIND OF LOVE STORY
It’s Friday and I’m idling around the market, looking at the fruit and veg stall and then at Jenny’s charity stall trying to decide whether to buy some of the lovely bread that is on sale, when I hear him.
‘Hello Beth’
I haven’t heard that voice in years but it still has the power to stir me.
‘John!’ my heart pounds, ‘How are you?’
He’s hardly changed at all, some grey hairs among the dark waves and a few wrinkles on his face but his eyes and mouth are still the same.
‘I’m fine.’ He says, ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine too,’ I say, ‘How’s Anne?’
I have no real interest in the answer, I’ve spun back 20 years remembering the last time I saw him.
It had been a warm summer’s evening still light even though it was quite late we were talking in the shadow of the side door of my house, the honeysuckle bush that climbed the wall there perfuming the air with its sweet, heady smell adding to our moment of intimacy.
John and I and two other friends used to run a local Youth Club and after Club nights we would all have a drink in the Pub before returning home. John lived near me so we would often walk home together.
‘She’s fine, and Jim?’
‘Good,’ I say, ‘and the girls?’
He made me laugh and I found his eyes magnetising with their blue-eyed intensity. We would often talk over arrangements for the coming week at the club or talk over any problems going on at the club, sometimes for quite a long time. I think I was more than a little in love with him, he was easy to talk to and a good listener. I also thought he felt the same.
One particular evening he’d stood so close that I could feel his body warmth and see his chest hair curling through the opening of his blue, short-sleeved shirt. I longed to kiss and taste his lips; I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his. I felt as if I were under some kind of spell.
‘Kate’s at Uni and Bella is travelling abroad somewhere with her partner. And your boys, how are they doing?’
I’m finding it difficult to collect my thoughts.
‘Andy’s doing well in IT and Jamie’s working in the City at something I don’t really understand,’ I say.
I remember that night so vividly. I was poised to leave my husband and family. It was a magical, tempting moment especially when he reached forward to gather me into his arms. I could feel myself leaning towards his embrace.
‘Don’t.’ I’d said suddenly scared. ‘I can’t,’ I knew if he touched me I would be lost and unable to resist him.
I haven’t really seen him since that moment. I’d put a stop to the Pub visits and the walk home and shortly afterwards stopped helping out at the Club. But now he’s here again and as the memory explodes with full force within me, I stand frozen, staring at him and thinking of what might have been – looking – longing – wishing - before we both turn away.
©Carol Donnelly 2015
It’s Friday and I’m idling around the market, looking at the fruit and veg stall and then at Jenny’s charity stall trying to decide whether to buy some of the lovely bread that is on sale, when I hear him.
‘Hello Beth’
I haven’t heard that voice in years but it still has the power to stir me.
‘John!’ my heart pounds, ‘How are you?’
He’s hardly changed at all, some grey hairs among the dark waves and a few wrinkles on his face but his eyes and mouth are still the same.
‘I’m fine.’ He says, ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine too,’ I say, ‘How’s Anne?’
I have no real interest in the answer, I’ve spun back 20 years remembering the last time I saw him.
It had been a warm summer’s evening still light even though it was quite late we were talking in the shadow of the side door of my house, the honeysuckle bush that climbed the wall there perfuming the air with its sweet, heady smell adding to our moment of intimacy.
John and I and two other friends used to run a local Youth Club and after Club nights we would all have a drink in the Pub before returning home. John lived near me so we would often walk home together.
‘She’s fine, and Jim?’
‘Good,’ I say, ‘and the girls?’
He made me laugh and I found his eyes magnetising with their blue-eyed intensity. We would often talk over arrangements for the coming week at the club or talk over any problems going on at the club, sometimes for quite a long time. I think I was more than a little in love with him, he was easy to talk to and a good listener. I also thought he felt the same.
One particular evening he’d stood so close that I could feel his body warmth and see his chest hair curling through the opening of his blue, short-sleeved shirt. I longed to kiss and taste his lips; I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his. I felt as if I were under some kind of spell.
‘Kate’s at Uni and Bella is travelling abroad somewhere with her partner. And your boys, how are they doing?’
I’m finding it difficult to collect my thoughts.
‘Andy’s doing well in IT and Jamie’s working in the City at something I don’t really understand,’ I say.
I remember that night so vividly. I was poised to leave my husband and family. It was a magical, tempting moment especially when he reached forward to gather me into his arms. I could feel myself leaning towards his embrace.
‘Don’t.’ I’d said suddenly scared. ‘I can’t,’ I knew if he touched me I would be lost and unable to resist him.
I haven’t really seen him since that moment. I’d put a stop to the Pub visits and the walk home and shortly afterwards stopped helping out at the Club. But now he’s here again and as the memory explodes with full force within me, I stand frozen, staring at him and thinking of what might have been – looking – longing – wishing - before we both turn away.
©Carol Donnelly 2015