Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  The happiness of our love continued as did the non-stop sex. We made love one night up a dusty old loft with me wearing an old wedding dress from times gone by; it felt as if we were in a different century. We bought a new buzzing battery operated toothbrush each. We had the most amazing sex with one of them, which I intended to fling away afterwards; however, Brad wanted to keep it to brush his teeth. This remark, as you can imagine, I found to be hilarious laughing at him, thinking no way, I smirked shaking my head in fun yet at the same time screwing my face up disgusted even at the thought of it. Whatever would his dentist say? I wondered about this as she was so far up her own tight arse as it was, I could imagine the look on her dour pinched face if only she had known. I laughed out loud as I informed Brad of this, and he had no choice but to agree with me on this truthful assumption. My own dentist, however, would shake his head laughing as his personality would show amusement as I don’t think anything I did anymore would surprise him, well perhaps not really. I need to inform him to stock up on buzzing toothbrushes because if my book makes it, then I reckon he is going to need them.

  One of those August nights we visited Loch Lomond. We went into a little place called Luss, just not far from the start of the loch. It is a little village where all the time gone by small cottages are all painted in the same colour, all with matching tiny windows and flowers in abundance in the front gardens. There you will find a few cute cafés selling home baking with excellent coffee and old-fashioned little china pots of tea. The few tourist shops sold all the Scottish gifts and keepsakes from handmade soaps to tartan boxes of shortbread and Loganberry wine. The pier, which you can walk along, goes into the water with the view right up and down the loch amazing. The water is so clear and at the side of the pier sit small boats, who take you out on trips up the loch. A beach sits to the left of the pier, with an old-fashioned shop down at the beginning of it, which is like entering a little cave. It plays Scottish music, selling tartan cashmere shawls, Harris Tweed handbags and unusual presents that you can buy that are made with deer antlers and the most delicious butter tablet that melts in your mouth. There they also sell butter tablet ice cream, which is totally to die for.

  On leaving Luss, we headed further up the loch. I was surprised the first time I went at how long the loch was and admired all the wild flowers that grow along the banks of it. The scenery along the way is of trees and little beaches on the side of the road you drive up, with the mountains on the other. The loch stretches for miles and miles and is so calm. Whenever I see that loch, the picture it creates is different each time. The sun sparkles on the water, shimmering like a sheet of pale blue glass, and the mountains so near you can reach out and touch them. Other days when the clouds hang over it, the loch is a dark shade of sapphire blue, rich and mysterious-looking with the backdrop of the mountains looking different yet again and as if they are calling out to you to come over to them. In the middle of the loch all along the way sit little islands on which dark green trees grow the colour of which complement the shades of blue in the water. At the top of the loch is situated Scotland’s oldest pub. The Drover’s Inn. It has real log burning fires either side of the bar and is full of stuffed animals, with tartan shawls hung on the walls along with swords. All the staff wear kilts as their uniform. The premises are thick with dust and stour from the coal and logs they put on to the open fires, this also creates a smoky atmosphere, which adds to the already old-age look of the ancient floor and décor. The food was excellent and the place added more character to Loch Lomond as it is just as famous as the loch and was very much worth the visit.

  The Scottish poet and folklorist William Lang in 1876 wrote a poem based on the song titled ‘The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond’. The title has sometimes been known to date back to 1746, the year of the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s rebellion with different lyrics at the start of the poem. The more modern version of it, however, is more known and sang today rather than the traditional one, with the loch being as famous worldwide as the song and rightly so.

  Today the sky is a lighter shade of the palest blue with white fluffy clouds behind the mountains, with the loch to the forefront the picturesque view is stunning and one of a kind. There is something magical here that makes you feel proud of your country to have such heritage known for what it is. We book into an exclusive hotel which stands grand back from the road on the banks of Loch Lomond. The bedroom is luxurious, very opulent, decorated in dark rich colours with a four-poster bed. The views of the loch from the window of our bedroom are magnificent. We share a wonderful dinner at night in the restaurant, which is expensive but the quality and presentation of the food is unbelievable. Traditional Scottish dishes like Haggis and Clootie dumpling deep-fried in batter with added double fresh cream, scotch whiskey and wild blackberry and bramble liquors. The chef recommends the wine to accompany his dishes which compliments them completely and the dessert is so light you can almost imagine it floating in air.

  After dinner, we walk along the edge of the loch hand in hand. I remembered the other time we stayed here in an exclusive log cabin at the edge of Loch Lomond. It had a four-poster bed all dressed in tartan drapes, with a Jacuzzi hot tub and a separate sauna. The patio doors opened right out onto the loch, where we danced under the moonlight and made love in the water. I have keepsakes in my lounge of washed up logs from the lochs’ waters’ edge. I glance up at Brad smiling at the salted sugar, bittersweet memories, remembering how it hurt afterwards, as once again he went home to his wife. As Brad tells me how much he worships me. I look at him, slowly deliberately taking in the expression in his eyes and I can see that he sincerely means what he says. A little further along, he stops to take off his dinner jacket. I watch him wonderingly as he lays the jacket down, smoothing it out on the grass. He pulls me towards him laughing, asking me to sit down. As I do, he gently pushed me backwards and lays me down on top of it. My head is in the grass as he kisses me, then he lifts my expensive tartan dress, as he removes the tiny red tartan thong-style pants, he kisses my mouth again, then he proceeds to go down and cover my clitoris in millions of tiny delicate kisses. I feel so much love for him and pride for that beautiful place that night as I lie back looking up at the sky beyond the mountains. Listening to the water of the loch touching the shore, under the moonlight and with the famous song words in my head, I feel the most honoured woman in Scotland, with my traditional Scottish gown held up at my waist, I lie with my bare arse on the expensive silk lining of that jacket as Brad Blake fucks me ‘On the Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond’. For the second time.

  The end of the month brings more sadness though as it is the anniversary of my other little dog C.C.’s death, I look back down at the floor and I see him still sitting there as if it was yesterday; sadly I wipe the tears away, I still miss him every single fucking day.

  September

  Today is the first of September. Brad hits me again today hard and has his hands around my throat shaking me, calling me a whore. An argument starts and as usual, I challenge him; I never back down from anybody in a fight and especially not from Brad Blake. I don’t really like confrontation at all and by now I am so tired of all this fighting with him. When Brad goes to work later at night, I cast spells of happiness for our future. I pick up little Versace, cuddling him thinking he is getting so old now. I carry him down the backstairs into the garden as I let all my other little dogs out before bedtime. The sky is so clear, with all the stars twinkling brightly tonight. The month has come in slowly bringing with it a change in the weather. You can feel the crispness of the autumn chill in the air. The leaves are starting to fall from the trees and the nights are drawing in. It is coming up to my favourite time of year, which is also Brad’s. So perhaps this would change our mood. A few days later on a clear, early September morning, I find my donkey. Gucci is standing in the middle of town with a woman holding a bucket collecting money for the donkey sanctuary. I approach her claiming that he had been stolen because that donkey had belonged t
o me. I look under him and the unusual white marking on him confirm he’s mine, He looks up at me with his big sad eyes, he puts his ears back, opening his mouth to bite me. He was not doing that to other people just me, so t that alone confirms for sure that it is him. After the commotion of an argument with the woman, I phone the police, who ask me for a description. I say she is a big fat cheeky cow who is wearing a red jacket. He says he had wanted a detailed description of the donkey, not the woman. On waiting for them to arrive, I phone Brad’s mobile.

  He turns up first looking ashen, admitting to me in quiet tones that he and the farmer had given my donkey away as they had been under the impression that I no longer wanted to keep him. On realising the mammoth mistake, they decided that it would be better to keep their mouths shut as to his whereabouts. I am so angry, hurt, totally shocked with the deceit that I can’t fucking believe what I am hearing. I had suffered mental hell on not knowing anything about Gucci’s disappearance or his safety. Brad watched this happen to me, all the while fucking knowing exactly where he fucking was, as did that bastard of a farmer. Yet they had both helped me search for him for fucking days and nights, for weeks on end, with their sincere promises of doing all they could to find him, which had just been all lies and pretence. Disgusted, I am shouting out loud in the street, where by this time a lot of people had stopped nearby to listen. I scream at Brad explicitly in public as I fucking tell him to stay away from me. He is so embarrassed by my behaviour that he shows his official name badge (which he still wore from his night shift at work) to the gathering crowd, claiming that he is a mental health nurse with me the psychiatric patient and his position is to take me back to the mental hospital. He pushes me forward, locking my arms in a tight grip painfully on my back, I scream with the pain and looking up with tears in my eyes, the last thing I see is Gucci’s sad eyes looking at me. Brad is hurting me and marching me head down towards the car, pushing me into the back seat. As he drives away from the scene, I have to phone back my friend in the police force, explaining what had happened to my donkey. He is stunned by my revelations but tells me at least Gucci is being well taken care of. At least that is true.

  Arriving back home I am raging at Brad and totally distraught as I get out of the car. He comes in the house behind me, trying to apologise as I pack his clothes. I order him out of the house so he takes the clothes I fling at him and leaves. Only though for a few hours does he stay away. He comes back to the door with a peace offering; he has brought me chocolates with a bottle of Gucci perfume. I snatch the perfume bottle from his hands and clonk him hard on the head with it, then fling the fucking perfume with the chocolates following it down the full length of the garden at the cherry trees, then bang the fucking door shut in his face.

  The middle of the month the relationship deteriorates big time, the arguments are horrendous. This time the fighting has escalated so much that no amount of passionate sex would even out the hatred in the betrayal I feel. I trust him not. I just know by now there is no way back to what we once had, that special place of love we had shared only just last month was gone forever.

  No matter what he does for me or how hard he tries to rectify the wrong he did, nothing helps. He offers me a new donkey, which I refuse, then he tries to get Gucci back but it is way too late as by now he has been sold on. He wants so much to make me happy, whole once more as I am in pieces; he tries to make us better again. But we are in fact broken beyond repair, just like Humpty Dumpty, because all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again or me or us. I just want to be with my little dogs, I am grateful they are my real soulmates, not Brad as I had once believed. I feel nothing for him. This time all his pish talk cannot replace the cold emptiness he has left inside me. I can’t even stand the thought of him near me let alone sexually.

  The weather is changing too, it is even getting as cold outside as I feel inside. I am in the garden in the storm as my little dogs sit watching me from in the dry doorway of the house, a lot wiser than me not to go out in this weather. Brad comes up the path, turning the corner of the house, he wanders over the garden to where I sit; sitting down beside me in the torrential rain, he hands me a small blue velvet box. I open it to find the most beautiful pair of gold- and diamond-set earrings shaped in the style of teardrops. The diamonds glisten more so as the rain enhances their sparkle.

  “I’m so sorry for all the hurt I have caused you. On finding these in an old-fashioned jewellery shop window, they reminded me of every single teardrop you have ever cried, either over me or because of me. I realise, no Coco, I know I’m not worth it. Not worth a single tear. If you want me to go, then I will, Coco, because I feel I am losing you, I know that I have lost you now anyway actually. I am praying you stay with me and for you to please give me another chance. I’m so sorry about everything that happened and I miss you so much,” he speaks in such a sad pathetic voice, which is probably heartfelt. I look at him, acknowledging our clothes were soaking wet, and I say nothing, not a fucking single word as we both sit crying in the pouring rain.

  16th September

  We leave to go on holiday to stay in a log cabin at for a week at Drumnadrochit. It is a luxury cabin just for two and is very exclusive, with Denbigh dishes and crystal glasses and a huge four-poster bed. How romantic, I think sarcastically. It sits right up very high on the top of a steep hill, and the views over the valley are stunning, especially when the sun is going down. There are red squirrels about, which are few and far between, they are taking hazelnuts off a tree outside the bedroom window. Brad also collects some nuts, as well as them he picks wild brambles and apples, which he then makes into a fruit butter crumble for me. It is delicious served warm with Channel Island thick cream. He is trying hard to heal the hurt of the last few weeks and I am grateful but feel just sort of lost, I guess.

  17th September

  Today we have another secret wedding, this time in an ancient church that sits by a loch between the cabin and Drumnadrochit. The church is empty at six o’ clock at night when we enter, Brad comments I looked stunning as I stand in a black silk totally backless dress. My hair, which is very dark, is up but has curls tumbling down, creating a soft messy look. My nails are painted black with Swarovski crystals and I wear black satin high heel shoes. My jewellery is simple with diamond earrings and slim diamond bracelets worn on each wrist, my fingers sit bare, waiting to wear that plain gold circle once again. Brad removed both our rings before we left the cabin, and they sit in his pocket in the little pouch which is very similar in shape to the small bag or sack a garden gnome has on a stick, carrying in it all his worldly belongings over his back.

  We go to the altar, and Brad opens the handmade cloth and carefully lays down our gold wedding bands there on top of a gold and red velvet cloth. Brad takes my ring, putting it back on my finger as he makes vows and promises to me eternal love. I then place Brad’s ring back on his finger as I do likewise. We then kiss and light candles. We sign a paper with both our signatures as a commitment to each other, with the date and time of our secret wedding. We leave the church and go to a very exclusive hotel at Loch Ness. We have our wedding supper with two bottles of the finest champagne and a red velvet wedding cake. Everything is perfect and the food is amazing. On leaving there the two of us go to Loch Ness, there on the banks by the loch we have a slow dance in the dark with music coming from the jeep, as we sway to the love song he holds me close whispering how much he loves me. Tears of happiness and of sadness run down my face as I think of my little dogs, the lies he told and what he did with my donkey, I don’t forgive him and I shall never forget that, I think of all the fights as well as the love we share. My life, like tonight, is either total bliss filled with love and happiness beyond belief where deep down I am still tinted with a little hurt, or it is purgatory and the darkest place in the world to be.

  We go back to the cabin and have strawberry wine with dark chocolate. I put on expensive pure white lace underwear and negligee set
. Brad removes it gently as he makes love to me slowly on the four-poster bed, then carries me naked through to the huge red leather sofa, where he makes love to me again. The French doors are open so afterwards we stand naked on the balcony, kissing under the stars and drinking the sweet wine from the crystal glass while I show the surrounding woods how much I love him and whisper to the trees that tonight he is my hero but not always, definitely not always.

  18th September

  We both sleep late, I lie in bed a little longer while Brad makes breakfast, the smell of bacon and the noise of it sizzling in the pan is so tempting, I pull myself out of bed to have some. Just at that Brad appears at the room door with a tray. Breakfast in bed for me. I climb back under the duvet, enjoying the toasted rolls with the bacon smothered in maple syrup with milky coffee, now this is my kind of morning. Afterwards we make love, shower and get dressed. I sit and write my manuscript as Brad heads into the village for some food shopping. I like being alone in the cabin in the woods, I love the solitary feeling with the calm mood it creates. I put down my book and sit out on the balcony with coffee; I smile at the memory of last night, a good job it was jet black out here like being in a tomb of the dead because if anybody had seen us, well I guess we would have been charged with indecent whatever. I think of my mum and dad and daughter when we were here on holiday in April, not exactly here but we visited the village. I remember another balcony and how Brad pissed out over it early one morning as my father sat below, wondering where the water was coming from, how we laughed, another charge for Brad Blake, well he has already been charged by the police for pissing outside, he paid the fine but obviously never learned his lesson. I also think about and miss my son, my little dogs and still miss Gucci; I am feeling very nostalgic today for some reason. I feel a deep sense of sadness, just some sort of loss of the past and empty inside yet, I am not sure exactly why.