by Carla Blake
Folding the map, she placed it neatly in the glove compartment then looked around at the fold of woods neatly circling the parking area like sentries outside a palace. It certainly was a dramatic landscape and to her weathered eye, so unlike any of the other woods she had recently visited. Here there was none of the usual ‘lets throw up a wood’ type of Fir tree, but Chestnut and Beech. Silver Birch and Hawthorn. And Oak. The good, old, sturdy Oak. Back bone of Britain. She just hoped she could find the one she wanted.
Opening the door, she stepped out of the car and breathed in the cool, woody air. A gentle breeze stirred the bottom of her dress which playfully tickled the back of her bare legs and sighing, she lifted her long, dark hair from the nape of her neck and ran a hand along her slightly moist skin, wishing she had not finished the last of her water two miles back, and tilting her head to where she hoped the breeze might take precedent over the dappled sun shining through the bough of the trees.
It was hot again today. Unseasonable so. Easter had only just been and gone but the weather was as warm as mid July and she imagined that the poor souls who’d booked holidays to the Med and endured airport delays and dodgy foreign food were now wishing they’d stayed at home and had two weeks in Blackpool.
She even had a tan of sorts, after sitting in her garden and studiously ignoring the chores that needed to be done indoors, and for the beginning April that was nothing sort of a miracle.
Talking of which..
Clutching the heart shaped pendant around her throat, Anya drew in a calming breath and let it out again in a slow sigh. She was nervous. Very nervous. But it was hardly surprising. She had every right to be. What she was doing was mad and reckless and totally unlike anything she had ever done before, and for the umpteenth time she questioned whether she should be doing this and how she had gone from a few text messages and e-mails, to a clandestine meeting with a woman she hardly knew in a wood she was even less familiar with. And all because of a text message that had appeared on her mobile during an episode of Eastenders.
‘Hi.’ It had read. ‘ So sorry I missed our meeting. What must you think of me? Can we re-arrange asap? Let me know?’
Anya had read it twice, her finger hovering over the delete button, her attention more on the programme and the latest goings on in the pub, than what she was reading. Something, though, had stopped her from hitting the fatal button.
What if she deleted it and the meeting in question never took place? Would her decision have some vital effect on this person’s fate? Would it mess up their whole lives? And it did sound important, this meeting. And they had used asap, so they clearly thought it was of some significance.
Her finger had moved away from the ‘delete’ button and answered instead, her reply tapped out in a neat, two line message stating the text had been sent to her by mistake and perhaps they would like to try again?
Only once it had gone did she realize the stupidity of her reply. Of course they’d want to try again, she grimaced. She wasn’t supposed to have got it in the first place! God, she was thick sometimes!
Moments later, her mobile went off again. The message was from the same person as before. ‘ Sorry to have troubled you,’ it said, ‘ and thanks for letting me know I got it so horribly wrong. Such an idiot sometimes! x.’
Anya stared at the kiss. Who sent a kiss to a complete stranger? That was a bit weird. Although, to be fair, she put kisses at the end of her messages all the time, so maybe it wasn’t that odd. It was simply a friendly way of finishing off what the sender wanted to say. This kiss meant nothing.
She replied, with absolutely no idea why she was doing it. Boredom? Extreme politeness? A desperate and inexplicable desire to know who her mystery text sender was? Take your pick.
‘No probs.’ She sent back. ‘ Better luck next time. Sure you’re not an idiot really. Should see some of the things I do.’
‘Really?’ Came back the reply ten seconds later. ‘ Like what? Do tell, will make me feel a whole lot better.’
So Anya told about the time she mistook sugar for salt and all three of her dinner guests tried to pretend the soup had one of the most unusual flavours, instead of one of the most repulsive, they’d ever eaten, and then pressed ‘send’.
The reply began with a ‘lol’, followed by an admission that they had put fine wood chippings on chicken set for the barbeque thinking they were aromatic and edible herbs. A trip to the dentist had been the result of that one and a strongly worded letter to the supermarket suggesting they make the instructions on their packaging a whole lot clearer.
And so it had gone on all evening. In the space of several hours, and at the total dismissal of several of her favourite programmes, Anya learnt that her mystery text messenger was a twenty three year old girl called Ella who worked in the city, had just split up with her pig of a partner, dyed her hair blonde in an act of defiance; her partner had apparently gone mental when she’d suggested it before, stating that blonde hair would ‘wash her out’ and to leave it alone, and was now slobbing about in her flat, eating way too much chocolate and wondering why all the lovely people in the world were apparently avoiding her at all costs.
Anya had duly sympathized and then asked after the original text. Had she worked things out? It had sounded urgent, that meeting. Shouldn’t she be sorting that out instead of talking to her?
She had done, came back Ella’s reply. And Anya shouldn’t worry. It had only been about work. She had missed the meeting once before, thanks to the bloody trains, and that was why she’d put ‘ what must you think of me?’ She didn’t want the recipient to think she made a habit of ducking out of meetings, even if they were as boring as Hell.
Anya had sent her sympathies a second time and then looked at the time, startled to find it was past eleven. They’d been chatting for four hours! She quickly texted her hope that Ella wasn’t on ‘pay-as-you-go’.
She wasn’t. But she was finding texting extremely tedious. ‘My thumbs are killing me too,’ she wrote. ‘do you have e-mail? Would it be ok to speak to you on that? But only if you want to, of course. Not going to force myself on you, though I do have your mob number so all might be lost already, lol.’
Anya gave Ella her e-mail address and after a quick goodnight, turned her mobile off.
She went to bed dreaming of what Ella might look like.
The next morning, when Anya sat at her desk and fired up her computer, there were three e-mails from Ella. The sight of them made her smile.
For three, long years, she had been working from home proof reading manuscripts for a large publishing house. A job she’d been doing for so long she could practically spot a mistake the minute she looked at a page of print, and it was well within her capabilities to correct her way through an entire book within a week. Except that is, when she got a really dull one, like the one she was currently working on now. This particular tome was so God awful that she was seriously starting to wonder if she’d ever get through it. The spelling was abysmal, the grammar worse. The punctuation apparently put in place by a chimp. She was hating it. It didn’t even have a decent story. Which was why Ella’s e-mail was such a welcome relief.
Her eyes scanned the first line.
‘Hi.’ Ella had written. ‘ Trust you are well. This is so much better than texting, don’t you think? Hope I didn’t keep you up too late. Anyway, I’m stuck in town for most of this week, working on some yawn making conference, but the weekend is free. Fancy…’
There it ended, in mid sentence. Anya moved on to the second.
‘Sorry bout that. Boss hovering, nosy bugger. What I was going to say was fancy meeting up somewhere? Happy to come your way if you like, anything to get out of the city. What you think?’
Anya didn’t want to think anything at the minute. At least not until she’d read the third.
‘Was I too pushy then?’ Ella continued. ‘so sorry.
It’s this bloody lifestyle. It’s all do it now or not at all. But I would love to meet you. You sound lovely and we seemed to get on alright, didn’t we? Write back when you have a minute and don’t worry if I don’t reply straight away. This job keeps me on my toes. X’
It was then Anya realised she didn’t actually know what Ella did. There again, Ella didn’t know what she did, so they were even on that score. But meeting up? Did she want to? What they had at the moment was ok, fun even. Something to brighten up a boring evening or a tedious manuscript, but did she really want to take it further? What if she didn’t like her when she met her in the flesh? What if they had nothing in common? What if Ella started to quiz her about her love life and got funny when she admitted she was gay! She might run a mile and leave her humiliated and sad and saddled with the bill. That had happened more than once.
On the other hand, what did she have to lose? Her social life was crap! Working from home sounded wonderful on paper, but the reality was bloody lonely. There was no one to share her day with, no one to make coffee for, or go out for a drink with after work.. Just her. And she was sick of her own company.
Delving into her handbag, Anya pulled out the slip of paper Ella had sent her through the mail and folded it out flat. It contained two sets of instructions. The first telling her how to get to Fenn Hill woods and the second advising her what to do once she arrived.
Carefully Anya read the latter again. “ Start by the sign telling you about the diff trees.” Ella had written. Anya walked over to it. “Once there follow the path in front of you, then when you get to a large clearing, and it is big, so you won’t miss it, take the second path off to your left and keep walking. I’ll be waiting under the Oak tree and you won’t miss that either, its enormous!”
Anya smiled, and mentally placing the appropriate apostrophe in Ella’s spelling of ‘it’s’, set off down the path. It was, once again, a beautiful day. The trees, just starting to sprout a full contingent of leaves let in enough sunlight to keep her warm and she wandered slowly, listening to the birds and then catching her breath as she rounded a corner and was greeted with a wide and sweeping blanket of gently nodding Bluebells.
“Wow!” She whispered to herself. “How gorgeous is that?”
And how much she had been missing! This was all just lovely and so typically April, yet she’d forgotten how lovely the month could be, stuck indoors as she usually was. Yet now she was out in the open, beneath the dark green canopy and surrounded by the dainty, blue flowers and delicate ferns, it struck her how blind she’d become and how, ingrained in her habit of staying indoors, she was fast becoming ignorant of all that nature had to offer. Walking on, Anya made a mental note to ‘bloody get out more’, and soon came to the clearing Ella had referred to, relieved to find that Ella had been right. There was no way she could have missed it because suddenly the trees were gone and in front of her lay a meadow of lush, green grass sprinkled with wild flowers and the odd mole hill. It was beautiful and without the trees to restrain it, the sun beat down upon her head and shoulders unrestrained, filling her with warmth and confidence and the recognition that no matter what Ella looked like or how well they got on, she would always have this.
The second path leading out of the clearing was easy to find as well and Anya was grateful she hadn’t had to take the first. A quick peek down there revealed a gloomy tunnel with a trail still slightly sticky with mud, despite the lack of rain, and had she had to go down it, the light summer shoes she was wearing would have been ruined in seconds. The second path was much better.
The Oak tree was also impossible to avoid. Hundreds of years old, or so Anya assumed, its gnarled boughs reached for the sky as if desperate to reach the clouds, whilst its massive roots, some thicker than her arm, plowed into the earth and anchored themselves to the forest floor. This tree had been here forever and if it had a memory, as Anya liked to think trees did, then her presence beneath its leafy protection, would probably be remembered as barely lasting a blink.
Then her eyes fell on the blanket, spread between two of the knotted roots, and to the picnic basket standing upon it. An ice bucket holding a bottle of wine and guarded by two glasses stood slightly apart. Of Ella herself, however, there was no sign.
Her absence made Anya feel slightly uneasy and scowling at the ground, she wasn’t sure if she was liking this or not? She didn’t like games, especially when it came to relationships, and if this impromptu game of hide and seek was Ella’s way of breaking the ice, then she was afraid it was probably going to have the opposite effect.
“Hi! You made it!”
Startled, Anya turned around to trace the voice and there she was. Ella. Tall, elegant and beautiful beneath the Oak tree. Her long blonde hair falling to slender shoulders clad in a white, translucent blouse that as she moved forwards to greet Anya, proved she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“It’s so lovely to meet you at last.” She smiled, pulling Anya into a brief hug before gesturing towards the blanket. “ I hope this is ok. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat so I’ve got a bit of everything. Cold meats, salad, pate… that sound okay to you?”
“Sounds perfect.” Anya replied, sitting down at Ella’s invitation and kicking off her shoes. The fresh air felt wonderful on her toes and she stretched luxuriously, accepting the glass of wine Ella offered and after clinking them together, taking a sip.
“So. What do you think?” Ella asked, sweeping a hand around her. “You like?”
“I do.” Anya smiled. “It’s gorgeous. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. The Bluebells are lovely.”
“Actually I meant me.” Ella laughed. “ But that’s me all over. Big headed to a fault and always saying the wrong thing at the most inappropriate moment. But you’re right, the woods are lovely.”
And so are you, Anya thought. Blonde hair suited her, despite what the ex had said, and with her blue eyes and pale complexion, it was hard to envisage Ella as anything but fair. Her figure was stunning too and as every time Ella took a sip of wine her top stretched across the soft mound of her breast and tantalizingly outlined her nipple, Anya was finding it very difficult to keep her eyes up and fixed on Ella’s face.
But if Ella noticed, she didn’t say anything but instead chatted about work and the movies and eventually opened the picnic basket, giving Anya her first sight of more food than she had in her fridge.
“I know.” Ella sighed when she mentioned it, “ but like I said, I had no idea what to bring and if we don’t eat it all..”
“Which me won’t!”
“..we can always share it out between us.”
They carried on talking whilst they ate and over the course of the conversation, Anya learnt that Ella’s last relationship had lasted a grand total of a year before everything had gone sour.
“That’s the problem I have.” She admitted to Anya. “ I want to get serious and they don’t and I don’t understand why? Doesn’t everybody want to settle down and be happy? What’s so awful about living together?”
Anya didn’t know and confessed she’d never even got as far as wanting someone to live with her, so any advice she had to offer was probably mute.
“So when was your last relationship?” Ella asked, plucking a grape from the bunch and popping it into her mouth. “ If you don’t mind me asking? Recently?”
“Yes, if you call two years recent. It didn’t end well.”
“Oh dear. What happened? Or should I just be minding my own business?”
“No, its okay. They cheated on me with another woman. A little affair at the office. I found them getting cosy in the stationery cupboard. Sex amongst the staplers and sellotape, very romantic.”
“I’ll say, the git. What was his name?”
Anya paled. This was the bit she’d been dreading. If she told Ella the name of her ex, she’d know for certain she was into w
oman and then would come the dreaded moment. Usually from a choice of three. Either total acceptance of her sexuality, ( a rare occurrence), or acceptance and a polite distancing, (the most likely outcome in her experience), or utter disgust and a total exit from her life forever. ( which she’d never got used to). Or she could just lie and give Ella a blokes’ name. Except that would probably only backfire in the end, especially if they continued on as friends as she truly hoped they would, because Ella was bound to find out eventually and then she’d stand accused of not being honest with her right from the start.
Screwing up her courage, she said her ex’s name. “ Grace.”
Ella’s eyebrows shot up to the top of her head. “ Grace.” She repeated. “ As in female Grace? A woman?”
“Well, yes.” Anya replied. “ How many men do you know called Grace?”
“Well, none. But does that mean you’re gay?”
Anya nodded. “ Yes, I am and now I guess you’re either going to tell me to sling my hook or be terrible patronizing and tell me it doesn’t matter a jot…”
“Well, actually no, I wasn’t going to say either of those things.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing. I was going to do this.”
And cupping Anya’s face in her hands, Ella leant across and kissed her
Firmly. Her lips soft against Anya’s, who caught totally by surprise, nevertheless found herself unable to resist, as moaning with desire, she wrapped her arms around Ella’s waist and felt her head start to swim as Ella carefully lowered her onto the blanket, and she went willingly. Her senses dizzy with the emotion of what she was feeling and of the sheer joy at finding Ella was into girls too.
When the kiss ended, Ella smiled down at her uncertainly. “I’m sorry.” She said, “ I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that you’re so lovely and I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you arrived. And when you said you were gay.. Please forgive me.”
“Why? There’s nothing to forgive. It was lovely. You’re lovely! Please do it again.”