by Abbie Walton
Kate’s head turned violently and involuntarily to the door and she saw Colin Love for the first time. Kate would always deny that it was love at first sight, but right from the start she saw that there was something about him. Hovering just outside the doors that he had barely managed to squeeze through, he had the air of a relieved newborn that had just emerged uncertainly into the world after a particularly difficult labour. He stuck out like a sore thumb; probably feeling very much out of place in a room full of strangers, some of whom were now staring at him with curiosity and one or two with a little bit of hostility. It had likely been quite a while since they had seen someone in their pub wearing a suit, complete with a waistcoat and it must have seemed a bit of a breach of working class etiquette.
Colin made his way to the bar – after all where else would a visitor go in search of a welcoming face and a drink to hide behind? However, it wasn’t Kate’s face that he first made eye contact with and he reddened profusely at the sight and seemed not to know quite what to say or where to look. Kate found that quite amusing and even a little endearing. There was nothing she liked better than to get a man on the back foot.
“Evening, love. What can I get for you?”
Colin looked blankly at Kate for a second or two, seemingly trying to digest what was really a very straightforward question to be asked by a barmaid in a pub. Then his confused look broke into a smile.
“Oh, of course! I’m so sorry. I’ll have a pint of…what’s that you have there? Stella Artois? That would be just perfect. Thank you.”
If Colin’s unusual attire had not given the game away, what came out of his mouth certainly did. He was not “from round these parts” as the locals would say. He was, they would have said with a certain amount of distaste, a Southerner.
Kate, however, said nothing but simply smiled, nodded her head and reached for a pint glass from the shelf above her head.
Colin obviously felt he should explain his delayed response to her question. “I do apologize for my hesitation just now. I was thrown by the fact that you seemed to know my name already.”
“I did?”
“Yes! But then I realized you were calling me ‘love’, like you people do up here - not Love with a capital L.” Colin motioned the shape of a letter L with his hand as if to make the point clearer, but all that was clear was that Kate was not following him at all.
“Love! My name’s Love, Colin Love.” He reached his hand out over the bar to shake hands.
“Oh, right! I see!” said Kate. “That’s so funny!” She then realised that this might be taken the wrong way and rushed to clarify. “I mean, that’s funny that you thought I knew your name, not that your name is Love…”
“Don’t worry! I knew what you meant and, besides, I’ve had to live with my surname all my life so I’ve pretty much heard it all, believe me. It seems to be quite impossible to take a flight without a flight attendant telling me that “Love is in the Air” once we take off – they always think they’re the first ones to ever think of it. It used to bother me so much that I used to take the stairs rather than the lift at my first job.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me…”
“You know…that song by Aerosmith….Love in…an…”
“Oh, of course. “Love in an Elevator”.
“You’ve got it. There was one colleague at work that would watch out for me getting in that bloody lift just so he could start singing that chorus. What a wanker. I can laugh about it now though.”
“Well, that’s a good attitude to have. I’m afraid I can’t compete with your surname – mine’s pretty dull…Boswell. My nickname was Boozewell at university for...err…for obvious reasons.”
“I think I can guess. And now you’re working in a pub. Seems like a pretty logical career move, if you ask me!”
“You must be joking. I didn’t get twenty grand into debt from four years at university to spend the rest of my life serving beer to a bunch of no-hopers.”
Realizing that she had said that just a little too loudly, she added, somewhat lamely, “No offence everybody.”
“None taken,” replied Mick, laconically, who was sitting in his usual seat next to where Colin was standing. “The light at the end of the tunnel was switched off for good when the pit was closed down - thanks to Margaret bloody Thatcher.”
Wisely, Colin decided that now might not be the best time to pull out the Conservative Party membership card from his wallet for general inspection. It might just get ripped up, and he along with it. But he couldn’t resist making a comment.
“But, that must have all happened twenty-five years ago or more, thirty even?”
“June 16, 1987. Twenty seven years, eleven months and three days.” The date and the event were clearly etched in Mick’s brain. “And there are some people in this village who haven’t worked since.”
“It’s all market forces though, isn’t it? If the mines had paid their way, they would still be open. Survival of the fittest and all that.”
“Wouldn’t expect a bloody Southerner to understand ‘owt…” replied Mick, who finished the rest of his pint, banged the glass down with some venom and quickly walked to the exit. His original idea of making a further point by banging the door loudly behind him was of course scuppered by its uncooperative hinges, so he had to be satisfied with a shake of the head and a meaningful glare as he squeezed out.
“Are there any more of my customers you’d like to annoy this evening?” asked Kate, a bit tartly, although she wasn’t really too upset. Mick was a terrible tipper and he had drunk his one and only pint of the evening. He’d be back to do the exact same thing again tomorrow.
“Ah, yes. Awfully sorry about that. Didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject.”
“Really? Then you don’t know much about this part of the world then, do you?
“I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve lived all my life in the London area - Tunbridge Wells as a matter of fact - and this is my first time “oop North”. He ended with a pretty terrible attempt at a northern accent, which Kate was too polite to comment on, preferring to get a little dig in of her own.
“Yeah, I could tell you’re from London way by your accent. I bet you got a nosebleed when you got north of Watford Gap, didn’t you…”
“Nosebleed? No, I didn’t get that, but I think I may have picked up a few lice up here though.” He scratched his armpit apishly and with a cheeky grin, which made Kate chuckle.
“Touche. We may have lice but at least we don’t have any of those parasites that you get down there – all those investment banker wankers.”
“Oh God yes. I couldn’t agree more. Bunch of rogues, the lot of them. I’m all for making money but some of those bonuses are completely unethical, aren’t they? I much prefer to be among honest, hard-working folk up here.”
“Ha! Probably more honest than hard-working. But we do like to call a spade a spade, there’s no doubt about that. Why are you up here anyway? What do you do for a living?”
“Oh, I suppose it would be fair to say that I have a finger in quite a number of pies.” A smile was playing in the corners of Colin’s mouth which indicated that he had just made a private joke to himself that he was enjoying hugely – but of course Kate had no idea what might lie behind it. She was just about to enquire further when there was an almighty crash, followed almost instantaneously by some very rude words. Peter, his senses dulled by a copious intake of celebratory alcohol had accidentally banged into a table full of nearly-empty pint glasses and sent half of them crashing to a fragmentary fate.
“Oh shit…”, said Kate, executing her well-rehearsed routine of grabbing a mop and bucket in one hand and a dustpan and brush in the other and dashing over to clean things up. Rather than be chivalrous and help, Colin simply sat and watched, enjoying first the view of her rear encased in her tight leather skirt and then, as she adjusted her position, an unhindered sightline down her top, revealing a mesmerising combination of jiggling and swinging that
in just a few seconds forced Colin to dismount from the bar stool to allow for greater mobility in the groin area.
Eventually, Kate returned from her disaster recovery exploits to continue the conversation that she had been quite enjoying. But there was no sign of Colin. In fact, the only evidence that he had been there at all was in her tip jar – a brand-new and deliciously crisp twenty pound note.
CHAPTER THREE: AN ACCIDENTAL MEETING
There was no sign of Colin at the pub for the next few days either. Kate found that she kept looking at the door every few minutes to see if a new arrival happened to be him and she was disappointed at the end of each shift when, again, he hadn’t put in an appearance. It was partly due to the fact that there was no opportunity for another welcome donation to her anti-poverty fund, but it was more than that. He was good-looking, there was no doubt about that – quite tall and he obviously looked after himself, which was more than could be said for most of the blokes around the place, for whom grooming, diet and personal hygiene seemed to be quite alien concepts. Intelligent conversation wasn’t part of their repertoire either, and Colin seemed pretty articulate and ready to talk in more than grunts and expletives. Kate reflected that she couldn’t remember having a decent conversation with a real, live male since she had left University.
She hoped perhaps that she might bump into him in the village, but the reality was that there was little reason for most people to be out and about, unless you wanted a takeaway from The Golden Star chippy or needed to pick up a few groceries from the local Spa. Most people did their big shop in Gatley, a few miles down the road. But Kate usually couldn’t be bothered going that far, and anyway her parents did most of the shopping for food. Besides, her best friend, Liz, worked in the Spa and picking up a pack of gum, a tin of soup or something else was a good excuse to go and have a natter on most days. They had gone to school together, both junior and senior school. Then Kate had gone off to University and Liz had stayed behind as, like most of her peers, she’d never had much interest in academics.
Liz had been away on holiday to Majorca for a week so it was time for a proper catch-up. She was bound to have a nice tan, thought Kate to herself jealously, as she opened the door to the shop.
“Hello, you!” was the welcome she received from behind the till. It had obviously been a quiet morning as Liz was in the middle of painting her nails.
“Welcome back, you lucky bugger! Did you have a nice time then?”
“Yeah, it was brilliant. I’m still knackered though, it was non-stop. On the beach, down the club, up all hours, you know the drill…”
“Oh I can imagine. I know you like to try and get round as many men as you can. How many was it this time? Did you break your record?”
“I’m afraid not. I was dead close though. There was this really hot Swedish guy that was going to be number eleven, but I think throwing up all over him might have put him off.”
“Really? What’s the world coming to...men are getting so picky these days, aren’t they?”
Liz picked up a toilet roll that, for some unknown reason, was lying on the counter and threw it at Kate.
“Ah, you’re just jealous. So what have I missed then? Been fighting the men off with a stick as usual at the Red Lion?
“Yeah, right…although as a matter of fact there was someone interesting in the pub last week…”
“Really? That makes a bit of a change! Go on then…spill the beans…”
“Well, there’s not that much to tell. His name is Colin Love and he’s living at Ashton House. I’m not sure if he’s bought it or if it belongs to someone else. The only other thing I know is that he’s from down south. Actually, I think he must be quite wealthy as well, as I’m pretty sure he left me a twenty quid tip. He didn’t even buy a drink.”
“Twenty quid? He’s got to fancy you then. Where you wearing that top?”
“You bet I was – got to use my assets haven’t I? He did seem quite appreciative judging by how red his face was.”
“But is he fit? And is he single?”
“Definitely yes to the first question, well at least I think so. One of them metrosexuals – got a great fashion sense as well as a nice bottom. You don’t get that combination around here. And bloody well hands off him if he is single – I saw him first!”
“Give over; he’s fair game at least until you get a ring on his finger. So tell me a bit more about what he looks like then…”
Kate puffed out her cheeks in concentration as she tried to picture Colin in her head. She was surprised at how vividly she remembered him, given that she had only seen him once, and only for a few minutes.
“Short, dark brown hair. Quite tall, probably about 6’1 or 6’2. Clean shaven. Really nice jaw line. Lovely green eyes…”
“He doesn’t wear a big gold watch by any chance, does he?”
“I’ve no idea to be honest – why?”
“Well there was someone who looked like that in the shop this morning. I noticed the watch when he handed over his credit card – it looked pretty expensive. He did talk posh…and you said he was rich....”
“Yeah, it probably was him then. Not as though there are a lot of rich, posh people around here, is it? Nice-looking, isn’t he?
“I thought he was gorgeous! I did try and chat him up, of course, but he seemed in a bit of a rush. Once I’d packed up the boxes for him, he was off.
“Boxes? What was he buying?”
Liz pointed to an empty shelf, as if that explained everything.
“There’s nothing there.”
“Exactly. He bought every tin of custard we had in stock – everything that was out on the shelf and everything that was in the back. I think he ended up buying about 30 tins.”
“Well, he must really like custard then!”
“He must do, because even that wasn’t enough, so he bought a few packets of custard powder and ten pints of milk as well.”
“How bizarre is that?”
“Very. Perhaps he’s having a dinner party and he needs lots of dessert…”
“Dessert? They’d be knee-deep in the stuff with that much!”
Liz shrugged. “That’s his problem, not mine. Anyway, he seemed nice enough. Speaks really nice and he’s got a nice smile.”
“I’m really hoping he pops in the pub again soon, so I can find out a bit more about him, especially if he’s single. Anyway, I’d best be off. What time do you finish?
“Bloody eight o’clock – double shift. I’m paying for that holiday now – well, paying it off. Too many tequilas!”
Kate nodded sympathetically as she opened the door to leave. On her way out, she noticed that there was an official-looking white piece of paper on the parish noticeboard on the opposite side of the street. This was enough of an unusual occurrence to warrant crossing the road to find out what it was. It turned out to be a notice from the local council, advising of a request by some local resident who apparently wanted to keep pigs and poultry in their back garden. As this was hardly earth-shattering reading, Kate was just about to be on her way when she noticed a familiar name address at the bottom – Colin Love, Ashton House.
Huh, now that was more interesting. Kate had not had him down as a farmer – but appearances could obviously be deceptive. She couldn’t imagine him being the type that would relish all the muck, mud and stench that it would involve – but good luck to him if that was what he wanted. Perhaps he wanted to rear the pigs for slaughter and the hens would provide lots of eggs to sell – it could be a bit of a cottage industry.
Kate collected her bike from the nearby railings and started to cycle home. It was uphill most of the way and by the time she got as far as Ashton House, she was in need of a rest to get her breath back and a drink of water from her bottle to fortify her for the remainder of the journey. It was of course also a good excuse to see what, if anything, was going on there. As it happened, there was another lorry parked in the driveway. Not a moving van this time, but a grocery van
from OnlineGrocers.com – there was no mistaking the bright orange livery on the side. A delivery was well under way and there was quite a pile of boxes and containers waiting to be taken inside, some of them big enough to require two people to carry them. This seemed to confirm Liz’s hunch that there was an impending dinner party. Or, thought Kate, perhaps there was to be a big housewarming party to which the whole area would be invited. That would make some sort of sense and would be quite fun as a matter of fact – although of course that would force the guests to actually have to enter the building. Some might find that a tad disturbing, so perhaps it would happen outside.
Kate made a mental note of the things she wanted to find out from Colin, when she next saw him. Was he single, obviously? What was all this about him applying for permission to keep farm animals in the back garden? And when was this house-warming party going to happen? She would want plenty of notice so she could book the time off work - it wasn’t as though that kind of thing happened every week, plus who knew where it might lead?
But if Kate was hoping to get some answers soon, she was going to be disappointed. Over the next week, there was no sign of Mr. Love down at the pub, nor could he be spotted at Ashton House at any of the times she went by as she cycled back and forth to work. Kate would have assumed that he was off at work somewhere if it wasn’t for the fact that his posh car was always in the driveway, usually along with a different vehicle every day – the only explanation was that he worked from home, doing whatever he did. That was another thing that Kate wanted to find out.
Kate finally got her chance one evening as she was cycling home from the pub. It was dark by then of course, which always made her feel a bit on edge, being out on her own on the road – but the other option of taking the bus every night would cost a tenner a week; that was an expense she could do without. She consoled herself with the fact that biking it was good exercise for her and gave some toning to her legs. Even so, she often tried to calm her nerves by singing as she rode along up the hill to home. That was the reason why Colin became aware of her before she became aware of him. Whoever was coming up the hill and round the corner had a beautiful voice, he thought to himself.