Lizzie’s
List
Copyright © 2014 Diane Melling
The right of Diane Melling to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
eBook formatting by www.BluewavePublishing.co.uk
Acknowledgments
I’d like to say a huge thank you to the following people, who’ve made this book possible. Without them it would never have been written: Kate Collins, Laura Shaverin and Margaret Willis.
A second big thank you goes to the following people who have been enthusiastic and supportive readers: Lucy Snape, Nicola Melling, Gabbie Armstrong, Liz Robinson, Kath Leyland (and mum),Laura Woods, Beryl Melling, Pat Norburn, Joan Parker, Julie Connor, Louise Kenny-Banks, Gill Brewer, Kelly Gidman and Ruth Kearns.
Finally, a third thank you goes to all staff at NW Design for my brilliant book cover and website.
Ps, Thank you Ian
This book is dedicated to Kate, and in memory of her dad, Rod Brewer.
Contents
Chapter 1
Naked Frolics
Chapter 2
Introductions
Chapter 3
Don’t stop me now!
Chapter 4
What is happiness?
Chapter 5
A proposal
Chapter 6
With Sat Navs – when will you ever need map reading skills?
Chapter 7
Jumping off Cliffs
Chapter 8
Waxing and Mud
Chapter 9
Cookie Carnage
Chapter Ten
Stopping and Starting
Chapter 11
Be careful where you hang things
Chapter 12
The chocolate fudge cake debate
Chapter 13
Bluebells all around
Chapter 14
New beginnings
Chapter 15
To lift or not to lift – that is the question
Chapter 16
Love is in the air
Chapter 17
Tea Cosy 2 triumph
Chapter 18
Not everything is always as it seems
Chapter 19
Wednesday 15th November
The day my dad died of a heart attack.
Chapter 20
The beauty of nature
Chapter 21
Climbing mountains – finding peace
Chapter 22
Hand-made soaps and walking boots
Chapter 23
A surprise visit
Chapter 24
Moving out and moving in
Chapter 25
New Year
Chapter 26
The Dress
Chapter 27
For his eyes only
Chapter 28
Whale watching
Chapter 29
The Wedding
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Naked Frolics
Exuberant, wild and free are the feelings that zip through my inner core as I frolic nakedly through the bluebell woods. Just me–nobody else is around to see my thrilled face or arms waving wildly like an untied ribbon as I prance around the ancient oak tree.
Perhaps I should explain myself to you before you wonder if I am some sort of exhibitionist, drunk maybe or just slightly ... erm eccentric. My name is Lizzie Parker and today (1st May) is my birthday. I have just turned 29 years old–the year before I enter my 30s–when I should become more sensible and grown up. This coming of age has caused me to assess my life and achievements so far.
My usual inability to be reckless or step outside my comfort zone and my abundant ability to be prudish has led me to take some drastic (for me) changes in my life by compiling a list of 10 tasks that I want to do before I turn 30. I have just one year to complete them.
Task 1–Frolicking naked in the bluebell woods.
I am usually quite reserved and easily embarrassed; consequently the aim with my list, is to free myself of insecurities and bring out my wild side – if I have one. I adore walking through the woods and decided that being naked outside might give me a sense of freedom and it’s quite daring. Because it is 6.00am; there is little chance of anybody being about – so in reality I am not being that reckless, but I feel it! My list may not be as adventurous as yours, but it’s personal to me and I AM going to complete it!
This takes me back to my current state, being naked (apart from my red, spotty wellies) and running around this huge tree. I’m not quite sure what I should do now that I’m actually naked in the woods, so I decide to pause, take in the surroundings and inhale this wonderful feeling of abandonment.
Gazing up, I appreciate the sunlight dancing through the trees, carpeting the floor with speckled patterns of light and shade, scattered across the vegetation. It’s almost like a photograph coming to life as the woodland awakens for the day ahead. Although it promises to be a sunny day, I shiver a little as the temperature is slightly fresh at this time in the morning–for a naked girl.
Glancing at my clothes hanging from the low branches of the tree, I wonder how far I dare wander and also berate myself for the state of my underwear as it limply hangs from a branch, sadly greying and fraying as if it feels sorry for itself.
Right, let me start this list with the vigour in which I mean to go on with. I think at least 10 metres from the tree would be an appropriately daring distance to wander. Delicately and quietly, I tread my way through the fresh, green vegetation. On reaching a distance of about ten metres from the tree, I feel rather bold, but what shall I do now? Surely I need to do something a little more than just stand here? Deciding to dance in ballet style – well my own version of ballet style – I pirouette and petit saut in what I think is an elegant and graceful style. At least I have actually frolicked in the woodland, rather than just wandered around a tree – maybe I could even pop a bluebell into my hair for a pretty effect.
Beaming, with a feeling of jubilance, I decide I’ve done enough dancing and can confidently tick number one off my list, so head back towards the safety of the tree to retrieve my clothes. My thoughts return to my list and how easy it might be to complete – number one wasn’t really so hard and completing it has given me a real sense of achievement.
Naked, and feeling good, I am half way to deciding that I should make this naked frolic a regular thing on a Sunday morning ... but suddenly I stop in my tracks because I am sure I have just seen movement through the trees not so far away. I squint in the direction of the movement in vague hope that it was just a bird hopping from twig to twig during its morning chorus or perhaps a rabbit finding some fresh juicy grass to nibble on.
Oh bugger, it’s a man with a dog! Why would anybody in their right mind be walking their dog so early in the morning? I have two choices, after legging it back to the tree like hawk on speed: either to get dressed very quickly or quietly hide behind the tree until he passes. Observing my choice of outfits today, I quickly take in the fact that my clothes are not the easiest to put on; extremely tight skinny jeans, numerous buttons on my floral shirt and not forgetting bra hooks. Knowing that when I am under pressure my capability of fastening buttons and zip
s usually compares to that of a 2-year-old, so I opt for hiding. After all, this tree’s trunk is surely wide enough to hide me, even though I did have an extra slice of strawberry cheesecake yesterday – well two if I’m being honest.
“Stay calm, stay calm,” I repeat to myself as my heart seems to bang in my chest like a ball bouncing perpetually against my ribs. Closing my eyes and taking deep calming breaths does not relieve my panic, because the sound of cracking twigs from heavy footsteps nears at a rapid pace. At this point I am not sure which I am more concerned about, this man (who from a distance appears to be very handsome in a brooding Heathcliff way) seeing me naked or the fact that he may see me naked with far too much growth in my bikini and underarm area. Being single has resulted in a lack of attention to detail, therefore excessive hair growth.
I wait for what seems like hours, but in reality it is probably seconds. Surely he must have passed by now. Slowly moving to my left, I tentatively glance towards his direction. He is still coming towards me–aaaaaagh! As he nears, I realise I’ve seen him around the village a few times and at one of those time, like today, I was not in the most sophisticated situation. It was when I decided I’d get fit a few weeks ago and went for a cross country run. I saw him attending to a fence or something across the field from where I was running. When I was trying to watch him without him knowing that I was, I didn’t notice that there was a huge, water-filled ditch in my path. You can only imagine what happened and how idiotic I felt when he came over to enquire if I was okay. By this point I had mud stuck to my hair; smelled rather unpleasant to say the least; my face was as red as Santa’s hat from exertion, and my wet, white t shirt had become rather see-through. I decided that I wasn’t suited to running after that.
Why have the footsteps stopped? Where has he gone? Suddenly I feel a cold, slimy, wet thing on my knee, followed by a tapping on my lower thigh. Bugger, his dog has found me and is offering its stick to throw. Not only am I naked, but have a smearing of the dog’s nose juice to accompany black muddy paw marks on my leg. I’m back to having two options again: do I throw the stick and hope the dog goes away or stay put to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to myself? I decide to stay put and hope the dog becomes quickly bored with me.
My eyes are clamped shut, in some weird, vague, child-like hope that if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. “Jack, here boy,” I hear him shouting from a close distance. At this, I bravely open my eyes and see Jack’s ears prick up, but the dog doesn’t go. I try to shoo him away, yet he just stares up at me with a playful look upon his shaggy, drooling face and then barks as if to say to his owner, “Come and have a look at this strange, hairy, naked lady!” This is not a good situation for me to be in right now. “Shush!” I whisper forcefully or so I think, but the dog barks again. In desperation I reach down, grab his collar and push him out from behind the tree hoping that his owner will see him, whistle and walk on oblivious to my nakedness. Hearing the sound of crunching, woodland vegetation becoming teasingly close, I hold my breath waiting in horror for what may be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life – much more embarrassing than the time I walked around the college campus with my skirt tucked in my knickers. Yes that really did happen–until a lovely girl chased me across the campus to tell me. This was, however, after I had received several cheers from gangs of college boys – I just thought that I must have looked particularly good that day.
“Is everything alright?” asks the man from the other side of the tree. My heart sinks faster than a chocolate biscuit falling into your tea after over-dunking it, and my legs start to behave like limp pieces of ropes. Hope is all I have and my hope right now is that he remains where he is and does not take a step closer or he will see everything nature gave me. Without wanting to sound over confident, I do have a relatively nice figure (if scarred by a few too many cupcakes) and have been told that I have a look of Alex, the girl from the One Show. Nevertheless, even if I had the body of a super model, I most certainly do not relish being seen naked by anybody whom I am not intimate with.
“Yes fine,” I whimper, “just admiring the tree -here’s your dog.” At this point I am frantically hoping he will claim his dog and not come to my side of the tree, so I throw the dog’s stick out, hoping that Jack will delightfully chase it. The bloody dog remains fixed upon me, whilst I furiously think of other methods to get rid of the damned creature.
I hear more crunching of leaves. “I do apologise, but wanted to check that you are okay. I hadn’t realised you were .... erm... well I don’t often find naked people in the woods,” he apologises, with his concerned expression quickly turning to an amused one, as he obviously realises that I am in fact–fine. I can feel my face burning like a boiler and worse still, I notice that in contrast, the chill in the air has caused my nipples to stand out like rockets on launch. Unfortunately, one of them has a greenish smear of tree moss on it from hugging the tree with far too much enthusiasm. What is it with this man finding me in situations that I am foolish enough to create and end up looking like a complete idiot showing not only my ineptness–but my nipples too?
“I’m just drying my clothes, everything’s fine really – thank you,” was all I could think of to answer as I remain pinned to the other side of the tree desperately trying to keep some dignity. I am sure that at some point in the distant future I may find this event amusing, but right now I would readily curl up into a tight ball and stay there forever.
“Right, so long as you’re okay; I’ll be off then Lizzie, but don’t get too cold without your clothes on–and nice ......wellies!” he says with a smirk on his face. One shrill whistle and Jack obediently follows him as he confidently strides down the twisting path leading towards the village.
As much as I enjoyed the wild, free feeling of being naked outdoors, it does not come anywhere close to the humiliation of being seen naked by a rather handsome man, especially when he knows my name and also that my overgrown bodily hair is desperately in need of a trim.
Notes to self
Never frolic nakedly in public ever again.
Trim bodily hair and not the stuff on my head.
Find out how he knows my name.
Wash my wellies as Jack has peed all over them – great!
Upgrade underwear.
Chapter 2
Introductions
Relief washes over me like a strong tidal wave as my shaky legs finally give way causing me to collapse into a heap onto the woodland carpet. After a moment of submitting to my jumbled thoughts, the reality of the situation hits me with a mighty force. I feel ridiculous! What makes the humiliation worse, is that this man (whoever he is) has not only seen me naked, but he’s good looking in a rugged sort of way, so I fancy him just a little. I have always had a thing for men with dark, curly, untamed hair and 3-day-old stubble. Perhaps I like the unruly look because of my tame personality. I need to find out who he is, what he does, and more importantly, if he’s here to stay. Anyway enough speculation about this man, because I need to sort myself out with some clothes and get back to the cafe before another unsuspecting walker emerges through the bluebells.
I continue to be discreet, as I hastily gather my clothes and put them on. My former confidence has fled like a fly from a spider. Never again will I put myself into such a ludicrous position. Now fully clothed, I head off in the direction of the village, with my cheeks still burning like a hot chilli.
Perhaps this is a good opportunity to tell you a little more about myself, especially now that you know about my list. My best friend Kate and I own a cafe in the village of Chipham Green. We both lived in the flat above until Kate recently moved in with her boyfriend, Ben–the local vet. I sometimes feel envious of Kate and Ben’s relationship because they appear blissfully happy and comfortable with one another. I always imagined that Kate and I would get married at the same time – we used to plan our double wedding, but Kate has left me behind in that departme
nt with my status being very, very single.
When growing up together, Kate and I always dreamed of sharing a business within our beloved village. With her ability to make beautiful, country living style crafts and my ability to bake delicious (so people tell me) cakes, we have merged our skills together, to open The Tea Cosy, just off the village green. We were very lucky that Kate’s elderly aunt let us have the property at half the value. She was keen for us local girls to develop it into a cafe without losing its unique charm.
I adore our cafe; it is a haven of pure cosiness. We don’t have a massive space, but the space we do have is generally filled with people wanting some sort of refuge, be it getting out for a chat and a cake or a place to rest when people visit from nearby towns. We also sell Kate’s crafts, my chutney, and other items, such as work by local artists. In the three years that Kate and I have been in charge, the Tea Cosy has gradually become the hub of the village and the place to go for a chat and catch up on the village gossip. Our ethos is simple. We offer our customers decent, homemade food with ingredients sourced as locally as possible and a relaxing environment in which to eat it. More recently we have introduced regular themed nights, such as our Read and Feed evening, when a reading group meet and we feed them with cakes.
I have always loved cooking, especially baking–probably because I love eating cakes. I don’t have a particular schedule for my baking, but generally bake cakes to reflect my mood, although many locals often make requests or demands. Kate says she always knows when I am in a bad mood, because all of the cakes on offer are of a brittle texture, such as flapjacks. On happier days, the trays are full of fluffier cupcakes, intricately decorated with their own individual themes. When I need comforting my hugely popular sticky toffee pudding is awarded to our loyal customers.
Chipham Green is a pretty, traditional village attracting many city types for days out at weekends, however during the week is generally left to locals and retired walking groups. It has expanded with some newer developments over the years, yet still retains its beauty and charm, offering people a spacious village green with an ambling stream; a quaint, stone church; a pub, The Plough; and a handful of shops including our cafe. As the village is located on numerous public footpath routes, many of the village’s visitors come in the form of walking clubs all wanting refreshments and cakes, so Kate and I relish their regular visits.
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