“I don’t know – perhaps you’re right, maybe I should have been more open. There’s not much I can do now anyway – we didn’t even swap numbers.”
Ben was waiting for us back at The Tea Cosy, having done a marvellous job of looking after it. As a thank you, I agree to walk Sally, his dog, for him sometime soon so he and Kate can have a day planning their wedding. Kate is buzzing with her new idea and I can tell she wants to take Ben up to the Northern Edge for some reason–I’ll find out later.
Note to self
Make huge fluffy cupcakes tomorrow in celebration of my brilliant achievement today.
Never again attempt to sniff men whilst they are sleeping.
Put waxing date in my diary – must NOT miss sorting this out.
Chapter 8
Waxing and Mud
The next two weeks amble along without much happening to report to you. I did, of course, stay one night with Tabitha and Mark, which was great fun. I am truly happy that my relationship with them has improved so much, all thanks to the weekend at the outward bound centre.
Tabitha introduced me to the world of waxing and I’m not entirely sure if I’ll make a habit of it. I’m thinking of investing in a good quality razor instead. The sheer shock from the feeling of having one’s skins ripped off along with the uncomfortable closeness of a stranger’s head to my private region was enough for me. To overcome the trauma, I needed to sit down in a cafe afterwards, with a strong cup of tea and a slice of hot chocolate fudge cake. Tabitha found the whole thing amusing, but then she is a regular on the waxing circuit. Anyway I am still undecided if it is worth the pain. Do you think men worry about such things? I mean if they forget to shave, it’s known as a 5 O’ clock shadow, which sounds manly and a little sexy, however it doesn’t have quite the same effect when describing a woman. Check out my 5 O’ clock shadow stubbly legs – not sexy and so unfair. After my startled response to waxing, Tabitha was lovely and kind (I think she also felt guilty for laughing at me) by buying me gifts. Remembering my mum’s comments about my underwear, she insisted on replenishing this. I’ve promised to visit again soon with more cakes.
Dad paid me one of his frequent visits to The Tea Cosy when mum went off on one of her Golden Girl trips to learn about imagery within poetry or something like that. I told him about the outward bound weekend and also how I felt about James. Dad’s response was that–what will be, will be. He is often the voice of wisdom and reason in our family – a rock for us all. No amount of worry ever changed tomorrow, is his favourite phrase. Sometimes I think mum and dad are unsuited as a couple, with mum flitting here there and everywhere and he is so easily contented in the routine of his life, but somehow the juxtaposition of their personalities works and they always seem happy. Mum is like an out-of-control kite, flying high in the wind with dips and crashes when the wind drops, but is anchored by dad’s strong hand holding the guidelines to prevent her from becoming too lost. Maybe the fact that they have their own interests and lead their own lives or just simply accept and love each other for what they are is the reason for their successful marriage.
Dad looks up from his fruit cake, “I nearly forgot to ask. Mum wants to know if you wanted to come for lunch on the 30th July. She’s doing a birthday tea for me–Tabitha and Mark are coming over.”
“Is she already folding napkins in preparation?” I chuckle as dad rolls his eyes. “I’ll be there Dad. Did you know I went to stay with Mark and Tabitha last weekend?” I ask.
“Yes, Mark must have told your mum that you visited them. How did it go?”
“Really good actually. Over the past years I felt that Mark and I had little in common, but more recently I’ve felt closer to him, just like when we were kids before he went off to university. It’s since the weekend away really. Maybe I’ve not made enough of an effort to spend time with him, but during the outward bound weekend, I enjoyed his company and it made me remember what it used to be like. I’ve always felt like he looked down on me, since he got his job in London, but I think perhaps I have imagined it.”
“Mark is just very ambitious and values nice things, like your mother – there’s no threat in somebody like that Lizzie. You’re ambitious for The Tea Cosy – is that so different? No it’s not; just on a scale that seems less grand, but not less important. Mark thinks the world of you; I can tell from the way he talks about you, and I sometimes think he envies your life here working for yourself.”
“You know, Dad, I think you’re right. I am starting to see that now. Mark’s lifestyle is so different to mine, that I think I was intimidated by it rather than just view it as different,” I reply as Dad drains his cup ready to pick mum up.
Now, I appreciate that you will probably want to know if there are any developments between James and me, but I am disappointed to say that I haven’t seen or heard anything from him – not that I should have, of course. A few hugs and a quick peck on the lips hardly counts as a full blown relationship, but when you have been single as long as I have – all that unleashed desire fuels the old imagination, making a few tentative fumbles as exciting as having three orgasms in one night ....mmmmmm... that’s another thing I’ll discuss with you later.
Ruth and Pete are still seeing one another (rather a lot), in fact, whenever Pete has any free time away from the centre, which by all accounts is fully booked through summer and well into early autumn. Ruth walks about with a contented glow about her–a little like her garden flowers do, standing proudly with all their colour and beauty. She had never implied she wanted to meet a man and so the fact that she sort of fell into her relationship with Pete by chance, is a delightful surprise, especially as they seem so happy. I can’t lie to you – I am secretly a little jealous and miss seeing Ruth with her allocating more of her time to Pete. Since Russ, her son moved away, she has put on a brave face about missing him, so it’s lovely that she now has Pete for company. With this in mind, I pat down any jealousy with a hard tap.
And now to the present time – I am currently walking Sally (Ben and Kate’s dog) in the woods as I had promised to, whilst they prepare wedding stuff. You will no doubt remember the last time I was in Bluebell Woods some months ago – well this time the bluebells have long gone and I am keeping my clothes well and truly on. Having said that, for some reason the thought of somebody seeing me naked now doesn’t bother or scare me quite so much. We don’t die of embarrassment–that’s something I have learned.
As I walk through the woods, I can’t help admiring the leafy canopy of the trees above me and the fluttering sound of leaves carried by the gentle breeze. I feel at peace – in fact the only tiny issue that grates at me is the lack of any contact with James. It was probably a mistake allowing thoughts to enter my head about the possibility of him having feelings for me after the attention he gave to me. It’s more likely that he was just doing his job using the hugs as a method of reassuring me at a moment when I was frightened of heights and needing comfort.
Keeping Sally on the lead because she has a habit of chasing anything that moves, I continue on and out of the woods towards the fields which appear to stretch like a patchwork quilt in various shades of green, segmented by hedges and a splattering of trees. Suddenly Sally launches off like a rocket! This unexpected lunge causes me to run with her. She’s a strong dog and therefore I am doing one of those silly quick-step runs at the same time as trying to pull her back with all my weight. Sally suddenly stops dead in her tracks. Because I am still trying to pull her back, her abrupt stop causes me to fall flat on my back in the wet, squishy mud. The cause of my predicament is a rabbit hole, where Sally is now sniffing noisily like a dog possessed. Lying in the squelchy mud, I groan as I notice the disgusting smell – this field has obviously been used by cows and fairly recently if my skills on determining the age of cow pats is anything to go by. I could cope if they were the old, dried up type, but thanks to last night’s downpour, these cow poos are the ver
y opposite.
As I stand up, I assess the damage. I have muddy cow poo in my freshly washed hair, all the way up the back of my favourite spotty t-shirt, on my arms, legs, well basically the whole of my rear end. I can’t even wipe the blob that splashed onto my face because my hands are full of the stuff – it stinks! Being two miles from home, I grab Sally and set off with a deep sigh, needing a bath and washing machine. Actually I fear for the life of my washing machine with the state of the mud, perhaps a bin would be more suitable. Oh, but my favourite, comfortable, spotty top ... arrrgh!
I decide to bypass the woods and instead head towards the old cart track that runs alongside the stream; that way I can at least use the stream to rinse my hands and hair. As we approach the track, I let Sally off the lead again, feeling safe that she can’t run anywhere except into the stream and let’s face it, this would be a good thing because she stinks as well. To my complete annoyance, Sally rockets off again disappearing into the garden of the large cottage on the edge of the stream. My fingers are crossed in vain hope that she doesn’t dig up any flowers or worse – enter the house and jump on the sofa. Exhaling with relief, I let out a sigh because she is only sniffing in the garden, so I step through the gate to retrieve her and keep her firmly on the lead for the remainder of the walk. She’s caused me enough trouble today.
As I head back through the gate, I notice a tall figure walking up the track towards us–and it’s none other than James. I can’t let him see me in this shockingly, mucky state of dishevelment and quite frankly smelling like a sewer. Thinking that he is probably taking Jack for a walk, I decide to hide behind a little potting shed in the garden until he passes. His footsteps crunch on the gravel as he approaches and my heart beat increases until his steps pass and appear to fade. After a minute, I feel safe–he must have passed and continued up the rocky track by now. Thank goodness, I think especially when I assess the greenish colour and slurry crust that was my pony tail. “Lizzie what on earth has happened to you?” His face contorts as appears from the other side of the potting shed. “You absolutely stink!” James says.
“Arrrrgh, you made me jump. I didn’t know you were there. Why are you sneaking up on me?” I stammer in surprise.
“Well I do live here – this is my house. I wasn’t sneaking up. I was just putting Jacks lead in the shed and here you are hiding behind it covered in mud or ... erm ... something.” James says sniffing the air again. “If you didn’t know I lived here, then what exactly are you doing here covered in mud? And what is that smell?” James asks with a hand placed under his nostrils hiding a slightly amused grin beneath it.
“This is Sally, Ben’s dog, and I am looking after her – badly by all accounts. She chased a rabbit in the field up the track, which evidently is a home for cows ... well ... I ended up like this.” I say gesturing to the mud covering every inch of my body. “I was hoping to wash myself in the stream, but Sally ran in your garden and then you appeared. I was trying to hide from you – I didn’t know that you live here. I thought you’d just continue up the track for on your walk,” I reply feeling a little flustered – again.
“Why were you hiding from me?” asks James confused.
“James, look at me. Do you really think I want anybody to see me in this state?” I wave my arms gesturing to my muddy body.
“Yes I see what you mean – you are in a mess. You know what you need don’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “Follow me!”
“What?” I stammer, but he doesn’t answer, so I have no choice but to follow him across the large garden to the other side of his cottage where the stream pools slightly. James then starts stripping off to his boxer shorts, whilst I try to close my mouth and pretend I am not staring at his extremely, muscular body. “Come on,” he says, “clothes off – a dunk in here will sort you out and I’ll lend you some clean clothes to go home in. I fancy a dip myself after the hectic day I’ve had.” With that, he jumps in, so once again, I have no option but to follow.
Here’s the thing – do I jump in fully clothed or strip to my underwear like he has? Quickly thinking back to my choice of underwear this morning, I take my second sigh of relief for today remembering that I have worn my new stuff–in fact a lovely pink set with pretty flowers and a bra which lifts my boobs giving them a cleavage Dolly Parton would be proud of. What the heck, he’s seen me naked anyway – underwear it is.
Even though it’s July, the coldness of the water hits me as I jump in, but it feels good to have the muck rinsed from my hair and limbs. James comes towards me and pulls me towards him with his hands on my shoulders, both of us being chest-deep in the icy cold water. I can’t help but notice the effect the freezing water has had upon my nipples as they protrude into James’ chest. His eyes glance up from my breasts towards my eyes and lock mine into his gaze. It seems like hours, but is likely to have been seconds until he hesitates. For a moment I’m not sure if he’s going to kiss me, so I move towards him slightly to provide him with the opportunity. “Do you feel better now? You certainly look better – cleaner. Come on, let’s go inside and you can have a shower, whilst I put the kettle on and find you something to wear.” He lifts me out of the water onto the bank of the stream. I can’t help think how grateful I am to Tabitha for my waxing session and buying me the decent underwear, but I also feel an element of disappointment again at James’ response–I don’t understand this man. When he’s looking into my eyes, it seems to be with strong desire, but yet he fails to act on it. Maybe I am misreading his feelings entirely.
As we cross the garden, I feel a thrill wash through my body at the thought of seeing inside James’ house – it feels so intimate, yet he is only helping me out of my muddy situation. The interior is very basic, but cosy, with a log burning stove, which I immediately imagine myself sitting in front of with James’ arm around me. Although a cottage, it is in fact quite large, with ample rooms and thick, wooden beams on the ceiling. Above the fireplace is a framed map of the area, with a red cross marked on it, which makes me curious as you already know about my map obsession. “The bathrooms the first on the right and fresh towels are in the basket. Just pop my dressing gown on when you’re finished, until I find something suitable for you to wear. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”
“Thanks. I’d love a cup of tea – strong please. I don’t really do coffee.”
“Well that’s something else we have in common Lizzie. Tea it is.”
Shooting down like hot bullets, the water droplets pound my shoulders, and with the help of soap, remove all traces of mud leaving me feeling clean and refreshed. I can’t help let my mind wonder to what it might be like if James was in here with me, but the effects these thoughts have on my body are not appropriate, so I try to bring my mind onto more boring matters. Turning off shower, I look for the towels and robe, making sure I inhale his smell from his robe before I leave the bathroom. It’s lovely!
Whilst sipping my hot, strong tea in his living room, I feel very aware that I am completely naked under James’ robe, causing my shyness, with him being fully dressed. We sit in the making small talk, mainly about the centre or anything to take my mind off being naked in his robe. Listening to his schedule, it does seem that he has been very busy getting everything running smoothly, sorting out staff, bookings, advertising etc, but all is going well. Although I’m interested, I can’t help feeling slightly dissatisfied that the small talk is so unlike the intimacy we just had in the stream – like we are hiding from something. “Can I ask about your map and why it has a red cross on it?” I ask pointing above the fireplace, still curious about it.
“That’s from when I stayed at your house in the summer holidays between year two and three at university, when your mum and dad still lived in the village. Mark and I went walking and I saw a valley from a hill we’d climbed. I marked the red, cross on my map because it was the exact spot where one day wanted to open an outward bound centre. I’ve kept the map ever s
ince and had it framed, when I got planning permission for the centre.”
“Does Mark remember it?” I ask feeling glad that the conversation is becoming more meaningful.
“Yes, he was over the moon for me as he knew it was what I planned to do after making enough money working every waking hour in London to save up. I’m not sure if he remembers this map exactly, but he has always known about my dream. I got the name of the centre from Mark–The Northern Edge”
“Really? I’d wondered where the name came from. How did that come about?” I ask.
“Well whenever we did any climbing, I always had the edge on him. He used to joke, that I had the edge, because I come from the north, so am naturally toughened to the harder conditions. It became a bit of a jokey catch phrase between us, so it seemed a fitting name. Actually it was his idea.”
“That’s his excuse is it? I’ll remind him of that next time I beat him at orienteering. He can’t say I have the northern edge. Where exactly are you from James?” I ask now curious.
“Lancashire. My mum and dad still live there. Anyway how’s your list Lizzie – ticked off any more tasks yet?” he enquires changing the subject as if he’s revealed enough.
“No I’ve not. Since I last saw you things have been rather quiet; however, I am starting to think about my next item, which is hosting a dinner party. It’s something I’ve never got around to and would love to do, so it’s next. I spend so much time catering for The Tea Cosy, I don’t cook so much at home, but I’d like to cook for my friends some time. And I’m sure it’ll be a breeze compared to gorge crossing.”
Task 5 – Throw a dinner party
Now you may think wanting to host a dinner party is mad – all the work, cooking and cleaning, but don’t forget that I love cooking and am in my element when trying out new recipes and basically feeding people delicious offerings. I don’t know why I’ve not done it before – perhaps it’s a thing you do when you are part of a couple, but what the heck I’m doing it my way!
Lizzie's List Page 7