Through the Glass
Page 4
The day whizzed by and was a blur of comings and goings. Piles of boxes appeared in every room and Jim set about opening each clearly labelled box and setting his personal effects in their new and rightful place. By six in the evening the place was beginning to resemble a home. Jasper lay out on the rug in front of the roaring fire that Jim had made a priority. Most of the boxes were now broken down and had been placed outside the back door. He had resolved to burn them the following day, wind permitting.
Whilst putting his clothes away in the built-in cupboard in his low ceilinged bedroom, Jim came across a box of photographs. He was already feeling melancholy and so figured it wouldn’t hurt to look through them. He sat on his bed and took out a packet. Jasper appeared and lay at his feet as Jim travelled back in time to the fancy dress party they had attended a few years earlier at Polly and Matty’s house.
They had gone as Sid and Nancy. Both had worn wigs and Felicity had worn far more makeup than usual. She looked totally different, but then again, so did he. Jim had pulled off the sneer perfectly and had scared a couple of elderly ladies as they walked down the Kings Road. Felicity had nearly peed herself laughing as the two old ladies scarpered as quickly as their stockinged legs and shopping trolleys would carry them. They had almost fallen into a heap through the door when they arrived at the party and Felicity had made a mad dash for the loo.
The next packet contained photos of a holiday to Majorca. Felicity looked amazing in her bikini and Jim had struggled to keep his hands off her. Instead of lazing by the pool or lounging at the beach they had spent a large chunk of the holiday inside making love. It had been one of the best holidays of Jim’s life. He reminisced about making love in the sea for the first time on that holiday...
~~~~~
Majorca 2006 – Three Years Before the Break-up
“Are you coming in? The sea’s quite warm once you get used to it!” Jim shouted to his gorgeous girl as she lay in her white bikini on a sun lounger reading a book. She removed her sunglasses and placed her book on the sand. Slowly and sexily she stood and slinked toward the water’s edge. He was transfixed. The inward, sweeping curve of her waist got him every time, and when she walked and her hips swayed he almost lost control. The teeny, tiny bikini top only just covered her rosy, protruding nipples. Her breasts looked superb.
He felt the familiar sudden rush of blood south of his waistline and a grin spread across his face. “God you look good enough to eat.” He growled as she made her way toward him.
“It could be arranged,” she replied suggestively.
Jim threw his head back and groaned. “Oh, you’ll be the death of me.” He smiled.
“Hmmm, I can think of worse ways to die,” she said as she slipped into the water. Her breath appeared to catch at the sudden chill and she made her way over to Jim. She slid her arms around his neck and took his mouth with a deep, passionate kiss.
He pulled away. “I want you…right here…right now,” he whispered as he looked at her through his half-closed eyes.
“Well, you know what to do.” She nibbled his earlobe. Jim looked to the shore. It was almost four o’clock and most people were either engrossed in novels or were packing up to leave the beach for the day. Jim swam out a little farther, pulling Flick along with him to a rock, which was protruding from the sea. Feeling safe that they were far enough out for no one to be aware of what they were doing, and feeling rather impressed at Flick’s newfound confidence and daredevil nature, he slid his hands down her body until he found the strings holding her bikini briefs in place. The strings untied easily. Flick lowered his swim shorts just low enough for...
“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed in a low voice filled with heat. She immediately did as he said. Clinging onto the bikini briefs, which he held at her back, he slid into her. She gasped as she welcomed him in.
She nuzzled and nibbled his neck. The water held them in perfect balance as he moved himself back and forth, creating a delicious rhythm until their breathing became ragged. They grasped onto each other tightly.
“Ahhh, Flick, you feel amazing.” Jim moaned as he stared intently into her eyes, his jaw clenched.
“Unh…Jim, I love you so much… I can’t get enough of this feeling.” Flick sounded breathy as she began to clench around him. Her head rolled back as she ascended into ecstasy. In a split second he joined her with a throaty growl, taking her mouth ruggedly with his own, claiming her once again.
~~~~~
January 2010 – Eleven Months After the Break-up
Back to his present day reality, where a stinging sensation behind his eyes broke Jim’s reverie. “Oh Jasper…this is doing me no good at all, boy.” He took the dogs face in both hands and looked into his chocolate brown eyes. Jasper licked his nose in response. Jim rubbed his face roughly. “C’mon lad, let’s go for a wee walk, eh?” Jasper’s ears pricked up at the mention of his favourite word and the pair made their way to the front door.
The view was beautiful. It was definitely something he would not tire of quickly. The two friends, man and canine, walked together taking in their new surroundings. The majestic, rocky mountain backdrop was the stuff of Sci-Fi movies yet the place was definitely grounded. The little piece of garden across the road that belonged to his cottage was in great need of a tidy up. There was a shingle beach beyond it that led to the loch’s edge. As they walked Jim took in the vista of the small tree covered, uninhabited island just off the coast.
The cottages lining the loch were all built in a similar way, single or one and a half stories low and hunkered down against potentially inclement weather threats. All had whitewashed exteriors, but each one had its owner’s little personal touch, from wind chimes hanging by the door to the colour of the window frames. It had the feel of a seaside fishing village. The sky was a bright cornflower blue but there was a distinct January chill to the air. He found the pub and a little shop with an exterior that had seen better days. Jim called in and picked up some bread, milk, biscuits, and a bottle of red wine. The shopkeeper was an elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Malcolm McLeary after Jim said he was the one who had bought Sunrise Cottage.
“Have you a wife and family with you, Jim?” the old man had asked.
“Sadly no, Malcolm. Maybe one day though, eh?”
“Aye, wonderful place to bring up wee bairns, Jim, this place.”
After chatting briefly to the old guy, Jim and Jasper made their way back to the cosy cottage to warm up their extremities. The frost-filled air had a mean bite to it and both males were feeling the effects. As they sat on the rug together staring into the flames, Jim absentmindedly stroked Jasper’s smooth, glossy coat and sighed. Jasper wagged his tail.
“I really wish I could go back in time, Jasper. I would do things differently. I don’t know what exactly, but I’m sure I’d figure it out. Then you and I wouldn’t be sitting here without her, boy.” Jasper’s tail beat out a rhythm on Jim’s leg, as if he understood every word. He licked Jim’s hand as if by way of reassurance. “Aye, lad…if only time machines had been invented, eh?” He turned back to the dancing, crackling flames and reminisced about 1998, the year that changed his life. The fateful year he had met his true love, his soul mate. His Felicity.
Chapter 4
October 1998 — St. Catherine’s College, Oxford University — Eleven Years Before the Break Up
“Earth to Jim! Come in Jim! Jim! What on earth are you staring at?” Matthew Clinton-Jones poked his relatively new friend’s arm. Jim was no longer partaking of the debate that the rest of the Fresher’s were locked in.
“Sorry, what’s that?” Jim didn’t take his eyes off the subject of his focus.
“We’ve been discussing the merits of classical literature versus contemporary and all you’ve been doing for the last ten minutes is staring into space… Wait a minute...you’re staring at that blonde girl, aren’t you?!” Matthew followed James’s line of sight. “She is rather gorgeous, Jim. I have to say!”
Jim didn’t take his eyes off the blonde girl as he nodded. “Aye, you’re not wrong. She looks a bit lost. Think I’ll go over and see if she needs any assistance.” He rose, and without looking back to his stunned friends, wandered across the dining hall and over to where the pretty but terrified-looking girl was crouched, shuffling a stack of papers. She looked up and blushed beetroot red as he approached. “Hi, are you okay there?” At that moment the papers that the girl was fiddling with did a somersault into the air and landed scattered like oversized snowflakes all around her.
“Oh, for goodness sake!” she exclaimed, dropping her head into her hands and looking even more flustered. Jim immediately kneeled to help her pick them up.
“I’m Jim,” he informed her as they gathered up the errant items. “And you are…”
“I’m…I’m Felicity… My friends call me…erm… Felicity…not that anyone has even bothered to make friends with me in this hell hole!” she snapped as her bottom lip began to tremble.
Jim smiled. “It’s early days yet Felicity. Fresher’s week. We’re only in week one of term you know.” He patted her arm trying to reassure her and her face coloured again. He laughed. “Keep blushing like that and your legs will go dead through lack of blood supply.”
~~~~~
She relaxed and looked up at the man who had come to her aide. Realising how melodramatic she was being she sighed. “Sorry, I just feel a bit like a fish out of water.” She smiled. She sat back for a moment whilst he worked to gather the last few sheets. He was a nicely-built young man. His hair was shaggy, dark brown, with a natural looking wave but not in an untidy way, and it fell almost to his shoulders. Mummy wouldn’t approve at all. She smiled as the errant thought crossed her mind. And he wore jeans and a scruffy looking T-shirt with Pearl Jam emblazoned on its front and an image of a group of men. The middle one bore a striking resemblance to Jim. His arms were quite muscular and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while. Not what one would normally expect from an Oxford scholar.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It will get easier.” He seemed to be trying his best to reassure her again. “Look there’s a party tonight for the Fresher’s in the refectory. Should be some good craic, why don’t you come with us?” He gestured toward his friends. A feeling of dread washed over her at his words, and she wondered what kind of place she’d come to. She stood and backed away slightly, wobbling from the head rush of standing too quickly.
“Oh, n-no thanks. I don’t do crack…or any drug for that matter. I…should go…thanks for the offer.” She felt the colour drain from her face as she reached out for her papers.
Jim burst out laughing. “No! Not crack! Craic! It a Scottish-ism…it means it’ll be a wee laugh…lots of fun? A good night?” She had completely misunderstood his Gaelic turn of phrase.
~~~~~
Felicity’s pallid features gradually increased in colour again as relief clearly swept through her and embarrassment took over. “Oh gosh I’m so sorry.” She looked horrified at her mistake. “I didn’t mean to insinuate…I didn’t mean…”
“Hey, don’t sweat it. It’s fine. Look, I’m in room twenty in the old quad, overlooking the meadow. If you fancy going with me, you know, so you don’t have to enter alone, just give me a knock around six thirty, okay?” He scribbled the details down on a scrap of her paper and handed it back to her. She smiled looking relieved that he hadn’t taken offence at her misunderstanding and naiveté.
“That’s really sweet, thank you. Thank you…Jim.” She smiled nervously as he turned to head back to his friends who were once again engrossed in their debate, arms flailing and voices raised.
~~~~~
Felicity went back to her little room and sat on her bed, trying to decide what to do. She stood at her easel—one of the first things she had made space for—looking at her latest sketched-out canvas intently as if the answers would just jump out of it. It was no use; she just didn’t know what to do. She was inexperienced with the opposite sex as it was and really didn’t know what made them tick. If she called on this Jim fellow would she look desperate? Needy? On the other hand, he had invited her so would it be rude not to show up? She grabbed her wash bag and decided a shower would clear her mind. She was relieved that Daddy’s connections had helped land her an en-suite room. The advantages of being the daughter of a former Oxford fellow were several-fold it seemed. It would have been horrid to have to share with total strangers. It was bad enough to be sharing cooking facilities, let alone showers.
She blow-dried her hair shaggily and pulled on a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater that fell off one shoulder. She made sure to put a vest top on underneath so as not to be too provocative. She smeared a little gloss on her lips and wrapped her Oxford scarf loosely around her neck. That was it, she was ready. Taking a huge breath and mustering up as much courage as she could, she made her way down the stairs and over to Jim’s block. She located his room, checked her watch. It read six twenty-five. She knocked lightly almost hoping he didn’t answer so that the decision would have been made for her. He opened the door. Dammit!
~~~~~
A wide grin spread across Jim’s face at the sight before him. He had expected her to be late, in true female fashion, or to simply not turn up at all. His respect for her grew as she stood before him looking simply gorgeous. “Oh hi. Felicity, right?” She nodded. He smiled at how anxious she appeared. “Want to come in for a quick drink before we go? I think we’ll be too early if we go now.” He stood aside to let her in. She looked so nervous as she stepped into his tiny room. He handed her a bottle of Budweiser and removed the cap for her. “Sorry, I’ve no champers.” He laughed, trying to make her feel at ease.
“Oh, that’s fine. I quite like Bud.” He watched as she picked at the label. An awkward silence descended and the two of them looked around his room as if grasping for conversational topics upon the blank walls.
He saw her eyeing his guitar. “Do you play at all?”
“Sadly, no. I wish I did, but I spent so much time painting at home that I never really made time to learn.”
“So…you paint? What do you paint?” His interest in this pretty, gorgeous girl was just growing and growing.
“Whatever takes my fancy really… I like to observe scenes on train journeys, car journeys, and so on… Then I sketch what I remember seeing through the glass onto canvas…then I paint.”
“So are you working on anything right now? I’d like to see sometime.”
Felicity blushed and fiddled with her bottle. “I’m not that good. I don’t tend to show people…apart from my parents.”
“Ahem, isn’t art supposed to be subjective? And shared? Shouldn’t the viewer be the one who decides whether it’s good or not?” he teased.
“Well…I… I suppose but—”
“So, what are you working on right now?” He was determined to knock down her defences. She was so painfully shy.
The red in her cheeks grew stronger. He felt a surge of guilt as she sat avoiding his eyes. Eventually she spoke. “Oh …it’s just a scene that I saw through the car window on the way up from Hampshire…just fields and trees with some ponies. Nothing special…”
“Aye well, I think you should let me have a look. I bet you’re selling yourself short.” He hoped he had encouraged her. She sat silently picking at the label on her bottle. Idiot, now you’ve scared her off.
They sat for a while and Jim felt awkward. He coughed and tapped his fingers on his bottle. “Aye…aye…well….err…ooh, hey, look we should give you a nickname!” He was full of bright ideas. This wasn’t o
ne of them. “Aye, I reckon Felicity is too…proper…you know? Too…serious.” He pulled a scowl at her to mimic his meaning.
Felicity’s nose scrunched and she seemed to ponder his words. “Do you think so? My mum used to hate nicknames, so I’ve always just been plain old Felicity. I hate it. It’s very formal…I think you’re right. I…quite like the idea of being a little rebellious.”
Jim saw a glint in her eye. “Aye? Well then…let me think…ooh I’ve got it!” A flash of inspiration came from goodness knows where. “Flick! We’ll introduce you to everyone as Flick! They’ll all think you’re cool and interesting and not at all posh!” He cringed as he wondered if he had overstepped the mark.
A grin spread across her face and she nodded. “Flick?...Hmmm…I quite like that.” She stood up and held out her hand to Jim. “Hiya, I’m Flick…Flick Johnston-Hart…pleased to meet ya.” She made a mock introduction, in a bad cockney accent as Jim stood there grinning.
He shook her hand and blurted out, “Watcha, Flick, I’m Jim.” He also failed miserably to mimic the accent, resulting in a cross between Geordie and Welsh. Epic fail.
Flick burst into fits of laughter. “Good grief, Jim! You’re worse at that accent than I am and I usually talk like I have plums in my gob!” She was beginning to relax. It felt good. Flick was a sweet girl and insanely cute.
When they had calmed down, Jim stepped closer. “I like you in that scarf.” He flicked the knitted standard issue Oxford garment up in the air playfully. Secretly he was thinking that he would quite like to see her in the scarf and nothing else. She giggled and wrapped it around her neck with a flourish.
They headed out for the party at around seven thirty, laughing as they walked. They had covered just about every subject known to man in the short time they’d been chatting. Jim had learned all about Felicity’s dad, well know biographer Edgar Johnston Hart, and her middle class upbringing, whilst Flick had discovered that Jim came from Dumbarton and thanks to his many educational merits had received a scholarship to attend Oxford. Felicity was bright-eyed and enthusiastic when she spoke of her dad. He sounded like an amazing man. Her mother on the other had sounded rather like the Ice Queen from the Chronicles of Narnia.