Pre-dance drinks at a pub close to the venue had lightened the atmosphere further. She sipped her white wine, him his pint. Suddenly, Curtis realising the time, whipped the tickets from the inside pocket of his jacket. He rechecked their details then pushed them across the table. Her eyes lit up.
‘Oh wow Curtis. The Freshmen, how did you know?’
‘I just know things.’ Smirking, he grabbed her hand as she started to answer. He continued. ‘Hey, look Jac. Look at the time. We better get a move on. Leave that, come on.’
Hand-in-hand they hurried across the car park, she, still talking. ‘Oh goodness Curt I really like them especially when they do all that Beach Boys stuff. Wow, you’re so damned clever.’ Still got that pompousness trait though; but, you’re ok by me.
As she eased down into the passenger seat he thought to himself while holding the door; first of the hurdles cleared. I think that she’s more than a little chuffed. Not my scene, but hey, I can handle it if it means that I’m back in favour.
Before driving off, again he reached across. This time he ran his fingers through her long auburn hair. He pulled it back behind her ear then traced his forefinger down her soft cheek. Lightly she responded by laying her hand on his thigh. Smiling she turned and mouthed a further thank you. They kissed. It was as if it was their first kiss.
Another worry bead slipped into his head. Now he was concerned that she would see the venue it for what it was, not the ‘ballroom of romance’ but his big factory canteen with a works social club bolted onto the side of it. Secretly he was also concerned that he, they, could get caught up with, as he saw them, undesirables from the shop floor; Red-Fred’s old mob.
She had made an impressive effort for their date, their reunion. He, in his mind, hadn’t. His new – expensive – branded jeans were good, but the Deep Purple T-shirt and the well-worn suede jacket had let him down. Again he apologised, she laughed. They had arrived in time to hear the last set from the support band, a local outfit more accustomed to the pub and club circuit. But they both agreed that they were just grand.
As the main act warmed up they wormed their way towards the front. The obligatory one-two, one-one, tune up continued apace. Curtis mumbled, but Jacqueline didn’t pick up on it.
‘Oh for goodness sake why can’t they have all this stuff done off stage. Jeez these guys have been doing the rounds long enough.’ At the same moment a silence descended from the high stage, the expectant audience stood ready.
One of the band members thanked the audience for their support as the drummer counted them in, 1-2-3-4...a decibel explosion filled the hall. Heartbeats bounced, the crowd applauded and jumped to the rhythm. ‘Wow!’ Curtis had immediately got it. ‘Tight outfit these boyo’s; those harmonies. Professional,’ he had said aloud, but nobody heard, certainly not her. For Jacqueline, as far as he could ascertain there were no issues. She was already singing along swaying her arms and moving through to the front-of-stage mêlée.
Curtis was moving too. He swayed from foot to foot while snapping his fingers; mostly in time. Jacqueline appeared to know the lyrics of each and every song. He gave himself a secret pat on the back.
As the music continued to flow they found themselves dancing effortlessly. She was delighted when one her favourite songs featured on the play list. A wave of nostalgia grabbed her. She pulled him close – he obliged, they kissed. They both broke into song. She had a voice, he hadn’t.
Several sets in, and after another of their big hits he took her hand to lead off the floor. Still singing away, she nevertheless obliged. They found a private nook near the rear of the venue. As the band played on, the embryo of their new romance hatched.
Chapter 19 : Proposal
Jacqueline slowly roused from her deep sleep. Slants of morning sunlight cut through closed venation blinds. Laser-like, they followed the contours of her face and neck and ruffled bed clothes. Reluctant to extract her warm body from under the duvet she rolled over and turned away from the light. But in doing so her flopping arm signalled an alert. She was alone –alone in an unfamiliar bed.
She rolled onto her back and sat upright. In that same movement she hoisted the duvet up to her neck. Through her bleariness and in what seemed like an eternity, in reality it was a few seconds, she deciphered that the vision in front of her was that of – all but for an apron – a naked man; a naked male holding a breakfast tray. Rendered momentarily speechless, her eyes finally adjusted. She dissolved into a bout of the giggles. Eventually she managed to spurt out. ‘Oh my God! Curtis…you! You are one big feckin’ eejit.’ She reached over and rolled half of the duvet back, while continuing, ‘Oh, get back in here, my handsome athletic lover.’ Pulling him closer she whispered, ‘Now, where were we?’
Curtis and Jacqueline thereafter, shared every moment together to the point where living arrangements needed consideration. He was embarrassed sharing her quarters on over-nighters; slipping away in the mornings as scantily dressed females dashed to and fro. Equally, she had similar issues leaving his place and bumping into his early rising smirking neighbours.
Sharing his ‘man-cave’ had, at least in the early days been easy enough. But as time moved on it became necessary for her to transform the ‘cave’ into something resembling a homely place. It just needed a modicum of softening. Okay, she never disputed that he had kept it spotlessly clean, tidy and efficient.
Unlike her, Curtis was a creature of fastidious house-keeping standards. This flat, which he had kept on after Simon had moved back to Northern Ireland, had become more of a second office; it was clinical, minimalist with a place for everything and everything in its place. It was devoid of colour and as atmospheric as a morgue. ‘Your choice of furniture, my love,’ she said, mocking him, ‘would no doubt look great in the works canteen and as for those posters on never-ending white walls, well?’
For the most part, Curtis remained oblivious to Jacqueline’s proposals and plans. The intense pressure of his work was opening a fissure. It had been no fault of Curtis’s. It was just because things had gone manic, nuclear, at the factory.
Rumours of a complete closure proliferated each day; rumour, rumour, rumour... Apparently, as he had explained to Jacqueline, the most recent story sweeping the shop floor was that administrators had been appointed. Such was the climate!
It seemed to Jacqueline, with Curtis once again locked away working in what had been Simon’s bedroom, calculator in one hand, pen in the other, paper everywhere, that her vision of a homely love-nest was, as she put it to herself, going down the Swannie faster than a melting iceberg.
Finally, one night – it was after two a.m. – and in exasperation she had emerged from their bedroom. In silhouette she sauntered into the room, slipped out of her nightdress at the door, leaned over his shoulder and calmly switched off his desk light. Inside she was the opposite of calm. She whirled his chair round. ‘Right Curt, this cannot go on.’ She placed her fingers on his lips. ‘No; do not interrupt.’ He studied her from head to toe. He was mesmerised. She took a deep breath, and began. ‘This Curt, is me, stripped bare. Have you even noticed?’
He found himself unable to understand, unable to fathom what would come next. What came was Jacqueline straddling his thighs. She placed her arms around his neck, kissed his lips, leaned back, and continued, ‘So, my love, here’s the thing. While you drown yourself trying to keep that damned factory afloat, here am I, condemned to the position of house keeper. For goodness sake Curt, a nun having taken a vow of silence would be having more conversational experiences than us. As for wild passionate love-making, these days you seem content to just roll off me and fall into a deep sleep. There’s me, wide awake listening to your snores and enduring your endless restlessness, and, I might as well add; an occasional thump, as you become devoured by your dreams which no doubt are fuelled by your factory nightmares.’
Curtis, remained affixed, suddenly guilt ridden, his hands glued on her hips as she continued, ‘There’s the vision of that nun a
gain.’ She raised both arms as if seeking divine intervention. ‘Curt; are you even listening to me?’ She grabbed his ears and gently shook his head. ‘Are you?’
He nodded again.
She retook her thread. ‘Look babe, I know, or at least I think I do, I can feel what’s going through your big smart head. It’s bursting, yes? But for goodness sake, it’s not as if you have shares or anything in that damned place. At the end of the day, and regardless of how dedicated you are, you’re only a number. Okay, you’re a senior well paid number, but a number none the less. And, let me also say, when it comes to the lay-offs you’ll just be the same as any of them on the shop floor. You too will be a redundant person who’ll join them on the dole queue. So please Curt, please back away before it consumes you, and us. Come back to me babe, please.’
Curtis continued to sit obediently silent and aroused, but swallowing hard. He continued to study her. Then, he pulled her close. In one fluid motion he had lifted her into his arms. She instinctively wrapped hers around his neck, and her legs around his waist. He walked towards their bedroom, kicked the door shut and delicately lowered her onto the bed.
Finally he spoke, while undressing in some haste. ‘Jacqueline Raven, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I will not allow anything to come between us. Yes, I know I can be a real dick at times, but let me say that I am completely and absolutely in love with you. I suppose I really started to love you, without realising, you understand, way back in the Rose Bud days.’ He stopped, then in a quieter measured tone, continued. ‘I…was…going…to…do this next bit...umm…at the weekend. But, you know something, it can’t wait that long…it just can’t.’
The naked Jacqueline, albeit wrapped loosely in a bed sheet, noticed a tear seeping from Curtis’s eye. She was suddenly aware too, that he had slipped down onto one knee...
* * *
As he lay there half under and half out of the duvet and out to the world, Jacqueline who had been up since the crack of dawn, was buzzing; things to do – calls to make. The first call would be to Archie, her father. He was first on her ‘change of status’ telephone list. She however, was a little taken aback by the content of his congratulatory response. ‘Ah, that’s just great hen. Umm. Mind, I didn’t expect him to move that quickly through.’
She queried, ‘Sorry Dad, what do you mean; move that quickly?’
‘Oh, nothing my wee hen, just laddies talk. But even better,’ he paused, Jacqueline could detect a snigger in her father’s voice. ‘Ah, finally, finally I’ll have another man to call on, to talk to, sorry, talk with. Great, just great I’m really pleased for you. You’ll be coming back up here, soon... ye know, to show off the sparkler?’
Next on her list were the (ex) house mates, followed by her siblings, one by one, but in no particular order... She wondered if she should phone Curtis’s mum. After something of a dither she decided that was not her department. But she would of course remind Curtis of his duties the moment he woke.
With her list ticked off, attention switched back to her still prostrate fiancé. She continued to stall about waking him. A much needed sleep, a period of rest, she knew was exactly what he needed. Finally, he stirred.. Sitting up, he studied her. Momentarily undecided, and to Jacqueline’s astonishment he said, ‘You know something Jac, you were spot on.’
She looked at him quizzically while glancing at her wristwatch. After a pause, he continued, ‘A number…that’s exactly what I am. A number, an imposter. The bloody tea-boy, still.’ Then he flung his long hairy legs out from under the dark duvet. He stood up, her eyes, like magnets, checked out his tall slim pale frame; toes, tanned legs and all. He moved across to her, he held her, kissed her. Then reversing, holding her hand he returned to their bed saying in the process, ‘Would you be a dear and ring in sick for me today, please?’
She gasped, but before she could question his request, he had continued, ‘You know something Jac? In all the years I’ve worked, I have never ever pulled a sickie. Can you believe that? Am I being reckless?’
Almost in a whisper she replied, smirking, ‘Umm, yeah. OK. Yeah, yeah of course you are.’ She thought she could easily have pulled a sickie herself...
He continued, trying to justify the momentous decision that he had just taken. Pointing to the spare room he said, ‘And anyway, it will allow me to rid myself of all that crap in there and proceed... to my next adventure.’ He had paused again. He noticed her querying look, her scrunched up eyebrows. He smiled, sat upright his chest bared, he continued, ‘...the detail of which, I will divulge later this evening. You have a good day and hurry home, my wonderful, beautiful fiancé, please.’
Throughout his ‘sick day’ Curtis worked through his pile of paper. During tea-breaks, both mother and aunt were appraised on his new status; happy tears flowed, in both directions. He remained on cloud nine. But as the hours ticked away his old adversary, indecision, crept in. It turned into concern then guilt as he observed the change in the weather outside.
The afternoon had wound its way into early evening. Within him there existed yet another battle of minds; for, by opting for the cooking, cleaning and paperwork route he had unwittingly condemned his fiancé to yet another tedious journey home. A fifteen minute walk from her office to the bus stop, then a dash across a busy street to the train station. The train led to a second bus, and finally a dash to the arms of her fiancée.
Of course the celebration meal that he had lovingly prepared would be appreciated, but he tortured himself by asking; would the surprise of her being taxied, literally from her desk, collecting a take-away en route, have been a better option?
He checked the oversized wall clock for the umpteenth time. He reminded himself that timing was everything because as he envisaged it, she would walk through the door at just after seven. Everything he demanded of himself must be just so for this, his (second) big announcement of the week – albeit, the first one had been somewhat unplanned.
True to form, Jacqueline’s key rattled the door. She was early, but only by five or so minutes. The aroma of fine cuisine which filled the flat caught her throat. She inhaled further while sauntering down the hall. ‘Curtis, my lover boy – I’m home. Wow, something smells good. Hope you’ve been wearing your apron.’
For sure she was impressed, and more so by his decor touches. For probably the first time since she had moved in, the room had acquired an ambience: the soft flickering of the strategically placed tea-lights, table flowers, and non-descript mood music quietly playing in the background. Moisture glazed her green eyes, now with a greyish tinge, as her fiancé moved towards her. Their smiles became as one.
‘Oh Curtis.’
He held her close as they smooched to the music. ‘Come with me, close your eyes.’ He guided her towards a prepared bathtub. He slowly undressed her, saying with a sly smile, ‘You’ve got half an hour to yourself, before I serve the food.’ He caressed her as she slunk down the warm water, her nakedness submerged as if under an incoming tide.
On time she emerged bare-footed but dressed in T-shirt and track bottoms. She glided towards the table. A warm silence filled the room. It was an extended moment of togetherness where words were unnecessary. But curiosity had finally got the better of her. She couldn’t contain herself. Jacqueline rose smoothly, reached across to the sideboard and turned down the music before addressing her man. ‘So Curt, tell me. What is it you’ve done, come on... You can tell me, ‘cause I’ll find you out eventually.’ Her smiles moved towards sniggering as she waited for his response.
‘Nothing! I’ve done nothing. Goodness Jac, you always fear the worst.’
‘Come on. Out with it, something’s going on... last night’s antics, for example?’
‘Well, as you mention it.’ Putting down his fork he raised his glass. They clinked and, said in unison, ‘To us.’
Using a gap in the easy conversational flow Curtis seized the opportunity to explain to Jacqueline what he meant earlier by a ‘next adventure�
�. With a degree of hesitation, he began his ‘presentation’, minus his work’s projector...
‘Jacqueline—’
‘Jacqueline? Oh goodness Curt, it’s been a while since I’ve had the full formal title. This sounds serious.’
‘Well, Jac, it is. So, please will you listen to what I have to say, please? I need you to understand what is going on inside my big bursting head, as you referred to it. Now listen. And... p-l-e-a-s-e do not interrupt, please?
‘I, we, of course know that my days with the company and the senior position I hold, are numbered. As well, I have become sick sore and tired of the endless confrontations, the walk-outs, the negativity and a stuttering output for which I have never had any control over. Within our department there exists a complete malaise. As I’ve said to you before I feel like a complete imposter among that roomful of high flying graduates. People without an inkling of how to hammer in a nail, or possess an inkling of how to hit a production target. Agh.’
He stopped. Quietly he piled a forkful of moussaka into his mouth. Jacqueline remained mesmerised, she picked at her plate. She wondered where all this was going.
‘Jac.’
She jumped, as he reopened his monologue with a tap on the table. ‘I am totally pissed off with the whole business. You know something else? I am, for the first time over here, homesick. I would really like to go back home. I want to set up my own operation; an engineering outlet, or at least something that I would have control of. So, I have this idea...’
‘Goodness Curt. You might have pre-warned me.’ A further silence ensued. Curtis, now with his calm head on, took up the conversation yet again. ‘Jac this is what it’s all been about. This is why I’ve been so distant of late. You have been so patient, so supportive and I do realise that I...’
‘Stop. Tell me about your, our, plans. Give me the details. Talk finance to me!’
A Letter to a Lucky Man Page 14