Good Enough

by PH Morris

  There she was in her designer jeans, showing part of her tanned midriff despite the chill in the day; she had a lovely MK bag in powder blue over the crook of her arm, and today her long coffin nails were a pale peach colour that matched her lip gloss which was, I noticed, painted on her unnaturally enlarged lips. Her perfume was so sweet and sickly it made me gag.

  “Hi, Anne Marie,” was all I could manage.

  “Well, look at you two, so cosy, but you really need to watch those refined sugars and carbs, you know, with your hips.” She pointed her elongated index finger to the half-eaten cake and then wiggled it in my general direction.

  I looked back at the cake and felt stupid and fat; why on earth did she make me feel that way?

  “Well, I always find that you can have your cake and eat it when you can actually get the cake in your mouth,” hissed David, drawing circles around his own mouth, indicating the ridiculous amount of filler she had pumped into her lips. Anne Marie sneered, which was a miracle given the stillness of her face.

  Ignoring David and turning her attention back to me, she fake-smiled at me and continued, “So, have you seen Mark lately?” She then removed some invisible lint from her sleeve.

  “Why in god’s name would she see that waste of space?” David answered on my behalf. “Especially given the hunk she is now seeing.” He then put his hand over his mouth in a fake ‘oops, I spilled the beans’. “Oh, I am sorry, Mel, I didn’t mean to let the tiger out of the bag.” He smiled at Anne Marie, like the cat that had got the cream, and added, “If you know what I mean.” He did a pretend claw with his hand and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Anne Marie looked from me to David and back again, her face going puce as she tried to come back with a snippy reply.

  “Sorry, Annette was it?” David offered. “But we are in the middle of a very important meeting, so if you would excuse us and tootle off.” He waved her away with a wiggle of his fingers.

  Anne Marie looked lost for words and turned slowly on her heels with a ‘what the fuck just happened’ look on her face and started to walk away; a few moments later it sunk in and she stormed off. I looked up at her retreating back and turned back to David with my mouth open; he, on the other hand, had grabbed his chai latte and with a flourish crossed his legs and sat back in his chair with the most satisfying look on his face. Man, this guy was fierce.

  “And that, my dearest Mel, is called kicking her ass.”

  “That was freaking awesome, David. You proper did her over, and you called her Annette!” I was laughing now.

  “Sorry, was that not her name?” he asked with mock affront. “Oh well, it was either that or arsehole; what a truly vile and sour person she is. And whoever did that lip filling for her should be struck off.”

  We spent the next fifteen minutes slagging off everything, from her nails to her hair and her tan. David had me in stitches.

  “Speaking of the tiger,” David said, changing the subject, “text him and ask if it’s east or west. That way we can plan the rest of our shopping around the weather… not that you will be wearing many clothes, by the way.”

  “David!”

  “Well, if I was spending the weekend with him, I wouldn’t be spending it looking at the landscape, that’s for sure, not unless it’s his manscape,” he finished, pointing down to his groin area.

  I fired a text off to Alistair, and he replied with ‘west’ and asked why. I replied by explaining that David was interested, the real answer being too detailed to go into. I also didn’t want him to think I had tried too hard and hoped my choice of clothes would look effortless rather than the marathon session David had planned, and we were only halfway through the day!

  All thoughts of Anne Marie, whom I thought David would forever call Annette, were long gone as we left the café.

  The afternoon was good and bad: bad because David literally walked my legs off; and good because of the number of nice clothes I had, and some in the sale, which was even better. We did have an almost altercation in the underwear shop because David kept picking up inappropriate underwear which I described as bedroom wear and I explained that I needed practical/sexy not sexy/sexy. I did buy a sexy black set, which was lacy and had straps across the breast and ‘cheeky’ knickers, to shut him up, but I was not taking them to Scotland with me.

  I bought two sets which were the same, one in navy and one in a soft grey. They were sheer and lacy, and the bra did wonders for my average boobs. The knickers were the same and showed off the cheeks of my bum. I had to admit they were complimentary.

  By the time we got home, it was gone 4pm and that was enough shopping for anyone. David insisted on me trying things on for him, showing this top with those jeans and my old jeans with the new boots. I drew the line at trying on the underwear in front of him; a girl had to have some decorum, surely.

  I sank into the couch and David, who still seemed to have endless energy, went into the kitchen and started to brew some French vanilla coffee and within minutes the flat smelled good enough to eat. David was rummaging in the drawers and pulled out a couple of menus.

  “I know it’s a school night, but given that neither of us is in work tomorrow shall we have a take-away? We have earned it today, don’t you think?”

  “That would be ace, but my treat, for taking me to those little boutiques I didn’t even know existed.”

  “Yeah me!” exclaimed David, throwing his arms up in the air. I loved that guy; he made me laugh.

  We decided on Chinese, and I gave him my order and disappeared into my room with my clothes to pack a bag. A few minutes later David appeared with a glass of wine, put mine down on the dressing table and sat cross-legged on my bed watching me pack.

  I spent the next ten minutes discussing with David what I should wear on what days as a combination, including what I should travel in which I decided would be my old jeans, new boots, one of the new tops and a thin quilted jacket that was lightweight but warm.

  I was almost done, and the buzzer rang. David sprang up and went to the door to let the delivery man in downstairs with instructions on how to find us, and within a few minutes the man appeared with a red food bag, handed it over and I paid him, along a decent tip.

  We had one of our carpet-picnics and flicked through the TV channels, which were a bit light for a Thursday evening.

  We settled on some comedy thing on Dave, and it seemed like a perfect end to a great day. I received a few texts from Alistair saying he would meet me at the airport at 1pm. The flight from Manchester was at noon. I had already checked in and had only hand luggage, so I didn’t have to be up very early. David said he would drop me off at the airport, so we decided against the second bottle of wine because neither of us wanted a fat head.

  That night I had some vivid dreams, which I largely put down to the MSG in the Chinese, but when my alarm went off at seven, I jumped out of bed, excited for the day ahead.

  By the time we were at the airport, my nerves were giving me serious butterflies. David, sensing this, said nothing, but kissed me on the forehead and hugged me by way of reassurance.

  I felt like a teenager again. I just wanted to get there. No sooner had the plane got up to cruising altitude than it was back on the ground again. The flight was short with no turbulence, so I was happy. As soon as I was able, I fired off a text to Alistair to say that I had landed, and I was still looking at my phone when I walked through to the arrivals, only to see Alistair standing there looking good enough to eat, and in his arms he had an equally gorgeous bouquet of pale pink roses.

  I walked shyly over to him and thanked him with a big kiss.

  “I’ve missed you, Mel,” he whispered in my ear.

  God, this guy could give me goose bumps on my arms by just the sound of his voice. I was going to have to pull myself together or there would be nothing left of me; I was turning to putty.

  “Thanks for the fl
owers. They are lovely.” I smiled up at him.

  “Did you have a good flight?” he asked as he dragged me towards the exit and the signs for the car park.” Come on,” he muttered, “we need to get out of here. I got plans.” He winked conspiratorially at me, which made me giggle. God, I was pathetic.

  A few minutes later we were at his Jeep, and in the back was a very eager and enthusiastic chocolate Lab with the loveliest eyes.

  “Get down, Archie!” he yelled through the gap in the window.

  Of course, he paid no attention. “It’s okay,” I laughed, and I opened the door before Al could warn me, and two large paws appeared on my shoulders, nearly knocking me off my feet, and a very wet and stinking tongue was lapping at my face. “Eww, Archie, stop it!” I choked out a laugh and pushed him down.

  I managed to wrestle him away and rubbed his head and ears, and he cocked his head to one side as I scrubbed at his left ear.

  “I think he likes me,” I offered.

  “That makes two of us,” Alistair smiled as he placed my case on the back seat, flowers on top. I jumped into the Jeep, and Alistair jumped into the driver’s side.

  Although he looked like he was ready to lick me if he got the chance, Archie settled quickly and looked eagerly out of the window, as if he was in on the secret.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I looked at Alistair.

  “We are off to the lodge; it’s about an hour from here.”

  “Is that all I am getting?” I quizzed.

  “Yep. Isn’t that right, boy?” He looked in the mirror at Archie, who acknowledged the comment by wagging his tail back and forth, and it made a happy swish sound against the back seat.

  “I didn’t quite know what to pack; I hope I did okay.” I am still quizzing him, but he keeps his eyes on the road and grins.

  “I’m sure you packed fine, Mel, you always look lovely, and we aren’t wandering too far, and unusually the weather is forecast to be dry all weekend.” He looks quickly at me and his eyes twinkle.

  I figure there’s not much to be gained from nagging, so we drive along and indulge in small talk about each other’s week and, while we zoom over a large road bridge and onto some major A roads, they soon give way to more rural roads, and he points out interesting facts about mountain ranges and valleys as we drive along. It is beautiful; everything is a mix of the dark green of pine trees growing in neat rows for Christmas harvesting and lush deciduous trees. As we meander along winding roads, the sun creates dappled shade that ripples across the dashboard and onto the windscreen.

  “Reach into the glove compartment and grab my sunglasses, will you, Mel?” I do as I am asked and, once I pass them to him, find my own.

  “It’s so gorgeous around here; it reminds me of the Lakes.”

  “You didn’t grow up there, did you?” he enquires.

  “No, but my parents have kind of retired there. It’s just like this in so many ways. I know I’m a bit odd, but I love the seasons in the UK; I actually like the rain.” It seems like a daft thing to say as so many people would prefer to live in warmer climes.

  “Well, if we didn’t have the rain, we wouldn’t have the green,” he finishes my thought.

  I smile at him; is it too cheesy to think we see things the same way? If Kat were here, she would be sticking two fingers down her throat and making a gagging sound.

  “What’s so funny?” He glances sideways at me as he says it.

  “Oh, I know it’s cheesy, but I was thinking the same thing. Lame or what?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckles, “lame.”

  We turn off onto a B road, and we have been on the road for about forty-five minutes, so I know we are close. Archie wakes and starts looking out of the window, suddenly eager.

  “Are we nearly there, boy?” I ask, reaching behind me to rub his head. He pants at me and looks like he’s giving me a manic grin.

  “Don’t tell her, Archie,” he mutters, and Archie wags his tail faster at the mention of his name, then moves between the two of us and puts his front feet on the arm rest, looking excitedly out of the windscreen.

  We both chuckle at his intrusion.

  We turn left on to an unmarked road, and Archie leans toward Alistair to counter the turn.

  I figure Archie must be very used to this road and every turn and twist. Finally, we come to a stop and Archie is beside himself with excitement, pawing at the door and running in circles. As soon as Alistair opens the driver’s door, Archie leaps into his seat and bolts out of the open door before Alistair is able to put two feet on the ground. It makes me snigger as he almost knocks Alistair over. I watch with amusement as the dog bolts towards a small, unassuming stone building, his paws throwing up small stones off the gravel path as he races to the property. The building is single storey, the stone pale grey, and it looks lovely in the summer sun surrounded by overgrown grasses and heather. It has a dark blue painted door and small wooden windows. I don’t know what I expected; it’s cute, but I thought it would be, I guess, bigger.

  Alistair has opened the back door and is lifting our bags out, and I climb out of the car and make my way around to the low stone wall that curves in a polite welcome to visitors.

  “It’s so cute, Alistair,” I offer, to be polite. Alistair looks at me and smiles and then looks back at the property, confused at the description.

  “Cute?” he questions. “I guess. Come on, I will show you around.”

  As we approach the front door, Archie gets his wet nose in the crack of the locked door, breathing and panting furiously, his tail wagging like crazy.

  “Wow, he’s keen!” I laugh.

  Alistair laughs a deep laugh and mutters something which to me sounds like ‘he’s not the only one.’

  Alistair puts the bags down briefly and reaches underneath a small ceramic wellington boot which has purple heather planted in it. Lifting it up, he pulls out a key.

  He puts the key in the lock, turns it with a click, and Archie is on his back legs pawing at the handle. Alistair pushes the door open, and Archie sets off like a bat out of hell, the door banging back on the wall inside.

  “After you,” Alistair offers with a flourish of his hand.

  I step tentatively into the room, and my breath leaves me with a whispered, “WOW.” No wonder he didn’t think ‘cute’ was the right description. This place was like a Tardis.

  To the right was the kitchen, and I could hear Archie’s collar clinking loudly on a bowl as he wolfs down whatever treat had been left for him. The rest of the building opened up in front of us, and there was a lower floor and an upper mezzanine level.

  The lower floor was accessed by stepping down about six steps, and the back of the property was all glass. The furnishings were subtle, classy and truly delightful – a mix of natural colours of grey, blue and lilac. There was a huge stone fireplace on the left with a log burner. There were two tobacco-coloured sofas facing each other, with tartan cushions. As I move on wooden legs to the top of the stairs, I noticed a small dining room to the right, which had a rustic table and four chairs around it, and above that was an antler chandelier. I looked up to the mezzanine floor, and to the side of the dining room was a small staircase that wound around and up to the upper floor.

  Alistair dropped the bags behind me and shocked me out of my daydream.

  “This place is amazing, Alistair,” was all I could offer. “Is that the bedroom there?” I pointed up to the mezzanine floor.

  “Yeah, it is,” he said. “There is an additional bedroom upstairs so, if you prefer…”he trailed off.

  “Oh, I see.” I realised he was trying to be gentlemanly – well, I hoped it was that. “We can sort that out…later…”I mumbled, trying to change the subject; I had assumed we would be ‘getting it on’ so I hoped I hadn’t made the wrong assumption myself.

  “Do you want a drink?” he offere
d, moving to the side towards the kitchen. At that moment, Archie started lapping loudly at a bowl of water, and we both laughed.

  “Yeah, can I have a cup of tea? Wait, do we need to call for some shopping?” I realised that we hadn’t stopped for anything.

  “No, we have supplies.” He opened the fridge by way of explanation, which was full of eggs, cheese, milk, fruit and juice. “We have a family friend up the road who stocks things for us when we visit.”

  “Cool,” was all I could offer. Why had I suddenly found myself lost for words? Alistair moved to the sink and filled the kettle.

  “Go explore, if you want to,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled a teapot out of the cupboard. “One sugar, right?” he asked.

  I turned to the right and headed to the staircase. “Yes, please.” I scale the narrow, steep staircase, which opens at the top to a small landing. To the right was a door that was slightly open and led to a large bedroom. I could see a hint of the view. I turned left and pushed on the first door; it opened to a bathroom, which was gorgeous. The walls of the shower were slate grey with a glass screen, the basin looked like it had been carved from a grey boulder, and the walls were white like downstairs. There was a large mirror over the basin, and above me, were windows in the sloped roof, I could see cotton clouds floating, forming and reforming in a crystal blue sky.

  The towels were slate grey too, and I grabbed at one to test its softness – it did not disappoint. I left the bathroom and pushed through the next door; it was a simple but equally beautiful small double bedroom. There was a window that was wide but narrow, and it sat neatly under the eaves but gave a full view of the trees to the side of the property and a view of some hills in the distance. The bed had a powder blue cover on it and a faux fur runner at the bottom; there were simple bedside tables and a small wardrobe to the side. I opened it, and there were women’s clothes in there, and suddenly I felt like a voyeur.

  I left the room in a hurry and walked back onto the landing, only to find the master bedroom door wide open, and I could see the back of Alistair standing in the room looking out on the view. I stepped quietly into the room, and he turned and smiled.