Good Enough

by PH Morris

  The room was large and had what appeared to be a hand-carved bed in the middle of it, looking out towards the windows. The furnishings were the same as the other room but had purple hues. On the wall was a large piece of artwork made from driftwood and the smaller chandelier matched the one downstairs. There were two bedside cabinets with small lamps on top and a large free-standing wardrobe and matching chest of drawers. They were a mix of natural woods to complement the bedframe, but the fronts of the drawers and the inlay of the wardrobe doors were painted slate grey.

  I looked up as Alistair spoke; his voice was a little pained. “I just realised, my sister’s clothes might be rammed into the wardrobe in that room, so you can either unpack your stuff in there or in here, either way is fine.”

  Phew, I thought, of course, his sister.

  “Oh right. I’m used to living out of a suitcase, so I could just use a drawer and a couple of hangers. If that’s okay?” I glanced at the set of drawers.

  “Mel,” he whispered, and I looked up at him as he turned his body towards me, taking two tentative steps to reach me and resting his hands on my upper arms, “are you okay? You seem very quiet since we got here. Is this weird for you, because we don’t have to stay here, you know?”

  Oh god, I thought. “No, it’s all good. I’m sorry, Alistair, it’s a lot to take in; this place is amazing, and I am so glad to be here. I sometimes go into myself when I’m thinking; I have always been that way. My old boss used to say, ‘Do not take Mel speaking for either tacit agreement or disagreement’,” I explained.

  Alistair frowned at me and said, “In English, please.”

  I smiled and lifted my hand to stroke his cheek. “It means, do not take my talking or not talking as any clue that I agree or not; it just means I am thinking. Believe me, if there was a problem, I would tell you.”

  He covered my hand with his, lifted it away from his face and kissed my palm; he then seemed to relax visibly.

  “Come look at this view,” he said, pulling me to the balcony that overlooked the sitting room below. “You can see the loch from here,” he offered, pointing into the near distance. I stood in front of him, while his arms encased me, and followed his outstretched arm.

  I could see a glimpse of the loch through the trees, and the light danced on the ripples of the water, winking at me from my vantage point.

  “We can go for a walk in a bit, but let’s have that brew first, and you can unpack.” I then noticed the bags on the floor.

  Leaving the room and heading downstairs he had made a pot of tea and on a tray were a couple of mugs and some shortbread.

  Chapter 15

  The loch was a short walk along a footpath and through some trees. It was tranquil and almost silent apart from the quiet lapping of the water on the shale shore. Then Archie burst from the trees and launched himself into the water; he was a daft dog.

  Laughing at him, Alistair said, “I should have called him Melon.”

  “Why on earth would you call him that?” I laughed, as he bounded around and stuck his head fully under the water.

  “Well,” Alistair laughed, “his head is as empty as a melon.” As if hearing the insult, Archie looked at us and sneezed into the water.

  “The house is lovely, Al, really lovely. How long have you had it?”

  “It’s a long story,” Al sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh, more nostalgic. “Years ago, my mum and dad had established their business and were doing pretty well, and they took a break in this area, and on a day hike they found this croft. At the time it was in a right state, but my mum loved it and found out it was owned by a local family. My dad bought it and some land for buttons, really, and then set about doing it up slowly. It took years. They got to know some locals, and a local couple with a young son, who had a rare illness. They were struggling to get the right treatment for him, and my dad arranged for him to be flown to Canada and seen by a friend of his who was a surgeon. Unfortunately, there was no treatment for the boy, and he eventually died. They were all devastated, but since then they have stayed in touch. They were always grateful for the support my mum and dad gave them, and so, if we are staying at the croft, they always come up and leave some provisions.”

  Al stopped talking and picked up a couple of pebbles off the beach and skimmed them perfectly into the water, followed manically by Archie.

  “That’s so sad,” I offered. “How long ago was that?”

  Alistair thought for a minute. “Oh, probably about twenty years now. Dougie would have been my age if he were still alive. I always think it must have been so tough, seeing me grow up, but they said they tried to see his life through mine and said they found comfort in seeing me through the years.” He looked down at the pebble and cleaned the dirt with his thumb before skimming it across the water. “My mum used to tell Mora all the time that she didn’t need to keep the croft or provide for us, but she said it gave her some purpose, so my mum said there had to be a formal arrangement that suited them both, and since then it’s worked out.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I offered. “I guess friendship grows in usual ways, often with a common purpose.”

  Alistair turned towards me and smiled. “Can you skim?” he challenged.

  “Oh, not really.” Batting my eyes lids at him.

  Taking the bait, he pulled me along the shore and found me a pebble; he gave me instructions on how to hold and how to release.

  When I let go, it skimmed and bounced along the water six or seven times. “Like that?” I smiled.

  “You little phoney,” he laughed.

  We sat on a nearby rock and watched Archie bounce in and out of the water and squealed when he ran to us. I held up my hands in a useless shield against him shaking cold water all over us.

  Al broke the silence, “Do you fancy a walk into town? It’s about two miles that way,” he pointed to the right. “We could grab a few additional provisions, and there’s a little pub.”

  “Yeah, sounds great.” A walk would be great, and it seemed like there was nothing for miles, so a bit of civilisation would be nice too.

  “Let’s pop back to the property, grab my rucksack and Archie’s lead, and we can pick the road up from there,” he explained.

  A few minutes later, we were on a narrow footpath heading across some fields along a path that appeared to be well worn by many hiking boots. Archie ran in happy circles, sniffing and occasionally falling behind. A quick two-tone whistle from Al brought him bounding up to us. We passed over a stile and turned left to walk alongside a drystone wall for a while. The sun made an appearance from behind a bank of clouds, and the side of the nearby hill lit up in shades of gold and green; it was breath-taking, and I stopped momentarily to take in the view. The sunlight formed rays through the cloud cover and, although I didn’t believe in god, it was like one of those pictures from a stained-glass window of god looking down on the world, with rods of brilliant light. Alistair stopped a step ahead of me, and I raised my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes to take it all in.

  Alistair looked down on me and I smiled and said, “Breath-taking,” not breaking eye contact with him, and he, with total sincerity, said, “I couldn’t agree more, “kissed me passionately.

  Eventually, we pulled apart. “Is it closer to the lodge or the pub?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Definitely the pub,” he laughed, “although I am tempted to throw you over my shoulder and head back to the lodge.” He smiled salaciously with the promise of things to come.

  “I think even you would struggle to carry by fat backside all that way.” I looked down, suddenly shy.

  He grabbed me roughly, cupping my ample back side with his large hands and pulled me towards him. I could feel between us that things were firming up in certain regions.

  “Two things: one, your backside is NOT fat, it is one of my favourite parts, and we both know I ha
ve seen quite a bit of it so far; and two, I work out, and I could definitely haul your ass back to the lodge. I am happy to take that challenge.”

  I pushed against his chest gently, and he released me. “Stop it, or I will have to throw you in the cold brook to get things under control.” I made a general circle towards his nether regions, so he knew exactly the area of control he needed to deal with, adjusting himself, as best he could.

  “That,” he said, “is your fault.”

  “It is not my fault,” I insisted. “It’s your little man; you need to control it.”

  Laughing out loud, “Hey, less of the little.”

  He slapped me on the backside, pulled me into him sideways, threw his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.

  Over the next brow of the hill the top of a church steeple came into view, and as we continued to walk, I could see a small cluster of stone houses around a tiny crossroads. I could see the red banner of a local post office, a small quaint pub and a local shop, as well as a couple of other little shops, but I couldn’t quite see what they were from here.

  We approached the main road at a right angle and through a gate. Archie returned obediently to Al at that point and allowed him to clip the lead to his collar, a routine he was obviously used to.

  As we turned into the street, I could better see the small collection of shops and houses, and we first called into the local grocers.

  “It closes in about half an hour, so let’s do the shop now and then the pub,” he suggested.

  There was a railing outside the shop which he fastened Archie to, and he sat down with a huff. I followed him hesitantly across the threshold. I didn’t know if he was well known around here.

  The shop was small but well stocked, and he grabbed some fresh coffee, some local cheese and oatcakes, chutney, a bottle of decent prosecco and a bottle of red wine.

  He exchanged pleasantries with the shop assistant, but it was clear they didn’t know each other. He carefully packed his rucksack; and we left the shop, grabbed Archie, and our trio headed to the pub. The pub was old and had a small front door with an old-fashioned latch which clicked as you opened it. He ducked slightly as he entered and again, I followed with trepidation.

  The pub was cosy and had a small wooden bar with a few tables on the left and what appeared to be a snug located on the right through an archway. I could see part of a fireplace, but there was no fire in the hearth as it was a warm day and unnecessary.

  The bar was one of those with a million things to look at, from a range of whiskies and other spirits to a list of guest beers both on tap and bottled.

  “What do you fancy?” he asked, smiling at me suggestively.

  “Stop it!” I punched him in the arm.

  “Oww,” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. “I meant a drink,” he claimed.

  “I know what you meant,” I chuckled. “I think I’ll have a beer.” I looked at the craft beers. “Can I have half of the dark ale, please?”

  He nodded at the barman and ordered me a half and himself a pint of another beer.

  I grabbed the lead from Alistair, and Archie and I sat at a nearby table; he curled up at my feet. Al returned with our drinks and sat next to me. After another round of beers, we headed out of the door and retraced our route back to the house.

  It seemed natural and relaxed, and I loved how easy it was with him. I tried not to overthink us getting intimate later.

  Back at the lodge, Archie did his noisy drinking thing, clinking his collar against the bowl, while Alistair put the bits in the fridge and cupboard.

  I plonked myself on the couch and pulled my legs under me. Alistair appeared with a glass of red wine and sat next to me on the couch, put his feet up on the table and rested his free hand on my knee, rubbing slow circles on my jeans.

  “I’ve put a cottage pie in the oven. Shall we watch a bit of TV?”

  “Sure.”

  He picked up the TV remote and I grabbed it off him, and the TV sprung to life. I flicked around the channels and stumbled upon an old movie that I had watched a few times with my mum and dad.

  “Yeah, Innerspace; this is a great film,” I gushed.

  “It is a great film, but thought it was a bit before your time?” he teased.

  “I’ve seen this film loads, my mum and dad are big fans of this decade, so I love them too. Anyway, stop acting like I’m ancient, given you are older than me.” I thumped him playfully on the arm. “My dad says I have an old soul. So maybe I am mentally older than you.”

  “I’m only joking, I have seen this film before. My parents had me later in life, I grew on these films and the same with the music.”

  I sat up suddenly, “No way, I love those decades too, I have a really eclectic taste in music and films”

  He pulled me towards him, “well that’s another thing we have in common then.”

  We watched the movie as the sky turned dark blue and then black. Alistair managed to do a several things in between the commercial breaks, which included: more wine; dishing up the food; closing the curtains; dimming the lights and even lighting the log burner. As the logs caught fire, I watched the flames dance behind the glass, I loved fire, it was so alive and mesmerising.

  We ate the cottage pie off our laps and later in the movie, one of my favourite songs of all time came on: ‘Cupid’ by Sam Cooke. I think I loved the song because of the movie, or the other way around.

  “I love this song; Sam Cooke’s voice is so smooth.”

  “I have his album on my playlist,” Al announced. “I agree, his songs are so beautiful.”

  As the movie came to an end, Alistair turned the TV to silent, then grabbed his phone, and within seconds the silky voice of Sam Cooke sounded through the lodge.

  I closed my eyes briefly, smiled contentedly and leaned my head back against the sofa cushion. I felt the sofa move slightly, and very gently Alistair removed the glass from my hand, and without opening my eyes, I heard the gentle sound of the glass being placed onto the table. The sofa moved again, and I could feel Alistair move closer to me and press a kiss gently on my cheek. My eyes fluttered open, and I turned my head towards him and kissed him on the lips. I twisted my body towards him, and his kisses deepened and became more forceful. I could feel the bristle of his five-o’clock shadow, and I reached up to feel his cheek rough against my hand.

  His hands found my face at the same moment, and as he held my face, he moved the kisses along my jaw and to the nape of my neck, and I dropped my hand and put my head back to give him better access. Goose bumps broke out on the surface of my skin underneath my sweater. Slowly we slid sideways, and his body moved to cover mine, with our legs becoming intertwined.

  I could feel his hardness through my jeans, and I could hear Sam singing the words: “you send me, darling, you send me”, and I thought, Wow, this is a great wooing song.

  I felt a million miles away from reality at that moment; even Archie was silent. I reached for Al’s shirt and started to unbutton it, trying hard not to break contact with him, but failed miserably, and he swore under his breath and leant away from me to pull the partially unbuttoned shirt clean over his head, revealing a very sculptured stomach, arms and shoulders. The six-pack was nice, but the shoulders and arms were my thing. He looked down at me, and I took my chance to sit up and, in a very uncharacteristic show of dominance, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the sofa in a seated position. I straddled him, still fully clothed. I returned the kisses this time, gently planting my lips on his face, neck and shoulders. My hair fanned around him, and his muscular arms reached around my waist and underneath my sweater. My back was awash with tingles and other sensations that seemed to radiate down south. He reached for the hem of my sweater and didn’t say a word but paused as if to gauge my reaction. I leaned away from him and raised my arms to allow him to pull it easily over my head;
it was cast aside and lay on the floor discarded next to his shirt.

  He looked at me with fervour and hunger in his eyes and his gaze dipped down to my chest. I had chosen a pretty pale blue bra, but I was still a little embarrassed at the brazen way he stared at me and I leaned forward again to kiss him.

  “Mel?” he whispered, against my ministrations.

  “Mmmm?” I muttered.

  “If you want to stop, we should do that now, because you are driving me crazy.”

  “Don’t want to stop,” was all I could say.

  He wrapped his hands around my adequate backside, and I could feel him through our jeans; and with a lurch lifted me clean off my feet. I nearly squealed but I was still kissing him. He moved his hands to my legs and positioned them around his hips, and with that he carried me, without what appeared to be much effort, straight up the narrow stairs and into the bedroom.

  Sam was now singing about cupid, and that suited me down to the ground as I felt like I was floating on air.

  Alistair carefully laid me on the bed and lay on top of me; he rested his weight onto his arms and looked down at me with reverence.

  “You sure?” he asked. “I’m sorry to ruin the mood, but I need to grab some protection.”

  “I’m on the pill and I’m clean, but I am okay with you using something if you would prefer,” I whispered.

  “I’m okay if you are,” he offered.

  I just nodded. I wanted to stop talking and get to it already; it had only ever been Mark for me, and I wanted to see what it would be like with someone else. I also didn’t know if I was any good, and if I thought about that for too long, I might just bottle it.

  Alistair took my mind off me over-processing my thoughts, and the next thing I knew we were just arms and legs, undressing, kissing and caressing.

  Alistair took his time, I felt respected, but if he didn’t get on with it soon, I was going to self-combust. My skin felt on fire with his kisses and touches. As if hearing my thoughts, we got to the main event, and the next minute I realised I was having sex with someone other than Mark. I have got to say it was pretty good. He was a little bigger than Mark, or maybe it had been a while, but it felt good, and I bit my lip to stop me from shouting out. I could feel the sensation building from my toes, and it washed over me, and I gasped at the feeling; a few moments later Alistair came too, and he quietly spoke my name and a couple of expletives. We were both covered in a sheen of sweat, and it took a few minutes to catch our breath. Alistair turned on his side and dragged me with him, so we were able to cuddle. He rolled onto his back and I cuddle into his chest, he looked up at the ceiling, and I stole a look at his face; it was in partial darkness and his profile was striking.