Will You

by S J Crabb

  Shaking my head, I don’t think Mrs Steeplehead would see things quite the same way. I feel like an intruder as I look around at her worldly possessions that are steeped in history and held together with memories. I feel a pang as I think about the poor woman who called this place home. Apparently, she suffered a fall while changing the light bulb and broke her hip. Her family waded in and arranged for her to move into the care home for her own protection. They decided to rent out her home, fully furnished, to help with the bills. I feel sorry for her because what she’s left behind is a little gem.

  Verity, the agent, throws open the window and the fresh, salty, air, invades the room. “Take a deep breath, Rachel. This place has healing powers.”

  I mumble to myself. “Tell that to Mrs Steeplehead.”

  She carries on rambling.

  “There’s a coastal path that takes you to Pembury, the nearest town. It’s about an hour’s walk but can be quite invigorating. The nearest house is two minutes’ walk away and you’ll love Bert and Sheila Richardson. Across the road is Sally Mumble. She lives on her own with her cat and you’ll probably see her whizzing around on her Pashley.”

  I raise my eyes and she laughs. “Bike. You know the sort, the one with a basket on the front. Occasionally you’ll see the cat in the basket. Sally’s a little eccentric but nice enough.”

  She points to a building on the hill in the distance.

  “That’s the big house. It’s empty for most of the year but word is, the owner’s heading home soon. He’s a pilot and doesn’t hang around much. I heard he’s bringing his family to stay for the summer.”

  I follow her around the little cottage and feel calm for once. This place is magical and nothing at all like what I’m used to.

  London seems another planet in comparison. I’ve heard about places like this. They are behind the times and steeped in tradition. No mod cons and living life as they used to before the world went mad and greed took over. However, the best thing of all is that nobody will think of looking for me here. This place is perfect in every way.

  Verity claps her hand and says loudly, “Right then, I’ll leave you to settle in and get acquainted with the place. If you need anything, call me. Just don’t pull those cords that dangle everywhere, otherwise, you’ll have the ambulance turn up. I did tell them to remove them but nobody ever listens to me. You mark my words, something will happen and I can say ‘I told you so.’ Anyway, Rachel, enjoy your new home, and I hope you’ll be very happy here.”

  I see her out and as the door closes behind her, I relax. Finally, I can breathe again and put the city behind me and all the stress with it.

  All I have is packed in my hire car. A few cases of clothes and possessions but nothing to remind me of the life I’ve left.

  Happily, I explore the little cottage that I fell in love with as soon as I saw the picture. Bluebell cottage is a stereotype of the nicest kind. A little wooden house painted blue with roses trailing around the porch. Wooden floors with threadbare rugs hold in place the many antiques that must have many stories to tell. Cotton curtains made by hand, billow at the windows as the sunlight shines on every shadow chasing it away. The cottage is basic but clean and I’m happy with my choice.

  There’s a little wood burner in the fireplace and a chintz-covered settee set before it.

  The kitchen is basic and made out of painted white wood. A small pine table and four chairs stand by the window overlooking the shimmering sea. All I can hear are the sounds of seagulls overhead and the gentle lap of the waves on the beach below.

  I decide to hold off unpacking and make the most of this glorious day. Heading outside, I notice the Spring flowers have passed their best and wilt in the sunshine. As I set off to explore, I feel as free as the birds who circle above looking for food. Who needs a man? I don’t. I am now officially single and not willing to mingle. Not that I expect to find anyone here worth mingling with. No, the priority now is me and I’m going to make sure that me is happy before anything.

  The tiny garden is a little wild but I can see the remnants of what it once was. Broken, faded trellis is held up by rambling roses. The grass is poking through the cracks in the paving stones and weeds flourish where flowers once shone, surrounded by discarded broken pots and a watering can without its rose.

  A metal bench sits rusting under a tree and a stone birdbath now just holds weeds.

  Moving through the little broken gate at the end I find myself walking towards the coastal path. The urge to reach the beach is strong, so I walk with enthusiasm to the steps cut into the side of the cliff that will take me there.

  As I make the climb, I push any worries away. What I have just done is impulsive, destructive and selfish and I couldn’t care less. I left London and Viking foods behind without even so much as a goodbye. All I left was a message that I was taking a break and would let them know when I’d be back. It’s not as if I’m not owed time off. I’ve never taken any, except for the odd day here and there for weddings, funerals and long weekends away. Just for a moment, I picture Spencer’s face when he finds out. I almost wish I was there to see the anger and irritation on his face at not knowing what’s going on. He’ll find out I was never at that stupid meeting that he arranged and won’t know about my meeting with his latest conquest.

  I’m sure he’ll try to find me, after all, we do live together. However, I’ve left no trail and taken nothing but my purse and a few clothes. I’m pretty sure I’m safe from him turning up and demanding my return.

  As soon as I reach the beach, I’m happy I came. I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach. Certainly, not in this country and I wonder why I’ve left it so long. As I look around, it strikes me this place is like a postcard. A beautiful bay with a sandy beach and the cool crystal waters sparkle before me, welcoming me to test them out.

  There’s a tiny breeze that calms the waves and the sun is shining brightly in the sky. As I look around, I see nothing but nature and feel happy inside. Quickly, I remove my shoes and allow my toes to curl in the sand. It feels so soft and tickly and I giggle like a school girl inside.

  Sitting down, I run my fingers through the sand and relish the softness of the silky grains that sift through them. Just a simple pleasure that costs nothing but time. My time has always been valuable but I am fast realising you can’t put a price on this feeling. Freedom.

  For a while, I lie back and let the sun warm my soul and notice the difference around me. Sounds are clearer, the different smells weave a tapestry of life here and the temperature warms the chill in my heart.

  Soon the sun intensifies, and the sea beckons. A quick look around shows me I’m alone so before I can change my mind, I remove my dress and leave it abandoned with my reservations on the sand.

  The sea welcomes me in like an old friend. The icy waters invigorate rather than chill and I swim happily for a while, just floating on my back without a care in the world. As I lie floating in paradise, I feel as if I can conquer the world. I am now officially a free spirit and will catch my own food and exist off the land. I will learn about nature and make my own medicines and the clothes I’ll wear will be made by hand. I’ll learn to live again and nobody can ever tell me what to do ever again.

  “Oi, you can’t swim there. Didn’t you see the signs?”

  Suddenly, I’m brought back from my Nirvana to reality and quickly look up.

  A man is watching me from a speedboat that quite frankly must be the Tesla of the sea because I never heard it coming. He shakes his head and says in a much slower voice. “I… said… you… can’t… swim… here… get… out.”

  What! How dare he speak to me as if I’m an idiot?

  I throw him my most disdainful look and say haughtily, “There are no signs and why may I ask, can’t I swim here? Do you own it or something?”

  He rolls his eyes and stares at me with the look usually reserved for the crazies.

  “Jellyfish.”

  Oh my god, what?! I look aro
und frantically as I search the water for the evil little suckers. He starts to laugh as I flounder around in panic, which only adds to my mood. I say angrily, “Stop laughing and give me a hand, will you?”

  He grins wickedly. “If you throw in a please, I’ll consider it.”

  I shriek as my hand brushes against something soft and slimy and then before I know what’s happening, two strong capable man hands grab me under the arms and haul me into the boat. The water pours off me like Niagara Falls as I fall to a heap on the floor. “Ouch.”

  He looks concerned. “What’s the matter, have you been stung?”

  I gaze up at him irritably. “I don’t think so but you threw me in like a sack of coal and I hit my foot on some sort of metal object. Thanks for that by the way, I think I’d have been safer with the Jellyfish.”

  He shakes his head and sits on the driving seat and studies me like a prize fish he caught. Suddenly, I’m aware that all I have between me and mother nature is my underwear that appears to be the transparent kind when wet. Looking down, I scream with mortification and try to use my own body to cover my embarrassment as he rakes me in from head to toe. I scream at him angrily, “Pervert. Is this how you get your kicks? Preying on young women with fanciful tales of Jellyfish dangers to get them in your boat. Don’t you have an oilskin or something?”

  He laughs out loud. “Oilskin? You’re hilarious. Here, cover up with this. I don’t want it back, it’s not my colour, anyway.”

  Furiously, I grab the fleece he’s holding out and pull it over my head. It completely covers me and drags to my knees and he laughs again. Then for the first time, I look at him. I mean - really look at him. This man is like a feral Ross Poldark. His hair is long and wild and his eyes as dark as Heathcliff’s. His t-shirt is obviously too small for him and torn in all the right places. He’s wearing cut-offs which leads the eye down to a very crowded area with muscle riddled legs that would make a lady shave cower in fear.

  He looks to be around his late thirties because this is no boy. Standing before me is one hundred percent Alpha male and for once in my life I’m speechless.

  He continues to look at me, actually he stares at me and I feel as if he has stripped me naked and hung me out for his pleasure. I feel extremely self-conscious and look around, then down and then up to the sky. In fact, anywhere but him.

  Trying to evade his eyes I cough nervously. “Um… anyway… thanks and everything but I should be getting back.”

  He says with amusement. “And how do you think you’ll manage that? The only thing between you and the beach is a sea full of Jellyfish. I’m in as far as I can go without the engine hitting the bottom, so what do you suggest?”

  I look to the shore and see it fast disappearing. My clothes lay where I left them and I can see he’s right. There’s no way back.

  He continues to watch me with that look and I try to remember that I’m good at solving problems so say in my most no-nonsense voice, “Ok, you can take me to the nearest shore and I’ll call a cab. There, problem solved.”

  He rolls his eyes and smirks, which immediately gets my back up. “Where do you think you are, darling, London? The only cab around here is the one on my truck.”

  My mouth opens but nothing comes out and he looks at me as if I’m an idiot and sighs heavily. “Listen, I’ll take you home. I’m just about done for the day, anyway.”

  Feeling somewhat relieved I say thankfully, “That’s very kind of you. I hope it’s not putting you out.”

  Once again, he takes a long lingering look and his eyes strip me bare. Then his eyes flash and he smirks, “Think nothing of it. I’m going that way and you can pay me in kind.”

  I almost fall into the sea as I stutter, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m paying no one in… um… kind. What’s the matter with you, haven’t you heard that it’s the 21st century and women actually have choices? Haven’t you heard about money and failing that Apple pay? Good god, what sort of man are you preying on innocent women and demanding sexual favours? I should report you to the police.”

  He starts to laugh which takes me by surprise and I glare at him and snarl. “What’s so funny – pervert?”

  He turns around and starts the engine which throws me a little and I fall against him. With one hand, he reaches out and tucks me behind him on the boat and the wind carries his words across. “What I meant was you can repay me by doing me a favour. I need a date to a fancy function and you’ll do nicely.”

  I have no choice but to cling on as the boat gathers speed. As I bury my face in his back, I can’t believe what’s happening. A date! With him! He has got to be kidding. However, as my face remains pressed against him and I smell the muskiness coming from him like pheromones, I reason with myself. After all, it’s only a business deal, a favour for a favour. Where’s the harm in that?

  ♥2

  By the time we reach land, I’ve reasoned with every argument my head has thrown at me.

  What’s the harm here?

  Yes, he’s a stranger - I know he could be a murderer.

  For goodness’ sake he’s hot, I mean, really hot; the stuff in those books I’ve read on my kindle during my natural breaks.

  Ok, he’s rough - I might like a bit of rough.

  I know he’s a man and I’m sworn off them for good, but he’s a MAN - all man and I owe it to my lady parts to indulge the dream a little.

  Spencer would hate him – good, that’s the biggest plus point.

  He could be married - I doubt that he’s so rude.

  Ok then, he may steal your heart and then where would you be?

  Back where I started, so you see ‘head’, I’m going whether you like it or not.

  He moors the boat at a wooden jetty and grins. “Here we are. After you.”

  His eyes flash and I realise I have to haul myself out of here with him watching and judging me. Drawing myself up, I take a deep breath. Yes, I’ve got this. Get out of this boat - no problem.

  Reaching up, I grip the wooden jetty and just hang there for a bit. Mm, it is rather high but I’ve done gymnastics in my youth. Not quite the trapeze but I’m sure I can pull myself up. So, with a little jump, I press down on the jetty and try to hook one of my legs up. Panting slightly, I fix my determination in place and use every ounce of strength I own to pull my body up. With one leg dangling and one on the jetty, I swing the other to meet it.

  As I lie face down on the floor, I feel the boards sag a little as he jumps from the boat. Looking down, I can see he used a drop-down ladder from the side and hear him say with amusement. “Impressive. Do you always do things the hard way?”

  I feel my face flame with embarrassment and try to act as normally as possible. “Yes, actually. I mean, where’s the fun in doing things the easy way. I mean, life’s a challenge, or at least I like to think so. You can take the easy road but not me. Oh no, I like a challenge. Always have done always will. In fact, I’m quite disappointed in you.”

  He grins. “And why is that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, I had you down as an adventurer. You know, the sort that lives life to the full. An action man that likes a challenge. Quite frankly, not the sort who resorts to steps to aid his exit. Next, you’ll be telling me you have a gardener and a man to wash your car. You’re probably an accountant that sits at his desk all day shuffling numbers. Not me though, I like danger and excitement. Yes, that’s me, a free spirit. Anyway, I should be going. Is your truck far?”

  I look around hopefully and then feel him behind me. He is so close I can hear his breathing and I’m ashamed to admit in my mind he takes me now, right here on this jetty in full view of anyone with a set of binoculars.

  He leans down and whispers, “Who said we were taking the truck?”

  He moves past me and my eyes follow him to what can only be described as a beast waiting to pounce. Orange flames decorate the side of the biggest, dirtiest, motorbike I have ever seen.

  He throws me a jacket with ‘Harley
Davidson’ emblazoned on the back, quickly followed by a helmet. Then he sits astride the beast and brings it to life under his thighs. Feeling disturbed that I’m jealous of a bike all of a sudden, I say angrily, “No! Absolutely one hundred percent, cotton picking, not in hells chance. Bring the truck around immediately.”

  He looks across and raises his eyes. “Come on, you live for adventure – remember?”

  Realising I’m firmly buried up to the neck in the hole I’ve dug, I look down at my bare legs and cling on to the last bit of hope I have left.

  “Sorry, I expect there are laws against riding barelegged. I’m sure it will contravene every traffic violation written since they were invented. I mean, I’m disappointed and everything but what can I say, rules are rules.”

  Quickly, I look around for a policeman or at least a traffic warden but with a sinking feeling, I can see we are the only ones here.

  He shrugs. “Your choice. You either walk or tuck yourself behind me and I’ll have you home in no time.”

  Once again, my own body betrays me and my legs can’t get me there quickly enough. My arms reach for him like a demanding child and my face longs to inhale that heady scent of man. This helmet is an inconvenience because it prevents me from doing just that. However, when he runs his hands down my bare legs and pulls them tightly to his, I almost pass out. So much for new beginnings. I’ve forgotten and packed the idiot inside me and brought her along. When will I ever learn?

  Despite the man in front of me, I think I’m having the best day of my life.

  Speedboats - check.

  Hot man and I’m talking real man – check.

  Motorbike – check.

  Hot date - check.

  The trouble is, this man’s personality appears to rub me up the wrong way. I spend so much time trying to be clever, I look anything but. I know he can see through me and that angers me more than anything. So, as we draw up outside Bluebell cottage, I try to hold on to the last shred of dignity I have left and hold out my hand. “Thank you… um… I didn’t quite catch your name.”