Will You

by S J Crabb

  He takes my hand and says shortly, “Logan.”

  I smile politely. “Rachel.”

  Looking down at the fleece I’m wearing, I say airily, “I’ll make sure to wash this and return it as soon as possible, Thanks for your help but I should be heading inside to clean up.”

  He nods and then says abruptly. “7.30. Dress to impress.”

  Before I can even reply, he kicks the bike into life and then he’s gone, leaving me staring after him not knowing what on earth just happened.

  ♥3

  I wish I could say the shower made me feel better but I think shower is the wrong word to use when describing what passes for one in Bluebell cottage. A few trickles of mainly lukewarm water make it difficult to get any part of me wet, let alone wash my hair. How on earth am I meant to clean myself here? The bath looks as if it’s seen better days and has a rust patch near the plug and god only knows what caused the stain around the rim. Sighing, I try to at least run a bath but I could go out with my date and it would still be running when I came home. This is a disaster.

  I resort to filling the washing-up bowl and having a strip wash. You know, like they did in the MIDDLE AGES!

  Maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. This isn’t me. I’m used to every mod con going, and it seemed like a romantic notion at the time. The trouble is, the reality is not living up to the dream and I’m fast reconsidering my options.

  Once I feel almost like my old self, I decide to go and say ‘hi’ to my new neighbours. Maybe they can recommend a place that has showering facilities nearby. I don’t know, maybe a sports club or gym, perhaps?

  First stop is Sally Mumble. I’m curious to meet her. Maybe we will share things in common and become firm friends. I could certainly use one right now so I paste the brightest smile on my face and knock on her rather tatty door.

  It takes a while and I hear her moving around inside for quite some time before she opens the door.

  When she does make an appearance, I see a woman around thirty or maybe forty, dressed in a kaftan with her hair dyed blue. She’s wearing glasses and holds a paintbrush that’s dripping a weird shade of orange onto her clothes.

  She says loudly, “I saw you moving in earlier. I would have come and said ‘hi’ but had this job on so thought I’d call over later. I’m Sally, by the way, come in and I’ll dig out some cake, I’m sure to have some around here.”

  I follow her in and pick my way through various pots and piles of random objects on the floor. Like the woman, her house is mismatched and messy. I’m pretty sure they could film one of those clean-up programmes in here because I can’t see the floor for dust and mess.

  However, Sally is lovely. She looks at me and smiles warmly and puts the paintbrush in a nearby plant pot, dabbing a little paint on the green leaves as she does. “Welcome to Perivale. Rachel, isn’t it?”

  Nodding, I hold out the little posy of wildflowers I picked from the garden.

  “Yes, and I was told your name’s Sally.”

  She nods and takes the flowers happily. “Wow, my favourites. I just love daisies; how did you know?”

  Shaking my head, I smile. “Lucky guess. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you, you look as if you’re busy.”

  She shakes her head. “Not really. I said I’d paint a banner for the village hall. They’re looking for volunteers to help with a fundraiser.”

  I say with interest. “What for?”

  “The usual. The place is falling down and they need to tart it up a bit. Trouble is, it would take a lottery grant to make that place habitable. A few cake sales and Jumble sales aren’t going to make a dent in that particular benevolent fund.”

  Feeling curious, I ask, “How much do they need?”

  She shrugs. “Who knows? It doesn’t matter though, not many people use it so it won’t matter. This place is hardly busy at the best of times which is why I like it here.”

  I have to agree with her. “Yes, it does have a certain appeal. So, tell me what I can expect living here.”

  Sally rummages around in her cupboard and says triumphantly, “There you are.”

  She places a strange looking cake on the only piece of the kitchen counter that’s clear and proceeds to cut a large piece for both of us.

  “Well, it’s quiet which is good, so that’s a plus. There’s not much to do, so that’s another plus. Nobody ever comes here which is great. The beach is amazing but full of jellyfish so that’s a problem, really. Oh, and the seagulls mess all over your washing so it’s best to look out for that.”

  I feel faint. “So, um… Sally, what do you do with your time?”

  She crams a large piece of cake in her mouth and mumbles, “Nothing.”

  Sighing, I tentatively take a bite of the cake, fully expecting it to be well past its sell-by date. However, I’m pleasantly surprised, as what hits my taste buds is a little piece of heaven. Just for a minute, I don’t speak. Like Sally, I cram as much as the cake as possible into my mouth and revel in the taste sensation it creates.

  I’m almost tempted to lick the crumbs from both our plates that are suspiciously painted orange and say with amazement, “Sally, did you make this?”

  She nods. “Yeah, I can’t remember what it is though. I think I used violets from the garden in the icing.”

  Laughing, I say, “Well, whatever it is, it’s the best I’ve ever tasted. When you can remember will you write down the recipe for me? I’d love to try to bake it myself.”

  Sally smiles and I notice the years fall away. Maybe she’s younger than I thought and I stare at her with fascination. Then her eyes light up as a little furry bundle of joy leaps onto the table and purrs adorably. “Meet Vixen. She’s my fur baby and the only friend I can count on.”

  Reaching out, I stroke the sweet little cat and say softly, “She’s perfect. How old is she?”

  Sally looks thoughtful. “I think she’s three but then again, she could be four. You know, time has no meaning here, I sometimes forget to track it.”

  I decide that Sally is the oddest, strangest, weirdest person I have ever met, yet strangely the most fascinating. She is so different from the usual people I mix with and yet I’m guessing her life is much more interesting.

  Vixen jumps down and heads outside and Sally looks at me with interest. “Have you met anyone yet?”

  I shiver as I think of Logan and try to make my voice sound as normal as possible as I say lightly, “Oh yes, somebody called Logan.”

  Sally’s eyes widen. “What, Logan Rivers?”

  Typical. Trust him to have some kind of rock star name. I look interested. “Do you know him?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  Feeling as if I’m in a parallel universe, I look at her curiously. “Then how do you know his name?”

  She shrugs. “Heard about him but never spoken to him. He keeps himself to himself and that’s fine by me.”

  I can’t stop digging for information and say with interest. “So, um… what have you heard?”

  She cuts another piece of cake and pushes it towards me. Maybe I can just live on this, it wouldn’t be a hardship.

  I listen as she tells me what she knows. “Word is, he’s some big shot record producer. Then again, someone else said he was a movie star. Anyway, whatever he is, he doesn’t do much. Just plays around on his boat and motorbike. He has a jet ski as well and a sports car. I guess he likes his toys.”

  I feel fascinated and dig a little deeper. “Does he have any family?”

  She shrugs. Not that I know about. He has a different girl on his arm when he heads out of an evening but that’s all I know. He doesn’t mix with the locals and just hides away in his beach house.”

  She shrugs and starts clearing the plates away which just involves shifting them from the clear counter to sit on top of several other dishes.

  I smile gratefully and say lightly, “Anyway, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. It’s good to meet you, Sally. My doo
r is always open as they say, so pop round anytime.”

  She walks me to the door and smiles. “Sure, thanks. See you around.”

  As I head down her path, I laugh to myself. Sally’s an odd one that’s for sure. I like her though.

  Feeling quite upbeat, I carry on to Bert and Sheila’s house. It takes me all of ten minutes to find and I see a pretty well-tended garden sprawling around a sweet little bungalow. My heart leaps. Yes, this is more like it. Normal life resumes.

  I make my way to the door and note the polished step and immaculately kept lawn. They are obviously people after my own heart. Finally, I can have an adult conversation with intelligent people. Hurray for Bert and Sheila.

  I ring their doorbell and hear it chime throughout the house. I don’t have to wait long before a woman throws open the door, dusting flour from her hands and beaming broadly. “You must be Rachel. Come on in love, Bert’s in the shed but I’ll call him.”

  Happily, I follow her into the pristine bungalow and feel my world right itself. I’m pretty sure they must have a working shower here so maybe I can ask to use it once a week or something.

  Sheila opens the back door and yells, “Bert, visitor!”

  Then she turns and smiles. “So, it’s lovely to meet you. I must say we were all a little worried when Molly took that nasty fall. Nobody knew what would become of the place but when they said they were renting it to a young lady, we were quite surprised. What’s a pretty young thing like you doing hiding herself away out here?”

  I squirm a little under her sharp gaze and say lightly, “I just needed to get away from my cheating fiancé. You know the sort, Sheila. I came where he wouldn’t think to look for me.”

  Immediately, Sheila looks angry on my behalf. “I thought as much, it’s always a man in my opinion. Well, if he comes here, I’ll tell him a thing or two. You did the right thing love, keep away from men like that, they’ll be trouble for the rest of your life if you let them.”

  Her husband makes his way inside and I see a kind looking elderly gentleman who smiles at me warmly. “You must be Rachel. Pleased to meet you, love. Now don’t listen to Sheila here, she talks a lot of old wives’ tales.”

  He pats her on the shoulder and she pretends to frown but doesn’t quite pull it off. I laugh as I see the genuine love they have for each other which does restore my faith a little.

  Sheila busies herself with making a pot of tea and fusses around me. “Sit down and tell me all about yourself. Do you work, where are you from, what did that man of yours do? Oh, I need to know everything.”

  Bert rolls his eyes and I stifle a giggle. I decided to skirt around the truth a little and just tell them I’m from London and work in the city at Viking foods. They look impressed and Bert says, “This must seem a little strange here. I mean, you’re used to living in the fast lane. Here, it’s not so much the slow lane more like the hard shoulder.”

  Sheila nods. “Yes, we’ve only just got broadband. The nearest supermarket is ten miles away and the only shops are in Pembury which isn’t exactly convenient.”

  “It sounds like paradise to me,” I say, meaning every word.

  “London is busy, bustling and terrifying. Nobody has time for anyone else and the only objective is making money. I searched for a place that has none of its qualities, so I’m happy to hear your description of Perivale.”

  Bert nods. “You know, we haven’t always lived here. Much like you we worked hard and had little spare time. When we retired, we came here with the sole aim of easing off the pedal a little. It suits us and brings the family to visit a few times a year. All that really matters is enjoying life as best you can and making the ends meet in the middle.”

  Sheila nods in agreement. “If you need anything just ask. We’re always here unless we take the car to Pembury. Bert has his birdwatching and I attend the local bridge club. Do you play bridge, Rachel?

  I shake my head. “No, but I’d like to try.”

  Sheila looks pleased. “Then be my guest at our next gathering. You can observe and see if it’s your cup of tea.”

  I’m pretty sure I outstay my welcome but sitting in their warm cosy kitchen feels so good. They provide me with endless tea and gossip and if I could stay here all night, I would. Then I remember my date, for want of a better word and decide to head back.

  After promising to visit often, I head back down the lane to Bluebell cottage.

  ♥4

  Ok, I’m nervous and think I’m about to have a panic attack. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to this, especially with a man who completely rubs me up the wrong way. I still can’t get over his stupid name. Logan Rivers, that’s a made-up name if ever I heard one.

  Clothes go flying as I struggle to find anything worthy of being described as impressive. I hardly packed to dress up and go on a date my first day. What was I thinking?

  So much for my new start, I may have to move on quicker than I thought if tonight goes how I think it will. Stupid Logan Rivers and his love of fast toys. Why did I ever agree to this? Maybe I should have offered him the other benefit in kind. At least he’d be gone within the hour and I’d have had some fun along the way. Tonight, promises to be tedium personified, while I struggle to string a sentence together with Logan flaming Rivers.

  The only thing that passes as impressive in my whole suitcase is a white dress that falls to just above my knee. It’s pretty basic but if I team it with some silver jewellery and a contrasting clutch bag and shoes, it may just pass the test. The only coat I brought with me is my ski jacket, so I resort to grabbing my pale blue pashmina and hope it’s up to the job. The evenings are still a little cool and knowing him he’s brought his stupid bike.

  I still can’t get used to seeing myself with blonde hair. I keep on catching sight of it in the mirror and think there’s an intruder standing behind me. However, I do quite like the new me. I was due a change although I had just meant it to be my hair colour and not the whole of my life.

  At 7.30 on the dot, according to my iPhone, I hear the rumble of a car’s engine drawing up outside. I relax a little knowing it’s not his bike. Then the nerves wash over me again and I start to hyperventilate. What am I doing? I’m such an idiot. This day is one of the weirdest in my life and yet something inside me is more alive than I’ve ever been. I am doing the unthinkable. Going where I never have before and through that door is the hottest man I’ve ever met, come to date me!

  The sharp knock on the door reminds me what an asshole he is so, I set my mood accordingly and fling the door open with a bravado that deserts me the minute I lay eyes on him.

  Logan looks me up and down and once again I feel naked. His eyes travel the length of me in a split second and leave me feeling open and exposed. He meanwhile, looks even hotter than earlier if that’s possible. He is wearing smart chinos with a white shirt that’s slightly open revealing his broad, tanned, chest. His eyes sparkle with amusement as he catches me staring and says roughly, “Good, you’re on time. We don’t have long and the last thing I needed was someone who kept me waiting.”

  He turns to leave, expecting me to follow dutifully behind which instantly gets my back up. So, I say quickly, “Sorry, you know us ladies, there’s always something we’ve forgotten. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you waiting long.”

  Then I slam the door and lean against it laughing to myself. Take that creep face. He only needs to open that heavenly mouth of his and the words that come out irritate me beyond belief. He certainly never graduated from charm school so maybe he needs teaching some manners.

  I decided to paint my nails while I make him wait. That should sufficiently get the message across. What a weirdo.

  I think I’ve just managed one coat before the door opens and he storms in looking angry. He sees me sitting there and growls, “So, you forgot to paint your nails. Big deal. You know, I had you down as something more than the usual airheads I date. It looks like I got that wrong.”

  He marches over and sits before me,
staring at me with a hard expression. I’m not sure why but seeing him here in this little cottage makes him seem even larger if that’s possible. I try not to let him get to me and just carry on with my task but it’s difficult when he is glaring at me so angrily.

  I blow my nails to dry them and say sweetly. “You know, you really should take a chill pill. You’ll have terrible medical problems if you let yourself get so wound up over such a trivial thing.”

  He raises his eyes and smirks. “So, you’re a doctor now.”

  I smile knowledgeably. “Well, I could have been. I mean, I certainly got the grades. However, I couldn’t face dealing with arrogant assholes every day so shelved that idea.”

  He laughs. “Arrogant assholes, in nursing?”

  I blow my other hand. “No, surgeons. You see, my fun-loving friend, I could have been a brain surgeon if I wished. In fact, they begged me but I had to let them down gently. So, you see, I am sort of qualified to pass my diagnosis in a roundabout way.”

  He shakes his head. “Well, that’s a big loss to the medical profession. No wonder the NHS is in dire straits.”

  Standing up, I smooth down my dress and note the sudden sparkle in his eyes as he watches me. What can I say, I’m a woman after all and am enjoying the sudden power I’m holding over him? Making sure I walk with my best wiggle forward, I say sharply. “Well, are you just going to sit there all night or do we have a function to attend?”

  Continue Reading Fooling in Love