For now, though, we needed to decide what to do. For a moment I had wicked thoughts about not straying too far from the bedroom, but Ed was right, it would be good to have a change of scene and as long as we were prepared we would never be too far from a bed, of sorts.
“How about a run out to the coast?” I suggested. “It’s a lovely day and it’s still early so we could be there in time for lunch.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” confirmed Ed. “I’ve not been to the beach in years.”
“That’s settled,” I said. “Now, where did I leave the bucket and spade?” I joked.
We didn’t need much and were soon in Ed’s convertible, with the roof down – well, it would be rude not to on a day like this – and were soon speeding our way down the country lanes deciding to take the slightly longer, but much more fun, scenic route rather than bolting down the dual carriageway. For all its directness it was boring with its high embankments, trees or fences. This way we got to enjoy all the quaint villages, with their idyllic duck ponds, cafes bulging with customers enjoying the sunshine and some light refreshments.
Passing through villages and hamlets, avoiding towns wherever we could, we pointed out houses to each other that we would love to live in, both of us preferring the traditional farmhouse with outbuildings and away from anything modern, cramped and characterless.
I was musing to myself about how alike we were, how our tastes complemented each other and how even after such a short time I could already imagine myself living in one of these beautiful homes with Ed. Maybe not the husband, children and a four-by-four-on-the-drive-type lifestyle but a happy and carefree one nonetheless. These thoughts all wafted through my mind just as the breeze wafted through my hair as we dashed through the green and luscious countryside until the shimmering blue sea finally sprung into view.
I had always loved the seaside. I had even spent a year living on the Devon coast. I had rented a house on a hill above the town, looking down on the bay and from where, in the summer, I had the perfect viewing spot for the speedboat racing just below – the noise, the thrills.
Living on the coast was glorious, but as with so many coastal towns these days they have become a magnet for hen and stag dos, which could, on occasions, get a little trying when having a quiet night out with friends.
The job had not worked out for me in the end and a little over a year after arriving I moved back across the country to be closer to my family. Still, it had served its purpose. Moving to the opposite side of the country had enabled me to finally escape from Fred 3.
Leaving the coast had not diminished my love for it: the sounds of the gulls and ice cream vans competing for attention and often found in close proximity; the smell of the sea; the warmth of the sand as it squishes between your toes; and the cooling, refreshing, salty sea when paddling. However, it had been some years since I had swum in the sea.
As a child we used to have long family holidays on the coast. My parents, brother and I stayed in a large, Edwardian rented house on one of the grand, wide, tree-lined avenues leading away from the beach. Even more special we stayed there with some of my grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins. The house came with its own beach hut, and we spent endless, carefree days playing on the beach, building sandcastles, swimming, sheltering from the wind and rain and drinking hot tea in the beach hut. There was so much love and laughter. Even now the memory makes me smile and long for those days to return. I turned to Ed, wondering, hoping, that they might be about to.
We had arrived in good time for lunch so decided to go for a stroll first. We walked hand in hand through the pretty seaside town, with its old fishermen’s cottages hunkered down, built strong to withstand the winter weather that rolled in across the sea. They were painted a myriad of pastel shades, all different, all complementary. With quaint cottage gardens facing the sea, shuttered windows and white picket fences, it was all so serene.
We walked past the ancient lighthouse – not huge, but the land around the town was so flat that it could be seen from the sea for miles.
The pubs and cafes were starting to fill up – well, the gardens were – and we decided to lay claim to one of the remaining tables outside the front of a typical pub, long and narrow, stretching along the edge of the promenade with a commanding view of the sea. Somewhere out there, far out there, was another country, but you couldn’t see it, not even on a clear day like this.
We both ordered a ploughman’s with a pint of ice-cold sparkling water. When the food arrived I passed my bread roll to Ed and he exchanged it for his coleslaw.
We were surrounded by people, from babes in arms to doting grandparents, people alone, couples, whole families, friends. Every person, every type, from all over the country, was represented in the pub garden, but we took no notice of them, wrapped up in our own little bubble.
I forget now at what point during the afternoon it was or even who decided, but at some point we agreed to stay over. We had no clothes, wash stuff or makeup. Luckily I had my medication, and a quick chat with the landlord secured us a double room with en suite for the night. We strolled into town to purchase a few essentials and after depositing them in our room, which smelt of centuries of open wood fires, we resumed our conversation in the garden, soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying a glass or two of Prosecco.
It was only one night away, our first together, but it felt like we were a million miles away on a holiday and we intended to make the most of it.
In hindsight this was the best impromptu night away I had ever had. There had been a few over the years with less success. There was the night with Fred 3. We had been out for the day. I was driving, as always, and he wanted to have a few drinks, as always, before heading home. As the driver I couldn’t drink, as always, but it was a warm Sunday afternoon and the thought of spending the evening watching the boats glide up and down the river was too much to walk away from, even if it was with Fred 3 and I would have to pay, as always. I had enjoyed the scenery if not the company, but the very early morning start to get home, get changed and get to work on time meant it was not the relaxing night away I had hoped for.
Then there was Rob. I had met Rob whilst living in Devon. He was tall, with average looks, but what he lacked in the attraction stakes he more than made up for in wit and the gift of the gab. He could charm the birds from the trees and the fish from the sea, and he probably had done at some stage.
The night we met I was out with a friend in a local pub, away from the baying stag and hen dos, for a couple of quiet drinks before moving on to the more touristy, busier and buzzier town pubs and clubs. We got chatting to a couple of lads – one local, married, the other his brother visiting him from out of town, and that was Rob.
We ended up spending all evening in the pub, never venturing any further, but enjoying the company of our new friends.
Rob was a gentleman. He made me feel special and he made me laugh. We kissed that night and it was not until later when we exchanged phone numbers that he dropped into the conversation that he was married with two young children – a girl and a boy. He was at pains to point out that the marriage was over, but they were staying together for now as the children were so young. That said he requested that I didn’t phone him, he would call me when the coast was clear. I should have walked away right then and there, but I didn’t. Stupid me. Another wounded animal for me to help. He wanted to talk, to tell me how bad his wife was, how hard done by he was, and I listened and I sympathised, I counselled and I consoled.
We met up when he came down to visit his brother and sister-in-law, a lovely lady, full of love and laughter. Or Rob and I would talk on the phone until late in the evening, assuming his wife was not at home.
There were other times when we would meet up halfway between our two homes, at country pubs with rooms. But I always paid because he couldn’t have anything come up on his credit card bill. Even that didn’t put me off, even t
hough it struck the same chord as Fred 3 had done, only more charming and less abusive. The sex helped of course. The sex was amazing and made me feel wanted, very desirable – again something Fred 3 had spectacularly failed to make me feel.
Eventually, though, it was not the wife or the money that split us up, it was his selfishness. Having spent months listening to his woes, supporting, sympathising and helping him, the minute life took a rather stressful and upsetting turn for me he was nowhere to be found. He just cut contact and left me to deal with it myself. Finally showing his true colours. I did what I always did and survived, not because of a man but in spite of him. I have always been blessed with the most amazing family and friends, and it was them that gave me the strength to get through this particular episode.
Back to the present
Luckily, though, Ed had none of those traits. He had been honest from the outset and true to his word. Even though I tried to insist on always splitting the bill, on most occasions he picked it up with a smile and paid without any request for reimbursement. What a fantastic change of luck. Not that that was the reason why I was with him, but it had often been the reason why I had ended it with his predecessors.
After a delicious dinner of steak, salad and chips – Ed picking up my share as I didn’t want to feel bloated when I wanted to feel lithe for the night ahead – we washed down our food with more wine, the candles on the table flickering in the slight salty breeze coming in off the sea; Ed’s smiling face illuminated by the candles below; hands held across the table when our empty plates had been taken away and our compliments passed on to the chef.
Eventually we gave up trying to pretend that we wanted to be anywhere other than our room upstairs and the giant bed was calling. It was an old coaching inn, hence the smoke smell in the room, but the facilities were modern, including a lovely walk-in shower wet room and two armchairs tucked under the leaded windows that framed the view of the sea.
I’m not going to divulge the details of what happened after we closed the door or even when we woke the next day, but you can, as always, fill in the blanks.
We made use of the few toiletries we had bought the day before and indulged in a huge full English breakfast, washed down with lashings of strong coffee to replenish the energy we had expended during the night and revive the body and mind after the alcohol and lack of sleep.
We sat drinking coffee for some time before collecting our meagre belongings from our charming room. As we shut the door I took one last glance around the room, savouring the memories and knowing I would never forget this place.
We left the car in the car park and took a final stroll around the town and along the beach, turning our faces in to the cooling sea breeze and the glorious hot sun, absorbing every second, every sense, creating new and lasting memories. Neither of us wanting to break the spell or make moves towards home. We stood, leaning on the high sea wall, looking out to sea, holding hands, engulfed in happiness.
Eventually Ed squeezed my hand, bringing me back to my senses, to the here and now. I turned to face him.
“I don’t want to go home either,” he confessed, reading my mind, “but I will need to drop you home, pick up my bag and make my way north,” he said softly. I snuggled into his warm body, burying my head into his chest as we hugged each other. “It’s been amazing and we’ll definitely do this more often. Maybe we’ll even remember to bring our overnight bags next time,” he said, laughing.
I pulled my head back from his chest and looked up at him. “Thank you, it’s been glorious and you’re right, we can do this again.” I paused. “Soon.”
We kissed, a mellow, loving, soft kiss. This was not the time to reignite our passion. We walked slowly back to the car, eking out every last second.
The drive home was more subdued than the journey just one day before. From time to time I glanced over at Ed. He stared ahead, focusing on the road. But he knew I was looking, as each time I did he smiled, reassuring me he was aware of my presence. What he couldn’t see was the love emanating from me. I was glad he was unaware of it. I was not ready to share that with him, I didn’t want to scare him off. I had realised I had fallen for him at some point in the early hours. We had made love just after dawn and Ed had fallen asleep shortly afterwards. It had taken me a little longer to find sleep again and in that time I had laid on my side, my hand under the side of my face, my other hand holding down the edge of the pillow so I could see his sleeping face. As I lay there, feeling this swelling of emotion and love, yes, I had fallen in love. It scared me slightly, not just the revelation but also the speed with which it had descended, unannounced, uninvited, upon me. I thought I was more cautious now, after all the disasters that had come before.
Sitting in the car I felt more confident now. I felt the warmth of love flowing through me. I would wait to see if Ed felt the same. For now, though, I would keep my feelings a secret. If I could. If my face didn’t give it away. I had to try to keep it to myself and enjoy whatever this relationship was and where the journey would take us.
For now, though, we were heading towards my home much more rapidly than I would have liked.
It was another sad farewell as Ed continued his journey home. Sad, yet I felt less anxious than before, as I knew it wouldn’t be long before we saw each other again, and even less time until we spoke, as we had agreed he would call to let me know he had reached home safely.
seven.
New begets new
That week was a reversal of fortunes. With the security established in my relationship with Ed it was now the turn of my job to cause stress and doubt.
Not long before I met, or re-met Ed, a new director had been employed and I would be reporting in to her. I made her feel welcome, I told her what I did and was helpful and polite. However, before long she started to show her true colours. To my face she listened, expressed an interest and contributed to the debate. Behind my back she portrayed a very different picture, either taking credit for my work or, having agreed on a particular course of action or position on an issue with me, she then presented the opposite view to the chief executive. As a result I would be hauled in front of them both to be told I had to go with the line manager’s opinion, making out that I was being difficult and disruptive, even putting a question mark over my ability to do my job, leaving me feeling confused and betrayed.
That particular week everything became clear. My new line manager wanted me out. She was making my work life increasingly hard, either micro-managing every element of what I did or undermining me. It was hard to take. I had been there for seven years and put my heart and soul into raising the profile of the organisation. But none of that mattered. I had to go. I was not foolish enough to think I could just hang on in there. Knowing what I knew, I could easily have played the game. But I knew I had lost the fight, and more importantly I didn’t have the energy or desire to cling on.
So, that week, my days were spent doing my best to keep my head down and out of the firing line at work. Then in the evenings the longed-for chats with Ed, during which we discussed and agreed it was time to move on. I worked and reworked my CV.
One way or another it was time for both of us – the organisation and me – to have a new future.
CV ready I scoured the job sites, registered with a few recruitment agencies, contacted a headhunter I had worked with previously to let him know I was looking. Being proactive made me feel like I had taken back the control that I had lost when my new line manager started. Being busy also helped the week pass quickly before I would be reunited with Ed.
On Friday morning I was engulfed in an opinion piece that I was rushing to proof and send off to meet the publication deadline when my personal phone sprang into life. Looking at the screen I saw it was Ed. Both excited to hear from him and worried he might be about to cancel the weekend that had been the light at the end of this particularly long and dark tunnel, I answered nervously.
“Hello, you too,” he said softly, sounding his usual self, no hint of a let-down or regret that I feared I would hear.
“Sorry to trouble you at work,” he continued, “I know you’re working to deadline, but Dan just called. He and Emma are really excited about a potential venue for their wedding and was hoping I would go and see it along with Clare and Emma’s parents this weekend.” He rushed on, not letting me interject, maybe sensing I was feeling despondent at what I thought was about to be a rain check on our weekend. “I told them I was seeing you, which, to cut a long story short, ended up with the conversation being diverted and off track for some time, but at the end of it they said they’d love you to come too, to look at the venue that is, and also, of course, to meet you. I’d love you to come, but do you think it would be too much, you know, to meet all of them in one go? We could meet Dan and Emma for lunch first and then the rest, to split it up a bit. Of course, if it’s too much too soon just say and I’ll make it over to the venue another time and come down to you this evening as promised…” Finally he trailed off, pausing for breath after his words had tumbled out at hastening speed.
I smiled. Ed couldn’t see it, but I was so relieved that I would be seeing him and excited at how he wanted me to meet his family and to be part of the wedding planning. I didn’t make Ed wait though, as I knew he was on tenterhooks. “I’d love to come with you. You’ll need to send me your address so I can find your house, assuming you are happy for me to stay with you? Otherwise the address of a local hotel or pub would be fine. I’ll need to go home and pack a bag and will get underway as soon as I can.”
Loves Lost and Found Page 9