I stood up. “How about I put some supper on? I’m guessing you’ve not had anything to eat since yesterday.”
He nodded.
“Come on then, you can pour some wine while I get the food on.” I led him into the kitchen, reassured by how easily we were slipping back into old ways without it feeling awkward or difficult.
We made small talk as we eased back into the familiar.
“So have you started your new job?” I asked.
“No, I start on Monday. I moved down last week and have been unpacking and settling in,” he said and then continued in a more serious tone, “I don’t want you to think that I’ve made contact because I’ve moved down. I would have moved anyway and I would have stayed away if you had asked me to.”
“I thought about it. I needed time and I’m really glad you gave it to me.” I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, it was still raw and I didn’t want to go backwards. I decided to change the subject.
“So how are the family?”
Ed shot me a look, clearly aware that I was changing tack, but even if he had wanted to discuss the situation further he respected my unspoken wishes and sat up on the stool, glass in hand and replied.
“They’re good. As you will have seen the plans for the wedding have continued to move forward.”
There was a question, a big, burning, elephant-in-the-room-sized question hanging in the air. ‘Would I go to the wedding?’ We both shifted awkwardly. I was standing by the oven and turned back to stir the pot.
Quietly, but determinedly I said, “I’m not ready to make a decision on that yet. Can we put that to one side until we’ve been together a little while?”
“I totally understand and respect that,” he said, his tone mirroring mine. “Dan and Emma are holding a place just in case, but there is no pressure either way.”
I finished cooking and took the piping hot plates of food to the dining table. Ed followed me with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and the two glasses in his hands.
We sat opposite each other, in our usual spots, slipping seamlessly back into familiarity. It felt good and worrying at the same time.
We kept conversation light, skirting any difficult topics or anything related to our relationship.
I’m not sure if it was the wine, the conversation, or the company. Maybe it was a dizzy combination of all three but I found myself relaxing, smiling, giggling and flirting until late into the evening.
As I began to yawn, I knew that awkward moment was upon us.
“I’m sorry, Ed, but I need to head to bed,” I said, touching his arm gently.
“I can call a taxi and let myself out,” he said, ever the gentleman, but there was a slight hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Thank you,” I said, grateful he had solved the problem before it became awkward. I had loved the evening and I didn’t want it ruined. It was too early, too soon, to rekindle the passion we had revelled in before.
We stood there for a moment. I rested my hands on his chest, feeling his warmth through my fingertips. I leant in and kissed Ed gently on the cheek, lingering a moment longer than was necessary.
“Call me tomorrow?” I asked, wanting to make the point that I wanted to move the relationship forward.
I turned and made my way to the bottom of the stairs and turned back to Ed. Smiling at him, I said, “Until tomorrow.”
“Until then,” he said, smiling back at me as he lifted his phone and started scrolling through his contacts to find a taxi number. I was quietly impressed he had only been living here for a week and had already programmed his phone with all the necessary numbers.
How very boy scouts, I thought, or policeman, I reprimanded myself.
I climbed the stairs slowly, undressed, cleaned my teeth and got into bed. It felt strange being in bed, alone, while Ed was downstairs. For a moment, a brief, pleasurable moment, I considered running downstairs, throwing myself into his strong arms, staring into his handsome face and kissing him with every ounce of energy and pent-up passion.
But I didn’t. I reminded myself of the importance of re-establishing our relationship and of the fact that, when starting a new relationship I would never jump into bed with a potential new boyfriend on the first date, and even though this was the second first date, or possibly even third, the same rules and benefits applied.
Plus it wouldn’t do Ed any harm to wait and to know he still had work to do to get us back to where we were.
I heard the door open and be pulled closed quietly as Ed left my home. The place had seen both happiness and laughter as well as devastation and tears of pain and anguish.
I hugged the duvet close to me, smelling Ed on the cover. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face and a feeling of contentment that I hadn’t felt for some time.
fifteen.
One step at a time
The next morning I was making breakfast, the sun streaming in through the open window, bringing warmth with it, when my phone rang.
I almost dropped the coffee pot, my heart thumping. It was Ed. Having rushed to get to the phone, I paused before answering. I didn’t want to appear too keen.
“Morning, you,” I purred into the phone, unable to hide my delight at Ed calling so early, and desperately hoping I would see him.
“Hey, you,” he said, sounding very perky and more like the Ed I had known before.
“Did you have a good night’s sleep?” I asked.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I’d get any after sleeping most of the afternoon, but somehow I was out like a light half an hour after I got home. How about you?”
“Same, thank you, I drifted off not long after you left and I have had a very lazy morning so far. I’m just making breakfast.” I glanced down at my watch and was embarrassed to see that it was 10.30am and I had just confessed to only now having breakfast. I coughed nervously.
“Me too,” I was relieved to hear Ed say. “Hey, I was wondering if you fancy going for a walk then a late lunch. I’m starting my new job tomorrow so I will need to be sensible and have an early night.”
“I’d like that,” I said a little too eagerly.
“Great, I’ll be over in an hour or so to pick you up.”
“Fab, see you soon.”
As soon as we hung up I changed my mind about breakfast and went into a panic trying to decide what to wear. I wanted to look amazing but in an effortless ‘oh, this old thing, I just threw it on’ kind of a way. I tried on three outfits before settling on the staple jeans, the bottom of each leg turned up, not so much a fashion statement as a practical solution to being short. I teamed them with a floaty top that cut low to reveal my cleavage.
The sun was out, but there was a chill wind and it was cold in the shade so I put on thick socks and my ankle boots and planned to throw on a coat when we left.
I always struggle with coats – either going too warm or not warm enough. At least I would have Ed if I ended up with the latter.
As the clock clicked closer towards midday I paced the room, filled with nervous energy. Realising this wouldn’t be a good image to greet Ed, I made my way to the kitchen and perched on the stool, drinking the cold coffee I had abandoned over an hour earlier. Luckily I like cold coffee.
Just after 12 noon there was a loud knock at the door.
Calm down, I told myself. I stood, straightened my top and pulled up my jeans. Head held high I walked sedately to the door.
“Hey, you!” I said as I opened the door to greet a beaming Ed with a beautiful bouquet of white roses, intersected with delicate dots of white gypsophila and a scattering of eucalyptus.
It should have been a wonderful gesture. However, a previous boyfriend had put me off flowers, as whenever he saw someone carrying a bunch he would ask, “I wonder what he/she is guilty of?” It was how he managed to get away with never buying me a
ny, not even for my birthday, our anniversary or heaven forbid Valentine’s Day. That mantra had stuck with me.
But Ed was trying very hard and it really was a beautiful display. This was a good start and I rewarded him for it by smiling, stepping back to let him in and planting a kiss on his cheek as he passed.
I closed the door behind him.
“Are those for me?” I asked coyly.
He handed them to me. “Yes, sorry,” he paused, “sorry, I have to be honest I’m feeling nervous, I don’t know why, it’s silly really,” he said slowly, shaking his head, not quite looking me in the eye.
I took the flowers and placed them delicately in the sink, breathing in the sweet aroma as I did so.
I returned to an awkward Ed and without saying a word I gave him a massive hug. He reacted immediately by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in even closer.
As he released his grip slightly I turned my face up towards his and smiled.
Ed bent down and we kissed, a deep, passionate, heart-thumping kiss. It was like we had never been apart.
We stayed locked in the embrace for some time. Finally coming up for breath we loosened our grip on each other, suddenly aware that we had been clinging to each other with energy-sapping strength.
It was evident to see the reaction the embrace had had on Ed and I smiled while he looked awkward.
“Well,” I said, “I hope you’re not still feeling nervous?”
He laughed. “No, I feel much more relaxed, thank you.” He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me again, this time more gently, with less urgency. We knew we had time and stepped back from the intensity.
When Ed had recovered his decorum I picked up my coat and we drove the half-hour to my nearest National Trust property.
We strolled slowly hand in hand along the well-trodden path, chatting about nothing, pointing out little flashes of colour on the leaf-strewn ground.
We laughed at the rude nude statues that were placed next to the path or inside almost complete circles of bushes, which created private places for contemplation or stolen kisses.
The path meandered through a beautiful collection of white poplars, planted regimentally in triangles. They were breathtaking.
Further on we walked through an ancient arched doorway, the heavy wooden oak door with sturdy ring of iron for a handle pushed back against a flint wall, never to be closed again.
Onwards and we came to the old watermill with white boarded walls and rickety stairs leading up to the cobwebbed rafters. Amazingly it still worked and the flour they milled was sold in the shop by the entrance.
We walked along the swollen river that fed the mill. Two beautiful swans elegantly glided past us.
Some of the gardens had been closed off. The gardeners were busy removing the plants that had died back and were preparing the beds for the next season.
Large areas of grass were roped off to ensure they were not churned up by eager walkers and playing children. But it didn’t detract from the walk. We were happy on the path and this was more about rekindling our relationship than about the walk in itself.
After an hour we made our way back to the car, avoiding the crowded restaurant and instead heading to a pub in a village on the way home.
We had a relaxed lunch, sitting close at a small table near the large open fire.
We opted for a selection of tapas dishes, which we shared with gusto. It was not until we had sat down that I realised how hungry I was, driven by the lack of breakfast and the long walk.
I soaked up the moment, not wanting to have to part, knowing we were fantastic together and things only went wrong when we were apart. But knowing Ed had a huge and important week ahead of him I had to let him go and prepare.
Reluctantly we left the warmth of the pub and we drove home in silence, both deep in thought, but content.
We walked silently to my front door, hand in hand.
We paused at the front door. I was desperate to invite him in, to eke out the day some more, but I knew he would find it hard to refuse the invitation and I didn’t want to put him in that place, given how far we had come in just a couple of days.
He was doing so well at making up for things. He had paid for lunch and refused my offers to contribute and I knew he would pick me over work, but I was not going to make him choose.
I gently put my hand on his chest to indicate I was putting a stop on anything happening.
I leant forward and kissed him gently on the lips.
“I will keep everything crossed for you tomorrow,” I said. “I know you will be great.” I smiled a smile I didn’t feel inside as I struggled to keep my resolve.
“Thank you,” he whispered as he leant in, drawing me close and kissing me hard and passionately.
“Wow,” I said involuntarily when we eventually pulled apart, looking around to check no one was watching. “That was, well, wow.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow evening and let you know how it went,” he promised.
He slowly pulled away from me, still holding onto my hand as he stepped away, until we could no longer hold on and our fingertips separated.
He turned at the gate and smiled at me, and as he got into his car he gave a hearty wave and was gone.
I trudged into the house. It was cold and the light was fading from the sky. I felt desperately alone. I flopped into the sofa, realising how quickly I had fallen head over heels back in love with Ed. No, that’s not right, I thought, I never stopped loving him. I was just telling myself I had. “Oh dear,” I sighed.
I shut my eyes, I felt palpitations take over, I felt sweat break out on my forehead and neck. I sat still, waiting for the feeling to pass, calming myself.
A minute or two later I stood up and put my coat on the rack by the door and was surprised when there was a tentative knock.
I opened the door to see Ed standing on the doorstep. He took me in his arms and half carried, half pushed me back into the room, slamming the door behind him as we passed.
We kissed. A hot, all-engulfing kiss. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. There was just here and now and us, this moment. We were locked together in this loving and heavenly embrace for ages.
“Sorry,” he said quietly as we separated, our faces flushed, still touching. “I couldn’t leave without coming back to tell you something. I know you might not want to hear this, but I have to say it.” The words were tumbling out of his lips, I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I held my breath. “I love you,” he said quietly, nervously.
“I love you too,” I replied more confidently, relieved that we had both declared our feelings. “But you need to go, or I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
He laughed. “I know, I know, you’re right.”
He bent down and gently kissed my forehead, then held my face in his hands. “I love you,” he said louder, more confidently as he looked deep into my eyes.
“Go!” I said reluctantly, and in no way convincingly, as I tapped him gently on his perfectly formed behind as he turned and left. This time he didn’t return.
I emptied the ash from the bottom of the stove, laid paper and kindling above the grate, opened the vents and lit the paper. I sat on the floor watching the fire spring to life. Once there was a glowing bed of ember I put a couple of logs in and closed the door.
I stared at the fire, mesmerised by the flames. It was good not to think. I stayed there until it was too hot to remain and I moved to the sofa.
Apart from making some dinner, putting on the lights and closing the curtains when the light disappeared from the sky, I stayed on the sofa watching whatever was on the TV that distracted me from thinking about Ed, or our future. I no longer doubted that we had a future I was pleased to realise.
sixteen.
Déjà vu
As always I w
as the first in the office the next day and got straight down to preparing the media monitoring report for the team. It was something I did every week, reviewing all the press articles that were relevant to our work. It was routine and I enjoyed it, and of course it kept my mind occupied.
The minute my colleagues arrived and we did the traditional, “How was your weekend?”, my face must have given the game away.
“Okay,” they said, “what happened?”
I felt nervous telling them about Ed. After all they had been the ones who had listened to my tales of woe, who had mopped up the tears and fed me with cake. How would they react if I told them we were back together?
I decided to keep the story simple, just saying he was back in my life and we were taking it slow and seeing how it goes.
They looked dubious but they accepted it was my decision.
Despite being busy, the day still dragged. I kept finding myself staring at the page I was meant to be reviewing, aware that I hadn’t taken in one word of what was in the report as my thoughts kept turning to Ed. I was hoping his first day was going well and daydreaming about how we might celebrate the following weekend if it had been a success.
Normally I enjoyed my one-mile walk back to the car, but that afternoon I practically ran back, my mind racing, desperate to get home and to talk to Ed.
I was sitting by the phone forty-five minutes later when I heard steps approaching my front door and leapt to my feet, opening the door just as Ed lifted his arm, fist clenched, ready to announce his arrival.
“Come in, come in,” I implored him, swinging the door open wide to let him pass.
“Sorry,” Ed said as he stepped inside and I closed the door behind him, “I was going to call but I really wanted to see you. Sorry, I should have called first rather than just turning up unexpected.”
Loves Lost and Found Page 20