“Nonsense, don’t be silly,” I reassured him as I sat down and patted the empty seat beside me. “Sit down and tell me how it went. I’ve been desperate to hear all about it.”
Ed’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled as he sat down, then the smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes. “Really good,” he started.
It was great to hear his enthusiasm. He told me about the work, his colleagues. He talked on and on with passion and joy, and I sat and I listened and I nodded, not wanting to interrupt his flow.
Obviously he couldn’t tell me any details, but I was fascinated in his insights and something that struck me was when he said, “When you look at someone, how can you really know what is going on inside their head? They can appear confident or shy, honest or deceitful, happy or sad, but what’s real and what’s the impression they are trying to convey? Obviously if they are in front of me, accused of something, then it’s likely they have something to hide, but are they trying to hide an unpaid parking ticket or a speeding fine or have they got murderous intent? It’s hard, you know, to know.”
I could not imagine how hard that must be, but I was grateful to be given an insight into his world.
“You’re never in danger though, are you?” I asked some time later when he finished telling his tale.
“Um,” he said cautiously, obviously giving himself time to answer, “yes, I can be, but we undergo thorough training and practise certain scenarios so we are prepared for most eventualities, plus we have protective clothing if needed.”
I leant over and took his face in my hands. Staring into his eyes, I said honestly, “Well, you had better promise me that you’ll do whatever you can to stay safe. I’m not going to lose you again.” Then leant in and kissed him long and hard. He scooped me up in his arms and returned the passion and emotion of the embrace.
It was late when we finally went to the kitchen to prepare dinner and to be honest by that time I was no longer very hungry, so we made tea and toast and curled up on the sofa to enjoy the snack in front of the TV.
He didn’t stay the night. We didn’t talk about it but we both knew it was going to be an exhausting week without adding physical exhaustion to the mix, and of course it was still too early to be opening that door. Each day we were edging closer to getting back to where we were but there was no need to rush, it would happen, and we knew it would.
The week dragged. I was living for the evenings when Ed and I would spend hours on the phone chatting. The days and work were things to endure. And each day was one closer to the weekend and we had arranged that Ed would come to me straight from work.
I had driven all the way in to work on Friday, not wanting to waste time walking back to the car at the end of the working day. I just wanted to get home. I arrived at work early and I left early.
Running up to my bedroom, I changed into something sexier than my usual drab work clothes: a long, layered, floaty skirt and low-cut black top, a dab of perfume and a refresh of the makeup.
I was excited, so excited. The air of anticipation lay thick in the air.
There was no way I was going to be able to get away with cool that evening, let alone be aloof. I had made him prove himself again and he had passed with flying colours.
I was hovering by the window when I saw him open the gate, a huge bunch of flowers in his hand. I was at the door beaming at him as he climbed the step.
No words were needed.
He handed me the flowers.
I shut the door.
The flowers were abandoned on the small table by the door where I would leave my various bags on entering the house.
Ed’s coat was thrown over the sofa as he passed.
We ran up the stairs, laughing as we went.
We stopped by the bed and the passion was released as we kissed hard and desperately. There was no denying where this was going.
We slowly undressed each other, taking our time, savouring the moment and letting the lust take over. We fell onto the bed already entwined.
Finally when we were sated and lying in each other’s arms, Ed said, laughing, “Well, that dinner date didn’t exactly go to plan!”
“Just as well we weren’t out for dinner, I think we would have been banned from the restaurant, not to mention upsetting our fellow diners and terrifying the children,” I replied with a twinkle in my eyes.
We lay there a moment longer, snuggled in the warm, crumpled bed.
Eventually dragging ourselves out, we helped each other dress, finding our clothes scattered around the room. We giggled at the situation.
It was too late to go out for dinner so again we made a light snack, but this time we married it with a deep, velvety glass of red wine and sat on the sofa talking into the early hours. When we returned to my bedroom we resumed where we had left off a couple of hours earlier.
When I woke the next morning I lay in the quiet for a few moments. Feeling confused I reached out my hand and was relieved to feel the warmth of Ed’s body behind me. For a moment, when I had woken, I feared he had gone, but he was there.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he said. He had obviously woken before me and was waiting for me to follow suit.
“Morning, you,” I replied as I wiggled my body back into his.
He wrapped his arms around me and leant over. I could feel his hot breath on my ear, which he started to nibble. I felt the tingle surge through my body.
I turned around and kissed Ed like my life depended on it. Ed slipped back on top of me as he had done so many times in the last few hours and we were absorbed by our passion once more.
In those heady first few days of our rekindled love we spent a lot of time in bed or stealing moments in and outside the house. It was exciting and joyous and I felt truly alive, that life was worth living. I would do anything and everything to fight for this relationship, to keep these endorphins raging through my very being.
Now that Ed was nearby it meant the shifts were not a problem, we would meet when our schedules allowed rather than being limited by distance.
Even days when we couldn’t meet we spoke on the phone. Every day, day or night we spoke or met. There were dinners and rainy afternoons watching old films curled up on the sofa. When the weather permitted there were autumnal walks, soaking up the colours, being surprised by the vibrant purple of the Michaelmas daisies, a sign that the wedding of Dan and Emma was drawing ever closer.
One evening over dinner at a local pub, Ed asked nervously, “I’m sorry to ask, I did say I’d leave it to you to let me know your decision, but I know Emma and Dan would love you to come to their wedding and in fact for you to be involved in some of the planning if you would like to, and I would love you to come with me. Dan has invited me up this weekend to talk about some of the arrangements and I’m hoping you might come too.” He trailed off, going quiet now that he had finally got this off his chest.
“Yes,” I said simply, toying with him slightly. I had in fact decided some time before that I would go. Nothing could stop me from going. I had just been waiting for the right moment to tell Ed.
He looked at me quizzically. “Yes to which part?” he asked.
“Yes to all of it,” I said, beaming at him.
Clearly Ed needed more concrete affirmation. I thought ‘yes’ was as clear as I could be, but Ed was staring at me.
I took a deep breath. “Yes to coming with you this weekend, yes to being involved in the wedding plans and yes to attending the wedding with you.”
Ed’s smile erupted across his face. He jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in the sudden force of energy. The wooden chair clanged onto the dark grey tiled floor to the shock and surprise of the other diners. But Ed didn’t seem to notice.
He stepped around the small table. I had stood up in anticipation of the impending hug.
Ed swept me up into his arms and gave me
the most amazing bear hug, reminding me as he did of my father and how safe and warm and loved I felt when wrapped in his arms as a child, the smell of stale pipe smoke on his breath as he held me close. As I had grown, for some reason, still unknown to me now, I changed from being a father’s girl to a mother’s girl. Sometimes I had longed to return to the days of innocence when it was pure joy to be in that place, but somehow it had gone and was replaced with distance.
But now I was wrapped in the arms of my love and I could have stayed there forever.
Eventually Ed pulled back and, holding my shoulders in his strong hands, he beamed at me. “Thank you,” he said, sounding both happy and relieved.
We both knew the significance of me saying ‘yes’. It meant the hurt from earlier in the year had been forgiven – if not forgotten. It shouted that I was ready and happy to move on and fully commit not only to him but also to his family.
“I’ll let you into a little secret,” I said as he picked up the chair from where it still lay abandoned on the floor. “I’ve known the answer was yes for a little while, but I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you.”
“That’s mean,” he said in a mockingly sullen voice. “I’ve been on tenterhooks waiting to know and you’ve been making me wait, to make me suffer.” He smiled a cheeky grin.
“No,” I said coyly, shrugging my shoulders and leaning my head to the side, “I wanted to be sure, I really wasn’t being cruel. In fact, I’ve been thinking about us a lot recently and well…” I broke off as I reached into my bag and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box. “… well, I’d like to give you this,” I said as I slid the box across the table.
“What’s this?” Ed asked, a little confused. To be fair it was not his birthday, or our anniversary, so it was a little unexpected. I could see Ed turn it over, both in his mind, trying to work out if he had forgotten some occasion for which he should have also brought a gift, and physically as he turned the box over in his hands.
“Well, that’s the point of a gift,” I teased. “You have to open it to find out what’s inside.” I smiled.
He pulled the red ribbon wrapped around the small silver box. Slowly he lifted the lid, momentarily glancing up at me as he did so. Then he looked back down at the box so I couldn’t read his expression. Suddenly it struck me that maybe I was overstepping the mark, maybe I had got this wrong.
I had been so focused on making sure I was in the right place to recommit to our relationship, I was so clear that Ed needed to do the running to get us back to where we were, that it had not occurred to me that he might not be in the same place.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I blurted out, “I thought we were in a good place and I now realise that I haven’t asked how you feel. I’m sorry,” I repeated. “You don’t have to open it,” I said, reaching out to put my hand on top of the box to prevent Ed from seeing what lay inside. But it was too late.
To my great relief he looked at me, smiling. He pushed my hand away with the hand holding the top of the box, then laid it on the table before pulling out a small silver key.
“Do you mean it?” he asked with a serious tone and expression.
“Yes,” I said, mirroring his reaction. “Only, I don’t just want you to have a key. I would like you to move in.” Worried I might still have got this wrong, my words started to tumble out of my mouth as I spoke faster and more quietly as I went on, “Each time you come round you leave more and more in the house and every time you leave the house it feels so empty and I miss you when I don’t see you because of work and…” I couldn’t think what else to say. I needed to know the answer and this time it was me that was hanging on his decision. He must be relishing this, I thought. I bet he hadn’t thought revenge would be served to him on a silver platter, or in a silver box to be more precise, so soon.
“Well,” he said slowly, trying to eke out this moment, “well now, let me think.” He paused, using one hand to rub his chin and look like he was weighing up his options. All the time the key was in his other hand.
The waiter came over to ask us about our meal, oblivious to the question hanging between us.
The waiter cleared the table. Neither of us wanted to eat any more. Ed asked the waiter to give us a moment before deciding on whether we wanted another bottle.
I felt some relief that he hadn’t just asked for the bill. That wouldn’t have been a good sign.
When we were alone, well, as much as you can be in a busy pub, his free hand sought out mine. He picked it up and beamed at me. He finally put me out of my misery. “I would be honoured to move in with you. I thought you would never ask, again,” he teased.
This time two wooden chairs clunked to the floor as we embraced once more to the surprise and amusement of those around us.
The waiter came back once we had resumed our places at the table.
“Champagne!” Ed ordered. “Yes, I think champagne is needed to celebrate this moment.”
The waiter looked slightly confused. Glancing at my left hand he couldn’t see a newly placed ring. He then glanced at Ed as he was adding the key I had given him to his keyring.
Shrugging in a nonchalant, I don’t really care, kind of a fashion, he wandered off to find a cold bottle of champagne and two flutes.
We laughed a lot that evening and we talked about how and when Ed would move in, where he would put all his belongings in my already full little cottage. In the end we decided he would move in with his personal belongings but all the furniture would go into storage until we could figure out what to keep or lose from each other’s possessions. No one needs more beds than there are bedrooms or multiple dining room sets, sofas, chairs and more. It also meant he could move in sooner than if we waited to shift excess furniture.
But it wouldn’t be this weekend, as we would be travelling north to see Dan and Emma.
In the meantime we celebrated at the pub, we celebrated back at home and we celebrated in bed that night.
The next evening Ed moved in with a suitcase and plans to hire a van and move the rest in a couple of weeks.
I was on cloud nine. I was like a teenager in the first throes of a romance. I was giddy with happiness. Work, well, I went to work that week but I don’t remember it. Nothing could touch me or upset me that week. I did my hours. I did what I had to do and I disappeared home as soon as the clock struck 5pm.
This was unusual behaviour for me. Normally I worked as many hours as I needed, arriving early, taking a short lunch and working late.
Over the years I had shared my home, or a home, with several boyfriends. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took time. Sometimes it was my decision, sometimes I was asked and sometimes he just stopped going home. Sometimes it was exciting and filled with hope of a ‘happy every after’, which is how it felt with Ed. Sometimes it came with a realisation that this was the wrong thing and I was already trying to work out how to escape. Sometimes I just resigned myself to the ‘it’s better than being alone’ mentality and just got on with it. Once, I had been in the process of writing a ‘sorry it’s over’ letter which began with ‘You said some really mean things which I’m sure you didn’t mean, but they still sunk in…’ Before I had time to finish it he had arrived with bags in hand and being a coward, or more accurately, not being the type of person to cause a fuss or to create a scene, I just accepted it and I thought I could live, literally, with the situation. How many years of my life have I wasted on relationships that would never have a fairy-tale ending?
Not that it mattered now that I was with Ed and he was the miracle I had been waiting for, searching for, for so long.
And so the honeymoon period began, again. We politely stepped around each other’s little habits that were cute in short spurts when he stayed over, but having moved in they were no longer short spurts and with time these little traits, like leaving car and bike magazines piled up on the floor, would eventu
ally become an annoyance. Again with hindsight I had been too soft in the past, tidying up after my boyfriends so either they came to expect me to do it, or worse, thought it was my job to do so.
I resolved that with Ed I was neither going to make the same mistake nor to let these traits become bad habits and gently nudged him to make them a good habit by asking, “Would you mind popping your magazines in the rack over there for me.” Soon he was storing them all there and only picking them out to read them, or to recycle them when they were finished with.
There were many other traits – some I loved and encouraged and others I put to bed as quickly as I could. I was also guilty of having bad habits. I had been living alone too long and they had taken root. So I kept my eyes and ears open for signals of dissatisfaction and tailored my actions accordingly and, of course, I asked questions, checked how he felt. This was a two-way street after all and no one is perfect.
That aside, the early days were glorious. I felt the warmth of love surrounding me.
Soon the weekend came and we headed north. We had arranged to meet Dan and Emma at a National Trust property that had been their family favourite when they were young. It was a large parkland with a farm attached, ideal for family days out.
We had arranged to meet at 12.30pm at the courtyard cafe. When we arrived we found we had missed a text from Dan. He had heard the car park was closed due to flooding. We looked around us in the dry car park and laughed. There were a lot of leaves piled up at the bottom of the slope – not unexpected after all the wind and rain of late.
Dan’s text had gone on to suggest we meet at a garden centre nearby. We tried calling several times to find out which venue we should head for but the call kept failing.
Eventually Dan called Ed and after a quick chat, Ed confirmed that they would drive over and be with us in ten to fifteen minutes.
It was still drizzling so we donned our raincoats and decided to check out the shop while we waited for them. We walked around the outside of the large square building that would once have been a very grand stable and cart building for a mansion. We made our way in through large, arched doors into the courtyard.
Loves Lost and Found Page 21