When Love Knocks Twice (A Contemporary Love Story) Read online

  Gail poured some coffee. The conversation came round to missed opportunities in life.

  “ Have you had any regrets?” asked Gail.

  “ Lots,” replied Tom quickly.

  “ Like?”

  “ Like not trying acting, like not writing a novel, like not telling my wife I loved her more often.”

  “ I can identify with that.”

  “ And yours?”

  “ My regrets?” replied Gail. “Oh. I don't know. I regret not experiencing more, not relishing the moment. Always worrying about tomorrow instead of enjoying today.”

  “ Deep,” quipped Tom. “Very deep. But oh so true.”

  They paused to imbibe some coffee.

  “ Did you ever want to become an item?” quizzed Gail.

  “ What, us become an item?”

  “ Yes.”

  “ Wow. You're as bad as your daughter.”

  “ She's had a very good tutor.”

  Tom blew his cheeks out as he considered his reply, while Gail waited patiently.

  “ I had a huge crush on you when I was, what, fifteen, sixteen. Would I have asked you out? No, I wouldn't have done.”

  “ Why not?”

  “ I had such low confidence as a teenager. And you had older, better looking, smarter boys swarming around you like bees around a honey pot.”

  Gail frowned. “You should have said something all the same.”

  “ Easy to say now.”

  “ Adolescence was such a painful time for us all, wasn't it?”

  “ Always. Has to be, to make us into adults I suppose. And you? What about you?”

  “ Me?”

  “ Yes. Did you ever want to be an item?”

  It was Gail's turn to hesitate. “I liked you as a friend. A good friend, good to have around. You were dependable, solid. I meant what I said. I felt I could always trust you. I don't think I would have wanted to jeopardise that.”

  “ Well, there we are. Good friends then.”

  Conversation returned to more general topics until Tom checked his watch and declared it was time he turned in.

  “ What are you planning tomorrow?” responded Gail.

  “ I was going to take a walk out across the heathland where we used to play as kids.”

  “ Are you interested in having any company?”

  Tom hesitated. His brain tossing around between enjoying his own company, and enjoying the company of this attractive woman with whom he felt at ease.

  “ That would be good,” he replied, “But I hope you're ready for a brisk walk.”

  “ Walking boots at the ready,” quipped Gail.

  They made arrangements to meet the next day, and hugged politely on the doorstep as Tom thanked her for the meal and made his good-nights.

  Gail lay in bed, her mind wandering around her youth, memories flitting in and out, situations she had completely forgotten about, people she hadn't thought of for decades. She was totally oblivious to the noises through the open bedroom window, noises of the night, that occasional car, the odd dog barking.

  And Tom. She hadn't thought of him for years. She remembered him as one of the good guys, but always in the background. He was right though, she had never been short of boys interested in her as a teenager, but that had brought its own adolescent problems. Who to go out with, whether to have a serious relationship, whether there was a future, and she had always been afraid of hurting others' feelings. Breaking off relationships had been an agonising time of tears and heartache.

  Had she ever seen Tom as a potential relationship? She supposed they had had a relationship, a friendship. Had she ever felt she wanted it to be more? She confessed to herself that she had lied to Tom. At a youth club they both worked in, not long before he had left the area, standing in the kitchen with Tom, and it was if she had just become aware of him and for the first time she registered a physical attraction. At that moment she had desperately wanted him to ask her on a date. She couldn't remember the conversation, it was such a confusing time, blundering your way through the teenage years, at the mercy of rampaging hormones.

  But the memory brought a physical warmth now, much to her surprise. Whatever else, she remembered him with fondness she decided. It was perhaps why she had felt comfortable inviting him to dinner. And it occurred to her that, that had been the trouble with her relationship with Tom as teenagers, he had been comfortable, when as a teenager she was looking for exciting. The thought was a minor revelation to her. So what was she looking for now, a comfortable life, or an exciting life?

  Her thoughts became more rambling and less focussed as sleep slowly started to overcome her.

  Thursday

  Tom came down to the breakfast the next morning and found, to his pleasant surprise, Gail sat at a table perusing the menu. Having completed his double take, he joined her at the table.

  “ This is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you until later.”

  “ Good morning,” responded Gail. “I trust you slept well.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “What's this about? Why the formal polite approach all of a sudden?”

  “ Early morning. It pays to be civilised,” she grinned. “I decided that if we were going on a route march that I would treat myself to a Full English Breakfast.”

  “Such decadence,” mocked Tom.

  Their orders were taken, and arrived promptly, precluding much more in the way of conversation as they tucked in. Once they had finished toast and coffee Gail called for her bill.

  “ No, no, no,” insisted Tom. “This is on me. I probably owe you something from forty years ago anyway.”

  “ Okay,” accepted Gail. “ But only on the understanding that you come back to mine for dinner tonight.”

  “ It's a deal. How could I refuse? Do you want to come upstairs and use the facilities before we go?”

  “ Are you inviting me up to your boudoir, Mr Drysdale?”

  “ Yes,” retorted Tom. “But only because you've got bacon stuck between your teeth.”

  She took a half-hearted, backhanded swipe at him that was so slow he dodged without any trouble, and they went up to his bedroom, before returning downstairs, Tom shod in walking boots, and Gail carrying her car keys. Once in the car park she beeped her remote at a sleek SAAB sports convertible and provoked a ribald remark from Tom, which she ignored. Retrieving her walking-boots and lacing them swiftly and efficiently, she announced herself ready to walk.

  As they started out to trek to the edge of town, curiosity overcame Gail.

  “ So where exactly are we going?” she inquired.

  “ The moor outside the town, beyond the reservoir. It used to be our wilderness as kids.”

  Gail shook her head. “I'm afraid you could be sadly disappointed. They have tidied it up somewhat, made paths for Sunday walkers with pushchairs. There's even a café in the middle.”

  Tom mimed Aghast. “No! Sacrilege!”

  Gail was right, but Tom's dismay didn't stop them having morning coffee at the café, before they continued out into the country beyond the neat, where wilderness still survived.

  They denied themselves any lunch on the basis that they were still working off breakfast, but sat down on a grassy knoll, in the sunshine, overlooking the low valley they had just walked through.

  “ I don't think I've ever been up this far,” mused Gail.

  “ You are joking.”

  “No,” Gail insisted. “We lived on the other side of town, remember. As kids this was too far to come on our own.”

  Tom laid back on the grass and clasped his hands behind his head. “You definitely missed out then.”

  “ So it would seem.”

  They enjoyed the peace and quiet for a few moments before Gail broke it.

  “ Do you ever feel guilty that they're not here and you are?”

  “ Our other halves you mean.”

  “ Yes,” confirmed Gail.

  “ Yes, sometimes,” agreed Tom. “More often I feel saddened that
I can't share the moment with them, but somehow I feel that it's me that's lost out.”

  “ Yes!” exclaimed Gail. “You're right. I never thought of it like that, but it does. So should I feel guilty?”

  “ Not unless you can justifiably hold yourself accountable for their absence.”

  “ That would be silly.”

  “ Yes it would.”

  “ It's so good to find someone who understands,” sighed Gail, putting her arm through his. “So few people understand.”

  “You can't expect them to. It's not their fault.”

  “ No, I know. It just makes it a terribly lonely place to be in.”

  “ Tell me about it,” agreed Tom, getting up and brush grass from his trousers. “Time to turn around.”

  They walked slowly back by a different route, around the reservoir, talking of this and that, until they parted in the car park, Tom to get changed, and Gail to go and put on some dinner, something of which Tom teasingly kept reminding her.

  Tom arrived at Gail's in good time, and was met at the door without having to press the doorbell. Gail waved him into the house and handed him a substantial glass of chilled white wine.

  “ Mmm,” intoned Tom appreciatively. “I like the way your mind works.”

  They sat side by side on the sofa. Gail had changed into a flouncy blue dress that spread around her as she sat curled up with her feet under her, 'as dinner takes care of itself.'

  “ So what do you do for holidays these days?” enquired Tom.

  “ Ah,” considered Gail. “Holidays are tricky things when you're on your own. Don't you agree?”

  “ Most certainly,” agreed Tom. “Hence the reason I'm here.”

  “ Indeed. That's why I tend to take the family away with me. Gives them a holiday and gets me some company.”

  “ What a good idea.”

  Half way through their second glass of wine, the timer went on the oven and Gail declared that 'dinner must be ready'.

  They ate in relative silence, punctured by the odd snippet of conversation, and the odd wine-glass top-up. By the time they had finished coffee the table looked like a bomb-site, Gail was giggling like a school-girl, and Tom was desperately trying to remember when the second bottle of wine had been opened without him noticing.

  As he endeavoured to clear the table and fill the dishwasher and the sink with the appropriate dishes, with eyes that were getting fuzzy around the edges, Gail watched him through blurred vision whilst trying not to laugh.

  “ Tom,” came the slightly slurred voice from Gail's mouth. “You're not fit to drive tonight. There are two spare bedrooms upstairs, both with beds made up. You can take your pick, but please, don't drive. If anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.”

  A saucepan slipped out of Tom's grasp but he managed to catch it before it hit the floor.

  “ Are you sure?” came his somewhat slurred response.

  “ Sure I'm sure,” responded Gail, and ruined the effect by hiccuping in classic style.

  They left the remainder of the dishes and switched out the lights, Gail remembering at the last second to lock the front door.

  They said goodnight on the landing, neither in a particularly fit state to follow the niceties of host-guest protocol, Gail disappearing into the master bedroom, whilst Tom discovered a twin bedded room that would do nicely. He managed to negotiate his way to the bathroom and brush his teeth with his fingers after a fashion, before climbing into bed in somewhat of an alcohol-fuelled haze.

  He wasn't sure what time it was, perhaps one or two in the morning when he became aware of Gail standing in his bedroom doorway.

  “ You know what?” she said. “I'm sick to death of having to sleep on my own in a king size bed. Would you come and sleep in my bed tonight. I just want to have some company for once.”

  Tom by this time was just about managing to find consciousness as she finished her sentence, and swinging his legs around, sat up in bed.

  “ I can think of lots of reasons why it might not be a good idea.”

  “ Sod them,” cried Gail. “We're grown-ups. We don't have to answer to anyone else.”

  She held out her hand. “Please?”

  And so they went through to the master bedroom and climbed into the large king size bed, and promptly fell asleep, the wine finally taking its toll.

  Tom awoke, uncertain of his surroundings, the sun streaming in through open curtains that somehow he knew was not his hotel room. As a vague memory of the previous evening returned, he turned his head and his gaze fell on the head on the pillow beside him, framed by dark hair that swirled across the pillow. Gail slept on, a peaceful and serene countenance that Tom would like to have captured, but could only make a conscious memory to hold onto.

  A motorbike went past the house, and Gail's eye's fluttered open. A frown crossed her face for a second, followed by a shy smile.

  “ Good morning,” she murmured. “Goodness, what must you think of me? Did I really invite you into my bed last night?”

  “ You insisted.” confirmed Tom. “In fact you wouldn't take no for an answer.”

  “ Shameless hussy,” accused Gail. She looked at the clock. “Oh, I need a shower.” A thought seemed to flit through her mind.

  “ I can't remember much about last night.” She paused. “When we came into bed. I mean my bed......”

  “ We both went straight to sleep,” reassured Tom.

  “ Right,” said Gail thoughtfully, leaving Tom unsure as to whether she was pleased by the news or not.

  Tom stood in the shower, hot water sluicing over his body, his thoughts all over the place. He could not believe what had happened the previous night. That Gail had made the plea that she had, was bad enough, but that he had acquiesced made his brain spin. This was so unlike him, normally the safe dependable type, trusted to do the 'right thing'. Had it been the alcohol dulling his judgement or had there been more? Was he being too hard on himself, after all no one would know but them.

  He hoped it hadn't spoiled anything. Anyway, they would go their separate ways today and it would be consigned to the past. Why did that seem to matter to him? It mattered, he confessed to himself, because he still harboured an affection for Gail that surprised him in its intensity. The temptation to reach out to her in bed had been enormous and had taken huge effort to control.

  He shook his head as if to free his brain from this train of thought and concentrated on getting clean before the hot water ran out.

  Gail sat in the kitchen and downed a couple of paracetamol. Was it the alcohol from last night or was the headache a result of the turmoil in her brain? The events of last night seemed like a parallel universe. How could she have done what she did? What is just the wine, or was there a subconscious rebellion against loneliness?

  And yet, despite the nagging feeling that what she had done was extremely foolish, there was a glimmer of a smile that for a while that loneliness had been banished. She acknowledged to herself that waking up next to somebody had been a joy, she had wanted to hug Tom, to curl up in his arms, to enjoy the intimacy of his body, and she suddenly realised just how much an enemy loneliness had become.

  When Tom finally came down into the kitchen, he found Gail seated at the refectory table, her head buried in her hands.

  “ Oh God,” she groaned. “What must you think of me? First I get you drunk, then I coax you into my bed. I can't believe it.”

  Tom sat down opposite her and took her hands, lifting her face. “First of all, you didn't get me drunk. I did the drinking. Secondly you did not force me into your bed. I came willingly. And thirdly we did nothing that we need be ashamed of.”

  Gail managed a lop-sided grin. “You always were so sensible.”

  “ No,” disagreed Tom. “If I was sensible I wouldn't have got drunk in the first place.”

  They set about coffee, eggs and toast, at the end of which, feeling slightly more human, they managed to finish clearing the mess from the previous night
.

  “ I need to go back to the hotel for a shave,” remarked Tom, rubbing fingers over the stubble on his chin.

  “ Or there is shaving kit still in my en suite that might be usable,” suggested Gail, and at his raised eyebrow continued. “Gordon's stuff. I've never been able to throw it away.”

  “ Are you sure?” checked Tom.

  “ I'm sure,” nodded Gail.

  He returned, shaved, five minutes later.

  “ Better,” said Gail.

  “ Indeed,” agreed Tom.

  As Tom went around checking that he hadn't left anything lying around, Gail posed a question.

  “ When did you say you were going back home?”

  “ I didn't,” he replied. “And I'm not.”

  “ Sorry?” quizzed Gail, somewhat confused.

  “ I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease. I'm not going home from here. I've got a cottage on Skye booked for a week, in order to do some hill-walking. I leave tomorrow.”

  There was a moment's silence while Gail took in the information.

  “ Skye. I love Skye. It's beautiful this time of year.” There was a sort of pleading in her voice that she neither disguised nor apologised for.

  Tom didn't respond straight away. It was as if both their brains had gone into slow time. He looked her in the eye.

  “ I would love to be able to ask you to join me but the cottage only has one bedroom.”

  Their eyes met and a silent conversation took place between them that no one else would have been able to interpret.

  Gail was aware that her pulse had quickened, and that warm feeling was back. She thought of the last night. She broke the silence in a very considered tone.

  “ I think ... I could handle that.” A pause. “If you could?”

  Tom considered for a moment, and recalled waking up that morning beside her. “I think I could handle it too.”

  “ Wow,” sighed Gail, heaving a big breath.