When Love Knocks Twice (A Contemporary Love Story) Page 5

  “ Unfortunately,” yawned Gail. “I still need my beauty sleep.”

  “ You sleep with just a sheet in these summer temperatures, rather than a duvet?” suggested Tom.

  “ Yes, if that,” determined Gail. “We'll start with one and see how we go. As long as you don't hog it.”

  They turned in, another long day behind them, and holiday in front.

  Tom lay awake, casting his mind back to his last visit. Two years ago he and Abbie had come here, enjoying the fresh air and the space, talking through all manner of things, discussing plans for his retirement, and whether she should retire at the same time. She had been feeling tired, moaning about getting old, declaring that she would do more exercise and get her diet sorted out. They had had a great time, appreciating the mountain scenery and the slow pace of life. They had vowed to return one day.

  What would Abbie think of the current situation he wondered? She had always been the more adventurous of the two of them, the more impulsive. She had always told him he needed to be more ambitious, and take more risks. Well, he thought, perhaps she would approve. He looked beside him, listening to Gail's slow, gentle breathing. Yes, I hope she would approve.

  Monday

  Gail woke as sunlight started to play across the bed-covers, aware of the heat on her feet. She turned to find Tom awake, watching her.

  “ How long have you been awake?” she asked.

  “ Minutes,” he reassured her.

  “ It seems weird waking up with anyone,” he confessed. “I was almost getting used to waking up and not being surprised that I was on my own.”

  “ Hmm. Cup of tea?”

  “ Definitely.”

  “ Tell me about Gordon,” requested Tom.

  “ Gordon?”

  “ Yes. I'd like to know more about him.”

  “ Wow. Well, he was taller than you, and broad with it. He used to play rugby in his youth, that bloke at the back of the scrum, I could never remember the name of the position. When he stopped playing he always used to worry about putting on weight. Mind you he was a worrier generally, used to get very stressed. He took up golf to try and combat it, but as luck would have it he turned out to be good at it, which led to him playing competitively, generating its own stress.”

  “ So, tell me about Abbie. Come on, your turn,” demanded Gail.

  “ Abbie was blonde, could eat anything she wanted and never put on weight, much to the disgust of her circle of friends. She had boundless energy that used to wear me out. Compassion used to weigh her down. She spent her life determined to make a difference in the world. She worked for a number of charities, some of them paid, some not. But outside of her passion she was hopelessly disorganised. Getting the kids a clean school uniform for a Monday morning was generally a last-minute affair, matching socks at a premium. But she loved without boundaries and was loved in return.”

  “ What do you miss most?” interjected Gail.

  “ What do I miss most?” repeated Tom. “Conversation at the end of the day. Catching up on her chaotic day's events. Yes, I think it's conversation I miss most. Some days I forget what my own voice sounds like.”

  “ Tell me about it.”

  “ Did you get to have a look at the old school before they pulled it down?”

  “ I wish I'd known. I think I would have liked that. To say goodbye to the old place.”

  “ Nostalgia is better than the reality, I warn you,” declared Gail. “Do you remember the time that the girls challenged the boys at hockey?”

  “ How could I forget it? We were terrified out of our wits. You seemed to turn into absolute demons when you got those sticks in your hands. The number of bruises we came away with. It was a wonder we didn't break anything.”

  “ Close to lunchtime. I vote we get lunch in that little café down the road, and then we probably need to do some shopping before finishing unpacking.”

  Tuesday

  In the morning, after a leisurely breakfast they drove down to Broadford to check out the amenities and visit the Tourist Information Office.

  And finally Tom gave in. Gail had threatened, cajoled, provoked, and pleaded, and in the end he gave in. So here they were on the tennis courts in Broadford, and despite his earlier protestations they did have a racquet his size.

  “ So when was the last time you played?” inquired Gail.

  “ Let me see,” replied Tom. “It would have been....fifteen, twenty years ago.”

  “ What!” exclaimed Gail. “What have you been doing for exercise?”

  “ Cycling, in the main.”

  “ So,” pronounced Gail. “I could beat you forty years ago. Let's see if I can beat you now.”

  “ Wait a minute,” protested Tom. “When did you last play?”

  “ Let me see,” pondered Gail thoughtfully. “It would have been ten...twelve... oh, at least fifteen days ago.”

  “ Days ago! You still play at the club then?”

  “ Well, yes, we play in the seniors' league.”

  “ Hold on,” interrupted Tom. “You mean you're still playing competitively?”

  “ Well I wouldn't call it competitive really, more a good excuse for a cream tea and a natter.”

  “ I'll bet,” reposted Tom sarcastically.

  “ First to the set then,” suggested Gail. “By the way, you don't have a heart condition or anything like that do you?”

  “ No, but I think it might be wise to find the location of the nearest defibrillator, just in case,” offered Tom.

  “ Wimp,” accused Gail. “I'll let you serve. You can still serve can you, at your age?”

  “ Cheeky,” retorted Tom.

  So they played, and Tom served first, and promptly lost the first game.

  Come the second game he discovered he was better at returning the ball than he was at serving it, that was, until Gail started serving into the corners and making him run. After several deuces Gail won that game as well.

  By the third game, Tom was pleased to note that Gail was as out of breath as he was, but despite that Gail won it as well. He called for a time out and they had a drink. Tom suggested a brandy but they made do with some fizzy energy drinks that were bound to be bad for them.

  Following the break Tom made a comeback. He won a game amid celebrations that would have done the Wimbledon finals proud, however the celebrations obviously wore him out because he only won one more game, Gail finishing the set six games to two. They agreed that a second set may be tempting fate too far, so they settled for a coffee and a scone, and then took a walk down by the shoreline.

  Strolling along the shore, saying very little, Tom let his hand bump into Gail's. At the second bump he slipped his hand into her's and was pleased to note an answering, accepting pressure from her hand. They walked in silence for a short while, listening to the gulls, grateful that the cloud bubbling up was giving some relief from the incessant sun.

  After a while they sat on a bench and looked out over the Sound to the mainland, mountains towering in the distance.

  “ What are we doing here Tom?” started Gail.

  Tom gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean, what are we doing here?”

  “ I mean, what are we doing here, the two of us, together?”

  “ Well I know why I'm here. What are you doing here?”

  “ I don't know,” confessed Gail. “I'm just very confused.”

  “Then let me help you,” suggested Tom. “You are fed up with routine, you're fed up with being alone, you wonder if this is it for the remainder of your life, and the possibility terrifies you. So you've taken the plunge, a chance, a risk, to get out of the vicious circle, break out of the monotony, as if in doing so you can arrest the inevitable plunge into old age by taking another unexpected route, like you can give the slip to Old Father Time creeping around behind you.”

  “ You're right,” conceded Gail. “It's a lot of that.”

  “ So,” continued Tom. “You took a chance with someone in whose c
ompany you're not uncomfortable, and who, for some reason you trust.”

  “ Yes.”

  “ But,” concluded Tom. “ you have paid no attention to what happens at the end of the week, when normality beckons. Like having to go back to work at the end of a holiday, you are putting it out of your mind. But somewhere in the back of your consciousness there is a niggle that something is going to hurt.”

  Gail looked wide-eyed at Tom. “How do you know all these things?”

  “ Because,” explained Tom. “That's exactly how I feel.”

  “ Well, thank goodness you're not a mind reader. I was beginning to get worried. So what do we do?”

  “ Well I intend to enjoy the rest of the week, enjoy one day at a time, and let the future take care of itself.”

  “ You make it sound so easy.”

  “I wish it were,” confessed Tom. “I wish it were.”

  That evening they couldn't decide where to go and eat. Tom decided to make a unilateral decision.

  “ I know where we're going.”

  “ Where?” demanded Gail.

  “ That's for me to know and you to find out. Get in the car.”

  Gail continued to try and wheedle their destination out of him to no avail, and it was some time before she realised they were bound for Portree.

  “ There's a restaurant you know about?” questioned Gail.

  “ Sort of,” agreed Tom enigmatically.

  They parked down by the harbour.

  “ Was I supposed to get dressed up?” queried Gail.

  “ No, I don't think so.”

  He led her along the harbour, and finally stopped outside a fish and chip shop.

  “ The best fish and chips in Scotland,” he pronounced. “Wrapped in newspaper.”

  “ You're joking,” accused Gail.

  As the sun was setting over the far hills they sat on a bench, eating their fish and chips, watching the boats come and go, with the seagulls following their every move. Nothing was said until the newspaper was empty.

  “ Ah. You were so right,” agreed Gail, licking her fingers. “Definitely the best fish and chips in Scotland, eaten in the open air out of the newspaper. That beats many a restaurant.” She took Tom's arm. “How clever you are.” And proceeded to thrust her empty, but greasy and smelly wrapper into his lap.

  “ What’s with the clever?” protested Tom. “Nothing short of genius,” he declared, tossing the papers into a waste paper basket some ten feet away, one of the papers hitting its target, whilst the other one fell short.

  “ Okay, perhaps not quite genius.”

  Gail lay awake, watching the moonlight framed by the open window, too hot to sleep despite the single sheet that was the only thing covering them. The only sounds disturbing the silence were the occasional sheep bleating out on the shore-side pasture. She carefully slid out of the bed without disturbing Tom and moved over to the window, trying to catch whatever breeze might be coming through the open window. She stood looking out over the hillside down to the seashore, the sea reflecting the moon back to her.

  There was barely a movement of air through the window, not enough to disturb her nightgown. She despaired of ever feeling cool. A radical thought occurred to her and, reaching down, she peeled her nightgown over her head, standing naked before the window. Now she could feel cool air gently rippling its fingers down her skin, a delicious feeling. How she longed once again for someone to run their hands over her, to relish the thought of someone else enjoying her body. No one had done that since Gordon had died. She had never found a relationship to replace her marriage. She wondered if she ever would.

  A stirring behind her made her turn. She could see Tom outlined on the bed, naked to the waist, his relaxed body moulded to the contours of the bed. What was she doing here, she thought? What do I want of this man? Someone to trust, trust for what? Company or what? If she was honest with herself she wanted to go and lie with him, mould her body to his, feel strong arms holding her. Embarrassed, confused and still tired, she moved away from the window and as quietly as possible lay down on the bed, atop the sheet, still straining for the effects of cool air.

  Tom, roused from sleep by Gail getting out of bed, found himself in unknown territory. He had just watched as Gail had moved over to the window and stripped off her nightgown, revealing her naked body silhouetted against the moonlight beyond the window. It aroused feelings in him that he wasn't sure he could control. This woman that had catapulted back into his life, who had put herself into his care and trust, what did she want of him?

  He was becoming increasingly aware of the difficulties arising from their physical closeness and their emotional separation. What was he going to do about it? It was only a week, and after that things would return to normal, wouldn't they? Pondering these questions his mind drifted back to sleep, acutely aware of the naked woman lying beside him.

  Wednesday

  Tom woke to the bright sunlight forcing its way through the curtains, creating shafts of light that bounced around the walls. He was lying on his back, unusual for him. He was glad that he was only wearing boxers, considering how hot the night had been. As he came to, he realised that Gail was lying against him, her breast moulded to his arm. He was reminded that she had taken off her nightdress, presumably due to the heat, and he could trace the shape of her lower body through the thin sheet that they had compromised on.

  She shifted her position, rolling over, her arm lying over him now, her breast against his chest. He tentatively put his hand on her breast, intending to ease his body out from under her, but his touch caused her to push more firmly against him, trapping his hand under her breast. He moved his hand, then suddenly realised that she was awake, a dreamy smile on her face, eyelids still heavy. She moved her hand downwards from his chest and found his boxers, her eyes growing wide. He raised an eyebrow and began to stroke her breast.

  “ You're wicked,” she murmured, before leaning over and planting her lips on his. They stayed there for what seemed like ever before she moved on top of him, while they explored each inch of each other's body, gently probing, caressing, until the movement became more urgent. They made love slowly, experimenting, giving permissions as they went.

  When they lay, complete, watching the light play on the ceiling, Tom felt he had to apologise.

  “ I'm sorry if I provoked something that you didn't intend,” he said.

  “ I take it as a huge compliment that you wanted to. I've been wanting you to do it since we met,” Gail replied.

  “ Wow. If it's all right with you, can I compliment you again, because I've also been wanting to do it since we met?”

  “ It would be my pleasure.”

  And with that they both went back to sleep.

  Tom delivered toast, marmalade and coffee to the bedroom, and they ate a leisurely breakfast sitting in bed.

  “ Such decadence,” sighed Gail.

  “ We're on holiday. We deserve it,” mumbled Tom, through a mouthful of toast.

  “ So, what are we doing today?” quizzed Gail.

  “ The guide book talks about a walk in the Cuillin hills, up a series of cascades. The pictures look good.”

  “ Let's do it then,” declared Gail, jumping out of bed in a burst of energy. “I claim first go in the shower.”

  Gail waited by the car while Tom went off to a stall at the edge of the car park to buy a map. She could see him laughing at something the stall holder had said. She smiled at the sight, and suddenly realised how much lighter she felt today, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Why was that? Was it feeling relieved of the responsibility of living alone, of making all the decisions herself with no one to discuss things with? Goodness, was it the sex? That thought startled her, but no it couldn't have been the sex because she had felt it before they had made love. As she watched Tom she suddenly realised how quickly she was becoming attached to him, attracted to him. But it had only been five days. How was that possible?

  And the
n an inner voice reminded her of what she had done, how she had imposed herself on him, forced her way into his holiday, and she felt appalled at the thought. Was it selfish? Yes it was. Did she regret it? No she didn't. But how could he be putting up with her? Oh God, she realised, she had just had sex with someone she hardly knew, let alone was married to. Her mother's voice came back to her in stern tones.

  He noticed her watching him, and he grinned and waved to her as he walked back across the car park. She felt as if she had an angel on one shoulder promising her everything she ever wanted, whilst there was a devil on the other shoulder reminding her that she didn't deserve it.

  Tom, in the meantime, oblivious to the turmoil in Gail's mind, felt as high as a kite. He couldn't believe that he was here on holiday with such a woman, and she appeared to be enjoying herself. He could still feel the touch of her skin against his, sending shivers up his spine. But more important than the physical, she was fun to be around, yes that was it, he was having fun, and he was forced to admit that it was due in large part to her presence.

  As he reached her he noticed her forlorn, even scowling face.

  “ What's the matter?” he asked, surprised at her apparent change of disposition.

  “ Oh, I've been so bad,” she cried.

  “ Bad about what?” he replied, now completely mystified.

  “ Bad about everything. Everything. Forcing myself on you, insisting on sharing your bed, having sex for Heaven's sake,” she cried again. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

  He took her in his arms and hugged her.

  “ You are going to stop beating yourself up, but at the same time you're also going to think twice in future, to make sure that you don't do anything that you will regret later. I am not in the business of making you unhappy, now or in the future.”