He picked up her case, his hand not really wanting to leave hers. "Come on" he said "We’ll get a taxi, I have the loan of a friend’s cottage down by the Thames". Liar, he thought, he had spent the last two months scouring every newspaper and estate agents to find the perfect place to rent for her stay, it had cost him an arm and a leg, but for her it was worth it.
They spent the time in the taxi lost in each other. Never noticing the passing bustling London streets, until the voice of the driver announcing their arrival brought them out of their own world. She stopped and looked in wonder, it was a real picture book English cottage complete with roses round the door, through the back garden, the distant shimmer of water showed the closeness of the river.
"It’s perfect" she said, flinging her arms once more around his neck, with a kiss that made the cost and problems of finding the place all worth while. They entered through the rose shrouded door, into something straight out of wonderland. "Place your case in the end room, while I get on with the dinner" he smiled, thank goodness for his mum teaching him to cook all those years ago.
"It’s roast beef with all the trimmings, but I’m not doing Brussels sprouts, don’t want to miss those lips of yours." She laughed, the sound ran like a tinkle of bells around the room, she picked up her case and headed for the end room. He watched her move away, my God, how he loved her every move.
The last dregs of the bottle were drained, the candles splashed wax across the old table, their light ever dimming, both leaned back, content, happy to be here, together. He cleared his throat, suddenly his mouth seemed unable to work, partly due to embarrassment, partly with expectation. "Um, we’ll leave the dishes until the morning, if you like, we’ve both had a long day my love. By the way, do you want to wash or wipe?" He added as an afterthought and wished immediately he hadn’t said it. She sensed his embarrassment, and without saying a word, leant across and lightly kissed him on the lips, then taking him by the hand like a lost schoolboy, led him down the corridor into the bedroom.
"But I thought" he started to say, but his words were lost as his lips were sealed by another pair. Not a lot was said after that, well, not that can be repeated here, lovers’ words are meant for each other’s ears only.
He awoke from his sleep slowly coming to, trying to savour each last minute of what had gone on through the night, not wanting the shreds of tattered dreams to end. He reached out; the bed was still warm from her body, the sheets still crumpled from their lovemaking, his body sweetly aching from the night before.
As if in a dream, she had gently kissed his lips during his half walking period, and said she would be back soon. He rolled over onto one arm, shielding his eyes from the early morning light as it shone through the small cottage windows, dancing over the scattered clothing discarded in their haste. "Morning, darling" came a voice from the door, "I believe you English have tea in the morning?" He looked at her standing in the doorway, with the sunlight showing her outline through the dressing gown she now wore. He smiled and thought, if I die now, I’ll have never been happier.
God, he said to himself, how I love her.
next chapter, tomorrow at 10.34 hrs.