Five Winters(15)

“Yes, please,” I said, and he took me by the hand and led me straight upstairs.

The tour started and ended in his bedroom. I laughed as we fell back together onto his bed, but then he was kissing me and stroking my breasts through my dress, and things got intense very quickly. In no time at all, we were tearing at each other’s clothing. Five breathless minutes after that, we were both crying out.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” said Jaimie after a moment, sounding mortified. “That was so rushed, I expect your coffee’s still warm. Do you want me to go and get it for you?”

I caught his eye, and we both burst out laughing. “It wasn’t rushed,” I said. “It was hot. And you can make me another coffee later—after we do that all over again.”

We got under the covers, and this time we took our time, smoothing, stroking, tasting, exploring. It was all utterly delicious, especially after the exhausting roller coaster of a day I’d had. So I suppose it was no surprise that I fell asleep afterwards.

When I woke up, I was alone. I didn’t remember where I was straightaway. The room was completely dark except for a strip of light coming in through the half-open door. Then I became aware of the liquid feeling pervading my entire body and remembered everything. Jaimie. I was at Jaimie’s house, in Jaimie’s bed. We had just made the most amazing love, despite our slightly unpromising first foray, and now Jaimie must be downstairs, waiting for me to wake up. So why did I feel so sad? This was all good, wasn’t it? Good sex? A fresh beginning with a nice man? A break from the Christmas patterns of almost a lifetime?

I wanted it to be good. It was just that Grace’s unkind words kept swimming round my brain. Presumably, you don’t see yourself turning up here for Christmas every year until Sylvia and Richard pass away? And I couldn’t stop seeing Mark’s arm around Grace’s shoulders. The little loving glances they’d given each other as they exchanged gifts.

Oh God.

Quickly, I swung my legs out of bed, looking for a dressing gown or something to slip on. But there was nothing—the peg on the back of the door was empty. I found the light switch and foraged for my torn-off clothes. Then I made my way downstairs and into the sitting room, where I found Jaimie sitting stark naked on the sofa watching It’s a Wonderful Life on TV.

“Hello, you,” he said, sounding completely unembarrassed. “I thought I’d let you sleep. You looked as if you needed it. Are you ready for that snack now? I was just going to make myself a sandwich. And there’s a bottle of cava chilling.”

Jaimie’s penis bobbed up and down as he headed for the kitchen. His complete lack of self-consciousness was somehow alarming, making me feel as if I were the smutty one, wearing clothes. And I couldn’t help but stare at him, like a rabbit caught in the proverbial headlights.

“Are you admiring my suntan?” Jaimie asked.

I nodded mutely. His suntan, yes, that was what I was looking at. Not.

“I took the girls to Greece during October half term. We were really lucky with the weather. And, of course, I top it up any chance I get. I expect Grace told you I’m a naturist?”

Grace’s parting quip about Jaimie’s “hobby” flooded back. No wonder she’d looked as if she wanted to die laughing.

“No,” I said. “She didn’t think to mention it.”

Bloody hell, with a Christmas like this one, what in God’s name was the New Year going to bring?





WINTER TWO





7


When I saw the Cambridge train approaching, I quickly called to the off-the-leash border collie: “Milo! Here, boy!”

Too late. The train was almost level with us now, and Milo—whose favourite hobby was racing trains—took off, determined to catch up with it, an elusive flash of barking black and white. Dachshunds Toto and Lily, the two other dogs I was walking, were safely on the lead, thank goodness. Oh well. At least I knew Milo would come back after he’d finally accepted defeat, and the railway line was on the other side of the river, so he was quite safe.

The receding train and Milo’s barking were the only sounds to be heard. We were alone, me and the dogs. I was used to it now, although I did still miss the buzz of London. Ely was a city—a tiny one, but still a city because of the cathedral. It wasn’t exactly bustling. You couldn’t jump on a bus to catch the latest play in the West End. And there wasn’t the same mixture of different cultures and international restaurants, markets, and clothing stores that you got in Dalston.

It was pretty, though. And besides, Jaimie wasn’t in Dalston. He was here, in Ely. Jaimie with his enthusiastic lovemaking. His waggy-tailed approach to life and a smile that lit up his face. Family man Jaimie, full of love for his girls. For Jaimie, I had put my reservations about rural living aside and ignored my longings for my old job and my former work colleagues. After all, wasn’t I lucky to have found this dog-walking job when there weren’t any veterinary-nurse vacancies going? And it was still working with animals. Worthwhile, too, since without me, these dogs would be shut up all day, living a dull life. The countryside was growing on me too. If you went on the same walks several times a week, you got to notice all the small changes. When Jaimie and I had taken his girls on an organised nature walk, I’d learnt to spot otter runs and the best places to see kingfishers. I hadn’t seen an otter yet—the dogs would probably scare them off even if they were around—but it was rare for a week to go by without me seeing a kingfisher, and that flash of brilliant blue always made me gasp with pleasure. You didn’t get that in Dalston.