Chapter 3

She didn't let go my hand until we reached her little Cinquecento, though I wasn't resisting and she didn't have to drag me. She unlocked her car, we turned and raised a hand in farewell to the Hopkins, got in, and she drove us away.

It was a silent drive. I was in a turmoil and I didn't want to distract her from her driving, but when she drew up by my home and switched off the motor... "Sandie..."

She looked at me for the first time since leaving the Hopkins'. "Will..."

"That kiss..."

"Was something I've wanted to do for a long time."

I let her response percolate through my mind. "Why don't we get inside?" That, at least, gave me a few minutes to try to sort out my emotions. Not that it was enough. In the 'van I turned up the heating before facing Sandie. It seemed an age we just looked at each other before I took a deep breath, stepped forward, took her face in my hands and bent my head to kiss her. The first time, I'd been overwhelmed ... by surprise, certainly, but also by the sensual impact, not to mention the emotional one. This time I took the initiative. Her lips were soft under mine, her breath sweet. Our lips parted and tongues brushed together. My heart went into free-fall, and Sandie seemed to mould herself against me. Time stopped and the universe shrank to a bubble containing just two individuals ... Could a kiss really have that much power?

I don't know ... I have no idea ... how we got from standing in the middle of the lounge to the couch, but that was where we spent the next hour or so. Looking back, I can't remember any time, not even when Juliet and I were courting, when I was so completely ... involved ... in making out, and Sandie gave me no indication she was any less involved. I can't really express how it made me feel, except it felt right.

Hunger eventually interrupted us, despite the very substantial meal we'd had at the Hopkins', and after tea and toast, Sandie told me she had to go.

"Not that I want to," she said looking steadily at me, "but I think it would be best. But if you like, I'll come back tomorrow. I'll just warn you, I'll need to work. Can I do that? Come to just be here and work?"

I thought about it, but not for too long. "I'd like that," I said. After all, however frustrating it might be after our make-out session, I'd at least have her company.

She did go home, but I think it was a close thing. We had to kiss some more before she actually got out of the door and that took some time. Months later, she told me why she'd left when she did; there were a number of reasons, in fact, but I'd better leave them 'til later.

The next day, when she came, we had coffee (decaffeinated) and went out for a walk. Not without stopping here and there for a kiss. On returning, she put some of the curry I'd made on to heat and sat at the table with her laptop to work for an hour before lunch while I read until it was time to put some rice on. She took a break for lunch, did another hour after. Chatted with me over a cup of tea for half an hour, then did another hour. We played chess then until tea-time – she beat me thoroughly – then toasted teacakes with lots of butter. After which we sort of watched part of 'Pride and Prejudice', the BBC version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. It's very good, but I'd seen it before and I had a distraction.

And that set the pattern until she had to go back to Uni, when she came out rather less. I didn't realise at the time, but she did a pretty good job of non-directive counselling in between her more directive approach with my schedule. So good, in fact, the doctor passed me fit for work in February and told me to taper off the tablets.

"Take it slowly," he said, "you don't want any rebound or the side-effects of stopping quickly."

Then, at the beginning of March, Saturday morning, Juliet came to visit.

"Hello, Will. Can I come in?"

"Juliet. Yes, I suppose so."

"You don't seem too keen."

I shrugged, unsure how to respond, but backed up and let her in. "Get you a drink?"

"Cuppa tea might be nice," she said.

I put the kettle on. We were silent as it boiled, Mozart playing quietly in the background.

"How're things, Will?"

I looked at her quizzically.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you to explain. I just reacted."

"What could I say?" I asked, "I fucked her. Maybe she had some responsibility ... she did have some responsibility. But I could have been more careful of what I was drinking; I could have said no."

"Could you?" She looked at me very seriously. "Will ... I need to know ... do you want to try again?"

That pulled me up short. Did I want to go back to Juliet? I thought about Sandie, how I felt about her. Did she want a relationship with me beyond what we had?

"No, Juliet, I don't think I do," I heard myself saying. "I think ... we were never in love. What we had was good, but if I'd loved you, I wouldn't have betrayed you or, at least, I'd have been honest with you at the time. And if you'd loved me, you'd have wanted to know what happened from my perspective."

She was watching me closely as I spoke and she was nodding slightly. When I'd finished, she didn't say anything for several minutes.

"I think you're right, Will. But I wanted to ... to ... make sure before I made any serious decisions. I ... met someone, Will. It ... could be good. I just needed to know..."

I was able to smile, then. "Not that you need it, Juliet, but you have my blessing to move on. I thought you already had."

"No," she shook her head. "I'm pleased you're letting me go," she paused, "I had a visitor," she smiled slightly, "Miss Sandra Saunders. Sandie."

"Oh?"

"She had a bit to say. I liked her."

"Oh?"

"But what she said is between us. Talk to her, Will."

"I do."

"I know," Juliet smiled warmly, "talk some more." She stood. "I'll be on my way. Thanks for the tea, Will. I ... hope you can be happy."

She turned and waved before she got into her car and I raised my hand in farewell, aware that it was fare well ... that there was no animosity, that we did, indeed wish each other well. And, yes, the beginnings of happiness. A weight I had become accustomed to was lifted from my heart and I had no doubt who I could thank for it. And what she'd expect of me. I put on sweats and trainers and went out for a run. Forty-five minutes and four miles later, sweaty and tired, I was back at the 'van where Sandie was sitting in her Cinquecento. She got out as she saw me coming and when I got to her, laid her hand on my forearm. She looked serious.

"Hello, Will."

"Sandie! You look worried?"

She didn't respond to that.

"Coming in? I need a shower."

"Do you want me to?"

I looked at her 'gone out' as we say here. "Of course I want you to. I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"You might have been being polite."

"True, but I wasn't. Come in and boil the kettle while I shower."

Her expression lightened a little and I left her to it in the kitchenette as I washed off the sweat and the mud from running in the woods.

"I've made you coffee," she said as I emerged. She was sitting at the table with a cafetiere, tea-pot and mugs in front of her.

"Come here," I said.

She looked at me.

"Sandie," I said more firmly, "please, stand up and come here."

She seemed a little reluctant, but she slid out from the table and came to me. I folded her in my arms, aware more than ever of the rightness of it, though she was a little stiff. Still holding her, I said, "Sandie, I can't tell you how important you've been over the last few months. If you haven't entirely kept me sane, you've at least kept me in touching distance of sanity and I don't doubt getting back to something like normality would have taken much, much longer without you. And," I paused, "I've learned something about myself in the process."

I loosened my embrace and used one hand to tip her face up to look at me. Her eyes flicked ... was she really nervous? ... to mine and away again. I dipped my head and pressed my lips against hers gently. She sighed as out lips parted and she met my eyes steadily.

"What have you learned, Will?"

"That you are very important to me, and I want you to be a part of my life. Actually, Sandie, I love you, and I want you to be my wife."

She gasped, then, after several seconds, burst into tears and pulled herself against me while I just ... held her. When her sobs subsided I murmured, "My coffee will be getting cold."

She pulled away and thumped my chest, hard. "You! You..." then relaxed and began to giggle. "Oh, Will ... if you only knew..." She placed a hand each side of my face and drew me to her to kiss. "You have no idea, have you? No idea at all."

I must have looked puzzled, because she shook her head. "It's that Y chromosome," she said, "you can't help it. Come on, have your coffee."

The coffee had cooled to the point that it was easily drinkable – in other words, not really hot enough – so I drank it while Sandie drank her tea and being cool, it didn't take long.

"Look, Sandie," I began, "I don't want to pressure you. You know how..."

She reached across the table and laid a finger on my lips. "Shut up, Will."

My heart sank into my boots and I shut up.

She took the finger away and laid her hand over mine. "Will, the first time I saw you, two things hit me." She paused, swallowed, and frowned. "One thing, obviously, was your teaching gift. I was captivated by your enthusiasm and the way you communicated. But when I watched you closely ... I..." she stopped and looked away for a minute or so. "Will, I could feel your sadness. I wanted to ... well, I wanted to make it better. So, I thought about how I could approach you." She stopped again and looked down at the table. "Will, I lied to you. I haven't got a publisher interested in my book, it's just a hobby I've been playing with in my spare time for several years."