Chapter 2

It was actually Saturday evening when I drove up to Penkhull, to pick Lyn up. The Potteries is wonderfully situated for the countryside, travel in any direction and you’re soon surrounded bt greenery. Of course, over the years many of those little pubs that, before the motor car, had existed just for a few locals, had become posh hostelries for us city folk. I’d decided on an overly large country pub, out near Mow Cop, as our destination for the evening. Before the change in drink driving attitudes, it had been a thriving pub with regular live music. Nowadays, it was one of the few that hadn’t become food pubs, and because of that tended to be sparsely frequented.

I mentioned it to Lyn, who hadn’t been before, but who was happy with my selection.

Lyn was drinking white wine, whilst I nursed a couple of glasses of soft drinks. Alcoholic drinks are very heavily taxed in this country, yet soft drinks still cost as much, if not more, in most British pubs. It’s no wonder that many country pubs are failing.

As before, we talked, mainly about ourselves and those around us. I explained that I was a youngest child, my parents were still alive and active, celebrating their retirement near La Rochelle, France. I told her that I rarely saw Brian, my brother, though we spoke on the telephone regularly. I had a few who I classed as friends, none of whom I saw regularly. I also told her about my dog. When she asked about the breed, I just said Heinz 57. She grinned.

Lyn told me that she still lived with her mother, her father having passed away a few years earlier. She was obviously close to her mother, but it was when she spoke about her daughter, Sarah, that her eyes lit up and she really came to life.

We discussed music, discovering that our tastes just barely overlapped. My main love was rock, having grown up with bands like Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple and of course, our local claim to fame, Mow Cop. Lyn laughing said that I seemed to like colours as much as music.

Her tastes ran more to popular music, the stuff that reaches the singles charts. Only on some Soft Rock did we find agreement.

Lyn seemed very interested in my photography, saying that it had to be a lot more interesting than her job.

“Depends on what you class as interesting,” I said. “Having loads of different people coming in, with all sorts of attitudes, must be interesting in one way, and surely leaving you with more than a few anecdotes to tell. My work is probably the happier of the two though.”

“Yes, working for the council certainly leaves you with a few stories to tell, so I suppose you have a point there,” she conceded. “Pity you aren’t a painter.” She said mysteriously changing the subject.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why a painter?”

“I’ve never been asked up to see a man’s etchings.” She said laughing hard.

I joined in before suggesting, “does that mean you want to come up and see my photos?”

“I might, but not tonight.”

“I like the sound of that.” I said, grinning.

“Thought you might.” She then smirked. “You’re just a dirty old man.”

“Guilty as charged, though I like the idea because it means I get to see you again.” I said, looking into her wonderful eyes.

We joked around a bit about her coming to my house, Lyn insisting that my photos, or etchings as she called them, had to be upstairs, because the saying was always ‘come up to see my etchings’. I knew it was said mainly in jest, though I had to admit, I really hoped that there was some chance of it actually happening. I did feel good about Lyn being able to trust me enough to even joke about it.

She’d been wearing a skirt when I saw her in the café. Naturally, as a dirty old man, I’d checked her legs out, finding them very much to my taste. That evening she wore a blue blouse, along with tight jeans and even tighter boots. Her legs looked as good as in her skirt, but the jeans really emphasised her beautifully firm buttocks, which I took time to study on the couple of times she sauntered away to ‘powder her nose’. The blouse was unbuttoned at the top, drawing my eyes to her slender neck, as well as encouraging thoughts about her breasts, which appeared in perfect proportion to her figure.

Hope ruled over expectation as I fantasised about my date during her last trip to the ladies room.

“Penny for them!” She said with a smile, having returned unnoticed.

“Oh, I think I could sell them for a lot more than that.” I responded with a smile, whilst simultaneously trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Dirty old man again?”

“Naturally! What can you expect when I’m out with the best looking woman in the place.” I said, before adding with a bit of mischief. “Not that that is too difficult, as apart from us, there isn’t anyone here under seventy.”

“They’re aren’t that old, well not all of them.” She said looking around the room. “Besides, I’ll still take it as a compliment. A woman needs all the compliments she can get.”

Like the last time we’d talked, the time just flew by. It seemed we’d been there no more than an hour or so when the landlord called time. We both were just a little surprised that it was closing time already.

Once Lyn had her coat on, I offered my hand, and with another glorious smile, she took it in her own soft grip. Instantly I was taken back to our very first meeting and the electricity that I’d felt. It was still there, probably stronger even. I looked into her eyes, and I was sure that she was feeling something similar. ‘Careful John!’ I told myself as I found myself falling for my beautiful, but young, date.

The journey back was made in silence, though a very comfortable one. It was as if we both needed to reflect on what was happening between us, because something definitely was. Against all the rules of driving, I kept hold of Lyn’s hand whenever possible. It was moving that when I did need to let go, it was always there waiting for my return.

“Can I see you again?” I asked once I’d parked the car outside Lyn’s home. I felt surprisingly confident that she’d say yes.

She looked at me, as if she was doubtful, which quickly knocked that confident feeling.

“I need to know one more thing before I can answer that.” She said seriously.

I was that busy wondering what that could be, that when she reached behind my neck, pulling me into a kiss, I almost didn’t react, I was that shocked. Almost! If I’d felt the tingle of electricity when our hands touched, the kiss was like being plugged into the National Grid. It was a good job that my body knew how to react, because it had little help from my fried brain.

Some time later, it was over. By the time I managed to focus, Lyn was leaning back in her seat, just staring at me.

“Wow!” She whispered, almost in awe.

“Wow indeed!” I croaked. “Are you a witch, because that has left me spellbound.”

The humour, or at least my attempt at it, befittingly broke the spell.

“Well that answers my last question.” Lyn said, ignoring said humour. “I’ll check with Mum, and then I’ll give you a ring. When had you got in mind?”

“First thing, tomorrow morning,” I, only partially joked.

She laughed, that simple sound sending shivers down my spine and waking up the butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence in my stomach. “Didn’t you mention that you have work to do?”

“I have one shoot I want to do tomorrow, but I can do that anytime, or you could always come with me.”