Chapter 6

It should have worked. Mrs. Dunn sat Mike at a two-place table in a quiet corner of the dining room. Unsuspecting, he sat and opened a book purchased at the museum – ‘Great Naval Blunders’. There are several sayings about plans... ‘man proposes but God disposes’, ‘best laid plans... ‘ not to mention Murphy, of course. Mrs. Dunn had in mind to put Mike and Siobhan within communication distance and let nature take its course. She’d seen the way they interacted back when Siobhan was a refugee from her ex-fiancé and was convinced they were meant to be together; that, in fact, in the best possible way, that they deserved each other.

Basically, the problem was that Siobhan was not the only unattached female at the hotel. Let me say, I don’t believe in the stereotype of blondes. There is absolutely no evidence that someone with blonde hair is less intelligent than anyone else; but sometimes the stereotype is accurate. Mike, having been tidied up and given a little confidence, had become a ‘prospect’; just look at Fiona, after all. Chantelle, however had little in common with Fiona ... or Siobhan.

Engrossed in his book at turns smiling and wincing at the accounts of naval fiascos, Mike didn’t notice her approach.

“Excuse me, but do you mind if I join you?”

Mike looked up to see a very pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman, in a very short mini-skirt and a blouse that left little to the imagination, smiling at him. Unaware of Siobhan’s presence in the hotel or Mrs. Dunn’s plans, he had no reason to refuse (other than a desire to sit and read his book in peace). However, she was pretty and he supposed there were worse things than her company over supper. He had changed his mind by the end of the meal. Chantelle ... had an attention span shorter than her skirt. She was unable to talk about anything beyond fashion, celebrity lives and her work as a glamour model. The latter might have been interesting ... but wasn’t. He’d always despised people who merely nodded and said ‘uh huh’ when someone was talking but they weren’t really listening, but he knew that his polite smile was becoming strained and he was aware that he wasn’t really listening any more. He didn’t see Siobhan seated at a table across the room.

Siobhan saw Mike, though. Initially, she wasn’t impressed to see him with yet another young woman. Her immediate reaction was ‘I’ve unleashed a monster.’ With the corollary, ‘I’m better off without him’. Her uncomfortable conclusion, however, didn’t last long. She couldn’t help watching Mike and his companion and it was apparent to her that he wasn’t enjoying his encounter ... his blank expression and fixed smile an obvious contrast to the genuine interest she remembered from her interactions with him. She finished her meal and decisively stood and crossed the room.

She smiled sweetly at Mike’s companion. “Excuse me a moment? I’d like a quick word with my friend?”

Chantelle smiled insincerely. “Of course! Be my guest.”

“Thank you so much...” then turning to Mike and laying a hand on his shoulder, “Mike ... it’s good to see you. When you’ve got a moment, perhaps we could talk? I’m in Fifteen.”

Mike’s response was a little delayed and Siobhan wondered for a moment if she’d misread the situation, or if perhaps Mike just wasn’t interested in her, but that wasn’t the reason. Partly it was the effect of Chantelle’s mind-numbing conversation and partly his old uncertainty. But his expression lightened and he managed to stammer out a response.

“Siobhan! I ... er ... sure. I’d love a chat ... five minutes?”

“Make it ten, if you don’t mind, Mike.” Siobhan smiled sweetly at Chantelle again before turning to leave the room ... Chantelle’s smile was rather fixed.

“Excuse me ... er ... Chantelle? There’s things I need to do before I see my friend?”

Chantelle’s response was far from enthusiastic. “I guess so. Nice talking to you...”

“Er ... and you,” Mike responded (though he almost choked on the words).

Mike was punctual. Some might see that as a weakness – he merely considered it polite.

The response was somewhat muffled, but audible; “Just a minute!” A little more than a minute later – several minutes would be nearer the truth – the door opened. Siobhan was wearing something vaguely oriental, that somehow accentuated her assets whilst concealing them. It was basically black but with a pattern of mainly pink and white – cherry-blossom. Had it not been for the strain in her expression she would have been stunning, but Mike gave only a glance at her garment – he was looking at her eyes. He entered the room and, as the door shut behind him, held out his arms. Moments later she was there, squeezing his chest, his arms enclosing her, her face pressed against his neck. They breathed in, inhaling each other’s aroma; whatever else might have been wrong, at that moment nothing else mattered.

Mike hadn’t been unhappy, but became aware that he was now ... happier.

Siobhan realised that she’d regained the peace she’d found on Lindisfarne. More than that, she felt ... right. She mumbled into his neck; “I’m sorry, Mike.”

Not understanding, he thought he’d misheard. “What?”

She moved a little way away so she could look in his face. “I’m sorry, Mike,” she said more clearly.

He was puzzled. “What for?”

She had to think about it. “I ... doubted you and I judged you.”

“Oh?” He thought for a minute. “It doesn’t matter.”

She thought he was minimising her concern. “Yes, it does!”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

She was irritated. “I think it is you that doesn’t understand.”

He held his hands up pacifically. “I’m sorry ... educate me.”

She looked at him, head cocked, slowly let out a breath, and the tension left her. She moved to the bed and sat on it; patted the bed next to her. He accepted the invitation and sat next to her then, cautiously, put his arm round her. She, in turn, relaxed against him, and her arm crept round his waist.

“I missed you,” she began.

“I missed you too,” he said.

“Please,” she said, “let me get through this in my own way so I can explain.”

“Okay.”

“Right.” She sighed. “After I left you, somehow the ... life ... went out of my life ... the parties, the events ... I was bored. I found I didn’t much like a lot of the people I had to associate with. Men who I might have dated ... just didn’t measure up. I didn’t seem to have anyone I could ... have a sensible conversation with. Anyway. I took some time out ... someday I may tell you about it if you want, but ... I set off to see you, because I remembered the time with you as being meaningful. Interesting. Challenging.” She swallowed and looked down at her lap. Mike nodded, though she didn’t see it. “Then I ... thought I’d surprise you and turned up on your doorstep ... and met your girlfriend. Fiona.”

Mike opened his mouth to say something, but she looked up at him, saying, “Hush. Let me finish. Fiona tried to explain ... about you ... and her ... and...” she swallowed again, “about you and me. But I ... couldn’t accept what she was saying. I couldn’t accept you had a right to another relationship, that I had no claim on you. There was more, too. I thought ... well, that you were a bit like Cass. It was too easy for you to fall into bed with another woman. I couldn’t accept what Fiona told me, that you weren’t like that. Then I saw you with ... that... floozy... and I thought that just confirmed how I felt. Until I saw how you were looking at her. You really weren’t happy, were you?”

Mike snorted. “You have no idea how happy I was when you interrupted her ... Of course, I was happy to see you anyway...”

She sighed and leaned against him. “I don’t want to live without you.” They were silent for several minutes, then she added, “But what about Fiona...?”

“We’re ... not together. She said ... I had to sort out you and me, one way or another, because you and I ... we were meant to be together and she wasn’t going to get between us.”

They were silent again for some time. Then Siobhan said, “I’m not worthy of you, Mike.”

“Siobhan ... I don’t feel worthy of you. But when I said it didn’t matter ... when you came into my arms, didn’t it feel right? Isn’t the most important thing, not what’s happened in the past, but what we are now? What we can be in the future?”

After another longish silence, during which they both enjoyed the sensation of completeness from being together, she took his hand and slid it inside her wrap to cup her breast, holding it there.

He thought it the best feeling in the world, the firm, round, mound of flesh; without thinking, he breathed, “Oh ... my Lord...”

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Feels good...” then rolled back, pulling him with her.

“I’ve still got shoes on,” he protested.

“Don’t care!” She pulled his head down to her and kissed him.