Miracle by Fingersmith (LT Smith) © Jan 2008

Part One
Prologue

Being on my own was never a problem. I enjoyed the tranquillity of it all. The not answering to anyone but myself … the freedom of walking around the house naked … the eating crap and crying at shite movies - you know, the 'everything'. But there comes a time in your life where you start to wonder what you are doing … where you are going … and that's what happened to me.

It doesn't always work in the way that you wake up one morning and think, 'I don't want to be on my own anymore.' Or even the doing stuff and wondering what it would be like to do it with someone else. Sometimes it takes something a little less subtle - something like a six-foot goddess with brilliant blue eyes moving into the house next door to bring you out of some kind of stupor.

Problem was … she had a man in her life. Second problem, if the fact she loved testosterone flying about didn't make a huge one ... why on earth would she give someone like me a second look? But the main problem was nothing to do with any of the above. In fact, her not liking me was something I had grown to expect, especially since I didn't really like myself to begin with.

But once again, I am jumping the gun. I should put things into perspective - it may help you out in the long run … it might even help me out too, you never know. Bigger miracles have happened. Water into wine … the parting of the Red Sea … even Labour getting in for another run.

So let's go for a miracle, shall we?

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Chapter One

First and foremost, I should introduce myself. Stephanie Stevenson at your service. Go on. Take the piss. Everyone else does. SS for short … or 'Couldn't your parents come up with something more original?' It all boils down to my father being over exuberant with the 'Let's have a drink to wet the baby's head,' and having one too many until he insisted he should name me after some two bit actress he used to like. Don't get me wrong. My father isn't a bullish alcoholic. Far from it, in fact. And that's why my mother gave in. Unfortunately.

But, you can call me Steph. I don't mind that. And to be a little friendlier, I shall tell you a little bit more about me just to make the picture of yours truly, clearer.

Bassenthwaite. Nope, I didn't sneeze. That's where I live. Right near the lake. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'What lake?' Bassenthwaite is one of the topmost lakes in the Lake District, Cumbria. Talk about picturesque. I can honestly say the views from my bedroom window can only be called sublime. Hills, dales, sheep (lots of sheep), water … green fields, and fresh air. Well, unless it is winter … then the colour changes a tad, mainly to white, actually. And the lake does look less inviting …

Before I go into detail about why I live in a place that makes rigor mortis look happening, I should really tell you the reason why I left Manchester in the first place. Shouldn't I? Go on, you've twisted my arm.

I was born and raised a city girl ... thought I would be there until the day I keeled over from inhaling the car fumes, or get knocked down by the 192 from Piccadilly to Hazel Grove. But that wasn't to be. Obviously. I left Uni at the tender age of 21 and started in a newspaper office. (Tea anyone?) Although I started at the bottom, it didn't take me long to climb up the proverbial ladder, mainly because of my skill at being a nosey fucker.

To say I loved my job would be a half-truth. Initially I did, and when I realised I no longer liked it, too much water had raced under the bridge. Being a reporter is not all what its cracked up to be - no tilted hats with name cards sticking out … no rushing from the courtroom with front page news, and definitely no freebies. Long days filled with seeing things that people should never be witness to, never mind involved with, was my life.

It was on one of these occasions that I decided enough was enough and I threw in the towel. I bet you want to know the ins and outs of it, don't you? I think my nosiness is rubbing off already.

Sigh.

Ok, then. But please don't judge me. I can do that for the both of us.

Four years ago. That's when it happened. Although it feels as if it happened last week. It was nothing out of the ordinary, well, for Manchester that is. And when you spend enough time hanging about with low lives just to glean a titbit of info, you find that life can take you one of two ways. Firstly. You can become hardened to everything - become just as unsavoury as they are. Secondly, you can become increasingly distrustful. Or thirdly (ok, ok, I know its three, and I said one of two ways, but it's my story after all), you can adopt one and two and mix them up, making a low life that is completely distrustful. Not a good combination, to say the least. Good job I wasn't waving a gun - guns don't go well with distrustful lowlifes. Believe me.

Right. Down to the nitty gritty, and another reminder that I am not happy about the events that follow, ok?

Rape. Such a horrific word - enough to make us all cringe. An extremely violent rape, to be exact. A mother of two, gang raped by three teenagers whilst her children crouched in the corner too scared to cry. Not a pretty picture, is it? No, I didn't think you'd think so. But to me she was just another story - another headliner - another scoop by Stevenson.

At first she didn't want to tell me … didn't want to tell anyone. And in retrospect, I don't think many of us would want to relive that time over and over again. Pity I didn't think that when I was pestering the life out of her to tell tell tell.

To this day I can still see her sitting there - so vulnerable, broken, her husband next to her appearing a mere shell of a man, the word 'incompetent' invisibly written on his forehead. And also to this day I can hear myself asking questions, making her go over it again and again just so I wouldn't get my facts wrong. But in the end I got more than my facts wrong. Any decent person would have apologised, got up, gone back to the office, told them to shove it, and walked out, tossing her keys over her shoulder as she went. Not me. I pushed and pushed, and then pushed some more. Then pushed again until I saw her break into a thousand pieces, her husband's flaccid arms trying to give comfort hanging from her body like ivy.

So I kept on going. Had to get my spread … had to get the kudos that comes with a win. It was only when I felt myself becoming bored with her crying did I stop. In that split second, a flickering of humanity whizzed through me, before I cast it aside, made my excuses (and apologies), and left.

Four days later it came back to haunt me. Not flashbacks about what a selfish twat I had been, but the recriminations of my actions. I will say this as quickly as I can, and yes, I am a coward. I was in the office laughing. Some stupid report had come in about an old bloke being arrested for giving a safety camera the middle finger as he was caught on film, and him refusing to pay the thousand pound fine for crude behaviour. The sound of raised voices from outside my door alerted me that all was not well in camp.

Standing there, or should I say half slumped and looking beside himself with grief, was the husband of the victim. My victim, as it happens. Yes. She killed herself. Her husband found her in the bath … and I won't go into the details, for your sake as well as mine. Turns out she read my article, and that was it. The realisation of what she had been through sunk in and she decided she couldn't bear to live with the memory of it.

Even now I can still remember the look in his eyes as he pointed his finger, unable to say the words he had come to say. The pain there … the agony of not being her protector was evident, but the finger said it all. Quietness reverberated from every wall, the everyday clicking of the keyboards stopped, and I was left standing there exposed to everyone for what I truly was. I was more guilty of her death than the three teens that had started the downward spiral.

All the years of denial surged and flooded, and I knew that my time in this role was over. In that split second I recognized the person I had become and the insight sickened me. There was no way I could turn the clock back and make this alright; there was no way I could live with myself if I carried on.

And as we stood there in muted stalemate, my life changed. My legs gave slightly at the knees and I stuck my hand out to save myself from falling to the floor. The action broke the spell, and the husband lowered his arm slightly as if to catch me. That made me feel even worse, as you can imagine. Then he turned as if to go, stopped, and turned back to me. A voice rough with crying uttered just a few words, but those words disturb me still.

'What do I tell the kids?'

Then he was gone, and I was left with the excruciating pain of beginning to feel again after fourteen years of rejecting anything that has a semblance of remorse or pity.

Two months later I was living in Bassenthwaite. Still a reporter, but this time it is low key. No huge stories to follow up; nothing more exciting than announcing the winner of the local jam making competition, or reports about dogs scaring sheep, and that suits me just fine. I left Manchester behind me, and only go back to visit family on a needs must basis.

But I don't live alone. No sir. I have a very good housemate who keeps me on the straight and narrow. Someone who actually made me feel again … someone who made me understand what it was like to care for another being … someone who walked into my life two weeks after my move. Not bad going considering I was definitely on Self Pity Street. But he saw past all that and saw the inner me; he made me see that life did have a purpose after all.

Reggie. God. If you could see his smile, it would melt your heart. And his eyes … I could wax lyrical about them for hours. Brown. The colour of roasted hazelnuts. Sparkling hazelnuts, at that. And the way he snuffled me every time I got home from work (that's if he didn't come with me), just after bringing me his squeaky ball, made me laugh out loud and make him go crazy.

But I doubt you want to hear about my love story with my canine friend do you? I didn't think so. Well at least I have disclosed my skeleton for you to think about, something I very rarely do as I'm not much of a 'let's pour out my feelings' type of girl. But I feel I can trust you. The question is … do you trust me? You must remember that with this narrative viewpoint all you really get is my side of the story - something a reporter is very good at. Maybe I am feeding you a pack of lies to play with your sympathies … maybe I'm playing with the truth a little to make what I do in the future pale in comparison to what I did before. Or maybe I am just telling you things how they are. Only you can be the judge of that. Everything's relative after all.

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Chapter Two

I guess you want to know more about the six-foot goddess now that I've depressed the arse off you. Anything to push the memory of the woman to the back of your mind - or is that just me? Yes, I will say anything to try to forget what I had done - believe me.

Enough. I will try to move forward, as going backwards gets you nowhere fast.

Let's see. How do I introduce my introduction to 'her'? Do I attempt to place the situation into some kind of context? Tell you about my neighbours who sold up shop and buggered off to the glitzy nightlife of Ambleside? Or should I rattle on about watching boxes and removal vans appear in the early hours of Saturday morning? (Can't help being nosey - it's in the blood) Maybe it could be when I saw her bending over a box and was staring at her arse for what seemed like forever?

Hmm. I don't know. Can't get my head around where to begin. I could go for the time when she knocked on my door after I had just given Reggie a bath … That sounds about right.

Ok. I'm set.

It was Saturday evening when I first met her - spoke to her, in fact. I had spent the day peeking through the net curtains like a right old woman, telling Reggie what was happening and waiting to see if he would have any input. All he did was whimper for a bit, bring his ball and then lick his testicles for what seemed like too bloody long. Eventually I gave up the ghost and sorted through some of my own boxes, as you do when you see someone else doing it.

Even though she was my neighbour, she didn't live right on top of me. Her house was about three hundred metres away from mine, which made spying more difficult, especially when it started to get darker. I hadn't seen her up close as yet - only from a distance, and that made her seem quiet small. Did I also tell you I was stupid, too?

It was only Reggie's whine that alerted me I had neglected to take him for his after tea constitutional, and he wasn't a happy boy. This fact he proved by chasing ducks close to the lake, and eventually into it. He was covered in bits of crap and smelled like something had crawled into his fur, died, and promptly began to rot. Hence having a thorough bath when I got him back.

One thing Reggie hates is bath time. Loves water, but hates soap. He is the epitome of a teenage boy … please note, if teenage boys could lick their testicles they would - believe me - it would save on having to shower.

Anyway. I had just gone ten rounds with him and a bottle of shampoo when I heard my doorbell groaning. As I turned to answer, ordering Reggie to stay, it went again. 'I'm coming, for Christ's sake', which Reggie decided the 'coming' part was for him. Out he jumped and fled through the open door. Water was pissing off him like a fire hose and the wooden flooring was a death trap. Attempting to catch him on his hasty departure, I buggered over and skidded along the floor, soaking up what seemed like Lake Windermere in the process.

'Ding … Dong.' Another groan. I think the battery was dying - or auditioning for RADA.

'For fuck's sake!' A slippery endeavour to crack the mountainous climb up the side panel of the bath resulted in another slip just as I was about to get on my knees. Thud. The sound of my shin hitting the tile was enough to make a welder cringe … and my language could make a builder blush, that I can guarantee.

Finally, it was a case of crawling to the open doorway and to dry land that allowed me to take the plunge and try for another attempt of being vertical.

Reggie was racing to and from the door, and jumping on everything in his excitement. I usually loved watching his antics after his bath, as he appeared to be showing his emotions at 'freedom from the watery depths'. But I was in no mood to play and chase him, as I was too busy limping to the door.

Just as I arrived there, Reggie came and sat next to me with my best shoe in his mouth, and that did it - that and the sound of the doorbell wheezing its dying breath again.

Pulling the door open, I glared at the tall brunette standing casually on the steps. Before I knew it I had uttered the welcome, 'What the hell do you want?' and then promptly felt like curling up and dying.

'Erm.' She looked how I felt. Bloody uncomfortable. And it wasn't because my jeans were glued to me, and riding up my arse, either. This was the 'Oh shit' kind of uncomfortable. And to add insult to injury, my face was burning. Talk about being embarrassed.

'Never mind. Sorry to disturb you,' and she turned to go.

'Stop! Wait!' But she continued to walk away, and I could hear her muttering something but did not catch what she said. Reggie, the spawn of Satan, was out of the door and after her. His bark was muffled as he was still carrying my shoe, but she looked down at him, stopped, stooped and tickled his head, before moving on.

I couldn't just let her walk away. That was no way for anyone to be treated when they were coming round to … what was she coming round to do?

That did it. I followed Reggie, who by this stage was trotting happily alongside her as if he decided he too wouldn't stand for my rudeness. The gravel stuck into my feet, as I wasn't wearing shoes, and I was making the noises only people who have ever tried to run barefoot on gravel make, all the time asking her to stop.

Then it occurred to me. Something I wasn't used to doing, or saying, for that matter.

'I'm sorry.' She stopped, I continued. 'Sorry for my rudeness.' She turned, slightly … and so did Reggie, as if he had nothing to do with me fucking over in the first place and hurting my shin, whilst absorbing a small African country's water ration for a year with my clothes.

Eventually, with an overdramatic limp to finish, I was in front of her, hand outstretched. 'Let's start again, shall we?' And I didn't give her chance to answer before I continued. 'Stephanie Stevenson. Rude neighbour and grumpy git at your service.' I smiled my most winning smile, tilted my head and poked my face out as if I was waiting for a response.

Blue eyes flicked down to my outstretched hand, then back to my face. Then a deliberate lick of the lips before she pursed them as if to speak. She seemed troubled somehow. Not that I could blame her, as I had not been the most sociable person under the sun when she had knocked on my door. But she waited, and so did I. My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest, and I couldn't understand why I was out of breath. It wasn't as if I had run far, but the feeling in my legs, stomach, and chest said otherwise.

Slowly, she raised her hand, and tentatively stretched it towards mine. The anticipation was killing me. Why did I need to feel the touch of her so much? God knows. But as her hand gripped mine a feeling of contentment washed through me. It was if there was no other place her hand should ever be but in mine. Weird, I know. And by the look on her face she had read my mind, as she looked troubled. I tried to pull my hand away, but she gripped it firmer and began to shake it in introduction.

'Erin Mason. Your new neighbour.' As my eyes left her hand and ventured higher, I saw a smile spreading like a charm over her face. I couldn't help returning a more natural smile in response, as hers seemed almost addictive. 'Stephanie Stevenson, you say?'

'Yap!'

I nodded. 'And this is Reggie.'

Her eyebrows scrunched together, and I thought the next bit came out a little strained. 'I've heard that name somewhere before, but for the life of me, I can't place it.'

'What? Reggie?'

'Yap!'

The consternation on her face disappeared with a shake of her head. 'Reggie, eh? The handsome shoe carrier.' She laughed as she said it, and it was like music washing over a waterfa … ah crap. Why was I suddenly turning into a mush ball because someone had a pretty smile, a firm handshake, and a voice that could crawl under my skin at any time? She was extremely attractive, granted. Especially when she smiled. But I wasn't the kind of person who would just go all goofy when I met someone for the first time. I didn't even know her, although I hadn't forgotten she might have heard my name before. Hopefully she had only thought she had heard it before, and not read it in the article that accompanied the suicide of the rape victim. Nah. That was four years ago. No one would remember that, would they? Although I hadn't read it myself - I was too busy living it. However vitriolic it had been …

But the thought stopped there, as I was taken by the blueness of her eyes again, the movement of her lips, the heat coming off her. God help me. Here I was swooning over a woman who five minutes ago I had been excessively rude to - so very un British, and standing in the increasing coldness with a wet backside and a dog with my best shoe. For all I knew, she could've just been released from prison. She might be a murderer … fraudster … armed robber. Or even just been released from a mental institution - out into the community. Or she might even be involved with someone else … there sure as hell was a lot of stuff going in and out of her place all day.

'So you see …' Shit. I had missed what she had been saying, and not even clued myself in when I noted her lips had been moving. 'Robert will only be here for the weekends to start off with.'

Robert? I looked over her shoulder and saw the outline of a well-built man struggling with what appeared to be a pinball machine… ah … Robert. Her other half. Bollocks.

'And I was just wondering if you had a corkscrew we could borrow, as I have no idea where we packed ours.' A tilt of her head as she waited for my response, which, unfortunately, was taking a while to conjure up from somewhere. 'Everybody needs a drink when they first move in, don't you think?'

'Yap!' Thank you, Reggie.

'Erm … I think I have one. Let me check.' And it wasn't until I went to turn away did I notice I was still holding her hand. It felt so natural for it to be there, that I had forgotten I was still grasping it, and part of me wanted to believe she felt it too. But she laughed and pulled away, making the feeling dissipate.

I rushed back to the house on the pretence of searching out a corkscrew; Reggie thinking it was a game and running ahead. All I wanted to do was to hide my embarrassment, and get some bloody shoes on. Gravel is a bitch. A sticky, hurting, jabbing kind of bitch, in fact.

As I reached the kitchen, I heard her coming in behind me - well, felt her actually. I continued to rummage through the drawers in the kitchen unit, knowing full well where the corkscrew was but playing for time until my face and feelings had returned to some kind of normality.

'There you go.' I turned quickly, my hair whipping back over my shoulder. But my hair didn't obscure the look I saw on her face. I am definite … yes definite … I saw her staring at my arse. And if the colour of her face gave any indication, she knew I'd caught her staring too. This feeling should have filled me with some kind of smugness, but it actually riled me a little. There she was, moving in with the pinball wizard and she was clocking my backside. I wonder if he knew that she eyed up women when she had the chance.

'Sorry for staring.' Her voice was thick with embarrassment. 'But you seem to have a piece of soap stuck to the back of your jeans.'

I groped around the back of my pants. Sure enough, wedged onto the blue cloth was something slippery and very securely attached. Hark at me and my sexual allure. There I was, believing she was a closet dyke when all she was doing was trying to figure out why I would be running about with a block of soap stuck to me.

What could I do? Laugh. That's what. What did you expect me to do? Tell her what I had been thinking? So laugh I did. Long and loud and hard (and fake), whilst she stood there for a moment just watching my reaction before she joined in. At least it was a tension breaker. Reggie became excited that we both were laughing and started to fight with my shoe again, which just made me laugh even more (for real this time). I couldn't be arsed worrying about the fact I no longer had a good pair of shoes for when I painted the town red. The amount of times I did that would mean that the shoes would have been outdated by the next time anyway.

Eventually I calmed down enough to walk the few steps over to the doorway and give her the corkscrew. But I couldn't really get my words out. Erin was nearly as bad as I was. Her hand was shaking as she took it from me. Then with her other one, she reached around the back of me and plucked the white slippery object from my butt. As she passed it to me, the laughter started again.

'Right …' she wheezed. 'Time to get back with this. Robert will be wondering where I am.' Crap. I had forgotten about him for a little while. 'Why don't you join us? You can bring Reggie.'

But I didn't feel up to meeting the man in her life right at this moment. I wanted to think about what could happen if she wasn't straight and involved with my next-door neighbour, even if she was my next-door neighbour too. I know I should just get over myself and meet him … get it over and done with, but you know how things are. Well, if you think like a twat like I do.

'Some other time, eh? I have a mountain of things I've got to get through.' The lie slipped out easily, as it had so many times in the past. Nevertheless, this time I felt guilty about it. 'Do you fancy coming over for lunch tomorrow?' Where had that come from? 'I could cook for both you and Robert … save you trying to get your kitchen sorted.' I don't know where that came from either, but at this rate I would be coming out with way too many surprising things and I thought it would be best if I kept my gob shut for a while. 'About two?' I never learn.

The smile that she greeted me with was nothing short of perfection. She was beautiful … so bloody beautiful, and I couldn't help the sigh that escaped my mouth.

'That is so kind of you. Are you sure?'

'I have to make up for my rude behaviour somehow, don't I?' And I did. I had been such a grumpy fucker when I had answered the door, cooking Sunday lunch was the least I could do. Erin was looking at me with such an earnest expression, as if no one had ever offered to cook her something before. It made me feel a little uneasy, to tell the truth. Clearing my throat, I nodded to her hand, 'And you can return the corkscrew then.'

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she refocused on me and the here and now, so it appeared, and then looked to the inanimate object clutched in her hand. A smile broke out again, and I thought she must have then remembered Robert and the wine they would have whilst they were toasting their new home. A fleeting spurt of jealousy poked and prodded inside my gut before I silently told it to fuck off.

'We'll be here at two.' Erin nodded once as if making a decision, and then turned to go, stopped and faced me again. It seemed as if time had stood still for just a moment, as she looked me straight in the face before saying, 'Thanks again for this.'

I muttered a response that should have been 'You're very welcome and good luck in your new home,' but it came out as 'Aha.' A woman of many words, that's me.

After she had left, and I had closed and bolted the front door, it hit me. I had nothing in to give them. Not even the spuds. So, at eight thirty at night, I had to change and drive ten miles to the nearest supermarket with a mad dog in the back of my car, and get groceries.

That'll teach me for opening my big mouth. Next time someone moves in next door, I am taking the batteries out of my doorbell.

Shit. I forgot to get batteries.

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Chapter Three

Sunday morning was panic filled to say the least. I have never been the kind of person to entertain with dinner parties and so forth. Usually I invited friends round to watch a film and we stuffed ourselves stupid with pizza and snacks. But even that hadn't been for quite some time. Well, before I moved to Bassenthwaite, actually. To say my social skills were much to be desired would be an understatement.

At one thirty, I was beginning to panic. Everything was nearly cooked and I still had thirty minutes before they arrived. I can only blame the fact that I had a very bad night's sleep … my dreams vivid and realistic, enough to make me get out of bed and pace around the house. Reggie followed me initially, and even he got fed up and went back to bed. The content of the dreams were varied, from the events four years ago, to meeting Erin. Talk about pleasure and pain mixing. But, the meeting with her was not as nice in my dream. Well, to be honest, when I had first met her it wasn't a bed of roses either, but that isn't the point. Hopefully I had dragged myself from my social faux pas in reality … the dream was something entirely different. Erin had been the one who had been raped … and I was interrogating her and watching her crumple. A blacked out shape was sitting next to her trying to give comfort, but his face was blurred … and it made it even worse, if it ever could be.

Each time I woke, I would convince myself that it was only a dream and try to get back to sleep to dream of something else, but it would just recur. Even after I had completed x number of laps of the house, I still went back to sleep to awaken with the thought I had broken Erin just as I had broken that woman all that time ago. Weird how events in your life can mix and mingle in dreams, isn't? Especially when they were so disturbed.

I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom from me, and Sunday saw me walking Reggie at the ungodly hour of seven o' clock. It wasn't until I eventually saw Erin and Robert working outside in their garage did I find a semblance of peace. 'At least she's ok,' went through my head. I know. Irrational. But dreams have the way of tricking you and planting a seed of doubt in your head until you believe there must be some half-truth in it all. Was it a sign that I should not get involved with my neighbours? That in some way I would hurt them? I had avoided making any close friends in Bassenthwaite for the very same reason, as I didn't think I was good enough to be called a friend … wasn't good enough to have people trust me. I don't think I actually trusted myself enough not to slip back into the uncaring bitch I had once been.

Funnily enough, I had spent years avoiding feeling anything, and now I felt every thing too much. The slightest frown from someone would hit me like a punch in the gut, and I would spend forever going over stories I had written just to make sure I hadn't offended anyone in any way. So, as you can see, I was fraught. Sleep deprivation and guilt can make your cooking times bugger about a bit.

It was while I was thinking this that the doorbell dinged, the dong had gone completely, and I was standing there wondering who on earth it could be. I know. I should also get a stupidity award.

Robert was handsome. Very handsome, in the ruggedly 'I'm a man's man' kind of handsome way. No wonder she was with him. They made a beautiful couple. Both tall, athletic and gorgeous. I felt like a midget compared to them. It was weird that I hadn't noticed how tall she was last night when I had met her for the first time. Well, I had, but I hadn't put her height in comparison to my own, and how very much of a short arse I was. Although being five foot eight couldn't really be described as short.

'Hey there. I'm Robert. But call me Rob.' A meaty strong hand was thrust out in gesture and I paused slightly, before wiping my sweaty one on my jeans and returning the gesture. Jesus. He had the grip of a bear. And the way he pumped my hand up and down, I thought my fucking arm was going to snap off. I didn't envy her in the sack … even if I wasn't a raving lezza. If he shook hands like that, God only knows what he would be like when …

'I hope we're not too early, Stephanie. But Robert was eager to meet you.' I bet he was. He probably had to miss going to the gym this weekend and wanted to vent some of his excess energy on some poor unsuspecting victim. My fingers were curling up and dying and I wanted to blow them and rub the blood back into circulation, but that would've been rude. 'Call me Steph … please. And no, actually you're right on time.'

After showing them in, sitting them at the table, I dished up lunch. It wasn't bad, although I do believe the roasted vegetables could've done with another five minutes … Isn't that always the way? And I doubt you are interested in my veggies, are you? Ok. Let's continue.

Conversation was lively, and before too long I knew enough about Robert … Rob … to last me for the rest of my life. The one thing I didn't know was what on earth she was doing with him. She seemed so normal in comparison. He was nice in a loud, overly friendly kind of way. It seemed as if he was trying to suck life in all of the time, like he was taking in the world and all it had to offer, whilst she just sat back and let him do it. And then he told me, and I felt like such a shit.

'So when I found out I had cancer, I went to pieces.'

What do you say? Someone you have just met tells you they have cancer and you have just been slagging them off in your head … I mean … what do you honestly say? Sorry? Or something similar? He looked so bloody healthy … so full of life and expectation of what life could bring him.

Erin tilted her head and looked at him with the look that says, 'You shouldn't have said that, Rob.' But why not? Because I would feel uncomfortable about someone telling me they were going to die? It was not my place to say whether he had the right to make me feel bad or not.

'Sorry, Steph. Too much too soon, I guess.'

'No … no … that's ok.' I swallowed. Hard. 'So … erm …'

'You've made her feel all uncomfortable, Rob.' He had, but that's not the point. 'Steph. He's ok now. The doctors gave him the all clear about eleven months ago.' Erin smiled at me, glared at Rob, then turned and smiled at me again. 'He loves to go into details, so I thought I would save you the pain of it.'

'I was getting to that bit, if you would just give me the chance.' Rob scrunched his face in a comical way, his blonde hair pushing itself forward and over his closed eyes. 'She is such a bossy bugger sometimes. Glad I didn't marry you.'

So, they weren't married. A nugget of information for me to hold close. I couldn't believe I was even thinking that. What on earth had got into me? The man had just got over cancer and I was thinking there may be a chance for me with his woman.

'As if I'd marry you, Taggart.' But the laughter implied they thought the world of each other and this was a game they played a lot. I could only imagine what it would be like to have someone you loved go through what Rob had. No wonder he gave the impression he was taking in life as it came. He had played the game of fifty fifty and come out a winner. But how many couples don't get the opportunity? I am morbid, I know. I have to focus on the depressing … makes me happy, see?

When I was loading the dishwasher, Rob came in to help me, chattering away, his huge hands making my dishes look like they had been borrowed from Lilliput. Erin was playing ball with Reggie, and I could hear her laughter accompanied by yaps of joy.

'Erin has been a rock. So supportive.' He was concentrating on cramming the glassware into the slots and didn't see me stop and just look longingly through the doorway, where I could see the back of her as she crouched on the floor. Why couldn't I shake off the wanting her when I knew she was happy with him? And him just getting over cancer too. What was going on in my head? Why did I wish it were just her and me here? I barely knew her, but felt I had known her forever. I have to get out more … meet new people … get myself a girlfriend. Maybe I would start reacting to people differently if I found myself a wider social circle, as the way I was thinking definitely made me aware that my self-imposed prison was in fact very lonely.

'Do you want to see a picture of the twins?'

Twins? Twins? What twins?

'They are with Sue at the moment, but they should be here next weekend.'

And before I knew it, he had a picture out of his wallet. Two adorable faces looked at me, blue eyed with dark hair. 'Neither of them look like me. They both take after their mother, which is a blessing really.' And they did look like her … even down to the sparkle in their eyes that spelled mischief. 'That's George, and that's his sister, Daisy.' Fatherly pride filled his eyes, and I am sure I saw moisture forming just in the corners. 'They will be eight next month.'

Looking at him then I understood why Erin loved him. Although he was a huge manly man, he also had a softness that belied his strength - almost childlike. And his zest for life was addictive … he focused on the good side of things instead of dwelling on the 'what ifs', something I should really take on board. The love for his family was apparent, and he wasn't ashamed to show it. Sensitive, but not in a sissy way. Even though I had had opposing thoughts initially, I concluded that he was a lovely bloke with a cracking personality; it had just been jealousy that had stopped me seeing that from the offset. From this moment on, that was it. I was just going to have to get over the fact that even though I felt myself attracted to Erin, there was no chance of it ever moving on from a one sided attraction. At least it made me realise that I actually wasn't dead from the waist down - a huge advance on four years ago when I believed I had been dead from the neck down.

So, some good did come out of it after all.

***********************************************

Chapter Four

Conversation continued over coffee and I felt myself loosening up now I had made the decision to accept that Erin was not available. Then Rob asked me what I did for a living. I felt a cold chill race down my back, something you shouldn't really experience when talking about your job - well, except if you're a tax collector.

'I work for the Daily Press … the local paper.'

Rob turned to Erin and grinned widely. She, on the other hand, just looked a little startled. 'What a coincidence.' I looked at Erin, expecting her to announce she had taken a job at our place, but that would have been impossible. It was a small office and I hadn't heard of a job coming along for any of the departments. I was one of three reporters, and the rest of the departments were mainly all one-man bands. 'Erin used to be a reporter …'

'Not really,' I barely heard her say it.

'Yes, you did. Well, kind of.' He turned to face me fully, the smile still splitting his face. 'She did freelance work to pay the bills when she was a struggling writer, didn't you, dear.' The endearment was said jokingly, and Erin punched him the arm making him pretend it actually hurt him. 'Ok … you did it for about six months, but at least you two can actually talk about something you both have an interest in.' That was the problem. I didn't have an interest in it. It paid the bills and that was that. But even though both Erin and I looked uncomfortable, Rob didn't get the hint. He was too busy looking extremely pleased with himself. 'That's until you both discover other things.' He stopped and looked her squarely in the face, his expression becoming serious for a minute. 'You never know, Erin. You two might have more in common than you both realise.' Then the grin again, followed by a snort.

You know when you have the feeling that there is something going on around you but you are the last one to get a clue? That's how I felt. I felt like an outsider watching a scene unfold and there was no way I was ever going to get a grip and take the hint. Finally, I suggested another coffee, mainly because I didn't know what else to say, and to tell them that they should leave would have been rude. And I didn't want them to leave, actually. Apart from the couple of instances I had felt at a loss for something to say, I had enjoyed their company. So had Reggie, who was by now zonked out in his basket with his ball at his feet.

I did expect them to decline, but Erin said yes near enough straight away. I thought if anyone was to want another drink it would've been Rob, as a couple of minutes earlier I had felt Erin had been just as uncomfortable as me.

As I was in the kitchen, I could hear them loudly whispering to each other. She didn't sound happy to say the least, but he kept on chuckling, followed by a manic hushing sound. Leave them to it, that's what I say, and continued to sort out the coffee machine.

'Hi. Need any help?' Literally, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. Her voice was divine to say the least, with a slight accent that I couldn't quite place. She came and stood next to me, waiting for me to tell her what I wanted her to do. Blue eyes watched my hands as they sorted out cups, saucers, and spoons. Then I felt them rest on my face and I could feel the heat rising from my neck upwards. Inside was a battle. I cannot explain why I felt so damned attracted to her, especially when I knew she wasn't available, never mind the fact that her partner had just come through hell AND that she had twins. What was it that made her so enchanting?

'Ignore Rob. He can be a git sometimes. You just have to get used to him.' Clank. I dropped a spoon right on the saucer and the sound made my teeth ache. 'Here. Let me.' A strong hand took my wrist, and another slipped the next spoon from my grip. 'I can't do much in the kitchen. But I can make good coffee.' I looked into her face for the first time since she had entered. Her expression was open and honest, the hint of a smile creeping around her mouth. I knew she was waiting for me to laugh and break the tension, so I did … a forced laugh, just to comply. The smile came out weaker than I think she wanted it to. She must have known that I was being fake just to please her. 'Honestly, Steph. Rob didn't mean anything by it. He's a nice guy, just a little immature sometimes.'

It was at this point I wanted to cry. Don't ask me why, because I couldn't tell you. There was a welling building up inside that was trying to choke me, and I knew that if I didn't let it out soon I would keel over. But that's not what you do in mixed company, is it? Break down and cry for no apparent reason - especially if you had known the people less than twenty-four hours. I knew it wasn't what Rob had implied that made me feel like cracking open the pity jar - or the fact he had made me feel bad about my line of work, not that he did - that was me. It was just … ah God … if I knew I would tell you.

'You ok?' Erin lifted her hand and stroked my cheek and I expected to see moisture on her fingers as she pulled away. Dry. Thank God. I mean, how do you explain a crying episode to strangers, especially when you didn't know why you were crying in the first place? And through all this emotion whirling inside me, I didn't break eye contact once. It was as if I was mesmerised - caught in the tractor beam of her eyes - the blueness was so calming.

Then I answered. 'Sorry, Erin. Just thinking about what Rob had told me … about his illness … Shakes you a bit … makes you feel your own mortality.' She grimaced as I said it, and I knew it was something she had had to deal with on a daily basis for god knows how long. A spurt of guilt raced through me, as I knew I had upset her only just to get myself out of a sticky situation. It hadn't been about Rob's illness, had it? Or had it? I did warn you I was overly sensitive, didn't I?

She sighed sadly. 'It sure does. Nothing can prepare you for hearing that kind of news at thirty five.' Erin turned from me and looked down at the coffee cups. Her face creased slightly, as if she too was going to cry. And that scared me even more than me breaking down in front of her. I didn't know how to deal with people and their emotions, although I had been trying to empathise more with humanity. But this was just so real. This woman standing in front of me had faced a waking nightmare. Her partner … the father of her children … had visited the gates of hell, and come back. No wonder he liked to joke - not many people could've done that.

But she didn't cry. Nope. She sniffed loudly and straightened her shoulders, and I thought 'I bet she's had to do that a fair few times.'

'It's not me that I feel for.' Not surprising. Any mother would feel for her kids … put her kids first, so to speak. How do you break news like that to children anyway? The memory of the husband saying 'What do I tell the kids?' flicked into my head before I flicked it right out again. Now was not the time. 'It's Sue.'

Sue? 'Sue?'

'Yes. My sister. Rob's wife.'

Rob's wife? 'Rob's wife?' Did I also mention I could be stupid, too? Ah … yes. But I think you would have worked it out on your own anyway.

Erin turned and looked at me again, her face showing confusion. 'Rob's wife. My sister. I told you last night.'

Crap. The time her lips were moving and I was too busy labelling her as a serial killer. How do I get out of this? Do I admit guilt? Say 'Sorry, Erin. I was linking you to The Yorkshire Ripper and missed the fact that Rob was your brother-in-law'? Nope. Didn't think so. And don't give me that face … you wouldn't either.

'Sorry, Erin. I didn't know your sister was called Sue.' And she believed me. Thank God.

As she carried on telling me about how Sue handled the news … how they kept it back from the kids until they knew what the outcome could be … all I could do was try and hold back the grin that wanted to spread itself like butter over my face. Not really the time to be grinning like an idiot, is it? At least I am beginning to learn what is right and what is wrong, although sometimes it's still difficult to get my head to think of the right way to react straight away … but with time, I will get there.

Its amazing how more focused you feel when suddenly things start going your way. Ten minutes ago, I was beating myself up for fancying an involved woman. I don't make a habit of going for someone who was either involved or straight - not my style. There were too many things in there that could cause heartache, and not just for me. Sometimes I am not the selfish bitch I make out, and do have a conscience, although it does take a while to kick-start. When I eventually find the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, I want her to want me just as much … need me just as much … love me just as much as I wanted, needed and loved her. One hundred percent commitment. I don't think any of us should settle for anything less than the whole deal - the full package, so to speak.

Then it hit me. I had spent a while half-listening, nodding, grinning idiotically, and believing that somewhere deep down this woman may be the one I had been waiting for. She wasn't involved with Rob, that's true - but that didn't stop her being involved with someone else, did it? Or being as straight as a laser beam? I think I may have jumped the gun a little, so to speak. And the worse thing was my heart was racing so far ahead I don't think she could hear me when I was shouting for her to come back and read through the rules of the race.

'Shall we?' Erin was standing in front of me, coffee ready and sitting peacefully on the tray. 'You ready?'

As I'll ever be, woman. As I'll ever be.

***********************************************

Chapter Five

Time to move forward, don't you think? I could step back and sit this one out, this longing, but I think there comes a time in your life where you're fed up just existing. There has to come a time when you actually want to live. So therefore, I believe, after much waffle, that this was the time when I began to wonder what I was doing. And if you remember, I said there was a man in her life. You, same as me, thought it was going to be Rob … that's what we get for making assumptions, isn't it? Now … all we need to do now is decide:

Do you trust me to tell you the truth? Or are you thinking that I wouldn't know the truth if it smacked me in the face.

And off we go again …

***********************************************

The second cup of coffee was a lot more relaxed than the first. On my part anyway. Rob seemed a lot better, maybe because now I wasn't holding a jealousy stick in front of my eyes.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't as if I had fallen head over heels for the woman next door - I didn't even know her that well. All I knew was she use to be a freelance journalist and a struggling writer, that she had bought the house next door to me, and that she wasn't with Rob. Oh … and that she had a sister called Sue. Not too much information to be getting my teeth into. Disappointing to think that all my years as a reporter hadn't pushed me into the who, when, how, where, why and what mode of conversation.

Can you imagine it? Go on, picture the scene …

Me sitting on the chair opposite her, notebook and pencil in hand. 'Who are you?' Scribble. 'When are you going to let me take you out to dinner?' Scribble, erase, and scribble again. 'How come you are so goddamn gorgeous?' Scribbling frantically now, as there is so much information to write down. 'Where would you like to go from here?' Scribbling like a mad person - have to get all the details. 'Why are you looking at me like that?' Not scribbling, but moving backwards rapidly. 'What are you doing with that baseball bat?'

Even my daydreams don't go in my favour. Why couldn't they all turn out with the woman swooning at my feet and answering all my questions the way I would want them answered, instead of the reality of it?

Anyway …

They stayed for about another thirty minutes before they realised they still had so much to do. Rob was leaving first thing in the morning to get back to Disley where his wife and family were. Yes. I liked writing that. Where his wife and family were. Had to write it again just out of pure smugness.

As they were leaving, Rob bouncing down the steps ahead, Erin turned to me, took my hand, and shook it. Even I noticed that my handshake needed more work, as it gave the impression of a dead fish. It was because she had surprised me. But what surprised me more was when she said 'Ah stuff it,' and gave me a hug. I was now the epitome of a rag doll, the limp fish syndrome had progressed throughout the rest of my body. Her mouth was so close to my ear as she whispered, 'Thank you for today. Thank you,' that I could feel the softness of her breath on my skin. Her arms tightened quickly around me into a squeeze before she let go, and I felt like something had been ripped away before I had the opportunity of revelling in it.
Standing in front of me, blue eyes holding me fast, she breathed in deeply before saying, 'I'll have to return the favour. Got to keep on the good side of my neighbours, haven't I?' The smile I had been trying to conjure eventually broke free and split across my face. 'My. If I knew the promise of my cooking would've brought such a wonderful smile to your face, I would have invited you sooner.' And that made me go red. Don't ask me why, it just did.

'Yeah … cheers for the lunch, Steph!' Rob called from half way down the path. I waved to him and he waved back and then gestured he had to dash - the 'I've so much to do' look on his face.

Erin turned to go, stopped and turned back. Unfortunately I was in the middle of admonishing myself for not getting a firmer grip when she hugged me at the time her eyes rested on me again. Her face scrunched up as she took in my actions, then a smile appeared. 'You okay?'

I pretended I was trying to swat a fly away, a little overdramatically even for me, and nodded. 'Damned flies. They're attracted by the water.'

She nodded, but I knew she didn't believe me.

Clearing her throat, she asked 'Maybe you could … erm … if you get time … erm … show me round a bit?' The last part of the sentence was high and squeaky, and it would take an idiot not to notice it must have taken a lot for her to ask. I know what you're thinking. And yes, usually I am an idiot, especially when it comes to understanding people and social situations. But to be honest, the same thought had already gone through my head and I had been a little nervous about broaching it. It's amazing how insular we can be as a species. Too frightened about being refused, looking like an idiot and all that. I honestly believe it's a miracle the human race survived at all. It's a good job there are people out there who just take life by the horns - like Rob, for example.

'… because when he gets up here next week, I would love to be able to show him all the sights, if you know what I mean.' He? Don't bloody tell me I blanked out again? 'And by the looks of things, you know where to take the ones special in your life.' Huh? People special in my life? Who on earth could she be talking about? I hadn't mentioned anyone in my life, and the only pictures I had of anybody in my house were my family. And unlike the mistake I had made about her and Rob, there was no way she could mistake the fact that both of my sisters were happily married women. Pictures of them with their husbands and sprogs put paid to that.

'Come on, Erin! Work!' Rob's voice stopped my stupidness. At least I didn't have to admit I hadn't been listening once again, although at that point I didn't really care. I should have known that Erin wouldn't be single … she was just so wonderful. It was not just the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous that mattered, it was the fact she had a fantastic personality too.

The realisation I had missed out once again swept over me. 'He' would be here next week, and it was up to 'me' to smooth the way for her other half. Talk about being gutted. Why do we do it? Set ourselves up for disappointment, I mean. We hover around the outskirts without the common sense to just come out and ask someone if she is involved with someone before we allow ourselves to develop a crush on her. But then again, wouldn't that take some of the excitement away? The 'does she, doesn't she' factor? Imagine if we just went up to people and said 'Hey. I think I might eventually fall for you. What are my chances?' Nah. It wouldn't work, would it? And think about all the people you were a little attracted to and then realised they were twats. If you had already said the aforementioned line, wouldn't they be expecting you to make a move somewhere in the not too distant future?

Did I also say I could waffle for England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales? Especially when I am nervous. Can't help it. I'm waffling now because I feel like the aforesaid twat, but this time it wasn't the question scenario, it was the unspoken expectation set up. At this moment in time, I didn't know which was worse.

So I did the only thing I could think of doing.

'It would be my pleasure.' And it would be, even though it wouldn't be the ideal situation. I liked her. A lot. So, if it came down to me being the person who could make her feel welcome to Bassenthwaite and smooth the way for her and her partner to start a new life here, then I would do it. If friendship was all that was offered, I would take it. One way or another I wanted Erin to be a part of my life and my future.

Funnily enough, her face initially showed no recollection of what she had just asked me. She seemed to blush, swallow, and then splutter all at the same time before bolting out, 'Great! I'll call round tomorrow, ok?' A beaming smile. Wow. What a beautiful reaction to me being a tour guide. Then she turned and raced after Rob waving her hand behind her.

With a heaviness that lumped around inside me, I turned and made my way back into the house. Reggie was sat in the hallway with his lead in his mouth and that begging look only terriers have.

'Ok, fella. I'll show you around too.'

God. I can be such a drama queen sometimes.

***********************************************

Chapter Six

I didn't see Erin the next day. No. I wasn't avoiding her - I'm not that petty, and if you remember, I said that I would take friendship. Although I was finding that difficult, for more than one reason. Firstly, I didn't make friends … I should add 'easily', but I'll stick with the former. Secondly, there was a something deep inside me that wanted so much more. But, once again, I had to swallow the second one down and focus on building a relationship between us … one that she might want too.

Therefore, the reason I didn't see her the next day was because work was a bitch. Mainly because of the indescribable incident that had happened over the weekend. Some teenagers had vandalised the local toilets, and it was my job to talk to the locals who were 'enraged' at such blatant disrespect for the beauty of the town. I mean … toilets! Haven't we all scribbled our names on the toilet walls, leaving messages or exclamations of ardour? That's part of growing up, isn't it? Even if we wipe it off again, we have all done it. Come on. Think back … see? The 'I love?' is there hovering under the surface in all of us, even though I couldn't never quite understand why people were enamoured with punctuation marks …

But once again, I will pull myself back on track and continue with my excuse of why I couldn't see Erin on the Monday.

As I was saying … toilets … graffiti … locals. Took all bloody day just to shut them up, and then I had to write the story. At least the events here paled in comparison to what I'd been used to in Manchester. Toilets burnt to the ground there and it only reached page ten - here a doodle made front page. As usual, Reggie came with me to work. That was another bonus about working in a rural area … dogs were welcome everywhere, although cafes were a little picky … And he was excellent at calming down the local people - they couldn't resist his overshot jaw and wagging tail. Therefore, I didn't get home until gone seven, and all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep after a soak. Which I did.

It wasn't until the next morning that I saw the note on the hallway floor. I must've stepped right over it as I came in the previous night. On closer inspection, I had … well, stepped on it, actually, as I could see my boot mark on the white with a half a paw print on the edge.

The writing on the front was neat and small, and I didn't recognise it. It wasn't until I opened it up and looked for the signature did I feel a tightness in my gut. Erin. Then I looked at the top. She had written the date and time. Six twenty, March 25th - the previous night, to be precise.

Steph

Seems as if you are busy today. Wondering whether you would like to come round for a bite to eat tomorrow night? About seven? Hopefully it's a yes. If you can't make it, give us a bell on 6576812.

Erin

Short and to the point. I didn't even give myself chance to argue whether I was going to go or not - I was, and that was it. I needed to socialise more - get out - talk to people who were fun and interesting for a change. And her being eye candy couldn't hurt could it? A grin cracked open on my face, and then I noticed a PS …

Reggie is more than welcome. Doggy food is my speciality.

I laughed. Reggie would love to sample her delights, and so would I.

'Stop that, Stevenson.' And I laughed again, making Reggie get out of bed and come and stand next to his mama with a 'What the hell's got into you this morning?' look on his face. 'We, my young man, are going out for dinner.'

'Yap!'

'Yes. Now go for tinkies.'

As I stood in the doorway waiting for Reggie to finish his morning ablutions, I allowed my eyes to drift over to Erin's house. The downstairs light was on indicating she was up already. I contemplated calling her and accepting, but that's not something you do at six thirty in the morning, is it? I'm not up on social etiquette, but personally I would rip the head off someone who called me that early and it wasn't important. I fingered my neck and decided I would rather keep it attached to my head for the moment. I'd ring her later …

'Come on, Reg! Brekkie!'

The volume of my voice carried across the morning air, and I honestly believed they heard me a couple of miles away. It must have been excitement that made my voice reach that pitch, excitement that for once in a long time; I was actually going to do something constructive with my day. I was going to start a friendship. Now that was something to shout about, wasn't it?

***********************************************

You were right. I forgot to call. Well, I didn't forget as much as I forgot the piece of paper with her phone number. All day in the office waiting for news to come in so I could get to work, and all day worrying that she would think I was a git that had no manners. Which I didn't … obviously, because I didn't call.

Ah shit.

I even contemplated sneaking home and getting it, but my editor was giving me the evil eye all day. I think it was because of the complaints he'd had for my 'Spend a Penny for Your Thoughts' article I had written about the toilet fiasco. Even the subeditor's lackey, Pippa, was in her element thinking I had got myself into trouble. The locals were not happy that I had decided to use a pun for their misery … God … they want to get a life. At least I was trying to get one. And if I hadn't had to chase the spawn of Satan around for ten minutes to get my hairbrush off him this morning, I wouldn't have forgotten the bloody piece of paper in the first place.

At the memory, I glared at Reggie, who, from his basket in my office, glared back in defiance, as if to say 'And your point is?'

'You know, you little devil.' But the grin he gave me made me forget all over again why he was in the doghouse, or basket, even.

By the time I had finished the day, I was fraught to say the least. Sounds such a trivial thing when you think about it. But I wanted to make a good impression. She was the first person in a long time that had made me want to be a better person, make me want to get out and do stuff, and I had buggered it up.

So, I found myself driving into her driveway instead of mine when I got back to Bassenthwaite. The next bit was me banging on her door like I was being chased by a mad axe man. I think she thought I was being chased too, if the look on her face when she answered the door was any indication.

'You're early. I haven't even started cooking yet.' She looked at her watch to check it was the time she thought it was. Five. And, yes, I was two hours early. 'But at least you're here … thought you would be too busy.' Was that a dig because I didn't call? Never mind. I had to explain. And as I tried to get the words out, she just stood there nodding.

'But it said to call if you couldn't make it. So why are you worrying?' To think I call myself a journalist. I can't even read a hand written note properly now. I stopped in mid garbled apology and thought back to the note. She had. And I had made a fool of myself. Again. 'I'm glad you can make it tonight. You're not allergic to anything are you?' Myself? 'Seafood?' I shook my head, words deciding they had given up hope with me, and my ability to make any sense.

As she spoke, she opened the door wider and gestured for me to go inside, but I declined. She shrugged her shoulders and then smiled.

'I've got to get back and shower.' I don't know what possessed me to lift my arm up and sniff under my armpit in front of her. Fuck. All I can say is I was nervously relieved for some reason or another, and it wasn't until I had my nose crammed into the crack did I realise what I was actually doing.

The sound of her laugh was loud and hearty, 'So … do you …' more laughter 'need to shower then?' I just looked up; my arm still raised, and grinned the grin of the exposed. 'You'd better wash all that muck off you. It's amazing how being with some of the scum of the world tends to stick like dirt.' She noted my confused look. 'You know … all the toilet vandals.'

So, she had read my article. I felt chuffed that she had read it. Had she read it because I had written it or because it was the only local paper? I was hoping she had read it because she knew me and wanted to 'have a look'.

'You have a lovely style, you know?' My face scrunched. 'Writing style, I mean.' Then she laughed again. 'Because I don't think the style of sniffing your armpits will catch on.' More laughter, but this time I joined in. You have to laugh at yourself sometimes. What's the point in being so damned angsty all of the time?

After a few more minutes chatting, I got back into my car and drove the short distance back to my house. I had dinner arrangements with the woman next door. But why did it feel as if I was going on a date? And why was it so important? By this point I was focused on just getting ready - nothing else mattered. I didn't even look back in case I realised this was all a dream.

***********************************************

Reggie was ready before me. Obviously. All he had to do was have a quick brush and he was set. He didn't like the bow tie I put on him either. Well, we had to make an impression didn't we? I just want to add that I am not in the habit of dressing him up as if he was a pseudo baby - but that bow tie just made him look even more handsome than he already was, if that was possible. The redness of it brought out the black and tan of his fur, and made those sparkling eyes sparkle just a tad more. Erin was impressed, anyway. And that's what matters. When she answered the door, she spotted it straight away, maybe because he stood on his hind legs and showed it off. My dog is a poser, although he hates being brushed, and you already know his utter dislike for soap. But anything that bought him optimum attention was fine in his book - and mine, for that matter. She made such a fuss of him I believed he wouldn't be able to get his head through the doorway - lots of 'Aren't you the handsome one?' whilst I stood there feeling proud.

The smells coming from her kitchen made my mouth water. A scent of garlic wafted and tempted me to walk inside her house and make my way to where I believed her kitchen would be. I was hungry by this stage, and so was my boy, who raced ahead and into the kitchen to see what he could scrounge.

'Like mother, like son, I see?' Her voice was light and good-humoured. I turned and looked at her standing next to the open door, and watched as she closed it before resting her back on it. The slouch of her frame accentuated her contours, and for a moment I allowed myself to swallow the image of her. She was beyond a doubt the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and my heart surged in my chest pushing out the sigh that had been waiting there. Her legs seemed to go on for miles; jeans hugged her thighs showing toned muscle, and I felt the moisture building in my mouth. I wanted to blame the smells coming from the kitchen, but I knew it would be a lie. The white shirt she was wearing was unbuttoned just enough so I could glimpse the shape of her cleavage - and it was perfect. Round. Curved. And I can guarantee it would taste …

'Hungry?'

You bet I am. My appetite was raging, but it wasn't the smell of garlic and seafood that had made me feel as if I was starving. Just the sight of her, as she pushed herself forward and towards me, made me want to grab her and kiss the life out of her. To this day I don't know what stopped me. All I could think about was what her lips would taste like … feel like under mine.

With that thought, I caught myself looking at her mouth. Such a sensuous mouth at that. Lips made from silk, I bet. Red. Inviting. Being slowly licked by her. Or was it the sensation of time slowing everything down so it looked as if she was tortuously licking them? I didn't know and I didn't care. All I knew was they fixated me. Made that yearning even more acute. And when they were moving …

But I caught myself. Don't know how, but I did. I only missed the beginning of the conversation, which was a bonus and a vast improvement on the last couple of days.

'… so I thought we could eat in the sunroom and then get comfortable in the lounge afterwards. What do you think?'

I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

'That sounds great.' The answer came out almost squeak like. 'I'd better check on Reggie. He loves to sample things he shouldn't.' Next thing I knew was I was in the kitchen leaning on the door and panting. This 'only friends' thing certainly took it out of you. Especially if every time you saw the 'friend' you wanted to jump her bones.

Talking of bones … tenuous I know, but I do have a point. Reggie had decided there was a bone in her dustbin. And if you know dogs, they like to find bones. And to find them, they must be able to knock the bin over and rummage through, making sure all the rest of the crap is splattered everywhere it shouldn't be.

That cooled my ardour slightly. There were two things I could do. One. Confess. Show Erin the mess Reggie had made. Two. Be the fastest cleaner in the world. I opted for two, as you may have guessed. I didn't want Erin to think my dog was the Evil One, although at times he did a fantastic impression. And why didn't I want her to think that? Because I wanted her to like him … love him, maybe. That way maybe she would like me too.

'It should be …' But unfortunately I didn't get the chance to tidy up. Erin walked in just as I was on the floor with my hands full of rubbish and Reggie looking at me as if to say 'Mum? Why are you rooting through this nice lady's bins?'

I froze. Vegetable peelings sticking to my hands and poking through my fingers. It did feel as if I had been caught doing something I shouldn't be. I'm sure I heard Reggie laugh, or was it the sound of my heartbeat thundering through my head? The sensation of being bright red was the key emotion of the moment, and all I could do was raise my hands in the air as if the peelings would explain themselves.

She just stood there and looked down at me, her hands on her hips, and her once voluptuous lips in a straight line. Shit. I was in for it. Reggie was in for it too, as there was no way she would think I had come in here and tipped her bin over, was there?

'As I was saying.' I hoped that was the sound of humour in her tone. 'Dinner will be ready in five minutes.' She paused before continuing. 'If you can wait that long, that is?' Deathly silence, until a gurgle from Reggie's tummy broke it. 'As for you, young man ...' I thought she was going to bollock him … bollock me, for that matter, 'I have something special for you.' Go on! Treat him! He deserves it after making me look like a dick head.

But she didn't get out the biscuit jar. Instead she crouched down next to me and began to help me clear up the peelings, chuckling intermittently whilst I just stared at her. 'Come on, you. Get cracking if you want feeding.'

But it wasn't the fact she was an animal lover that made me feel so bloody contented inside. It wasn't the fact she accepted that Reggie was a git sometimes. It was the fact that as she was getting to her feet again, she looked at me so kindly before she nipped the end of my nose between her thumb and forefinger. Such a small gesture, but it made me feel as if I could do anything. Anything. Anything.

It was at that moment that I knew for sure. And the thing I knew for sure was tonight I was starting to live again.

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Chapter Seven

Dinner was excellent. Can't cook, my arse. I wasn't a real seafood lover, but it just melted in my mouth. I did have to be coaxed to sample the oysters as they did a very fishy impression of snot. And unlike kids, I don't like to eat snot - or bogies, for that matter. Talking of bogies, the whelks looked like they had been sneezed out of an elephant's trunk. Sorry. I doubt you wanted to hear so much information about my ability to classify food as bodily waste, did you? Especially food that is supposed to be considered an aphrodisiac.

Anyway. To continue more genteel like - the meal was wonderful … even Reggie enjoyed his bowl of specially prepared beef and vegetables. Now, the thing with Reggie and beef is they have an understanding going on. Reggie wolfs it down like he has been starved and the beef replies by giving him the worst case of flatulence known to man … or known to dog, as this case may be. I can guarantee that half an hour after he has whizzed through it, he could toot the national anthem on demand. That wasn't so bad … it was the smell that made the gag reflexes at the back of your throat work overtime that was the problem. All this information was whirling around inside my head all the time he was guzzling it down, and I just hoped that Erin had a cold …

Over coffee, I could hear the familiar gurgling coming from my furry fart factory, and tried to ignore it. By the second cup, he was windy walloping with the best of them. The first time he did one, Erin was in mid sentence, but she stopped and looked over to Reggie, who by this time was sniffing his backside in surprise.

'Did he just break one off?'

Honestly. It was like having kids. Here I was trying to make a good impression, and my nipper was doing his damndest to put a spanner in the works. At least it took a good thirty seconds before the perfume reached us - unfortunately. And by the time he had rattled a few off, we had both become used to the noise and the smell. The only one to still act surprised was Reggie himself. Every time he would look at us, sometimes with wonder, and other times with an accusatory look on his face.

As she was clearing the table, I had a look around her place. No. I didn't stiff her with the washing up. She insisted. Told me to play with Reggie - and I would have too, if I'd remembered my gas mask. So the next best thing was to have a nosey round.

It was amazing what she had done to the place in just a couple of days. Shelves were sporting books, and I couldn't resist having a look at the kinds of things she would be interested in. Maybe I could glean a little information about the subjects I could broach with her, although we had no difficulty talking about every thing from politics to what shoes were good for walking. Talk about eclectic - the books, I mean. The range of genres she had was phenomenal … everything from carp fishing to Shakespeare.

Carp fishing? What the … and then I remembered. It must belong to 'him', the partner who was coming at the weekend. Over dinner I had forgotten that she had a bloke, and the realisation of her being already with someone else made my heart sink all over again.

It was as I was putting the carp-fishing book back that I noticed it. Erin Mason. The name on the spine of one of the books stuffed down at the bottom … then another one … Erin Mason. She had two books published and I hadn't even asked. I knew she had been a struggling writer, but I didn't know the struggle was over. When I had asked what she did over coffee, she had become shy and muttered something about working from home. Just her countenance told me that I should change the subject, so I actually followed my instinct with a little help from my gut-busting buddy, who had chosen that precise time to hit his crescendo.

I had just got my hand around one of the books and turned it over to have a peek, when I heard her coming back. All I had time to do was clock the title … Into the Light … before stuffing it back on the shelf. Why I didn't say something is beyond me. I mean, she had two books published, and there was me, acting as if they didn't exist. I should have just held the book up and waited for her response. But no …

When she appeared in the room, I was standing at the corner cabinet looking innocent and interested.

'Ah. I see you've spotted my man.' Fuck. Staring right at me was a picture of a bloke in walking gear, crouched down with his arm around a black Labrador. 'Gorgeous, isn't he?' In a hetero way I suppose he could be classed as good looking … although smarmy … with big teeth … and a square jaw like Buzz Lightyear. 'You'll meet him at the weekend.' Whoopee doo. 'And he is going to love you.' I turned at the statement, but thankfully she was talking to Reggie, who went all stupid to the extent he rolled on his belly to flash his todger at her.

But, dogs know when to help you out, don't they? Just as she rubbed his belly, he let one go. And man alive, it was a cracker. I honestly saw her go green around the gills, as her face had not been too far from him at the time.

'I think I'd better walk him around a bit. You know, get rid of some of it before he explodes.' She did laugh, but it sounded muffled as her hand was clamped over her face.

Getting up, slowly, she made her way over to me, releasing the death grip she had over her nostrils and mouth when she thought she was at a safe distance. 'So soon?' The look on her face told me that she genuinely meant it, and I did feel bad that I was using Reggie as an excuse to flee the scene of my unrequited longing. But it was all too real, you know? All this 'friendship' was all too real. I knew with time I would become used to the idea of it, but at that moment, I was content to baby step into the role of 'chum'.

I nodded sadly, gestured to my canine pal, and rubbed my belly. 'I think it's for the best, don't you?' She took it as I meant her to. That it was best for Reggie, but I was actually thinking it would be best for me. 'Thanks for dinner, Erin. I, we, loved it.' And we did. It was great to spend time with someone who I got on with … who made me laugh. Most importantly, to be with someone who gave me an indication that I could feel.

At the door, I felt a little awkward. I wanted to repeat the action she had made to me the previous time we had shared food together - you know - the hug. But in a way I didn't trust myself. All the time I spent with her it seemed as if my feelings for her were becoming more acute. It may have been because every time I saw her she looked more beautiful than the last time, but that might have been because every time I saw her another problem was thrown into the mix. I hadn't even told her I was gay, although that was not usually the first thing you said to someone when you met them, is it? 'Hi. I'm you're dykey neighbour. Welcome to the neighbourhood.' No. I didn't think so.

Reggie was sitting next to the door, his stomach making noises that would impress a civil engineer, so I opened it and let him wander outside. Erin was in the kitchen taking the last of the coffee things through, and I couldn't just shout thanks and bugger off, could I?

In less than two minutes she was back with a parcel of uneaten dessert in her hands. 'Something for breakfast.' The grin she gave me was what the Great Masters would call perfection - the epitome of beauty, and I think my heart jumped into my throat to have a better look. I couldn't even answer her, just took the parcel and smiled. Even to me it felt weak.

'I've had a lovely time, thanks.' She tilted her head and grinned wider, exposing beautifully straight teeth.

'My pleasure.' No. Mine, I think.

I could feel the sigh of contentment and want gurgling up my throat and I had to swallow rapidly to get it to go back down and stay there, but it wanted out. It wanted to expose me, and inform her that I felt things one friend shouldn't feel for another.

'See you soon?' The tone was soft, and I couldn't resist looking into her eyes. Blue. Open. Honest and trusting. Why on earth did I ever think she would give me a second look? Even if she was gay like me … she had it all. Brains. Beauty. Personality. I would be right at the back of the queue of people bending over backwards to be with her.

'Of course.' Of course? Why the fuck did I say that? 'I mean …' But she just laughed and pushed me gently in the stomach.

'I know what you mean.' That laugh again. You know, the musical one. 'Its not as if we live miles apart is it?' I laughed too, but that wasn't what I meant at all. Although I couldn't actually tell you what I did mean, if you know what I mean? I know I'm not making sense - even to myself.

As I stepped onto the porch, her voice broke through the nighttime air. 'Any chance of that tour when you are free? I'd love to see the place through your eyes.'

How could a woman resist such a plea? 'It would be my pleasure.' Then I attempted to leave again.

'What? Not even a hug goodnight?' Good job I had my back to her, because if she could have seen the idiotic grin on my face she might have thought twice about wrapping her arms around me and pulling me close. So close. Close enough so my face was buried in her hair. The smell of her was more addictive than anything I had ever smelled in all my life, but even that paled in comparison to the feel of her in my arms. For an awful minute I thought I wouldn't ever be able to let her go, as unlike the first time she had hugged me, this time I got a very good grip back. And wonderful is an understatement.

When I was pulling begrudgingly away, she quickly kissed my cheek. Just a peck. Featherlike … almost a wish from my imagination to my skin. But it was real, because I could feel the burning of the happy flesh stand against the cold night air. Now, the hug I had wanted and was semi prepared for, but I wasn't prepared for that. Not that I minded, God no. Just stunned a little. I had to work exceptionally hard to stop my hand from hovering to my cheek and caressing the spot where her lips had been in case I exposed myself even more.

'I'm so happy to have found you, Steph.' God. Could this get any better? Was she going to admit her attraction to me after all? Fuck. My heart. My poor heart. It was banging so hard I honestly thought I would collapse. 'Here only a matter of days and here I am …' Yes. Here you are. '… finding myself with a really good friend.' Friend? Aw fuck. When would I ever learn? 'Think we are going to be good friends, don't you?'

All I could do was nod. The disappointment was stopping my mouth from forming the words of agreement.

'Good. Now I think you'd better sort Reggie out, as I can hear him in the bushes after something.' I nodded again, and mumbled another thanks for dinner before walking away, lifting up the parcel of dessert as gesture.

My heart had stopped her acrobatics and was settling to a dull thumping sound in my chest. It almost mimicked the sound of my footsteps as I walked away from her and back to my empty house, collecting my hunter gathering fart man on the way.

And it wasn't until I had unlocked, entered, and locked the door to my house, did I allow myself to gently stroke the place where she had kissed me, releasing another sigh as I did so. Sometimes we know that we haven't a chance in hell, don't we? However, that doesn't stop that tiny pocket buried deep in our chests holding onto that grain of hope … or is it want? Or maybe it is even more than want. Maybe it is need that sits there waiting to be unleashed into the unsuspecting world of loneliness.

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Chapter Eight

Sleep didn't want to come. I lay there getting more and more irritable with myself, looking over to the alarm clock and working out how long I had before the alarm would scream and inform me to get my lazy arse out of bed. I was feeling so unsettled and I couldn't understand why. It may have been the rich food, or even the last vestiges of disappointment from realising that I didn't have a cat in hells chance of ever being with her. Either way, I was not a happy camper.

Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep that conjured images of everything from running through the woods to carp fishing. You can imagine how I felt when I woke once again at 3:40 am. Not happy to say the least - fucking fishing and exercise were not the ideal content for a sound sleep, and with a lot of sighing and thudding about, I got out of bed.

After a cup of hot chocolate and twenty minutes watching insomniac's TV, I felt that sleep would arrive a little more easily. I had to be up at 6:30 to walk Reggie before going into the office, as well as doing all those chores that accompany being presentable in a social situation, and I knew that I would be a grumpy git … again. Then again, I spent most of my time being a miserable fucker that another day wouldn't hurt.

I was right. Sleep came almost immediately and I can tell you it was extremely 'restful', for want of a better word. The dreams this time weren't as frantic as the last lot had been. In fact, they were more than appealing.

This time I saw myself sitting at the dining room table with Erin. Candles illuminated the scene and made it appear to be almost gothic. Her eyes were so blue … so vibrant. She was feeding me oysters, but this time they tasted perfect … no allusion to bodily waste at all. Every time she lifted one to my mouth, the juice would spill onto my chin and her fingers would stroke the wetness away. Weirdly, the moisture seemed to move lower and lower, until I could feel a definite wetness between my legs.

Two … three … four oysters, all hand fed, and all accompanied by the gentle brushing of her fingers. A fire spurted awake inside my gut, moving lower and lower and making my hips jerk forward. Then a stray finger traced the contours of my lips until I caught one and sucked it into my mouth. The sensation was exquisite, and I fluttered my eyes closed only to open them and stare right into hers. They were violet - dark violet, and promising something I wanted so fucking much.

Lifting my hand, I grasped her wrist and pulled the finger from my mouth, only to moan at the sound she made as I did so. Gently, I lifted her hand and brushed my lips over the softness of the palm and back, progressing to kissing the fingers one by one … a timid tongue poking out and trailing down each digit. Her skin tasted just as I imagined it would, but better. Turning her hand, she curled it around my face and pulled me towards her, lips parting in expectation. Moisture was building both in my mouth and between my legs. God. This woman … This woman was so sexy … so bloody unbelievably sexy. A shooting pain raced across my chest, but it didn't hurt in the way a pain should. It was agony, but blissful, do you understand that? A real oxymoron; one you could feel.

Just before our lips met, she stopped and held my gaze. My heart was beating so loud, it seemed as if it was inside my head. Rapid breaths met and blended; the look was captivating. I wanted to close the distance and kiss her … taste those lips I had coveted, but I waited, her hand still holding me steady. The intimacy of the position was torture, yet perfect. And although being so close to her that I could see those eyes in detail … read those eyes … note how they were digesting me and the moment … revel in the wanting and knowing she was feeling the same way, it wasn't enough. I had to sample her. Savour her. Understand the texture of those lips as mine moved against hers … know that those lips … that kiss … would signify all I ever wanted in life.

Contact. Blissful contact. So soft. So gentle. So totally blindingly enchanting, I felt myself becoming lost in her and the moment. I didn't even notice my hands sliding into her hair and pulling her face closer, only realised as she imitated the action, bringing us even closer than before, if that was possible. The kiss developed, became more ardent … deeper and richer and fuller. Mouths opened and devoured. Tongues entered and tasted, only to search more fully the hidden treasures we both held.

The sensation of falling forward and into her overcame me, but I wasn't worried. I knew she would catch me … save me from falling. I knew she would never let anything hurt me, even her. And that feeling was the most precious feeling I had felt in so long. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the feel of her holding me, kissing me, stroking my back, my hair … my side …

… Until I felt her hand slip under my top. Those fingers, so deft, so right, so hers, touching my skin, taunting it into submission, making me putty in her hands.

'I … want … you.' Short gasps hitting my skin and making it tingle with expectation. 'I want … you.' Fuck. I wanted her. Wanted her. Wanted … her. But I couldn't answer. I was in a haze of ecstasy, and my voice failed me. My mouth couldn't form the words that I wanted her too; it was too busy trying to consume her throat … consume all of her.

But words were unneeded. Redundant. We had come too far to worry about reciprocating utterances, as my actions more than told her I was hers for the taking.

When I felt the button pop open on my jeans, I knew this was the moment I would treasure for the rest of my life. The moment I knew what it would be like to be taken by her … the moment I knew what it would be like to slip my hands over her body and make her mine too. I felt myself lift up so she could push her hand down and into my underwear, her fingers playing with the hair until they pushed down further and between my folds.

'God.' The first and only word I could say, but that summed up how I was feeling. It was as if she'd been sent by some celestial force to make me feel this way, and part of me wanted to get on my knees and thank the lord for sending me this miracle.

Parting my legs, I opened myself to her, in more ways than one. It had been such a long time since I had opened myself for anything or anyone, as I was too scared of hurting them or them hurting me. I didn't want anyone to get under my skin and make me care, but it was too late. She was already there … spiritually, emotionally and physically. Her smile was in my heart; her want was in my soul, and I knew that if I didn't have her soon I would shrivel and die.

A noise was coming in from the background … a shrill distant noise that was trying to interrupt us, but I tried to ignore it. It got louder and louder, but I still tried to get her to slip her fingers inside. She was becoming distracted … looking over her shoulder … looking for the source of the sound, before she looked at me as if to say 'What is it?' I tried to show her I didn't care, but she pulled her hand away leaving me wanting.

I had to stop the noise. Had to get her back. Had to make her want me again, want me just as much as I wanted her. The cold air was hitting my stomach and I remember looking down at the exposed flesh before looking back at her, my eyes saying don't leave me like this … I need you, Erin. But she did. Stood up and walked away to search out the racket that seemed as if it was right next to me.

And it was. Right next to me, I mean. My alarm clock had decided it was time to stop me fantasising about something I could never have, awake or asleep. I can't repeat the names I called it, as I do profess to have some standards when in company. Let's just say you wouldn't say them to your mother.

Now, I did say that my night's adventuring left me feeling rested, that they were appealing, didn't I? Well, you can see how I could say they were appealing, even though we didn't get to the place where I wanted them. But I class that as our subconscious mirroring real life. In reality I didn't have a hope with her, and I was just glad that I did sample her lips, even though they were the somnambulant type.

As for feeling rested. I did. Strange, I know. But the events of the dream showed me so much more about myself than I ever dreamed possible. They showed me that I was eventually moving on with my life. I had got to the point in my dream where I realised that nothing could hurt me if I had her there, even though I had only known her for a couple of days, I knew that she had come to me for a reason.

I don't know why, but at that moment I had the urge to speak … just the one word. 'Erin.' Just the feel of her name on my lips made me smile. Therefore, if the reason why she had come to me was nothing more than for friendship, or never got past that, then so be it. I was content to just be. It was something I hadn't felt in such a long time, even by just dreaming about her or even saying her name aloud in the early hours, I was beginning to feel happy for the first time in a long time.

Grinning stupidly, I stretched fully in the bed, trying to touch the bottom with my toes, the gaggle of sensation racing up my body and forcing out a growl of contentment. Even though I could feel a definite wetness between my legs, I knew I didn't need to do anything about it. Strange, I know, but that's how I felt.

Today was going to be a good day. The first of many, thanks to the woman who had now become my reason to get up in the morning.

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It was only Wednesday. Bloody Wednesday! I had only known Erin since Saturday, and the biggest part of me was wondering how she had become so important so fast. I was beginning to doubt my own state of mind. Maybe I needed to rationalise things a little, as even I knew this was way too soon. And that didn't take into consideration all the other hindrances that came along when fancying a woman whom you know to be involved with someone else.

I needed to broaden my social circle a little … needed to get out and about, show my face, and meet the people, so to speak. The thing about living in the sticks is that everybody knows everybody else, and nobody knows anybody at all. Since I had moved to the area, the only times I had been in a pub was when my family visited, or when we went out for a meeting at work. Once or twice, I had been in one through work, but nothing actually coming from my decision to go and meet people … or even just someone. Even my previous neighbours of four years had had the pleasure of my hellos about ten times.

Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't completely celibate. Just because I didn't go out every night didn't mean I didn't have liaisons with women. That would be too far fetched even for my sad little life. No. I wasn't a nun. However, I wasn't a social butterfly either. My 'relationships' came in the form of one-night stands, and not on my own doorstep. The reason isn't that I was ashamed of who I am and what I do; it was mainly to do with keeping people at arms length. Therefore, all my nocturnal meanderings happened when I visited my hometown. I just carried on being the person I used to be - not caring for others.

Fuck. That makes me seem so bloody cold. It wasn't like that … no … not even in the slightest. The women I chose to sleep with were after exactly the same thing as I was. Release, I think. Just the connection, however briefly, with another human being. To be honest, it had only happened four times - once a year, you could say, although I didn't time it. I couldn't even tell you their full names. Go on. Shake your head in disappointment; I know I did, every single time. Nevertheless, I couldn't be with them, couldn't be more for them, and to them. I couldn't even be more for myself. It would've been cruel to promise them a tomorrow if I couldn't even face looking at my own reflection, wouldn't it?

I know you think I've been rattling on a little, but I just want you to know the bare bones of it. Want you to know what a misfit you are entrusting your time to. And it will also tell you why I wanted more in my life. Why I wanted to start moving forward and into something that did promise a tomorrow, and hopefully the disgust I faced in the mirror every morning would eventually fade over time.

Fingers crossed.

Now where does this link to the previous night? Easy. Last night I realised I didn't want this kind of existence anymore, didn't want to just carry on being a loner with her dog. As I said, I wanted so much more from life: it was as if I'd been given a chance to renew the lease in some form or another and Erin was going to help me. Yes, it does sound confusing … but you have to remember, I was the one having to go through it. A very shaky time to say the least.

Ok. Let's continue. Let's get back to Wednesday morning and the realisation I was going to change my hermit like ways.

Right. Here we go …

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Chapter Nine

Erin was in her garden as I came back from Reggie's walk. She had her backside sticking up in the air and was fighting valiantly with some stubborn bush root. Well, that's what it looked like to me. Initially I was tempted to just carry on walking, and, truth be known, if Reggie hadn't decided he wanted to say hello, I probably would've done just that. Old habits die hard, I guess.

But I have to admit, watching her scream and run forward as Reggie jumped up behind her was worth me crawling out from under my antisocial rock. My poor little fella looked startled, and stared at me for guidance. Before I had the chance to shout out a reassurance to both Erin and Reggie, she had realised what had happened. I stared at her with my mouth hanging open like a retard. As you do.

'Buggeration!' A laugh, short and sharp. 'He frightened the crap out of me.' Don't we know it? Reggie just continued to stare at her, expecting some form of reprimand, but she just laughed again and held her hand against her chest, panting heavily. Yes. You guessed it. I was staring at her heaving bosom - can't blame me … it was a sight to behold. Almost like something from a bodice ripper of days gone by, the ones that inflame your imagination, and maybe somewhere decidedly lower. 'Good morning, fella.' Erin bent over and fussed over the now happy dog, whose tail showed everyone that he was both pleased to see her and relieved he wasn't told off. I just watched her. It was a beautiful sight - honestly. A gorgeous woman and a grinning dog right in front of me. I felt a surge erupt in my chest, a surge that swelled outwards and around my body. 'And … good morning, Steph!' Erin was smiling broadly at me, a truly genuine smile. The realisation that I could differentiate between a fake smile and a genuine one made my smile almost crack my face in half. This woman was so good for me, in more ways than one. It was as if she was training me to live in society again, training me to feel again, and it felt fucking fantastic.

'Good morning, neighbour. Sleep well?' Why on earth I asked her if she slept well was beyond me. Maybe because I hadn't. Or maybe because just as I asked the question, the images from my dream popped into my head. Obviously, that made the blood race to the surface. In my mind, the images were apparent and I believed she would see what I got up to when I was asleep. But she patted Reggie on the head and began walking towards me. The closer she came, the more incandescent I became, and by the time she got to me, I was luminous.

'I slept fine. You?' Bang. I must've been purple by this stage. 'Are you feeling ok? You look as if you're sweating.' Concern flooded her face and she lifted her hand and placed it on my forehead. 'You're boiling. I think I'd better get you to bed.' Shit. Why did she have to phrase it like that? Why couldn't she just tell me to get indoors and take the day off? 'Come on. Let me take you to bed.' This calls for a 'fuck!' because the more she went on about taking me to bed, the clearer the images I had of me kissing her palm … me kissing her neck, could even physically feel her fingers in my hair, probably because they had just been near it. If that wasn't bad enough, I could feel myself becoming turned on again. I knew I should have sorted myself out this morning before I got up - but no … I had to be 'Little Miss Contented' and think that my new lease of life would compensate for the burning need I felt in the southern regions of my body. A tip for you. Never trust your body and mind to actually carry out the promises they make. If it's a toss up of being either rational or horny … Ah … I don't have to spell it out to you, do I?

'Honestly. I'm fine.' Her look told me she didn't believe a word of it, followed by her grabbing the top of my arm and trying to guide me back to my house. 'I …' What? Feel horny? 'I …' am a perv? 'am hot.' In more ways than one, I assure you, and mainly in the v part of my jeans. 'I think I put too many layers on this morning.' A quick gulp. 'And I've been chasing Reggie.' At this point Reggie stopped his sniffing of the bush and stared at me as if to say 'Liar!' It felt like her fingers were burning through my coat and jumper, just like Reggie's eyes, eyes that were burning through my face.

She let go. I heaved a sigh of relief, although not a notable one, a secret one, if you know what I mean. 'Are you sure?' I could tell by her face she wasn't convinced, so I tried harder.

'Yes … I'm definite.' Summoning a grin from nowhere, and avoiding looking at my dog, I continued. 'It seemed chilly first thing …' I drifted off for effect whilst tugging at the jacket I was wearing. 'See? Winter wear.' Although I knew I was lying, I also knew that she was not totally convinced either. But what more could I do? I had to take the heat off me some way or another. 'What are you doing Friday?'

'Friday?'

'I was thinking about taking some time owing and showing you the neighbourhood.' A tad extreme just to get out of feeling embarrassed, but I was going to ask her anyway. I couldn't put off the inevitable forever. 'You did say you wanted a tour …'

'I would love to. Love to.' Erin was grinning widely, and I felt so good that I could make her do that, nothing else mattered. 'Although I have to be back about six ish.' My face said 'huh?' and she continued. 'Brian is coming on Friday …' And then I blanked out for a moment. I'd forgotten, briefly, the reason why I couldn't be interested in her. So, that was his name. Brian. Like the snail in the Magic Roundabout … 'And my sister is coming too, with Rob and the demon seeds.' She looked so happy … so happy. Well she would do, wouldn't she? Her bloke was coming and so were her family. 'They would love to meet you … especially Brian.' What about Florence, Dougal and Zebedee? Not forgetting Ermintrude the cow. Might as well go for the whole cast.

But I chickened out. I wanted to be the martyr and say 'And I would love to meet the man in your life', but I just couldn't. The words stuck in my throat, and I felt my lips moving but nothing coming out.

'You ok?' I had to say something. Anything.

'Erm.' Good start. 'Erm …' still good, but becoming repetitive. 'That's fine. I have plans for the evening anyway.' Washing hair? Washing dog? What? 'I am popping to Manchester to visit my parents about that time. You know … beat the traffic.' In Keswick? In March? It was so obvious I was making it up as I went along, but the funny thing was, Erin didn't seem to notice, just gave me a disappointed look.

'That's a shame. You will be back before Sunday won't you? I would love you to meet my sister.' It wasn't her sister I was trying to avoid. 'Cos Brian will be here for good from then on.' Bollocks. What was the point in running away? I had to meet him eventually.

'Saturday afternoon. It's just a flying visit. Touch base, and all that.' What I hate more than the term 'touching base' is the knowledge that I was a twat. And the more I tried to avoid both the term and the action, the more I used it, thus becoming even more of a twat. Vicious circle. I mean, I would have to drive all the way to my parents, and then my sisters would visit, and I would have to be all sociable and happy and prove to them how much better I was - all because I wanted to get out of meeting my neighbour's husband. Husband? Partner? I quickly checked her left hand and smiled at the nakedness. Partner, it is. But that still made me a twat. Right?

'Good.' She lifted the bare hand up and brushed her fingers through her hair and continued. 'Because I've told them all about you …' She stopped. Blushed. Stammered. Then tried to get her now tangled fingers out of her long dark hair. 'How …erm … what a good neighbour you've been.' The last couple of words kind of trailed off, and her eyes were frantically searching everywhere but at my face, eventually landing on Reggie, who was calmly itching his ear. Her eyes brightened, as did her face, as she directed the next comment to him. 'And they can't wait to meet you either. Especially Brian.' Why did she have to keep mentioning his name? It was bad enough to think she was with someone else, never mind constantly being reminded of it.

I wanted to ask her that if Brian was so fucking special, why had he let her do all the donkey work when she moved? But, obviously, I didn't. I didn't want to make assumptions about why he wasn't there. I'd assumed Rob was her partner and look where that got me. Sitting there feeling awful whilst the poor guy told me about him getting over cancer. No. It could be a myriad of reasons. Work. Tying loose ends up. Sharpening his jaw. God help me. I was getting worse.

'Anyway. I'd better get to work.' Clicking my fingers, Reggie was at my heels and waiting to be led. 'See you Friday morning then? Say about nine thirty?' I watched her mouth form into an o shape, and initially took it to mean she didn't want to start that early. 'Later?' Then her face crumpled a little and I realised that it wasn't because I had mentioned the time … it was because I had said Friday. I think a part of me actually read the response right. She wanted to see me before that. A huge part of me wanted to say 'What about tonight? Fancy grabbing a bite to eat?' But I just couldn't. I knew if I wanted to start feeling normal around her, I would have to cool things down a bit - no seeing her at every opportunity. I know it sounds callous, but I also knew that as soon as Brian turned up, I would be pushed into the shadows once again.

You're thinking 'How do I know that?' Simple. She had just moved to the country, and Bassenthwaite was as rural as you could get … Erin was bound to be lonely - she was here all alone, after all. Next, she meets a woman who was close to her age … stands to reason that she would want to get to know her better. Especially if that woman knew the area well and appeared to be a happy-go-lucky kind of person. I know I'm not, but it is what you project, isn't it? Therefore, in conclusion, when Brian turned up, the aforementioned woman would no longer be needed. Right? Right.

Yes. Cynical to the last. I couldn't suddenly shake off the wariness I had for other people, even though I thought she was the most wonderful woman I had met for a long time - if ever. Come to think of it, it wasn't her I didn't trust. It was myself. And don't I go on? I'm getting on my own tits now.

'Nine thirty sounds great.' Her voice tried to be upbeat, but I detected a hint of sadness there too. Never mind. She would soon forget about me after Friday.

Mentally I admonished myself before smiling broadly and nodding. 'See you Friday then, Erin. Come on fella.' As I turned to leave, I had another thought. 'And by the way. Get an early night Thursday … you'll need all your strength.' A laugh broke free from her- loud and hearty. 'I'm not joking. Gonna walk the legs off you.'

'Erm … ok. Consider me in bed at seven.' And no. I won't tell you what went through my mind at that very moment.

Leaving her to tend her bush … now that's a funny statement … I went inside to prepare for another day in the office. Hopefully there would be nothing much happening - well, as in having to get my coat on and go out amongst the masses. I wanted a nice quiet day at my desk … having not much sleep the night before was beginning to show, and it was only eight thirty.

***********************************************

Unfortunately, God was not on my side when it came to work, but it was a good day all in all. There was a report of an off duty fireman who had got stuck up a tree trying to save a cat, and it was my job to go and interview everybody involved. Obviously the fireman was embarrassed, as he had to have his colleagues come out and save him. It wasn't as though he had climbed the tree and was too scared to get down. No. It was a case of him climbing the tree, the cat pissing off, and him getting the back of his all in one suit caught on a branch. Initially I thought it would have been a case of slipping out of the suit, but that was a no go. One reason was because he wasn't wearing any underwear … and secondly, even if he didn't mind exposing his nether regions to the old lady who had turned her concern onto him whilst stroking her pussy … the cat, I should say … he was caught in a position where he couldn't get the clothes off without falling. All in all, humiliating to say the least.

The article came out so smoothly, and the puns were a plenty, although I had to avoid writing about pussys and off duty firemen. Steve McCann, the bloke involved, was all for having a joke at his expense, so there was no danger of offending anyone. Dave, our photographer, got a wonderful picture of Steve holding the cat, who seemed be grinning at the camera. It would have been a great shot for Caption of the Week. I also took a couple on my camera phone, as I wanted some on file - or maybe just to take out and laugh at later.

Reggie spent the whole time glaring at the cat and licking his lips, until the moment came when he couldn't take it any longer and launched an attack. The cat fucked off up the same tree and was hissing down at my deranged animal that was impotently scrabbling at the base. Border terriers have this hunting instinct that nothing, or no one, can stop, and my boy was a Border terrier through and through. It ended up with me locking him in the car until I had finished getting interviews. The worse bit was the cat was apparently stuck again, and Steve volunteered to get it down. Thankfully, as soon as he was half way up, Tiddles came down. Another lovely shot by the cameraman - and me - couldn't resist. My editor liked the headline 'Cat Escapes Embarrassment - Man Not So Lucky', and the article was then taken ready for the next day's paper.

That about sums it up. My day, that is. And that was one of the reasons why it was wonderful to live in the countryside. Imagine. The headline news being nothing more than man saves cat, cat pisses off, and man saves man from a tree. Idyllic, to say the least.

By the time I got home, I was beat. I ate, showered and went to bed, where sleep found me quickly. No dreams that night. Nothing but blackness. Just the way I liked it.

***********************************************

Friday morning came around so bloody quickly, but didn't, if you know what I mean? Thursday dragged and raced by every time I thought of being with Erin the next day. I wanted nothing more than it to be there, but at the same time didn't. I know. Confusing. But arrive it did. And for once the weather promised to be lovely.

After I had packed my overnight bag, fed both myself, and the overexcited Reggie, it was eight thirty. Just time enough to take my fella around the lake. Obviously, Reggie was ready and waiting at the door, his lead in his mouth and a tail that could dry paint. He looked so happy … so full of life and ready for the day that it was natural to feel a spark of excitement too. Therefore, it was only normal to continue grinning like an idiot when I opened the door, even when I was greeted by a beautiful woman who had her hand raised to knock.

'Good morning, Erin!' My voice was high and happy, and it was soon joined by the yaps of my dog, which was totally smitten with my neighbour. They do say that dogs tend to be like their owners, or is it the other way around? Either way, or not even continuing that discourse, both of us showed we were pleased to see her. Funnily enough, for once, she looked startled. 'You ok?' I could feel the smile slipping down my face. I knew why she was here … she was cancelling. I bet she was cancelling today. Disappointment eked its way up my body, and I tried to shake it away. This is what I wanted, isn't it? The thing I had been thinking ever since I had offered. Well, not in as many words, but I had wanted to avoid seeing her.

'Sorry …' here it comes … 'I ... well …' just spit it out 'you startled me.' Because I answered my own front door? 'I didn't expect you to be smiling.' Now that was worse than being told to fuck off. In other words, I was a grumpy git. She could see my expression change; I thought it would enable her to recognise the person she knew. 'No … not like that. What I meant was ... it's so early … and you weren't expecting me …' So, I was grumpy early in the morning AND when I met new people … she had me sewn up. The realisation of these two personality traits made me laugh out loud, which made her even more uneasy.

'I like to keep people on their toes.' Erin gave one of those smiles that can't decide if it feels safe or not, and that made me laugh even more … but I did calm it down to splutter, 'So … what can I do for you?'
She didn't answer right away, and seemed as if for a brief moment she had forgotten what she had come around for. I watched as she moved her lips, but nothing came out. It was like watching an inner battle of some description. Why couldn't she just tell me she had changed her mind and didn't want to go out for the day? Then I could just go around my business and forget all about her. Maybe that would be for the best after all.

I was just about to prompt her again, and even contemplated telling her I couldn't make it to save her the job, when she spoke.

'Food?' My face asked the unspoken question - maybe because my brain was so set on her giving me the knock back, I couldn't quite grasp what she was trying to say. 'Food? As in what are we going to eat today?' She looked down at Reggie before continuing. 'I assume Reggie is coming with us.' I nodded, and he licked his paw, as if to say he was listening but the bit of crap wedged between his toes was more interesting. 'And I doubt they will let us into many places for lunch …' She paused, and I waited. 'Picnic?' I waited some more. I knew I was not being much of help, but I didn't want to interrupt her flow. 'How about you take Reggie for a walk, and I make us a packed lunch?'

Then I felt a sensation that bordered on relief flow through me, as I had initially thought she would be telling me to sling my hook and wanted to stay home and prepare for Brian.

'That would be great. What a lovely idea.' The smile she greeted me with made my heart sing Westlife songs - and that was enough for me to speed things along, as I had a sudden urge to start singing them too, and there was no way I was ever going to put her through my singing. Ever. 'So … we'll be with you in about an hour, ok?'

'You have a beautiful smile, you know?' Her face was deadly serious, and her eyes were staring at my lips. I knew they were, because the object of her gaze suddenly decided it needed the help of my tongue to moisten them - and she mirrored the action, her eyes glued. 'So beautiful …' Her voice was a mere whisper, but the timbre of it spoke deep inside me. Then she shook her head and glanced quickly away, nodding at her house, her throat working quickly. 'I'll be waiting at home for you, ok?'

She didn't wait for my response - just walked quickly away, leaving me and Reggie staring after her. Well I never. If I didn't know better, I would have been certain that Ms Erin Mason had been thinking lewd thoughts about her neighbour. But that was the problem … I did know better.

'Come on, fella. Walk.'

***********************************************

We were on the road by nine forty. Lunch packed into the boot of the car; Reggie safely tucked behind the grill separating him from the front; Erin seated and buckled next to me. I told her I wanted her to see Keswick first, as Derwentwater was a sight to behold first thing in the morning, although I really meant at sunrise, but this would have to do.

After parking near the Lakeside Theatre, we made our way around the lake. Not many people were there at this time of the morning, or this time of the year, for that matter. Greenness was poking its head through the backdrop of the lake, as spring had only just arrived, and England was just growing again. Hills, hills, and more hills surrounded the tranquillity of the still water, and I enjoyed explaining the names to her. Castlerigg and Derwent fells straight ahead, and Borrowdale's mountains to the south; Newlands on the west; and Skiddaw, the fourth largest 'mountain' England had to offer, to the north.

She seemed as if she was interested in it all, so I continued to tell her about the five islands in the middle of the three-mile lake, and she grinned when I told her about the floating island as being the fifth one.

'You're pulling my leg,' and nudged me, making me nearly slip over in the goose crap that was round the edge. 'Hey …' She lunged and grabbed my arm to pull me back, and I fell helplessly into her grip. It was so soft, yet not, and for a fleeting minute I didn't want to move. The smell of her filled my nostrils and I could feel my eyes fluttering closed. 'You ok?'

Fluttering over. I pulled back quickly, and tried to compose myself. When I turned to face her again, she was just staring at me, her arms hanging limply at her sides. There was an eerie stillness surrounding us, and I didn't want to be the one to break it. As soon as I turned away to face the lake again, she spoke.

'Fancy walking around it?' I turned to look at her, my face answering her with an expression that asked if she was mad. 'I would love to see it from the other side.'

'Yap!' Trust Reggie to agree to such a stupid idea. He'd agree to anything to get an extra long walk.

'It's quite a trek … you're talking about at least seven miles around.' She looked disappointed, but come on. Do you know how many lakes there are in the Lake District? We would be half-dead by the time we had walked a fifth of them. So, I decided to compromise. 'Look. This one is one of the largest … Tell you what. You pick a lake from the guidebook, and we'll walk round that one, ok?'

Silence, then a muffled ok. 'And if we walk all the way around this one, we won't get a chance to see the rest today.' Another muffled ok, as she fiddled with the cuffs to her coat. She looked up at me and attempted a smile, but I knew she really wanted to see the view from the other side. I sighed and rolled my eyes. 'What if we got into the car and drove to the other side of the lake? Then you could see it.' The smile grew a little bit more. 'On the way, we could stop at the Pencil Museum …'

That did it. Her eyes lit up, and the grin was huge. 'What a good idea.' Sorted. I loved the Pencil Museum, and it was a case of any excuse to go. Would be nice to go with someone I liked too, as the previous times (yes - I've been more than once - sue me), I had gone alone. Yep. The little saddo in the corner, who wouldn't be out of place wearing a flasher mac.

So that's what we did. Went to the museum first, of course. It was on the way, after all. But it wasn't until we parked that I realised that Reggie would have to be left in the car, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. Even though the weather wasn't hot, I didn't like the thought of him being stuck in there on his own, especially if the sun did come out even more. Erin was very understanding, and we continued to the other side of the lake. But the view was absolutely breathtaking. It seemed weird to be standing on the other side looking back on ourselves - or where we used to be. Now, if I wanted to get all philosophical …

But now is not the time, is it? Therefore, I will continue …

Just standing there with her seemed perfect. We didn't have to talk … the silence seemed apt, somehow. Taking in the view of the lake, and the hills, I felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. Even Reggie was happily sniffing around a bush. A couple of swans were nearby, and I could see the makings of a nest. It was that time of year when things start to live again … the earth takes stock from the winter months and begins to start afresh. Rebirth. That's the word. To break away from all the bleakness, and concentrate on the beginning of something wonderful, seemed like an idyllic time of year to me.

Swans are wonderful creatures. So committed to each other. A pang of longing raced through me as I realised this, and I turned to look at Erin. It came as no surprise to see her looking at me. I don't know why, it just didn't. A soft smile graced her mouth and I felt the pang of longing sweep right into my chest. At that moment I wished