It was the incongruity that caught my eye.
This was an old school builders' merchants where men were men, and women were rarely seen, but she was loading that trolley like she was born to it.
Our routes around the store intersected in the fixtures and fastening aisle. I hoped I was not wearing the same startled rabbit expression as the other men, all of whom looked as if they were about to hit the internet to complain that their safe space had been invaded.
She was side on to me as I headed for the nails. I tried not to look, honestly, but she was just too eye-catching.
Light olive skin. Multi-hued brunette hair piled atop her head and held in place by what looked like a couple of pencils. Paint splatted denim dungarees over a white tee shirt and beaten up Doc Martins. On most people it would look a mess, on her it was chic and sexy, and drool inducing.
I was about to pass by when she turned to her trolley, boxes of screws in her hands. I snapped my eyes forward, but not fast enough. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her glare at me and knew I had been busted. My face flushed hot with embarrassment, and I pretended to study a display of hinges. I heard the rattle of her trolley being loaded and its squeaking wheel as she passed behind me, and I prayed that my neck was not as red as my face.
After that, I kept my head down as I loaded up with supplies for the week. As I headed for the checkout, I was congratulating myself on avoiding another encounter, but I was too optimistic. There was only one till open, so only one queue and she was right at the back of it. I pushed my trolley up behind her and prayed she would not turn her head.
At least now I could check her out without getting caught.
There is something about strong, independent women that fascinates me. And she must have been pretty strong, there was stuff her trolley a lot of men would struggle with.
She was bent forward with her elbows on the trolley handle, causing the dungarees to tighten delightfully over her backside. With every step, the movement of her twin globes of muscle captivated me, and I was trying to imagine what they would feel like under my hands.
A sardonic voice cut through my musing.
"You're staring."
Without turning her head, she lifted an arm and pointed to a security mirror. Shit. Busted again.
"I, I, I'm sorry." I squawked, my voice unnaturally high, my face flushing red again. My grovelling was interrupted by the man in front of her in the queue.
"If you want help drilling in those screws love I'll come round and screw anything to your wall." He snorted with laughter at his own cleverness.
She straightened up and even from behind I could feel her anger, however, her voice was dripping with sweetness. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure you've not got anything long enough for that." He grabbed his trolley and rushed from the store, a wave of slightly nervous laughter following him.
I could not resist congratulating her. "Nice one."
She glanced over her shoulder at me, a small smile lightening her face.
"Thanks."
"Look I'm sorry about..." I waved at the mirror.
The smile disappeared. "At least you pretended not to stare," Her eyes raked me from head to toe and back again, and the smile returned. "I mean, we all look."
I stood with my mouth flapping as the cashier rang her up, and she headed for the exit.
"Sir?"
"Yeah, sorry." The cashier had already started, and as I had not bought much, I was quickly outside and scanning the car park, not that I was chasing her. I was in time to see her cruise past in an old brown Volvo estate. She clocked me watching and she smiled. Cheeky? Friendly? Polite? I had no clue.
As I loaded up, I reflected on what had led me to a builders' merchants car park on a random Tuesday afternoon attempting to decode a smile from a complete stranger.
+++++++++++++++
Katie and I met when she moved to my school when we were fourteen. Both outsiders, we quickly latched on to each other and became best friends. Later we transitioned into boyfriend and girlfriend. We lost our virginity together. The future looked good, the only issue was that her parents hated me and were very controlling of her.
Katie was desperate to get married, I was not that bothered I just wanted to be with her. At that time in the UK, you could get married under the age of eighteen, if you had your parents' permission, hers refused.
So, on her eighteenth birthday, we headed to the registry office and got hitched. Her parents did not turn up and we never saw them again. We lived with my parent before finding a flat to rent. I thought life was good, we both had jobs and we could afford to have a little fun.
Then it all fell to pieces.
It was my twenty-fourth birthday and Katie had nipped out to pick up a celebratory takeaway when the police banged on the door asking for her. They insisted they would only talk to Katie, so I sat and made awkward small talk. Thankfully, it was not long before I heard the door open, and Katie came running in. We all jumped to our feet and the police officer started on the ' I'm afraid I have some bad news' speech. I put my arms around Katie and hugged her tight as the police officer carried on to inform her that both her parents died in a car crash.
Her reaction was more than weird. First, she giggled, then started laughing, eventually she pushed me away and collapsed into a chair, screaming with laughter with tears running down her face.
As I showed the police out, one said, "Don't worry son, grief takes everyone differently."
Eventually, she calmed down, but she seemed different, which I put down to grief. But over the next couple of days, she started to talk, really talk, and suddenly it all made sense.
Her father had been sexually abusing her for years. She had told her mother, but she had slapped her and called her a slut. She had tried to tell a teacher, but her parents had moved town and put her into a different school.
I had no clue what had been happening to her after I had walked her home from school. My emotions were all over the place. Anger at what she had gone through but also hurt that she did not feel she could tell me.
Unfortunately, she had one more revelation.
The reason she had been so keen to get married was that it was the only way she could see getting away from her parents. It was never about love, yes, she liked me as a friend, but that was all.
Talk about a sucker punch, I really had not seen it coming. But part of me understood why she had done it, and I would probably done the same in her place.
There was one more surprise. Her parents had never made a will, so Katie inherited everything, their house, their savings and a payout from the insurance.
At first, she was reluctant to take the money, calling it stained and dirty. I persuaded her to take it and to enjoy spending it on all the things her father hated, one final fuck you.
We got a quickie divorce, and she insisted on splitting the money down the middle, reminding me that I was one of the things that her father hated. It felt a little like payment for services rendered, but it would have been stupid not to take the money.
I gave up work and bought a small two bed doer-upper, hence the builders merchant.
