Maisie

(Thank you, DAwnj, for editing and retrieving!)

*

Rob Verpoorten sat on his air mattress under the flap of his tent. He'd walked part of the North Pennines walk that day and he was pleasantly tired and very satisfied with the day's activities. He was removing his walking boots. Then a quick shower, he thought, and then - there was a nice pub nearby, and he was hungry. They served good food, they said, and he was eager to try it out.

He looked across the field. It was sparsely inhabited - a few tents, two caravans, one camper - a youngish woman was struggling to get her tent up nearby; she seemed to get rather exasperated with the unwieldy poles. He looked at her with some interest. She had a nice face, but she was getting quite infuriated as the tent didn't want to cooperate and he put on his slippers and got up to offer her a hand.

"Oh, yes please," she said, while she passed a hand over her forehead. "This doesn't seem to work at all."

"Could you put the poles out on the ground?" he said, and then he tried to put them together. He commented on the way he put it up, so she would know what to do next time, and it wasn't long before the tent was standing and they could hammer the pegs home.

"Thank you very much," she said, when they'd finished.

"Not at all - I'm glad I could help out."

"I'm Maisie," she said, "Maisie Stearns."

He smiled at her. "Rob Verpoorten," he said and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you," she said. "Er - are you British?"

"No," he said. "I'm Dutch."

"I thought so," she said. "I knew a girl from Holland once, and she talked like you - the same accent, I mean." She blushed a little.

He grinned. "There's no fooling you, is there?" he said. "Oh well, never mind. I get my way around."

"Yes," she said. "Is this campsite ok?"

"I think so - I only arrived yesterday. I've come to do some walking, and it's well situated for that. I was out all day."

"You'll go and cook?"

"No," he said. "I haven't brought enough gear for that, just for a cup of tea in the morning. I was about to go to the pub. Would you like to come along? I'd love to have someone to talk to!"

She looked at him for a moment, and wondered if it would be within her comfort zone - she was rather wary of men, and she didn't know this specimen at all. But it didn't look too dangerous and she decided to give it a try. "Don't mind if I do," she said.

"Alright then," Rob said. "I'll have a quick shower first - don't want to go out all smelly. Give me ten minutes, ok?"

He disappeared to the shower. She did have an interesting, intelligent face, he thought. Nice. Very nice... Brown eyes, and dark blonde hair that fell down to her breasts, a quiet smile - he had travelled alone for almost a fortnight now, and he felt a little low on human contacts. It was the first time he'd gone on holiday alone, after a disastrous marriage that had lasted for six years, and he had not felt attracted to a woman since. He hummed softly while he was showering.

When he returned he saw Maisie had dressed for the occasion. She wore a kind of blue frock that really suited her complexion. "Nice dress," he said.

She smiled a little. "Shall I drive?" she said.

"It's only five minutes on foot, if you're not too tired."

"Let's walk then." She zipped up her tent, put a bag in the boot of her car and came along to the pub.

"What part of the Netherlands are you from?" she asked.

"I'm from the north," he said. "My village is so small not even all people from my own province have heard of it."

To his relief he didn't have to tell her that no, he wasn't from Amsterdam; nor did she tell him she'd been there. "I live on a country lane. It's very narrow, and once you're past the houses there's a small wood. They're quite pleasant surroundings. But all on a small scale, and I prefer walking in England because of the views, and the people... The Dutch are far too blunt to my taste, and we have no mountains."

He looked at her and said, "And you? What part of the island are you from?"

"East Anglia," she said. "The Fens. I wouldn't feel too much out of place in your country; it's quite flat where I used to live, too. I live in Reading now, but I regularly go home to my mother's."

"Ok," he said. "I know the Fens a little. I went there after I'd read P.D. James."

"Death of an Expert Witness?" she said.

Rob nodded and grinned at her.

"Yes - a good read."

She smiled again. "Yes," she said. "She's quite good."

They discussed their favourite James novels until they reached the pub. They ordered from a wide selection of food and sat down at a small table with their drinks, talking about whodunits and other books. Rob professed a liking for poetry, and Maisie became quite enthusiastic at once. It appeared she was an avid reader of the stuff, with a broad knowledge of a good many poets, and she told him about a couple of her preferences he'd not heard of before.

"Wait a moment," he said, and produced a small notebook from his jacket. "Could you repeat those?"

They had a very nice meal, talking animatedly about all and sundry, and it was over before they knew.

When they returned to the campsite Maisie said, "I've brought a bottle of wine. Would you care to have some with me?"

Rob would, and they kept on talking until far into the night. They arranged to have a nice ramble together the next day; Maisie was a keen walker and she had come to this place for the same purpose as Rob.

The day broke very promising; there was a hint of fog that lifted while they were breakfasting together, and the sun beat down on the rugged terrain when they started out on their walk. They walked in silence at first, enjoying the views and the warm sunshine, and when they did start to talk they didn't speak much.

They'd brought a rucksack with sandwiches and a thermos of coffee and when they had walked for ninety minutes they sat down to have a drink and a bite to eat. They grinned at each other, enjoying the togetherness of the moment. Maisie asked Rob what he did for a living, and when he told her he was a teacher she shook her head in surprise.

"No," she said. "Really? So am I. What do you teach?"

It transpired they did the same work; both of them taught English in secondary school, and they had quite similar ideas about the job.

"How on earth is it possible," Maisie said. "It is a small world, isn't it?"

Rob nodded. They continued on their way, talking animatedly about the many sides of their work, and from there on to the literature they liked, and how to teach it, and they kept comparing notes all afternoon. It was rather different from what they'd planned to do, but as least as stimulating, and they arrived back at base feeling very satisfied with their day's work.

They had dinner together again, and they made a small fire afterwards. They cracked a bottle of wine Rob had brought, and they talked books and poetry, and then landscapes and towns; they had quite a similar taste, Rob thought.

Maisie wondered how suddenly she'd struck up rapport with this foreigner. He had a funny accent, she thought, and he sometimes was a bit formal in his phrasing. Apart from that, she couldn't remember having had such fun nor having felt so at home with a man for a long time.

They went hiking for another two days - and then everything was suddenly over. The weather changed so drastically that they were driven away. The campsite got inundated, and everything was wet, and Maisie became very grumpy and uncommunicative. They packed their tents. Maisie decided to go and visit her mother, and she offered him a ride down to the Fens but he asked her if she could drop him at a station somewhere down the line.

It took them some time before they felt comfortable again. Maisie was very taciturn at first, but then she apologised for her sudden grumpiness.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have been like that - as if it were your fault. Wet things have bad associations for me."

She looked at him and wondered if she ought to tell him; and then she decided that she might as well.

"My father died when I was four," she said, "and mother stayed alone for a couple of years. Then she found a new boyfriend. I hated him, but he said he was very fond of me. He came to live with us, and in the holidays we went camping. We were on the river."

She pressed her lips together and stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the road.

"When mother went shopping he came up behind me and put his hand into my panties. I screamed! I screamed, and he got me round the neck and tried to choke me. Then he threw me into the river. I couldn't swim and I thought I would drown. Thank God two people saw it happen, and they got me out, and the bastard was arrested. Mother was so angry... I can't stand the idea of getting soaked ever since -- it always gets my hackles up..."

It still brought tears to her eyes after all those years. She sighed deeply and gave him a wry smile. "Sorry," she said.

Rob shook his head. "That's bloody awful," he said. "There's no earthly reason for you to apologise."

He was silent for a long time.

"Did your mum feel guilty?" he finally said.

"Why?"

"Well, if she did, it must have made it very hard for her ever to find a nice new partner again."

Maisie pulled a face. "She's remained single," she said.

Rob nodded. "Poor woman," he said. "What about you?"

Maisie turned red when she realised the implications of his first question. She smiled nervously at him.

"I er," she said, "I have to feel really comfortable before I'd even dare kiss someone's cheek. It only works for me if I can take the initiative, at least at first. I had a couple of friends who wanted to go far too fast -" She produced an angry sniff at the memory. "I clammed up completely. One of then tried to force me, but I had quite long nails... and the one guy I liked, and did sleep with, turned out to have a number of girlfriends. I didn't want to be one of a crowd. I wanted to be someone special..."

She drove onto the hard shoulder and stopped; she was in tears, and Rob felt very uncomfortable.

"Maisie," he said, "I am so sorry - I shouldn't have asked -"

"It's not your fault," she said. "I'm just being stupid, but I can't help it. I still can't stomach having been treated like that - please give me a moment." She blew her nose loudly and gave him a watery smile through her tears.

She took a little time to find her composure again, and when there was a gap in the traffic she rejoined the road.

"I haven't had a boyfriend since," she said, "but I wouldn't mind one. It's just that I want to be sure."

They changed the subject to less dangerous stuff then. Rob managed to make her laugh a couple of times, and it wasn't too long before Maisie felt more or less happy again.

"What are your plans?" she said.

"For this holiday? Oh, I have to go back before Monday; and I think I'll just return a little early. I loved my days with you; going on a few more on my own doesn't seem too attractive any more."

Maisie looked at him. She wondered for a moment if he were taking the mickey out of her, but he apparently meant just what he said. He looked at the road ahead of them, and he smiled with one half of his face.

"I wonder if we could meet again," he said. "I'd really love to..."

"I'll have to think about it," she said. The memory of her old failures had risen like a big barrier between herself and Rob and the world at large, and she felt torn between her desire to be safe and her feelings for Rob. She couldn't allow herself to give in to those. What if he'd prove another of those failures... "I'd love to have your phone number. It feels good, but -"

Rob nodded. "I understand," he said. He took out a pen and wrote his phone numbers on a bit of paper, and then added his address for good measure.

"Can I have your address?" he said. "I can drop you a line, then. I won't harass you - ever. Promise."

She nodded. "Ok," she said, and she gave him her Reading address. "My birthday's November 5... But er, please, stick to that."

She glanced at him for just a moment, and she saw him wince. She found she half thought it served him right, and at once she felt sorry for him, too. Oh hell...

Rob promised he would, with a sinking feeling. If she weren't so shy and wary of men he would have pushed his luck, but now... He smiled a little sadly.

"If you should decide you'd like some more of my company, you're very welcome," he said. "My address is on here."

She looked at him and nodded. "Maybe," she said. Then she concentrated on the road, and Rob wondered what she thought. He'd become completely infatuated with her but he didn't think anything would ever come of it. She seemed too disappointed in men.

The road got increasingly busier. Maisie was glad she could pretend to an interest in the traffic only; for she'd have loved to take Rob home with her, and she didn't dare to, and she didn't want to freak out or make a spectacle of herself...

She could scold herself for having denied him the right to write to her but she wasn't going back on it. Oh damn, she thought, it's chorus again. I keep being a mess. Ok, you've done it again, girl. She felt her hands were shaking and she gripped the wheel until it hurt.

She dropped Rob off at Lincoln Station. He thanked her and she nodded at him, then she said goodbye and drove off. He took a train into London and decided to stay on there until his holiday was over after all.

Maisie drove home. She was in a foul temper with herself but it only left her feeling rather exhausted. She allowed her temper to die down, and then she took stock of her emotions. She found that she actually missed Rob frightfully. He had somehow made his way deeply under her skin in those days of walking and having fun... He had written his address on a scrap of paper, with his telephone number. Now where had it gone? She found it in the door pocket his side of the car. Phew, that at least was still there. The point was, though, whether she'd dare to do something with it. She didn't know, but she copied it into her address book anyway.

Rob went home on Sunday. He had mildly enjoyed his stay in London; but he was glad to be home again, in a way. He put his photographs onto the computer; there was a good one of Maisie's face. He tried it to see if it would be alright as wallpaper but then decided against it after all. No use in punishing himself for falling in love...

Fortunately it was the end of his holidays and he started to work furiously. He spent half term redecorating a couple of rooms, and getting the garden ready for the winter; and when he was at work again, the only time he allowed himself to think about Maisie for longer than the frequent flashes of regret at having lost sight of her was when he tried to find a suitable card for her birthday and when he wrote it.

Maisie thought about Rob rather frequently. She couldn't help worrying about the way she'd spoilt her chances in August. She didn't think she'd ever hear from him again, but she kept going back over their conversations and picking out the bits that she'd liked so much...

The birthday card she got from him was a real surprise to her. She read it, and to her embarrassment she got tears in her eyes. If only she could simply forget about him... Yes, and then? How often would she have to feel drawn to someone without being able to give in to those feelings? Yes, but... Oh what a mess, she thought. Those damn, damn bastards...

She discussed Rob with her best friend, but it was no help, really. Judy tried to persuade Maisie that there was no sense in trying to find happiness with a foreigner. "It is far too difficult and uncertain, you know - you never know if they mean what they say, er, if they say what they think, I mean. My sister had a French boyfriend once, and she thought he really wanted to go on with her - but he just couldn't get his ideas across, you see, and it all ended in tears..."

"His English is very good," she said. "Possibly too formal - but very precise - and I do understand what he means - that is, I did..." She swallowed hard.

"I wouldn't even think of it, anyway. Foreigners..." Judy shook her head. "Use your loaf, Maisie!"

The idea. Preposterous! Maisie was a little complicated at the best of times and now this... She felt she really had to wean her away from such a dead-end road.

Maisie was very fond of Judy, but now all she said seemed a string of platitudes that were only very counterproductive. They parted on a somewhat strained note, and when they met again everything was ok, but Rob wasn't mentioned any more.

November wore on, and the shops filled with Christmassy stuff - nice food, and decorations, and the radio started to change their programming a little. Before long it would be impossible to avoid the overall December atmosphere. Maisie looked with dread at the approaching festive season. Family fun, yes... Very nice indeed without a family. Her mother would spend the coming four weeks in Thailand with Caroline, an old friend, and she'd hate to go with them, even if she'd been welcome.

She thought of last year when she'd been invited to come and celebrate together by an old school friend of hers, with a sweet hubby and such lovely children... The sugary sweetness of it all had felt sticky and horrible, and she sensed only too painfully they'd invited her out of pity. She'd felt extremely uncomfortable, and even lonelier than usual. Yuck. She wasn't having any this year.

Still, it felt worse and worse. Rob filled her thoughts quite a lot, and on the day her Christmas holidays started she made a decision, and drove to Heathrow.

That Friday Rob had just turned up the gas under the potatoes when the telephone rang, and he went to answer it.

"Rob Verpoorten," he said.

"Hello - er - it's Maisie."

"Maisie! How lovely to hear your voice. How's life?"

"I'm fine. Rob, I er - I am at Heathrow, and I'm coming your way. How do I get to your place?"

"You are? Oh, that's brilliant! When is your flight?"

"At nine," she said.

"That's good. And your flight number?"

She told him and he jotted it down.

"So you'll be in Amsterdam around eleven," he said.

"No, it's only a one-hour flight."

"Yes, but we're in different time zones."

"Oh," she said. "But... will I be able to reach you tonight?"

"Don't worry. I'll be there - it's only ninety minutes by car."

"Oh, thank you. You don't mind?"

"Oh no, not at all. I'll be only too happy to see you again!"

"See you soon, then. Bye!"

They rang off. Rob's mind was in turmoil. He'd not expected he'd ever hear anything from Maisie again, and his heart was beating a tattoo against his ribs at the idea of meeting her. He turned off the gas again and put the meat back into the fridge; then he made a couple of sandwiches. He looked over his house quickly, and went into the spare room to prepare things for her stay. He'd bought two bunches of flowers that day, and he put one of them on the table, and a couple of novels and a collection of poetry by Edna St. Vincent Millay on a low cupboard beside the bed. It was the best bedroom; it got the morning sun and lots of light.

Then he made a thermos of coffee, put his sandwiches and some snacks into a bag and drove through the polder to Amsterdam, and on to Schiphol.

Maisie wandered to customs, had her luggage checked and went through the magnetic gate - it didn't beep and she found herself in the tax-free area before long. She had a look at the perfumes, and bought a small bottle of J'adore. Then she had a cup of coffee and went to the gate. She felt excited, and not a little apprehensive - Rob had sounded as enthusiastic as she had hoped, but she couldn't see his face - and very much unable to sit still. She walked up and down the corridor that gave to the gate, and looked at her fellow travellers, and she hoped, she prayed he wouldn't have changed. She hadn't dared ask him if he was still on his own. What if there were a girlfriend, what if he only liked to have her round as just another guest? She would not be able to cope with another manifestation of pity...