Someone From the Past

This is a Romance story in 3 parts, all written, which will be released to Literotica as each one is edited, so hopefully they will appear just a few days apart.

There will be some sex involved in later segments but if you are looking for something a little steamier, then, as I stated in previous parts, this might not be the tale for you.

All characters depicted as engaging in sexual activity are over 18 years of age.

As always constructive comments or criticism are welcome but please remember to enjoy it, it is just a story.

It isn't real. It's just a figment of my overactive imagination.

I hope you enjoy it.

Someone from the Past - Part 1

Chapter 1 - Gwen...

"Beep... beep... beep."

Yawning Gwen Davies reached out to slap the button on her alarm clock to turn it off and, trying to force her reluctant eyelids to open, groaned tiredly.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She was awake early, just like she was most week days, as funeral or no funeral, she still had to go to work.

Pushing herself up out of bed she pulled on her robe and, putting on her large black-framed glasses, prepared herself to face what she knew would be a difficult afternoon.

She had changed her mind about attending the service several times over the last few days, at first she was going to go and then, a few minutes later, she wasn't. Even now, as she stood in her bedroom and stared out of the window at the leaden, overcast sky, she still wasn't absolutely sure of what she was going to do.

Part of her felt obliged to go, they had been a big part of her life for the last two years after all, while another, more secret part, was telling her to stay away.

Heading downstairs to the kitchen she turned on the light, the usual spark that always happened when she flicked the switch making her jerk her hand away. Shaking her head at the state of the electrics she made herself a coffee and, once again, debated on what her final decision would be.

'

Would he be there?'

She asked herself the same question that she had every day for the past week, even though she knew what the answer would be.

Of course Robert Davenport would be at his parent's funeral.

Thinking about Rob brought his mother and father into her mind and sitting at the table, slowly sipping the hot liquid, she remembered George and Julie Davenport with a genuine fondness.

She had known them for years but, ever since her own mother had passed away, they had taken her under their wing and become more than friends to her, until she had eventually come to look on them as almost surrogate parents.

Sighing Gwen cradled her mug in both hands and sat back, looking around her somewhat dilapidated kitchen. Everything was falling apart and she knew the cottage needed a lot of work doing but there was no way she could afford it.

It had been that way when her mother was alive and they hadn't had the money then. Now that she had inherited it and was on her own, even though she was working at the school in the village as a newly qualified teacher, she had even less cash than before and the repairs were nothing more than a distant dream.

Taking the last mouthful of her coffee, she turned her mind back to the funeral.

She was very aware that her real problem wasn't if Rob Davenport would be at the church, it was what would her reaction to seeing him again be after all these years. Managing to avoid him since he had returned after the accident she knew it would be impossible not to see him at the service.

Staring wistfully out of the window she let her mind drift onto the subject of a boy she hadn't seen for several years.

Moving to the village with her mother when she was eight she had started at the local school. That's when it had begun, a friendship with a cute boy that turned into a silly teenage crush and then became so much more.

A shy skinny girl with big glasses, long black hair and a pale complexion she found it difficult to fit in, quickly becoming the subject of all the jokes the other children made.

Her first week was almost over when the class bully, Johnny Marshall, had stepped in her way as she was going to her lessons on the Friday morning. Trying to intimidate her; sneering and mocking her, she had been on the verge of crying when Rob Davenport had intervened and stood up for her.

She remembered like it was yesterday how she had looked up into his eyes and her heart had almost burst out of her chest.

From her first day she had thought he was cute especially as he had been the only one to talk to her.

He seemed to be everyone's friend and even though she didn't like boys he was just about the nicest one she had ever met. While she, on the other hand, was just a skinny girl, with no friends, from a poor one parent family.

However, unlike just about everyone else he had continued to be nice to her and, as the weeks and months had gone by he had stayed her friend and had even volunteered to be her partner on a couple of class projects.

Of course, as she got older she had started to realise that it was more than just a silly childish infatuation.

She was in love with him.

Not that she ever admitted anything like that to him.

Treasuring his friendship she had simply enjoyed being with him whenever she could, always dreaming of more but, at the same time, realising that it was never going to happen.

He was always nice to her, even when no one else was, and she continued to live without any hope when, just as school was finishing, he had asked her to go to the leaver's party with him.

Suddenly, at seventeen, her whole world changed and it had seemed like she might really become Cinderella and. going to the ball, would get the only boy she had ever desired.

Except that, by the end of the evening, her heart had been shattered.

Sighing inwardly, she knew that, regardless of her issues with seeing Rob, she owed it to George and Julie to be there.

Pushing it all out of her head for the moment she put her cup in the sink and got up, heading towards the bathroom to get ready. Whether or not she went to the funeral that afternoon she still had to get to work that morning and the first bus went past the end of her road at six-forty.

It was a rush to shower and dress because of her dawdling but she just about made it to the stop on time and had barely got her breath back when her ride arrived.

"Hi Chris." It was just after seven-thirty when she walked in through the main entrance into the school.

Fifty-one-year-old Christine Tomlinson, the head teacher, looked up from the papers she was reading and smiled, "Morning Gwen, how are you?"

"Fine." The younger woman replied, not meaning it.

"Have you made your mind up yet.... whether you're going to go or not I mean?"

Pausing Gwen looked back out of the window and across the small playground to the garage on the other side of the road; its locked doors reminding her that George Davenport would never be opening them up again.

'Was she going to go?'

Her stomach clenched nervously as she contemplated the one question she had been asking herself for days.

Staring miserably at the weathered 'Davenport & Son' sign over the garage's entrance she forced herself to smile, recalling the time when he had come in to the local bakery to get coffee and pastries for himself and his mechanic Tony.

Her mother had recently passed and, on her way to work as an NQT at the local school she had stopped at the store to get a cappuccino. When the bell above the door had tinkled someone's arrival she had looked up from where she stood at the counter waiting to be served.

Of course, she knew he was Rob's father but, except for the occasional hello or a smile as they had passed by each other in the street, she hadn't really spoken to him since before his son had left to go to university.

"Hello Mr Davenport." Her doleful greeting had been a total reflection of her mood.

"Smile sweetheart, it might never happen." He had winked cheekily at her.

"It's a bit late for that, it already has." She had said unhappily.

"You're Shelagh Davis's daughter aren't you?"

More than a little surprised that he recognised her she had spluttered, "What.... how did...."

"You went to school with my son Rob, didn't you?" George had smiled kindly at her, "I was sorry to hear about your mother. She was a lovely woman."

"Thanks, I....."

It wasn't so much about what he had said but more the genuine sympathy in his voice that had got through to her. All her pent-up grief had simply erupted in that moment and she had burst into tears at the kind words of someone she hardly knew.

Knowing he was Rob Davenport's dad just made everything worse and when he had simply held her, she had sobbed into his shirt for a good five minutes.

"S.. sorry." She said, sniffling and wiping her eyes, once she had stopped crying.

"That's alright, anytime sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwen shook her head, "No, there's not much to say. She.... she's gone and... and that's it."

"Well, if you ever do I'm just over the road at the garage."

"How... how's Rob?" Changing the subject to talk about her long-time crush created a flock of butterflies in her stomach, "I.... I haven't seen him for some time."

"He's doing well, he graduated from uni and took a job with a company in London." George told her proudly, "Not that we see that much of him either these days."

Continuing to talk for a while, about Rob mostly, meant that by the time she left the bakery heading to school, Gwen was feeling a little better about things.

They had bumped into each other again the following morning, and the morning after, then later that week he had introduced her to his wife Julie and Rob's little sister Alice.

It had been the start of a wonderful friendship that she had cherished for the last couple of years, thinking of them almost as a stand-in mother and father while falling in love with their precocious daughter.

"Earth to Gwen." Christine interrupted her thoughts, jerking her back to the present moment.

"Sorry Chris... what were you saying?"

"Have you made up your mind whether you are going..." The head of the school asked her again, "... to the funeral?"

"Yeah, I... I think I should." She hefted up the small bag she was carrying on her shoulder, "I'll just change into these things before I go though."

"If it's any consolation I think you've made the right decision."

"But what if he's...." Gwen bit her lip and asked hesitantly, her stomach tightening again.

"There's no what if.... Rob Davenport is definitely going to be there. You may as well accept that fact." The older woman interrupted her.

"I know." She sighed unhappily and started for her classroom, wondering just how she was going to react to seeing him.

Working with the children, the morning flew by for her as she helped them with the various tasks they had to do and before she realised it the clock was showing one o'clock.

"Time you were off Gwen." Christine Tomlinson stuck her head around the door, "If you're still going that is?"

"Yeah, I am. You're right. I've just got to deal with it."

"I hope it goes well?" Her boss smiled as she came in to take over the class, "Just take yourself off home when it's done."

"Thanks Chris. I'll see you tomorrow." Taking off the painting apron she had been wearing Gwen picked up her bag and went to get changed.

Searching through her limited wardrobe she had found a white blouse and a knee length black skirt which, along with a pair of black tights and her best shoes, was the best she could manage. She had worn almost exactly the same outfit for her mother's funeral two years prior and getting changed took her back to that awful day.

It had been the cancer that had finally taken her. Shelagh Davis had fought hard against the disease while her daughter could do nothing but stand by, a helpless onlooker as she slowly succumbed.

Just like today the weather for her burial had been much the same; dreary, cold, wet and miserable.

She recalled how she had stood by the graveside, alone apart from a couple of Shelagh's friends and the MacMillan nurse who had supported her. The overwhelming feeling of relief that her mother's suffering was over meant she had been unable to shed any tears.

They had come later, when she was at home by herself.

She had realised she was properly alone then. University had never been an option for her with her mother's illness and, shying away from boys after her experiences at school, she had gone to a local college to study. Even as she had developed, blossoming late on in her teens, she had become so used to her own company while she cared for her ailing parent that she didn't really have much of a social life.

Forcing her maudlin reflections away she slipped on her coat over the top of her clothes and stopped off at the staff room to say her goodbye's.

"You off then Gwen?" One of her colleagues, Mark Yates, got up from his chair, "If you fancy a drink afterwards maybe we could meet up at the pub."

"Err... Not really Mark, I... I think I'll just go home."

A dozen years older than her she had gone on a couple of casual dates with him, just as friends, soon after she had started at the school. He had turned out to be a rather egotistical pratt and, while she had quickly dropped him, he now had got the idea into his head that he wanted her as his girlfriend.

"Oh ok. Maybe at the week-end then? We could....."

"We'll see Mark. I have a lot to do." She cut him off and turned away as he went to kiss her cheek, keen to avoid any further discussion.

"Right oh, I'll see you tomorrow then." He said to her rather huffily.

'Perhaps he'll get the message one day.'

Walking out of school she pushed the obnoxious Mark Yates out of her mind and set out to walk the short distance to the local church, her stomach clenching nervously the closer she got to it.

Despite the fact there were quite a few people milling around outside in the churchyard it was impossible not to notice Rob almost immediately.

Pushing her thick-rimmed glasses up on her nose she couldn't help but stare at him.

He had put on some muscle since she had last seen him but otherwise he looked almost exactly as she remembered him; 6' 1" with the same untidy brown hair that always seemed to be in need of cutting. His appearance hadn't changed one bit either and he still had the cute, boy next door look that she had fallen for all those years ago and that she still saw in her dreams.

It was then that her courage failed her and she did her best to make herself as invisible as possible, hiding away amongst the other mourners and endeavouring to avoid his eyes. Fading into the background she kept her gaze on him though, her heart beating faster as she watched him, feeling sorry for his loss as well as being more than a little aroused by his closeness.

'Had it really been five years?'

'How was it possible that she felt exactly the same about him?'

That was when she noticed the redhead.

Gaping at the girl as she casually strolled up to Rob and took hold of his hand, Gwen found herself struggling to breathe. She knew it was unreasonable to think he would be alone after all this time but actually seeing him with another woman was virtually unbearable.

'Who was she?'

'Was she just a girlfriend or was she more than that?'

The girl looked like a model, tall, slim and incredibly beautiful, and Gwen knew there was no way she could ever compete with a girl like her.

Not that she thought Rob Davenport would look at her in that way. At least she hadn't until he had asked her to go to the leavers party with him all those years ago.

She shook her head hurriedly dismissing the memory.

The redhead was just like the girls that had looked down their noses at her when she was at school; with their fashionable clothes, superior attitudes and boyfriends.

Slipping in at the back of the church she remained unseen during the service, leaving just before it finished to watch George and Julie's committal from a safe distance. Standing outside the churchyard wall she could feel the wind whipping at her long raven hair, blowing it across her face, as she shed more than a few tears for the couple she had looked on as more than just friends.

Lost in thought she almost panicked when Rob, standing at the graveside, looked up and stared straight at her. For a moment she thought he had recognised her but then, fortuitously for her, young Alice distracted him and he turned his attention to his sister.

That was enough for her and, wiping her eyes, Gwen said a quiet farewell and hurried away, starting out for home before anything more happened...

Chapter 2 - Rob...

Ominous slate grey clouds filled the autumn sky, threatening rain and making the early afternoon seem more like late evening, as Robert Davenport stood motionless in the small churchyard.

Staring helplessly at the two coffins he watched them in silence, the gloom pressing in on him, as they were lowered into the grave sending a chill all the way up his spine.

'How long had it been since he had made the three-hour journey to visit his parents?'

Was it three months or was it four? He wasn't sure.

The casual indifference with which he had simply got on with his life, pandering to Jenna and making the obligatory once-a-week phone call home, now seemed almost like contempt. There had always been an excuse of some sort; sometimes work, occasionally a social engagement but mostly it was Jenna's needs and her reluctance to leave her precious career for more than an hour that had been the reason.

It was something he couldn't put ever right now they were gone, and he vowed to himself that he would be there for the one person that really mattered to him.

He was still brooding over things when something made him look up to see the lone figure, standing in the distance.

Squinting he tried to see them properly.

It looked like a young woman and although the person was a long way away they appeared vaguely familiar to him. However, done up in a coat and with her long black hair covering some of her face, it was difficult to make out any real details.

'Could it be Gwen?'

His heart skipped a couple of beats and for a few long seconds he stared, wondering if the figure could really be the shy, pale-skinned, skinny girl with an overbite and big glasses that he had known at school.

She had been nicknamed 'rag doll' or 'ghoul' by all of their classmates because of the worn, hand me down clothes she always wore and the way her complexion and dark hair made her look.

He tried to push the thought of her aside. It couldn't be her; she had to have moved away in the intervening years since he last saw her.

By the grave the vicar droned on and, forgetting where he was for a minute, he found himself remembering her starting at his school; and the moment when he had actually seen Gwen Davis for the very first time.

She had seemed so fragile and lost, gazing nervously around her as she found a seat in the classroom.

He had felt for her but did nothing to intervene when the other kids quickly found it funny to call her names.

However, he hadn't been able to stand by and do nothing when the class bully, Johnny Marshall, had threatened her on the Friday.

Next to Johnny the eight-year-old girl had appeared tiny as he stood in the corridor, his taller, bulkier figure looming over her and blocking her path.

"Can I get by please." She had mumbled, going to step past him.

"Why don't you wear something decent like the school uniform and take a shower four eyes?" The older boy said cruelly, moving to stand in her way.