Damn! The sun's gone behind the clouds again. Gee; it's cold now. That wind cuts deep. Should've worn a jacket. It's still only spring.
For heaven's sake Lisa, what were you thinking?
Still some way from home. Even if I take the shortcut up the sand track it's still 20 minutes.
Wind's getting stronger now. It's warmer if I hug my arms across the front of this cotton dress.
"Oww!" Sand in the face. That stings.
This is getting bloody unpleasant. Who would come for a walk on the beach in these conditions?
Oh dear; now my hair's all across my face. Can't see where I'm going. Push it aside, but now cold on my chest. I'm not going to win this battle with nature.
Get the sandals off so I can walk faster on the sand. Got to escape this bloody beach.
What's that? A figure; off in the distance; through the sea spray.
Coming toward me... I think? Another fool lured to the water by the hint of early spring. At least I'm not the only person on the beach in this weather.
It's a man. I can tell by the way he walks. Striding out. I'll know him for sure. This village is too small.
Oh no, wind up the dress. Push it back in place and... Ohhh; another blast of sand in the face.
Jesus; that's embarrassing. Underdressed and showing off too much leg; with some man striding toward me. Who is it anyway? Can't tell through the sand and sea spray.
Oh know; it's Maynard. Shit!
Maynard's nice; but not him; not now. I need to look better. Don't stutter and appear too shy. Make a good showing Lisa.
He's waving and well dressed for the conditions. Walking shoes, pants and thick jacket.
Relax, smile. No problem here. He won't notice.
"Hi Maynard."
"Lisa; what are you doing out in this? You look like you're off on a picnic."
Walk quickly too him. He's nice, he'll protect me.
"You look like you're struggling a bit Leese."
"No; I'm all right. Not far to go now."
Move to leeward of him; get protection from the elements.
"I don't think you're all right at all. You're shivering. Are you going up the sand track? I could walk you there if you want."
Oh nice. Maynard will walk me off the beach. Just the offer I'd expect, but can't seem too pathetic.
"No I'll be ok; really. Please; you must keep on. Don't cut your walk short for my sake."
"But I'm happy to cut it short for your sake Lisa. You look real cold. You're so slender; no padding. Here let me..."
Hmmm; 'slender'. Is that a compliment? Is slender good?
Reaching out and... Oh; rubbing my cold arms.
Oh my God; Maynard's touching my arms.
"You're freezing cold. I'll tell you what; I must at the least lend you my jacket."
"No, no, I'm OK; really."
Just keep rubbing the arms. That'll do just nicely thanks. I'm getting warmer.
Oh shit, too late; the jackets off. Now he's standing there in his woollen shirt.
"Here you must take it. I'm walking to the Point with the wind at my back. When I get there I leave the beach and come back through the village. I'll be fine; really."
Oh you gallant man.
"Well, if you're sure."
"Absolutely! You take it and get off the beach as soon as you can. I'll call by and pick it up on my way back."
"Ok! Thanks Maynard. I'm lucky you came along."
"Nah; you'd have made it OK. Just got a bit cold that's all."
More rubbing. Just one arm this time.
Mmm! That feels nice. Maybe we could just stay here a while; touching. Don't put the jacket on too quickly.
"Hurry up; put it on. I'll see you in about 40 minutes."
"Ok, see you then. Thanks so much Maynard."
Shut up you stupid woman. Thanking him too much; sounding like a drippy teenager.
He's gone. Into the swirling sand and sea mist. Heading for the point at the end of the beach. My shelter's gone. Wrap the jacket tight. Head down into the wind.
This is better. Warmer now. Where's that bloody track? I can never find it. They should signpost it better.
It's not easy to spot, but I've come this way before.
There it is. Just a little further.
That's a relief. Now into the sand hills.
Mmm; that's better; warmer. Thank goodness for that.
This jacket's nice and warm. There's the road. What's that odour? It's the smell of a male. Hoist it higher, up and over my nose.
Oh golly, that smells nice. A deep, earthy smell. A man's smell. Maynard's smell.
Deep breath; look around to check. It's all a bit naughty really. Is anyone watching from that house? Watching me wrapped up in Maynard's jacket. Inhaling his odour.
If they are watching I can't see them. Stuff them anyway. Too many nosey parkers in the village.
Need to stop getting high on Maynard and walk quickly up the road. Now it's too hot. I'm overdressed. Unbelievable; the difference between the beach and inland.
Hasten the pace. Maynard's coming. I need to prepare. Clean up the house; put the coffee on. Feeling a bit nervous now.
How's this going to play out? The last time he called in Ryan was home and he had his daughter with him. Today they're in school. It'll just be me and Maynard.
There's the house. Up the hill. My cosy cottage. It's tiny, but I love it.
All I can afford since the bastard left me 6 months ago. And he still lives in the village. With Charlotte; the bitch. That's embarrassing. Carrying on for a year, maybe more and I didn't know. Most others did.
She said she was sorry. That it 'just happened'. Now they're 'soul mates'.
Oh my god 'soul mates'; how corny. He was my husband and you slept with him. You bitch.
Forget about them Lisa. Maynard's coming over. A man in the house. Drinking my coffee; making small talk. Dishing out compliments. Maynard's always giving compliments.
Here we are at the blue gate. Check for Mrs Crabtree.
No sign of her watching. Thank goodness for that. A good neighbour; but what a gossip. Been here so long; knows everything about everyone. Noted Maynard's visit the last time, when he'd come to return Ryan's lost shoes.
Slip in the front door. Smell that log burner, still smouldering away; filling the house with welcoming warmth.
Good to be home safe, after that experience. What an adventure. Sandals off. Got to get ready quick, cause he can't be far away.
Shed this beautiful smelly man jacket. Get the poker and stoke that fire up. Spread those coals about. Put in a log; stoke it some more.
Now the jug on, then get presentable. How's this going to play out today. It's mid-morning. Nothing happens mid-morning. Does it?
He's been quite forward with some of his comments. A bit suggestive. Last time, while Ryan and Sophie played quietly, he spoke softly so the children couldn't hear.
"...but you look absolutely radiant Lisa. You always do. I think about you a lot..."
He thinks about me a lot. That's what he said. And now he's coming over again. Has he still been thinking about me a lot?
Open the fire door and stoke it up again. Bit too much stoking. No need to do that.