"So there you are Jen, you're all caught up."
I smiled sadly at her, and took another sip of coffee, as I watched her digest my news. Jennifer and I had been friends for what seemed like forever, an always platonic yet tender relationship which had seen us have many good times together; it was always good to see her, even though the opportunities to do so alone like we used to in our early youth had diminished over the years as families (for her), and work (for me) had taken up time. It wasn't that we lived very far apart, just that time seemed to have a habit of moving on more rapidly than either of us wanted these days.
We had arranged Friday as the next day where we were both free, and had gone out into the country for a lunch in a quiet pub that we used to frequent, both of us delighting in the easy company of each other that we had always enjoyed, and filling in the gaps in our lives that weren't always easy to do in other company. I'd always appreciated being able to hear a female point of view on the things I was up to or the problems I faced without there being any extra undercurrents from a "relationship", and I was fairly sure she felt the same the other way around. I can't deny I had always found her attractive though, and there was something very pleasing about being in her company and watching people around us mistaking us for a couple; a conceit I knew she shared, as she had often laughingly referred to me as her "other boyfriend" in times gone by.
"I'm sorry to hear that Tim," she said, her grey eyes softened with compassion. "It's difficult to deal with a partner who's gone downhill like that, I imagine."
"Yeah, I feel like Lady Chatterly. Only without the bloody great big house. Or garden. Or gardener; though I hasten to add I'd prefer a female one!"
She smiled, her eyes creasing at the edges with genuine mirth.
"Ah, that's my Tim! You always make me laugh!"
The veneer of humour seemed to pass though. She lowered her gaze pensively, and pushed the crumbs on her plate into a neat pile. Her eyes appeared to focus far into the distance, and a sadness crept into her voice as she continued: "I said to Colin not long ago, 'Don't expect me to look after you if you have a heart-attack'. He's never at home now, and when he is, he's barely capable of getting himself up the stairs without it looking like he's climbed Everest, thanks to all the entertaining he does with clients."
She gave the impression of being quite a tough character, but I knew her rather too well; few others would have noticed the moisture that clouded her vision briefly before she fought the tears back.
"It makes things difficult; when he's home, he's always tired in the evenings, and if I want to do anything active at the weekend, he's not able or willing to tag along. You might think you're Lady Chatterly, but at least I'm female!". She brightened and laughed gently, looking at me from the corner of her eye.
The sun chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds, and shone through the window, illuminating the side of her face, and back-lighting her hair to give her a golden halo. The coquettish look and the lighting certainly showed up how beautiful she was; the male part of my brain that was driven entirely by hormones took notice and made me think not for the first time that if Colin was still up to enjoying his wife, he was a very lucky man. I shivered, and put the thought out of my mind. Jen smiled at me impishly, and just for an embarrassed second I wondered if I had betrayed my thoughts in some way.
"Oh come on", she said, rising up and beckoning me towards the door, "lets leave the gloomy stuff behind and go for a walk round the village -- it always looks lovely in the sunshine!".
I smiled and got up with her. "Yes, lets; I could do with a walk after all that food!", I said, grateful that she hadn't appeared to be able to read my mind after all. I opened the door for her, and she passed out into the golden autumn sunlight, its warmth and softness a benediction to us both.
As we headed down the lane towards the river that flowed through the village, we talked about all the things that we had done together over the years, reliving similar moments, and remarking on the changeless nature of many of our favourite places. We came to a kissing-gate marking the boundary of the village green from the lane, and Jenny skipped into it first before turning round to face me, puckering her lips. "Come on, its traditional!", she laughed, "you don't get through without a kiss!". I walked up to her and gave her a brief but gentle kiss like I had done many times in the past; "I never thought I'd enjoy kissing another man's wife so much!", I joked, and we both laughed as we went through the gate and started to walk across the green to the pond. As we went, I felt Jen's hand slip into mine, and we swung our arms together as we continued our travel to see the ducks.
Eventually, after several times round the green and a much-needed ice-cream from the little shop, we knew we had to make our way back, though we were both reluctant to return to our respective worlds. We'd used my car to go out, and as we arrived back at Jen's place, she invited me in for a cup of tea before I had to go back. She wasn't concerned about the time, as Colin was away for a few days at a conference, and her girls were both at college.
"Well I'd love to, but I ought to get back and see how she is getting on with the new carer." I said wistfully.
