Copyright Oggbashan June 2021
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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Five years before I retired from work my wife and I had thought we had planned well for what we would do afterwards. We had sold our London house and were buying a two-bedroom bungalow in a seaside town. The proceeds from our old house meant a reduced mortgage which would be paid off six months before I retired, particularly as my wife had a part-time job in a local supermarket. We thought that by moving earlier, and I would commute for the last five years, we would be established in the new town before retirement.
But that was wrecked when my wife was killed at a bus stop by a drunk and drugged driver fleeing the police in a stolen car. Seven years later he was out of jail, but I was still in grief from my loss.
The insurance on my wife's life and the cover on the mortgage meant I owned the bungalow and had some capital. I would rather have had my wife.
Now I am retired, I like being out in the open air but I hate getting cold and wet. I had bought a small old camper van which had a dinette that converted to a narrow double bed, had a two burner gas appliance, a small sink and importantly for me, a chemical toilet. But it was small and cramped.
A local DIY store had an end-of-season sale and I bought a display pop-up garden shelter intended for use over a garden bench. It was just under six feet high. It had three sides and was open on the fourth. I had also bought a four-wheeled garden trolley.
I could load the shelter, a couple of chairs, a couple of tarpaulins, etc. on the trolley and take it to wherever I wanted to be as long as it wasn't too far and had level paths.
Today, like several other recent days, I was beside the forest lake for fishing for which I had an annual membership. I had erected my garden shelter with its back to the wind. The forecast was for bright spells with possible passing showers. Inside the shelter if there was a shower I would be dry. I had two Thermos flasks of coffee and store-bought sandwiches. I thought that a few hours of trying to fish and probably catching nothing would be nice.
The lake was rarely visited because there were better walks with views. Even if I caught no fish I could watch the wildlife and listen to the birds. I relaxed in my folding armchair and sipped some coffee.
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My line had twitched but when I hauled it in, the bait had gone. I prepared to replace it but looked at the sky as I lifted my rod. The black cloud approaching seemed to threaten more than the forecast light shower. The garden shelter wasn't a serious protection. It provided a windbreak and sunshade. It would keep out a light shower, but not proper rain.
I had a large tarpaulin. I put my rod down and covered the roof and sides of the shelter with the tarpaulin, before adding a cut-down window front curtain that had come from a wrecked gazebo. Once I had tied everything down I would be in a waterproof shelter unless there was a strong wind or a really torrential downpour.
I was wondering whether to bait my line again or whether to wait to see if the rain came first when I heard the sounds of someone crashing through the undergrowth behind the shelter. Whoever it was, was running seemingly without noticing the obstacles in their way. I stood behind the shelter and waited to see who it was in such a hurry.
A woman emerged from the trees and ran straight at me before flinging her arms around me.
"Thank goodness you are here, Geoff," she panted. "I hoped you would be."
"Why, Annette? But before you answer, come inside. It is about to rain."
I was aware I had a very curved body in my arms, very skimply dressed. Annette is a neighbour, a widow, who has been a friend for years, even before our partners died. She was wearing a cropped black Lycra sports top showing a muscular bare midriff, and pastel blue Lycra leggings that ended just below her knees. Apart from her trainers she was obviously wearing nothing else.
I unfolded one of my chairs and she sat in it. As I got out my small first air kit to attend to the cuts and scratches on her legs the rain arrived. Annette was still breathless.
"What happened? I asked again.
"I was on the way to the gym but since the rain hadn't come yet but was coming, I thought I'd do a couple of sessions on the trim trail."
The trim trail is an out and back set of pieces of exercise equipment alongside the car park. It has parallel bars etc. It is often used by people at weekends but not so often on a weekday evening.
"And?"
"There were only two cars in the car park, yours and mine. I had just done one pass along the trim trial when I saw a man watching me from inside the trees. I thought that was odd since there was no other car there, but I didn't think much of it until he started following me on the second circuit, not doing the exercises but just keeping a few yards behind me. He came closer and closer and was staring..."
"I'm not surprised, Annette. Dressed as you are, you are well worth staring at..."
"That sort of staring, from you, Geoff, I appreciate. I know you like me. But his staring was odd and I didn't like it. He was so close I didn't think I could get to my car before he reached me so I thought you might be here, and even if not, I could probably outrun him. But you are here, Geoff, and I feel safe."
I laughed.
"Annette, a pensioner like me isn't much protection. You're fitter and more muscular than I am. I'm not sure I can tackle a staring maniac."
"But you are someone else and you used to box at university."
"That was many decades ago and I wasn't particularly good even then, Annette."
"He would be unlikely to attack me with a witness who has a mobile phone. Stupidly I left mine in the car. All I have on me are my car keys.
"I can see," I said.
Outlined under the tight Lycra covering her cleavage was the shape of her car keys. I passed her the car blanket I had put as the last item on my trolley. As it was a warm day I hadn't been sure whether to bring it. Annette wrapped it around her, and I was glad that I had.
The rain, that had been pattering on the tarpaulin, became heavier and noisy.
"Whoever it was has probably gone now," I said. "Unless there is somewhere to shelter. I don't know of any and the trees wouldn't keep him dry."
"Even If he hasn't, I appreciate Geoff. I don't know anyone else who would literally put themselves at my feet to help me."
I got up and sat down in my chair. I had bathed her cuts and applied a couple of Band-Aids to the worst parts.
"I have some coffee in a Thermos, Annette. Like some?"
"Yes, please, but before the coffee? A hug?"
Every time I met Annette in the street she gave me a full body hug and a kiss which I appreciated. If she was wearing a coat she usually opened it to pull me close to her. I knew she wanted me but I had been reluctant. Was it too soon? Perhaps not. I knelt down in front of her. She took off the blanket and pulled my head against her cleavage. I winced as my nose hit the car keys.
"Oops!" Annette said. "I forgot those."
She pulled them out before heaving my head back against her. I was drowning between her breasts and being swamped by her perfume. Annette wrapped her arms around my head and held me close, so close I could barely breathe.
She relaxed her hold.
"Turn around please, Geoff."
