Eight years passed after I got my MEng first and some additional honours during which I worked for a few organisations before I settled with a big Dutch company. I had achieved a reputation as an expert in flow mechanics and I must have been good at it because they paid me well. I worked on dams, Oil rigs and any place where the flow of liquids and gasses needed to be controlled.
I travelled the world and screwed my way through the female population in many different countries. I had no permanent base and no responsibilities other than my job and spent most evenings somewhere in the world seated at a hotel bar. I awoke every day with a hangover but told myself that I was a social drinker, even though I drank mostly alone. The only time I eased off the booze was when I had a tricky assignment the following day.
I frequently wondered what would eventually become of me. Would I finally expire in a foreign motel where nobody spoke English and there would be no one to mourn me? Or would I finish up a lonely bachelor paying classy call girls obscene amounts of money because young chicks no longer fancied me? I had no close friends and soon lost touch with foreign acquaintances when I moved on.
Perhaps I would be sipping a Pisco Sour in a bar in Lima or a Black Balsam in Riga when my thoughts would wander back to Emma. I had never contacted her again or even been close to where she lived.
I would find myself smiling as I recalled how she would giggle helplessly at my nonsense or when she would try to cheat at backgammon if she thought I wasn't looking. Had she found herself a man? I hoped Rodney had been a disappointment. I hoped they had all been disappointments, but then I wiped away that jealous thought because I just wanted her to be happy.
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I was clinging to a metal ladder halfway up a semi-constructed water tower in the bleak bowels of Scotland. The wind was howling and the temperature was below zero. I had been brought in as a consultant and I was trying to convince the constructors that water was not going to reach the reservoir without a sufficiently powerful pump.
I had a hangover and I vaguely recalled having sex with the girl behind the bar after closing time.
My phone chirped with a text and I dragged it out with frozen fingers and stared numbly at the message.
It said simply, "Do you fancy a cup of tea?"
Back in the hotel bar I swallowed a large scotch to thaw by brain and ordered another. I stared at the phone on the counter in front of me while considering a reply.
I was baffled; why had she contacted me? Was it for a specific purpose or just for old time's sake? Perhaps she was ill, maybe even dying and wanted to say goodbye. She would be older, I was older. If it was just for a social visit did I want to be introduced to a husband as an old friend; how awkward would that be? I could think of no logical reason for her invitation.
Half a bottle later and back in my room I spent another hour agonising. I couldn't refuse, I didn't want to refuse. Eventually I decided that if it was just for old time's sake then why not? I typed, "Okay, Saturday afternoon," and just before I hit the send button I added, "Looking forward to it."
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I checked into a hotel Friday evening and headed for the bar. I ordered a large scotch and swivelled around on my stool to view the occupants. The room was full and noisy and there were three females sitting alone. One was a blonde with dangly earrings who smiled at me and was almost certainly a hooker. The other two were of no interest and probably waiting for their partners.
I swivelled back again in shame that I had even considered sex when I would be seeing Emma the next day.
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I pulled up two streets away and sat in thought. I was nervous because I was used to having everything planned and calculated for fear of flooding a city, and I was uncomfortable heading into the unknown. Right then I needed a drink and pulled the flask from the glove compartment. I had unscrewed the top and raised it to my lips when I realised that I would smell of booze if we kissed. I put the flask away again.
I started the engine and drove the short distance to her road. As I turned into it I remembered the first time that I had viewed my accommodation and how suspicious she had been. I nosed up to the closed garage door and wondered if the un-driven Jaguar was still sitting there.
After a squirt of mouth spray and a few deep breaths I climbed out and walked to the front door. From habit I reached into my pocket for the key, but that was a long time ago so I rang the bell.
It was the same soft smile and laughing eyes with neat blonde hair and trim figure. Sure she was older but it was just a later edition and still as beautiful.
"Hello Chris, it's lovely to see you again."
"Hello Emma."
She pulled me towards her with light kisses to both cheeks. Holding hands, we walked into the lounge and she said, "The tea is brewing, make yourself comfortable."
I settled into my usual chair and kicked off my shoes as I always did. The place looked the same and smelled the same. Nothing appeared to have changed. A portly Banjo wandered in and stopped dead with wide open eyes. He trotted towards me and butted my leg.
She returned and enquired, "Still four lumps?"
"Please. I can't believe that's the same teapot."
"It's the first time I've used it since you left."
I sipped my tea and said, "You are still as beautiful and sexy as ever, how do you manage it?"
"I look after myself," and she was serious when she declared, "I'd like to say the same about you but you look awful. Your face is ashen and your eyes are sunken. You even have a paunch; what the hell has happened to you?"
I sighed and answered, "When your whole world is in a suitcase and you spend days on end hanging around in boring airports, sometimes the nearest bar becomes your friend. I'm not proud of it."
I knew there must be a reason for her invitation but I decided to kick things off with, "So fill me in with the last eight years; have you found yourself a man?"
"No."
"So you're still living alone?"
