Gail and Andrew were the young couple who lived next door to me. They moved in a couple of years back, shortly after they got married. A friendly couple, they got on well with all the neighbours, even me, which probably surprised some of our other neighbours as I can be a bit of a bastard at times. I've never been one to suffer fools gladly.
Andrew wasn't particularly noticeable, being an average sort of guy. It seemed to me that the longer I knew him the more he seemed to just fade into the background as part of the scenery. He must have been reasonably intelligent as I never noticed him doing anything asinine, which is more than can be said for certain other people.
Gail initially struck me as average. She had quite good looks and a nice figure but didn't really seem to stand out any more than he did. The difference was that the longer you knew her the more she stood out, becoming noticeable even in a crowd. I don't know if it was her personality or what, but she certainly had some sort of slow working charisma.
If I was out the front or down the street and we ran into each other she would always stop for a chat, with a bit of mild flirting going on between us. I'm not being full of myself when I say that women tend to find me attractive and she was no exception. One big difference was that women tend to shy away after a while, especially when they come up against my abrasive side. My attitude to that was, who cares? They weren't going to change their personalities to suit me so why should I change mine? Gail, on the other hand, didn't seem to bring out that abrasive side and so we continued to get on quite well.
One day I was chatting to Gail and she mentioned that it was her birthday the next day.
"Yeah? I'll bake you a cake," I told her. "How many candles do you want?"
"You do that," she said with a laugh, "but skip the candles."
I could tell that she didn't really think that I'd actually bake a cake but I did. I am a very good amateur chef, my cakes and pies being second to none. (In my humble opinion, but that was the one that counted where my baking was concerned.)
I whipped up a sponge, a sponge so light and fluffy that if I hadn't iced it, it would have floated away. The next day I waited until I knew Gail was out and delivered the cake to Andrew, telling him Gail was expecting it.
The next day was a Saturday and in the afternoon Gail came over to see me, carrying my platter and cover. I'd spotted her coming and left the front door open, so when she knocked I just yelled at her to come on through. She wandered down to the kitchen and placed the platter on the kitchen table. I was amused to see that there was still a slice of cake on the platter. A very small slice.
"It was a lovely cake," she told me. "As you can see we kept you a slice. I thought it would be a pity if you couldn't at least have a taste of it. Where'd you buy it? I didn't know there were any good cake shops around here."
"Buy it? Bite your tongue, woman. I wouldn't demean myself by going out and buying an inferior product. That cake was made by my own lily-white hands. I take it you approved?"
"It was marvellous but you're kidding, aren't you? Men don't bake cakes like that."
"That's a sexist statement," I protested. "I'm a superb pâtissier. Brandy snaps are my specialty."
"I thought you were a carpenter."
"That I am, and a good one," I acknowledged, always ready to admit how superb I was. "Baking is a hobby. After explaining to a customer exactly why he is an idiot without offending him as I don't want to lose the contract I tend to come home and bake something, safe in the knowledge that a cake is not going to argue with me."
"What sort of idiotic requests does a carpenter get?" she asked. "I'd have thought carpentry was quite straight forward. Please build this or that."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you? How about asking me to build a large dresser, and I mean large, to be installed against a wall at the far end of a room. The dresser went from floor to ceiling and stretched from wall to wall. It included a mirror and glass shelves in the centre with glass faced doors for the cupboards and about a dozen drawers. It was a beautiful piece and I was very proud of it. No sooner had I finished than the customer announced that his landlord wasn't renewing the lease and he had to move. What was the best way to move his nice new dresser?"
"How do you move it? You'd need to be very careful with it, wouldn't you?"
"The short answer is, you don't. No way, no how. Not without cutting a hole in the wall to slide it through. You'd then have to cut a hole in the wall of wherever he moves to, to get it in. He didn't want to pay me if he couldn't take it with him."
"Couldn't you just take it apart and reassemble it elsewhere? I know I can do that with some of my stuff."
"That is cheap, mass-produced junk," I said dismissively. "This was a hand-made work of art without a single nail or screw in the whole unit. All joins were tongue in groove and glued. The only way to take it apart would be with a chainsaw. I had a couple of very polite discussions with the man before he eventually paid me. Then I came home and baked enough cakes and pastries to feed the old people's home."
"What did you do with them?" Gail asked, sounding mightily amused.
"I just told you. I gave them to the old people's home for their Sunday dinner. They were much appreciated."
Gail laughed. "You're not the old grouch that some people say, are you?"
"I'll deny the old. I've only recently turned thirty. The grouch? It depends on who I'm talking to. It serves to scare away idiots." I smiled at the thought of one neighbour who scrupulously avoided me.
"Well, I suppose I'd better get going and leave you to do some more baking," Gail said.
I tilted my head slight while I gave her the once over. She was wearing bright yellow yoga-pants that looked as though they'd been put on with a paint brush. Her top was a kind of pink that should have clashed with those pants but didn't. Damned if I know how women can pick colours that clash and still make them seem reasonable. One other thing that I'd already noticed was that Gail had a tendency to talk with her hands. While talking today I'd been admiring the way her breasts bounced and swayed under her top, a strong indication that they weren't being constrained by anything. I wondered just how shapely they were.
"Before you go," I said, "I want you."
She blushed and looked a little flustered. I also saw her eyes flick down to check out the size of my package.
