Just a few years ago, the company I had started working with just a month earlier decided to send me on a course. It was a new high-tech company, and it was a short course, which meant I'd only be away for a week. Normally, a company would book their employees into a decent hotel, but this was a new start-up company and money was tight, so they booked me into a Bed & Breakfast type boarding house for the week. I wasn't too concerned; it was just somewhere to lay my head at night. I didn't visualise myself spending much time there, I'd be far too busy all day, and had a few plans for my evenings.
My travel arrangement were made by the office secretary. Yes, you read that right, it was a small company and we had
one
secretary back then. It's grown now and we have a whole secretarial department these days, but as I said, it was early days. Anyway, she had booked me into the B&B, but the travel arrangements meant I'd have to take the Saturday train. The course was being held in a small town with just one train every day, which didn't arrive until the afternoon, too late for the course which started at 9am on Monday, and there was no Sunday train.
I didn't relish spending Saturday and Sunday in a small town with nothing to do, but there was no other option, so I loaded my 'Kindle,' reader with a few books I'd been meaning to read, but never had the time to read before now. Hopefully, I'd find some other distraction, but that was my fall-back position.
To cut the proverbial long story short, I arrived about 2pm on the Saturday afternoon and tried to get a taxi from the station, but the only cabbie there refused to take me. I was most indignant, until he pointed up a street across from the station.
'Sorry,' he said, and by way of explanation offered, 'it's only a few hundred yards up that street. I'll easily take you, but there is a minimum fare programmed into the taxi meter, and it doesn't seem right to take advantage of you like that. You haven't got much in the way of luggage and you look, young, fit and healthy. (I was twenty eight at the time) It's a nice afternoon, you'll enjoy the walk.' I thanked him, it's not often you come across a decent sort of guy like that, he could have just taken me in his cab, and charged me the going rate, for what was a very short journey.
So, I walked the few hundred yards, looking for the B&B, and eventually found it. The house was quite a large older house, built on a raised site on the corner. I rang the doorbell and eventually the door was opened by a very attractive woman in her 40's, who gave me quite a nice smile, and invited me in. Despite its older external appearance, the interior was modern, and well lit, while retaining some of its old world, comfortable charm.
After a few preliminaries, filling in my details, etc, she showed me upstairs, along a short corridor, and unlocked the door. She opened the door with a flourish, and showed me in. It was a good sized room, bright and airy, well decorated, with a double bed, built in wardrobes/closet, an easy chair, and a few other items of furniture.
'The bathroom is right across the corridor,' she explained adding, 'these older buildings weren't designed for en suite bathrooms, but it's late in the year and the tourist, "season," is over, you are the only guest I have at the moment, so to all intents and purposes, it yours for the week.' I thanked her, and she asked me if I would need an evening meal, but I told her I intended going out later, so perhaps some other night if it was convenient for her I added. She smiled and assured me it wouldn't be any inconvenience, and she left me to unpack.
I sat on the bed, testing it. It was firm, but comfortable, which was good. I don't like beds that are so soft they feel like a giant marshmallow. I opened the wardrobe and hung up the two suits I'd brought with me, and my shirts. The socks and underpants went into the drawers built into the wardrobe, all very compact and utilitarian.
There was a light knock on the door and I called out to the landlady to come in, and the door opened. It wasn't the landlady; it was a lovely young woman who looked to be about twenty five or thereabouts. She was carrying some white, fluffy towels, and she blushed as I looked at her, obviously very shy.
'Mother forgot to leave towels for you,' she mumbled, looking down at the floor, not meeting my eyes at all. Very shy!
'Thank you,' I said, 'that's very kind of you,' and I took the towels from her hand. She turned to leave but I delayed her. 'Hold on just a moment,' I said, 'I'm going to be here for a week, won't you tell me your name?' She never looked up, but I could see she had a really pretty face, with very regular features, a small straight nose, and very nice mouth. She was about five foot six or seven, very slim, with nice shapely legs and trim ankles almost hidden by her longish skirt. Her hair was shoulder length, straight, no sign of a wave or curl, and quite dark.
'I'm Rachael,' she said, almost a whisper, and turning away again, she slipped out of the door, closing it silently behind her. I remember thinking she was a bit special. She had everything, a lovely face, great figure, but so understated and self-contained as to be almost invisible. I determined to try and take her out of her shell.
After I got settled in I decided to explore the main part of the town centre. There were a couple of interesting looking restaurants and some pubs, so I had a look around familiarising myself with the centre of the town and a couple of the secondary streets too. I had also made a note of the address where the course was being held and discovered it was just a few streets away. That was handy because I could walk everywhere, so thank god for small, compact towns centres I thought.
I strolled around aimlessly for a while, it was a very pleasant evening, and I discovered a public park and gardens, well laid out and landscaped just off the town centre. People were strolling in the evening sunlight, kids on bikes, mothers with smaller children in strollers, young couples hand in hand. It seemed a very popular park.
Returning to the main street I found a place to eat and had a very pleasant meal, although it would have been even more pleasant with someone nice to share it with. For some strange reason the landlady's daughter, Rachael, came into my mind, but I dismissed that with a wry smile to myself.
'Dream on,'
I told myself.
'It would probably take me a month to get her to look at me directly and get a smile out of her.'