Honey, Cinnamon, Lemons Ch. 01-08

Yes, that was more like it. One of them at least. He had managed to get her beauty, and some of her character, too. There was a hint of wickedness in the eyes, but only a hint, not like the girl on his painting room door, and not like the crude colour sketches he'd done, which he'd not shown her. He smiled at her image, and then kissed it. Kissed it as a loving grandfather, not as a sexual admirer.

The doorbell rang.

He glanced at the clock and saw the time, then leapt out of bed. Bloody hell, he must have forgotten to set the alarm!

His dressing-gown wouldn't go on properly, but his chest was decently covered enough to open the front window and call down to her.

'Overslept, sorry, I'll be right down.'

He scuttled downstairs, nearly tripping on the dangerous step halfway down, and opened the door.

'I'm so sorry, you must think I'm a lazy so-and-so, but I messed up the alarm. I was working late and got tired. Come on in.'

As he walked up the stairs in front of her he felt cool air around the back of his thighs. What was going on?

'Don't worry James, I don't mind in the least. Sort of thing I do all the time. You go and make yourself decent, while I get ready for you.'

He hurried upstairs to the bathroom and went to take off his dressing-gown for a shower, but something was wrong. He craned round to look at himself from the back in the mirror and saw that his dressing-gown hem was caught in the belt and that he was showing an awful lot of hairy thigh and leg. His bottom was still covered, thank god, but he wondered what on earth he must have looked like going up the stairs in front of her. Oh well, what the hell? He did his morning routine as quickly as he could, splashed on some aftershave, and again sprayed the air-freshener everywhere, including his trouser seat.

'Oh, that's much more respectable! I didn't know where to look! Larf, I could have wet meself!'

'Sorry; now you've seen me at my best and worst.'

'That's good! Shall we get stuck in then?'

'Yep! This way, please, miss.'

'How do you want me? Listen, I'd be happy to pose in my bra if you like. I can tell you're a good man, so I wouldn't mind that for you.'

'No, no, Polly, I don't want you to do that. I think you're trying to be kind, but I don't want to look at you in any way other than as a good person that I'm fond of. And I want to paint you, not your thingies.'

'But you drew that girl there on the door. You're obviously not exactly gay! Why've you taken it down?'

'No I'm not gay. But it's different. She was just an image, but you are a person, not a sex object for me.'

'You know how to flatter a girl!'

'Listen young woman, you are very beautiful and . . . attractive . . . definitely! But I can't...um...pay you...um...attentions. I can't explain why, but there it is. Please accept my admiration and...um...affection, but...you are married, you know! I'll explain things better when I can, but for now we've got work to do.'

'I'm sorry. But I do like you and actually find you attractive. Probably because I didn't have a dad. I know, 'cos I've read all about that sort of thing. I'll not pester you, honest. I know it can lead to pain and I should have known better.'

'Well, let's do some work then shall we? I've put the chair in the same place. I know it's boring, but if you could put up with it for a bit longer... I'll try to chatter a bit if you like, but I need to concentrate, so I might be a bit grunty!'

He frowned and stared intently, then started to outline her head on a sheet of sketch paper.

'Why are you divorced?'

'Hmmm? Oh, sometimes things just don't work out.'

'Yes, I know. I had a lover a couple of years ago.'

'Oh...'

'But we lost each other.' She sniffed.

'Oh dear...'

'I thought we were going to stay friends but he just... disappeared.'

'Ah...'

'It broke my heart, really.' She bit her bottom lip.

'I don't understand it. We were even going to be platonic friends, to avoid the complications of life, but he left and never came back.' She sniffed again, a rather squelchy sniff.

He stopped drawing. 'Polly, take this tissue and have a break. You're getting upset.'

'Well, you don't talk or ask about me, you just stare at me with your hawk eyes, analysing me without affection! I wanted to talk to you since I first saw you. There are things I need to talk about and can't, not with anybody, not even my husband! Oh!'

To his horror she burst into tears and flung herself to her knees at his feet and buried her head in his lap, sobbing violently. He wished he'd sprayed air freshener on his crotch, but it was too late. He could feel the warmth of her breath and her tears penetrating his zip and into his underpants. He couldn't imagine what the atmosphere down there must be like. How were women always so fragrant, especially with the bodily things they had to put up with? He patted her hair gingerly.

'There, there, Pretty Polly, don't cry. It'll all work out in the end.'

She leapt up and stamped across the room away from him, and he stood up just as she turned to him and shouted.

'How dare you compare me to a parrot! Oh god, I hate my name; I've had that thrown in my face before, by him! And now, you!'

'I'm so sorry...'

She suddenly went limp like a punctured balloon, and a long despairing sigh escaped her. She approached him and reached to take his hands, still clutching her wet tissue.

'No, It's me that should be sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you, but I'm so miserable. Not depressed, that's too glamorous a word, but just bloody miserable.'

He was too terrified to say anything, in case it set her off sobbing again, but he tried to look understanding and sympathetic, pursing his lips and frowning wisely with lowered head, but found himself looking at her breasts and so quickly adjusted his line of sight to focus on her left ear.

She leaned sideways and looked him in the eyes, pulled herself together and forced a smile. Her black eye make-up was all down her cheeks and her lips were smeared and puffy like a sulky child. He was stricken to the heart but didn't know what to do. She lowered her head dejectedly, then suddenly let go of his hands and burst out laughing.

'Oh, cheer up you noodle! You look like the canary that got swallowed up by the cat! Look at the state of your trousers!'

He looked down and saw black and vermilion smears over his flies, and a wet patch. She made as if to come at him with her tissue, but he leaped back.

'No! Don't worry, I'll pop them in the wash.' He in his turn tried to smile, but wasn't used to putting on an expression that didn't reflect his true feelings.

'That's better! It's not the end of the world! Worse things happen at sea!' Her words were familiar to him and he knew she was quoting something her gran had said, something from his own era. He managed to smile properly.

She came to him and gave him a hug around his chest, her ear pressed to his heart and her hair tickling his chin. He stood there awkwardly with his hands raised, nearly put them on her bum in an automatic reaction, but instead patted her on the shoulders and held her away from him as though he wanted to gaze fondly at her face; then realised that that was exactly what he did want to do. He dared to kiss her gently on the forehead and chucked her chin.

'Shall we carry on with our little session? I do really want to make the most of our short time together.'

Her face clouded again as though she were reminded of words she had heard before in painful circumstances, and he remembered saying similar things two years ago in a different context. Then she perked up.

'Let's go out to lunch. I'll treat you. I've got loads of money this trip. Come on, noodle, I could murder a pizza! But first I need to visit the bathroom to wipe the mess off my face.' When she reappeared, she looked different, younger, and he couldn't work out why.

#

She insisted that they go to the downstairs pizza restaurant, which worried him a bit as he didn't get on very well with the two brothers who owned it, because of a running dispute about the rubbish they left out every Wednesday night near his front door. The place was called Star Pizza, and its internal décor was dominated by large photos and posters of old film stars. They chose a table for two half-way down the restaurant, and he politely let her sit facing the room, leaving himself confronted by a huge image of a beautifully made-up Lauren Bacall, who was rather blatantly trying to seduce him with her eyes: he glanced down at Polly and realised that she was looking younger because she wasn't wearing any make-up.

As soon as they were settled, she excused herself and popped to the ladies. As she walked towards the back of the restaurant, Antonio, the elder and slightly nicer brother, followed her retreating bottom with appreciative Italian eyes. He spoke good English, but with a pronounced Italian accent.

'Well well, Mr Bumfilled, you've not been in for quite a while! And you brought a little friend, too. Perhaps you make me rich after all if you bring your girls here. Hahaha!'

'She's not a little friend, Mr Bontempelli, she's a...relation. And you mustn't call me Mr Bloomfield, you should call me Jim.'

'Tim! That's nice. Nice and friendly. Call me Antonio.'

'No, Jim! It's Jim!'

'Oh OK, Jim,' and Mr Bontempelli winked.

Polly reappeared, freshly made up, perhaps inspired by Lauren, and Mr Bontempelli ceremoniously helped her with her chair and beamed at her.

'Aaaaaw, you're lovely now, like one of my film stars! I just told Tim to call me Antonio, it's nice and friendly!'

'And I'm Polly.'

'And I'm Jim!'

'Oh, sorry, Jim. I leave you two alone together now and come back when you have chosen. I keep my eye on you, but don't rush.'

'Aaaaaw, he's so sweet!'

'Hmmmm. Anyway, what shall we have?'

'Oh James, I'm sorry for shouting at you. I'm on my period and I get a bit funny with that sometimes.'

He stared down at the menu, blushing fiercely.

'Oh that's alright.'

'My period was late...'

'Everything OK? You like a drink while you choose?'

'No thank you, Mr Bontempelli... Antonio. You can leave us for a minute or two.'

'Oh, I'd like some fizzy water please.'

'One fizzy water for the lovely signorina Polly!'

He bustled off.

'So, late. That's good! Or is it? Or would it have been? You said you wanted a baby?'

'Yes, but only when he'll let me. I was really worried that I might be pregnant.'

'An here's your fizzy water, bellissima!'

'And no probs, Mr... Jim! We are very confidential restaurant and always treat valid customers with discretion!' He retreated tactfully.

'What on earth was he talking about?'

'Well, I think he was talking about what you were talking about. Late periods and stuff. God knows what he thinks!'

'Oh, fuck what he thinks. I'll never see him again anyway, so it doesn't matter what silly ideas he gets!'

'No, but I live upstairs.'

She looked crestfallen.

'Sorry. I am thoughtless sometimes.'

'Oh sod him! You're quite right, what do we care?'

They chose and ordered pizzas without any further mishaps. When hers arrived, she made Mr Bontempelli cut it into wedges so she could eat with her fingers. Mr B sprayed cinders of black pepper with a long wooden grinder: they both declined chilli-flavoured oil, each for their own reason.

'James, can I talk to you properly now?'

He looked anxiously round the room, but Mr Bontempelli was safely behind the bar breathing into glasses and polishing them. Lauren was there, of course, but he knew she wouldn't mind hearing any intimacies.

'Yes of course.'

'I don't know where to start, but I'm not what you think I am.'

'Oh?'

'I am...well, a couple of years ago I started visiting a chatroom. I was having a hard time in my life; my Gran was sick in a care home, and I wasn't getting on well with my personal life — my boyfriend really — and before that a girl.'

'Oh I see...'

'No you don't, but I need to talk about it and you're all I've got. An experienced older man who understands all about women, and life, and love, and human nature, and is completely kind and forgiving and wise.'

'Well, I wouldn't say that — '

'I found an older man online — Tim — and I knew straight away that I was going to be in love with him. Nearly straight away. His nick was Whoremaster! He was so sweet and hot, but he didn't want to play with me. Playing...well it means talking sex really and both touching and stuff. Am I shocking you?'

'No, of course not. You're only human, young and full of life and —'

'That's exactly it! I knew you'd understand. Well, he didn't want to play with me because he said I was too young and he was too old. He was s'posed to be 56 but I knew he was older than that and it didn't matter at all to me 'cos he was so sweet and experienced and I wanted to learn from him. And the more he didn't want to play, the more I realised that he was just what I'd been looking for! He cared about me and my feelings and didn't just want to play or meet me for a no-questions fuck!'

He glanced around anxiously, but there was no-one within earshot, so long as she didn't raise her voice any higher. He could swear that Lauren's smile had broadened and that her eyebrows had raised a fraction.

'And then I let him seduce me. Online only, not for real. And he was so sweet and loving and sexy, he used to sweet-talk me with the most beautiful words and he knew about real women too, like periods and stuff, but he didn't mind even that, unlike my bloody boyfriend! He said I smelt of honey and cinnamon and lemons. And he tried to turn me bi and have threesomes and bondage and we pretended and it was so beautiful. And he taught me what men really wanted and sucking techniques and bums and stuff. But I had never come before and it was ages before he got his wicked way and made me, at least a week!' She paused for breath and he wondered if he should say something.

'And my Gran got worse and then died, and he comforted me with sex. Not many men would have realised that it was just what I needed, but he was so sensitive and understanding to me and he made me come one day with his dirty talk. He was so naughty but I didn't mind and I let him have his wicked way and he pretended he was making me pregnant to excite me, and he liked filthy talk too, and I loved it! That was such a noble thing for him to do, wasn't it?'

'Everything OK? More water young lady, to cool you down on this lovely day?'

Mr Bontempelli patted her on the shoulder and made a movement with his hand that only Tim could see, as though wiping sweat from his brow, and pursed his lips.

'No thank you, Antonio. You are so sweet.'

'Yes, er, Antonio, everything is fine, if you could just leave us to relax and digest your delicious food.'

'OK I go and leave you to finish your private talk.'

'And then, something awful happened. I found out that he was my granddad! You see my grandad left my Gran when she was pregnant, but he didn't know that, and then my Gran wouldn't see him again because he was an artist and she didn't want to tie him down, and so she had my mum and brought her up on her own. And then my mum had me and then killed herself when I was little and I grew up with Gran. Sorry I bet you can't make head or tail.'

'I can. I understand what you're telling me.'

'And silly grandad tried to fob me off pretending he was a pervert grooming young girls and I should hate him and we shouldn't chat any more but I didn't believe him, I knew he was pretending, and he owned up he was my grandad and had only just found out and he'd wanted me to hate him so's I'd get over the separation easier, so he said he was a perve. I was devastated. He didn't want to play any more and it broke my heart. I told him I wanted to stay friends even without the sexy chat, but he just disappeared one day and didn't come back to the chatroom. I think he was doing it for my own good.'

'Oh, he just disappeared? Had you told him that you thought he might really be a pervert after all?'

'No. I knew he was a good man and we agreed that we would be platonic friends and we arranged to wait a couple of days and have a final chat on a Friday afternoon to confirm it all and decide our future and so we chatted on Friday and I said I stood by my words that I'd already told him about staying friends, but after that chat he never came back.'

'Now I am getting confused. Did you ever...lose your temper and shout at him or anything and tell him you hated him, and that might have put him off?'

'No I would never do that! I loved him!'

'And what happened?'

'Nothing. I waited for him on the site every day for weeks, but he never came back. I changed my name to seekingmaster but he never replied, just dirty old men who made me feel sick! Sorry, I don't mean like you!'

'Oh my god, you poor, poor girl!'

'And he might be dead or anything! Or he might have really been a pervert. But he knew secret things about Gran because they were lovers, so he must have really been my grandad! I mean she had a little beauty spot on her cheek and he knew about it and I never told him!'

'Oh.'

'Jim, are you alright? Have I disgusted you and put you off me? Are you crying? What's up?'

'Nothing, I'm not crying. You haven't put me off you, not at all. It's just such a sad story. It sounds as though there might have been some misunderstanding between you two. It's tragic.'

'Well. We mustn't live in the past! I've got you now, haven't I?'

'Well, I'm not sure...'

'An now to help you digest, a digestif! Limoncello on the house! Help you relax for a nice siesta.'

Mr Bontempelli proudly placed a glass of yellow liquid before each of them and then retired tactfully with a knowing wink at Tim. Lauren seemed to wink, too.

'Ooooh, lovely! What's that?'

'Oh, it's a lemon-flavoured liqueur. Quite delicious really, but I'm not too sure about the glasses.'

He told her about Mr Bontempelli's way of polishing them and she laughed.

'Well if you're fussy, put them both into my water glass.'

She poured them both into her glass and then knocked back half of it, shuddered with pleasure and held out the rest to him.

'Actually I might fall asleep if I have any. Not used to drinking in the afternoon.'

'Well I'll have it then, it's delicious!'

She knocked back the rest, and looked at him knowingly.

'Let's go for that siesta then.'

When Mr Bontempelli came with the bill, she insisted on paying herself in cash because she was, she said, rolling in money at the moment and wanted to treat Jim for being so nice, kind and helpful at a difficult time for her. Mr Bontempelli winked at Tim again. God knew what he was thinking!

While Mr Bontempelli and Polly sorted out the bill at the bar, Tim stood with them looking at the diners, whose numbers had increased since they had arrived. He thought he got some funny looks, and hoped they had not heard too much of their conversation. He turned back to the bar, and surreptitiously checked to see that his flies were zipped: he was horrified to see the black and vermilion smears, which matched Polly's makeup exactly. He let her precede him out of the restaurant, staying very close behind her like a pervert.

He made her go first up the stairs, in case she tottered, which she did, of course, and he had to grab her hips to steady her. When they got to the living room, she sunk onto the sofa with a sigh and patted the cushion beside her.

'Come here you and be my grandad and give me a cuddle.' Then she curled up on her side and fell fast asleep and started to snore. As she relaxed into sleep, she farted softly, briefly, but raspily.

He brought his outdoor sketching book in and started to draw her asleep. A folded sheet of paper fell out from the pages, and he picked it up: there was crude handwriting on one side.