The Lady Next Door Ch. 01

'That would be lovely, thank you. I'll just put the wine in my hall.'

The lamb casserole was delicious, full of fresh herbs and with a rich, thick gravy. The wine was nice too, it was one of the bottles from my case, a Chateauneuf-du-Pape. I wondered if the rest of the case was of the same quality. If so it must have cost her a fortune. She refused to let me help with the clearing up so I sat in her front room, surrounded by packing cases, sipping wine and thinking how nice it was to have a good neighbour that I got on with. She joined me a few minutes later, moving some plastic bags of clothes from an easy chair to sit down. 'I'll get organised eventually,' she sighed. 'No wonder people say moving house is the most stressful thing after death and divorce.'

'How would you like to go for a walk next weekend?' The words were out of my mouth almost before I'd realised I was going to say it. 'If you're unpacked by then of course... We could do a walk from out the back and have lunch at the Three Horseshoes.'

Alice gave me one of her heart-warming smiles. 'If I'm unpacked by then that would be lovely. And if I'm not unpacked I'll need a break anyway, so yes, thank you, I'd love to!' I finished my wine and made my excuses. I'd have loved to have stayed and finished the bottle with her but I had a conference call with our North American office at nine pm so I stood up and went to the front door and said my goodbyes.

'Next Saturday then?'

'I'll look forward to it, Paul.' On an impulse, I leaned down slightly and kissed her cheek. It was warm and soft and when I straightened up I saw that she was blushing. It made her look rather pretty.

'And thanks again for the wine.'

'Oh, you're very welcome!'

I didn't see my neighbour for the rest of the week, mainly because I left home before it was light each day and returned well after it was dark -- dad was a hard taskmaster -- but at ten o'clock sharp on the Saturday morning there was a knock at my door and Alice was standing there in walking gear with a small knapsack on her back and that sou'wester on her head. 'I'll meet you round the back,' I said. She was waiting in the garden when I came out of my conservatory door and I led the way to the stile at the end of the garden that gave onto the bridlepath.

We walked and talked for over two hours that morning but it might have been only half an hour the way the time seemed to pass. Alice was just such lovely company. She didn't have a huge amount to say about herself but when I probed she told me about her early years in Kent and her time at university and her marriage and her daughter, Stephanie. And she asked me about being a solicitor and was that different to a barrister and what sort of legal things I did. The weather stayed dry, although the air was damp and the paths were miry, but we hardly noticed anyway. Stopping for a flask of coffee on a grassy knoll that looked out over miles of fields and dark, winter woodland, she suddenly said: 'It's my birthday today and this is the nicest thing that's happened!'

'Well Happy Birthday!' I said, taking the opportunity to kiss her cheek again. 'Is your daughter coming over to see you?'

Alice grimaced. 'No. She's on a sabbatical in Edinburgh. She did phone me this morning though, and she sent me a card.'

'So what are you doing this evening?'

'Well, nothing, really.'

'Right,' I said, decisively, 'we're going out for a meal.'

'Oh Paul, that's very sweet but it's really not necessary...'

'There's a place near Abingdon. I know the owner so he'll save us a table. You'll like it. It's quiet and the food's good and it's only twenty minutes in the car.'

'Are you sure, Paul?'

'Absolutely!'

'Oh, that's ever so nice of you. What shall I wear?'

'Well I'll wear a shirt and jacket so...' I shrugged, 'a dress I suppose. Whatever you feel comfortable in.'

We had a quick lunch at the Three Horseshoes and went straight home. Alice was nervous that she wouldn't be able to find a suitable dress in all the suitcases and bags and boxes so I left her to it and called Rick at the Golden Hind in Abingdon. Then I sat down and thought about what I'd done, which was effectively to ask my middle-aged neighbour out on a date, though I hoped she didn't see it that way. After a bit more thought I drove into town and got some flowers and a card before the shops shut.

Alice knocked on my door at seven o'clock and I opened it and gave her the birthday card and the flowers. I was a bit thrown when tears suddenly filled her eyes. 'Are you alright?'

She wiped her eyes with a hand and smudged her mascara. She was wearing make-up, the first time I'd really noticed, and it made a difference. Her face looked fuller and softer, her eyes huge and she was wearing a red lipstick that highlighted her already marvellous mouth. 'Yes, I'm fine, just being silly. I'll go and put these in water and repair my make-up.'

If the landlord of the Golden Hind was surprised when he saw my dinner companion he didn't show it and I was grateful for both of us. I suppose a man in his position sees all sorts of odd things and anyway, I could have been out with my mother. He showed us to a table in the corner of the main restaurant, took a drinks order and left us to look at the menus. He also took Alice's raincoat. Underneath she was wearing a simple, black, knee-length dress with mid-length sleeves and a square neckline. Below that she was wearing black tights, or stockings, and black court shoes. The dress was quite tight fitting and revealed that she had in fact got a bosom, although it was small and neat. Her legs were nicer than I'd been expecting, too. Very slim but with well-defined calf muscles and shapely ankles.

'You look lovely, Alice,' I said as she took the chair opposite me. 'That's a really nice dress.'

'Thank you. It took me ages to find it. I haven't worn it for years. I did wonder whether it would still fit.'

'It's perfect,' I said, truthfully, a little taken aback. It was the same rather plain Alice, just in a dress and make-up, but she seemed to be having an extraordinary effect on me. I took a grip of myself and we chatted easily until the food came. After dessert Rick appeared with a little birthday cake; I'd mentioned on the phone that it was my guest's birthday. He and I sang "Happy Birthday" and some of the other diners joined in and Alice blushed and smiled shyly and afterwards seemed keen to get out of the place. 'I hope I didn't embarrass you back there,' I said, in the car.

'No, of course not.' She paused. 'Well, perhaps a little. I'm not really much of a party person. But I did enjoy the evening. It's been the nicest birthday I've had for years.'

I parked in front of my garage and we got out of the car and there was another of those slightly awkward moments as we both wondered whether to invite the other in for coffee. In the end Alice asked me to come in but I said: 'come round to mine. You haven't seen my place yet, and I've got some fresh coffee beans.'

I showed her round my house, telling her about the little trials and tribulations I'd had with each room and she laughed at my stories and admired my handiwork and said I had good taste. She watched me grind the coffee beans in the kitchen and we took our mugs into my conservatory, chosen by me over the front room because there was only one settee in it and we'd both have to sit on it. Outside the clouds had cleared and the sky was a mass of stars, unpolluted by light from any town.

'It's beautiful,' she said, gazing through the glass roof. 'Do you use that much?' she asked, nodding at my telescope, an eight-inch reflector.

'Quite a bit. The darkness is one of the reasons I moved here. Here, let me show you Saturn. We'll get a good view of it tonight. I stood up and went over to the telescope and found Saturn hanging in the sky, its rings clearly visible. She came over and peered into the eyepiece.

'Wow! It looks so close!' She was close too, almost touching me and I could smell her scent, a light fragrance like roses. We sat down again and she asked me about my astronomy and we chatted and the time flew by again. Eventually she looked at her watch and gave a little startled cry. 'Goodness, it's after one. She stood up and insisted on taking her mug and putting it in the sink and then I showed her to the door. In the hall she slipped on her raincoat and turned to me. 'Thank you so much for today,' she said simply. 'I've had a wonderful time.'

'So have I,' I said, with sincerity. Then there was another awkward pause as we looked at each other. I reached out for her slowly and she took a half-pace towards me and I put my arms around her and lowered my face to hers and she turned her face up to mine, a little hesitantly, and our lips touched for the first time. I kissed her slowly, and gently and tenderly, resisting the temptation to put my tongue in her mouth or mash her lovely lips against mine. After a minute or so of this exquisite intimacy, I felt her lips open slightly and I slipped the tip of my tongue inside her mouth. Her tongue responded, briefly, then she broke the kiss. But she didn't break away from me; instead she put her head on my shoulder and sighed.

'I haven't been kissed like that for a long time.' I waited, but she didn't say anything else and after holding her for a bit longer I released her and she opened the door and said goodnight. I said goodnight too and she surprised me again by darting forward and kissing me quickly on the lips. 'Thank you,' she said, then she was gone. I stood in the doorway until she was out of sight, wondering whether she'd been aware of my erection as we kissed.

***

I didn't see Alice again for a fortnight; I was away most of that time in London and then Hamburg. But I thought about her a lot. In fact she seemed to occupy most of my attention when I wasn't actively engaged in work of some sort. What it was about her I couldn't pinpoint precisely. She was middle-aged, not especially pretty, rather thin and angular... But she had warmth, honesty and humour and more than a hint of vulnerability. Perhaps it was this latter characteristic that brought out my protective male instinct. I just know that I enjoyed her company, very much. And there was that superb mouth, too, and that one kiss that we'd had. I compared her to the nubile young things I had dated (and sometimes slept with) at university and afterwards in Oxford, and I concluded that if I were to be marooned on a desert island, with one companion, I would probably chose Alice above any of those more obvious candidates. Strange. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers so I couldn't call or message her; I wondered if she thought about our parting kiss as much as I did.

As soon as I returned home I went round to her house to ask if she were ok and had settled in and was there anything I could do to help. She invited me in and I noted that the place had been transformed in my absence. Order and neatness now reigned, where there had been chaos.

'Actually there is something you could help me with if you wouldn't mind,' she said as we sipped tea and ate chocolate biscuits at the little kitchen table.

'Fire away,' I said.

'I've got some pictures that I want to hang but I haven't got a drill or any tools or anything.'

'Well I can lend you all you need,' I teased her. 'Or would you prefer me to come round and do it.'

She smiled, shyly. 'Could you come and do it? Because I wanted to ask your opinion about where to put each picture and you've got such a good eye for colour and design and so forth. Your house is so beautifully coordinated.'

'My mother had a hand in that,' I commented, drily. 'But I'd be delighted to help.'

The following day was Saturday and I arrived at her door after breakfast armed with everything I thought I might need to hang a few prints. 'The pictures are in the conservatory, wrapped in paper,' she told me as she let me in.

There were about twenty, stacked against the back wall. We set to and unwrapped them, creating a sea of brown paper. After I'd unwrapped the first two I looked up at Alice. 'These are originals,' I said, with some surprise.

'Yes,' she said, a tinge of red in her cheeks. 'I did them.'

'You did these? Wow! They're fantastic!'

She blushed deeply. 'Thank you.'

Over the next hour we sorted out which pictures would go in which room. There were a variety of subjects: some landscapes, mostly rural, and a startling night seascape. There were one or two still lifes and also two portraits: a middle-aged man and a young girl.

'That's Ken, my late husband.' She looked sad and I said nothing as the moment passed. 'And this is Stephanie, my daughter. Painted when she was about thirteen.' The picture showed a black-haired girl in a patterned dress. She had some of her mother's characteristics but there was a firmness, a determination about her that stood out. It was, in my untutored opinion, a talented piece of work.

'Do you still paint?' I asked.

'I haven't really done anything since my husband died. I seem to have lost the creative urge.' She smiled wanly.

'Perhaps we'll have to see what can be done to restore it,' I said a trifle brazenly and she gave me a look that I couldn't comprehend. 'Ok,' I said, to cover the slight awkwardness of the moment, 'I'll get going on hanging them.'

A couple of hours later I was finished. "Ken" was hanging in the dining room and Stephanie was in the kitchen. 'It's where I spend most of my time,' Alice explained. The seascape was relegated to the downstairs toilet. 'It'll remind me of the flood,' she said, laughing.

'I'll have to go now,' I said, looking at my watch. 'I've got a conference in chambers this afternoon.'

'Oh, how rotten! On a Saturday, too. I was going to ask if you wanted some dinner with me tonight. It seems like ages since we had a chat...' She looked suddenly lonely.

'Oh I'll be back by five. I'd love to come and have some dinner. I'll bring the wine.' She gave me one of her heart-warming smiles and I left.

***

I was back at her house by seven o'clock for a delightful meal of grilled fish and fresh bread which we ate in the dining room with Ken looking down on us. Her kitchen was about as up to date as mine had been when I moved in but she seemed to be able to produce fabulous meals out of it. Afterwards we sat on a little settee in her conservatory, quite close together, and I asked her about her painting and she asked me about Hamburg and we chatted easily as the evening drew on. I was enjoying her company very much and I guessed that she was enjoying mine: her face was more animated than usual and she was laughing a lot. Some of this may have been down to the wine; we'd only had a couple of glasses, but it was enough to persuade me to renew my acquaintanceship with her gorgeous lips.

I lifted my left arm in mute invitation and, after a slight pause, she moved over and I put it around her shoulders and gently pulled her towards me. There was only one lamp on in the conservatory but in the dim light I thought I saw a nervousness about her as she turned her face up to mine. Our lips met, lightly, exploring, moving side to side and up and down, brushing each other with sweet intimacy. After a few minutes I decided to move up a notch and I pressed my lips against her a little harder and slowly opened my mouth. Under my lips I felt her mouth open too and I slid my tongue inside her, feeling the tip of hers slide across mine. I tightened my grip on her shoulder and kissed her harder. She opened her mouth wider and, encouraged by this, I cupped her left breast with my right hand, feeling it's small firmness, imagining that I could feel her nipple hard against my palm. She stiffened, and broke the kiss, her eyes wide open.

'Are you alright?' I asked, concerned that I'd gone too far and offended her.

'Not really,' she replied, quietly. There was a pause while I strove to think of what to say next. 'I'm sorry, Paul,' she said before anything came to mind. 'You'll probably think me very silly and emotional but... ever since you kissed me round at your house I've been thinking about it and...' she paused again, collecting her thoughts, 'I think I'd like to talk to you. About us.'

'Of course,' I said, my mind whirling. So she'd evidently been thinking about our kiss too, but maybe not in the same sense as I had.

'This is really difficult for me,' she began.

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head and she gave me a little smile. 'Take your time. I'm a really good listener, it comes with my job.'

She took a deep breath. 'I don't know what you see in me,' she began. 'I'm fifty-six years old, thirty years older than you, and I'm thin and not very pretty. And you're young and good-looking and fit and a solicitor and I don't understand why you're not off with beautiful girls in their twenties and thirties. You're not, are you?' she added, looking up at me.

'No,' I said, firmly, 'I'm not.' I paused and took my arm from around her shoulder. 'Right,' I said, standing up. 'I'm going to open that second bottle of wine that's in the kitchen and have a bloody great big glass of it and that, I hope, will give me the time to order my thoughts and the courage to come back here and tell you what they are.' I went out, leaving her sitting in the gloom, looking very small and miserable. It took me a while to locate the corkscrew so it was five or six minutes before I was back.

'Ok,' I said, putting my arm around her again. 'I'll be absolutely honest with you; I hope that won't upset you. I certainly don't intend to. The truth is, Alice, that I don't know exactly what attracts me to you. Because I am attracted, very much so. Some of it is easy: you're good company. You've got warmth and honesty and you're interested in people and you listen and you've got a lovely sense of humour and I just love being with you and chatting about anything and everything. And some of it is less easy to understand. But attraction is a very personal thing. I know there are accepted norms and so forth but I find you attractive. Actually very attractive. And I'd like nothing better than to have a physical relationship with you, as well as a friendship. The age difference means very little to me.

She sat still, listening to this and, as I talked, tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them away. 'Thank you for being straight with me, Paul,' she said in a choked voice. I waited, saying nothing. 'There's something else, too...' Now she was openly sobbing and I held her close and kissed the top of her head and waited for the tempest to abate.

She produced a handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed her eyes. 'Thank you for what you said... but, I... I'm...'

'It's ok,' I murmured. 'It's fine.'

She reached out for her wineglass and took a deep gulp. 'I'm not very experienced,' she said, at last. I mean if you're thinking that I'm a mature lady who's practised in the ways of physical relationships -- I'm not. I know that sounds mad -- I was married for more than twenty years -- but it's true. Ken was my one and only lover and neither of us knew what we were doing and that side of our relationship just never developed. So you'd be very disappointed in me as a lover. I'm hopeless at it.' She burst into fresh sobs.

'Well I've had five... partners I suppose you'd call them: two at university and three after. So I'm not the world's greatest lover by any means.'

'It's four more than me,' said Alice, managing a weak smile. 'And you're only twenty-six.'

'Alice, do I strike you as the sort of person who wouldn't do everything they could to make you feel safe and desired and wanted? At the risk of sounding arrogant I'm confident enough in bed to make it a good experience for you -- maybe a great one, who knows. It would be a journey for both of us. An intensely pleasurable one, I think.'