Turn Back Time

"Okay. See you later. Bye." She hung up and left me in a very happy, really happy, frame of mind. Last night must have gone well. Otherwise why would she contact me? What to do now? Should I carry on writing for another hour? I decided the priority was tidying up. I didn't actually live in a house, although out of habit I, like many people always seemed to say that even when they lived in a single storey bungalow as I did. It faced east to west which meant I woke up with the sun on my face. Unless it was raining. But it also meant the sun didn't get to the living room until late afternoon. But I had inherited a summerhouse and, once I'd brought a carpenter in to bring it back to what it had been originally and improve it, that's where I did my writing. A decent sized lawn and a patio area for al fresco dining and it was everything I needed.

She called me to say she was on her way and, by the time she arrived, I had the table set out on the patio, chairs ready, and a choice of drinks available. I'd told her to walk down the drive and come into the garden via the gate in the fence and I could smell the food as she was walking down.

"Fish and chips!" I exclaimed, in delight, as she came into view.

"I wasn't sure what you liked in the way of takeaways," she said, as she set the food, wrapped in its packaging, on the table. She put both arms around me, giving me a friendly hug. "As we both loved fish and chips when we were young, and I still love them, I hoped you still felt the same. Looks as if I was right." She had that mischievous look I'd missed for so long.

"Sit down. I'll get the wine. Anything you prefer in particular?" I wanted to get this right, as I stood there clasping my hands in front of me, hoping everything would remain under control.

"How about a rosé?" That goes with most anything. Unless you're a connoisseur, in which case you're on your own. Because I'm certainly not." I doubted that. I wouldn't be surprised if she was knowledgeable in wine and most everything else.

I set the warmed plates down ready to unwrap the fish and chips.

"Let's eat them as we used to. Put them on the plates but keep them in the grease proof paper!"

That's what we did. Salt and vinegar is essential on fish and chips, particularly malt vinegar. We picked at our feast with fingers and thumbs, having to scrape some of the chips up from where they were stuck to the paper. We were like little kids, laughing away as if we were ten year old's again.

"I'm really enjoying this, Bobby," she exclaimed. "It makes a nice change from having to watch you don't use the wrong knife and fork."

It was when she was licking her fingers I realised I hadn't put the napkins on the table, and I apologised and brought them out from the kitchen.

"Remember when we were about five and got into trouble for wiping our fingers on our clothes? We got really smacked for it and never did it again." She drank the last of the wine in her glass and said, "Do you have another bottle of this? It's quite nice."

It wasn't until then I realised we'd been so engrossed in talking, and eating, the whole bottle had gone. I rose to go to the kitchen and then turned. "How about some ice cream? I've got some cones and soft ice cream?"

"Oh yes, please."

We sat basking in the early evening sun, which was still quite hot. Her jacket had fallen to the floor, from when she had hung it on the back of the chair, but she didn't seem to have noticed. We finished off the ice cream, with me having dropped a large dollop down my polo shirt, and we both licked our fingers from where it had run down the cone.

We didn't realise how long we'd been sitting reminiscing, as we had the previous night, until the light began to dim and I asked how she was going to get home. We had drunk a bottle of red after the second rosé and both of us knew, despite feeling we could do it, neither of us could possibly drive.

"I'll call you a taxi."

"Nonsense, I'll walk. It's not far. I'll be fine," she said, waving away my concerns.

"Okay, but I insist you call me when you get home. Okay?" I said, putting my arm around her shoulder.

"You have my word," she said, in a voice only slightly less than slurred. My voice probably sounded the same. I walked her to the end of the drive. She suddenly turned and kissed me. Not hard, but full on the lips, and she tasted of wine and malt vinegar. I stood watching until she was out of sight. Sure enough, as good as her word, not long afterwards the phone rang, as I was sitting down with a cup of black coffee in front of me.

"Hi, Bobby!" she whooped down the phone. "I'm home. I was thinking on the way home. Should we do something together on Saturday?"

My heart jumped, and my answer was immediate. I made no attempt to hide my delight. "That would be fantastic."

"You decide what we should do. Surprise me, g'night," and with a giggle she hung up.

"I'll collect you about 10.30 tomorrow morning," I told her when I rang on the friday evening.

I was so eager I was ready to go and pick her up at nine thirty and it was an effort to hold back. I couldn't quite manage it and ended up outside her house ten minutes early. She was ready, just waiting for me to arrive. It seemed as if she was just as keen as me!

We loaded what little we were taking with us. I'd said to pack a swimming costume and towel, just in case we came across somewhere, but the destination wasn't particularly a swimming pool.

"Where are we going?" she enquired, as soon as we were in the car. I'd been driving for about twenty minutes when she said, "We're going to the coast." A statement not a question.

"What makes you think that?" I smiled, "is it all these road signs we've been passing? Perhaps the roads are wrongly signposted."

"Oh, be quiet," she cried, punching me in the arm, which I then clutched in mock agony. "Get those hands back on the wheel. I don't want us crashing. I'm not that kind of doctor."

How much better could it get? I was happy being with her and, unless she was a very good actor, she was happy to be with me. This had all the makings of a very good day.

I suddenly realised where we where and, on impulse, turned off the main road and fifty yards on crossed the disused railway line, closed down many years ago. Lost because it was deemed by the top dogs to be financially unviable because of the car. Parking spaces on our left, a few cars but not as many as you would normally expect be there at the weekend. We sat there looking out to sea. Across to the other side of the horseshoe bay.

I switched on the car radio. It was a station I liked because it just played songs from twenty years ago and didn't have one of those inane presenters gabbling between each song. A song both of us knew was already playing. We both instantly recognised it even though it was over halfway through. One of those songs which, even in the Amazon jungle, the natives must have heard and the unique voice of the singer rang out. We both joined in and discovered both our voices were only suitable for the bathroom. But in that moment it didn't matter.

If I could turn back time

If I could reach the stars

I'd give them all to you

Then you'd love me, love me

Like you used to do

If I could turn back time

If I could find a way

We both stopped singing at the same time. Without even consciously thinking I leaned towards her, and she did the same towards me. I suppose it had been inevitable. My arm went round her shoulder, her hand to my cheek. Our lips searched for each other, and we kissed. Not a full-on passionate kiss but a soft, nice to meet you, kiss. It was not the moment to be aggressive. Not the moment to be thrusting a tongue into the mouth of the other. It was a lingering kiss by two people happy to have found each other again. A kiss which crossed the void that had separated us for all those years.

There was a small, beach front cafe a hundred yards away.

"How about we get a coffee and a sandwich?" I said, indicating the cafe.

"Sounds good to me," was her instant response and she was out of the car before me, round to the driver's side and, before I could lock the car, she threw her arms around me and this time her kiss was passionate. Our lips parted, I looked at her, and in that moment knew I loved her.

"Kiss her back, you idiot!" We turned in the direction of the shout and saw a couple, who must have been forty years older than us, stood watching us and both wearing hugh grins. "Well, what are you going to do about it," said the man. "Do I have to tell you again?"

No, you don't, I thought. So I kissed her. I kissed Rachel. I kissed the girl I'd first kissed all those years ago when we were kids and promised to marry each other. This time the kiss was passionate. This time we each knew what we wanted. Each other. We suddenly became aware of the applause, pulled apart and looked to see the elderly couple clapping.

"That's the way, young man," said the lady. They were both still smiling broadly as they turned and walked away. "Have a good day, you two," they shouted, in unison, as they walked to their car.

"Thank you," shouted Rachel. "You have a good day as well." Turning to me she said, "Y'know, under other circumstances I think I would have been embarrassed but today that was nice, really nice. How long do you think they've been married?"

"From long before we were born," I laughed, "and very happily from looking at them."

We had just arrived at the cafe. It was small. Only two tables inside but four outside and, on such a lovely day, we didn't even consider inside.

"What can I get you," said a voice behind us. As she walked around the table, pad in hand, we saw a young girl who looked as if she should have been at school. Then I remembered it was the school holidays.

"What would you like?" I asked Rachel.

"I've suddenly decided I'm famished. I think I could eat the proverbial horse and," she said, looking at her watch, "it's lunchtime anyway. What do you suggest?" she asked the girl.

"We can do ham, eggs, sausage, thick chunky wedges. Not those skinny fries you get at the fast food places."

"Two of them?" I looked at Rachel and she nodded.

"Did you hear that, Dad?" The girl called out.

"I'm not deaf," came a voice from the darkened interior. "Not yet, anyway."

"Can we have two teas, please." I looked across the table and received a nod of assent. "Milk, no sugar."

"Coming right up," and with that she disappeared inside.

"It's a nice view," I said, unnecessarily, as I indicated the panorama with a sweep of my arm. Now I'd come back to earth I was wondering what to say. Not tongue tied but not far off.

"It was wonderful," whispered Rachel, not wanting the girl and her father to overhear. There was another couple approaching but they were still about twenty yards away. "The kiss, I mean. You took advantage of the girl who's in love with you."

"What do you mean? Took advantage of..." My voice trailed off as I realised what she'd just said. "Well, thank heaven for that."

"Why?" She looked at me with a smile that said she knew what I was going to say but wasn't going to make it easy.

"Because I..." I suddenly realised the other couple were only a few feet away and dropped my voice. "You know why. I love you."

"Oh, that's lovely," came the giggle from behind us. She stood there, a large plate in each hand, piled high with our lunch, grinning at us. "I hope when I'm as old as you I find a man as nice as you've got," she said, addressing Rachel.

"Thank you," she replied, as the plates were sat down and the girl produced knives and forks, wrapped in napkins, from her apron.

"Right back with your teas." She was back within seconds but I had enough time to mouth to Rachel, "as old as you?" In different circumstances it might not have been funny but, from a girl who must not long ago have reached the heady heights of being a teenager, that wasn't the case.

We ate in silence, both wondering what the other was thinking. I finished first. I've always been a fast eater. Too fast. My mother used to tell me it would ruin my digestion but, up to now, I'd managed to avoid doing so. Apart from the occasional stomach ache, usually cured by a tablet. My table manners were okay but Rachel ate like a lady, cutting her ham into small chunks and not shoveling the potato wedges into her mouth as I tended to do. As I watched her eat it struck me she probably attended quite a lot of posh do's whereas with me it was one or two a year maybe. The occasional expensive restaurant when my publisher took me to lunch. When she was finished she wiped her fingers with her napkin and dabbed nonexistent grease from her lips. She was engrossed in her thoughts and was unaware of the admiration in my eyes as I couldn't stop looking at her.

"That was delicious," she called over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, and the voice of the unseen father came back with a thank you.

I settled the bill, with a big tip for the young girl which brought an enormous smile. Today I felt generous.

"A walk along the beach?" I enquired, and received a nod. "It looks as if the tide is receding so we should be okay."

With that we set off, at a casual pace, picking up the occasional pebble, examining it and then throwing it away into the sea, or rather onto the surface trying to make it skip across. Generally searching amongst the pebbles and rocks for nothing in particular. We hadn't gone far when I tentatively reached for her hand and her fingers grasped mine with a firm grip. Time slipped away and when I looked behind our car wasn't visible and I could just make out the roof of the cafe.

"I think we should be heading back," I said, and as we turned her arm went through mine, her head on my shoulder.

We sat in the car in silence for quite a while as I drove back home. We both seemed to be thinking. Deeply. I knew what I wanted to say. But how to say it. Eventually it didn't matter.

"Pull over, Bobby," Rachel said, softly.

"Here? But there's no hard shoulder. Only the grass verge."

"The grass verge will be fine for what I have in mind."

I couldn't get the whole of the car onto the grass verge, the driver's side was partly still on the tarmac.

"Switch off the engine, Bobby," she said, quietly, as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

I sat still, wondering what was going to happen, wondering what she was going to say. Would it be good? Would it be bad? My mind was racing. My heart was racing. I could feel

It thumping against my chest. I could swear it was reverberating around the car.

She leaned across, put both her arms around my neck, slid her fingers through my hair and pressed her lips to mine. It was the most magical kiss I'd ever experienced. Not a sexy kiss. No tongue. No sexual innuendo. Just soft and it told me everything I wanted to know even before she released me. I sat there, unmoving, trapped by my seatbelt, unable to move, not wanting to move, not wanting her to stop.

"I do love you, Bobby Harris." There was no doubting in her voice, nor in her eyes.

I swallowed hard, wondering how to respond. How could I put into words how I felt? How I'd felt the moment I'd seen her on tv.

"I know I love you, Rachel Stevens." The words came easy. They'd been there for a long time. Not days. Years.

We were brought back from our magical moment by the sound of car horns. The road wasn't busy but it also wasn't wide. Cars were having to really slow down and give way to oncoming traffic to avoid ripping off door mirrors. I started the engine, switched on the indicator, pressed the button to lower the window, and stuck my hand out as a sign of apology to the other drivers. I switched the radio on, and we listened to songs we never heard, as I drove back. We talked about nothing in particular. Our schooldays. Our lives since last seeing each other. Just as we had that first evening. Eventually I pulled up outside her house.

"Come on then," she exclaimed, as she jumped out of the car, standing on the pavement, gesturing. "Switch off that bloody engine and get yourself out here. You don't think I'm going to leave it there, do you? You don't get off that easy."

Her tinkling laughter poured out, as she giggled like the girl I'd known all those years ago, and I remembered how she had bossed me around, even back then, and how much I'd enjoyed it. She turned her back and headed for her door, knowing I would be right behind her. She knew it. I knew it. By the time I got into the hall, she was halfway up the stairs. The door slammed behind me as I bounded up the stairs behind her. By the time I realised which was the main bedroom, by the sound of someone obviously frantically undressing, and ran in Rachel was naked except for her bra and pants. She had those off by the time I'd trodden my shoes off and kicked them away I almost bust my zip trying to rip my pants off and the buttons all disappeared from my shirt. As soon as she was naked she'd thrown herself onto the bed, laying there on her side, propped up on her elbow.

"C'mon," she cried, with that same giggle. "I haven't got all day. If you don't hurry up I'll have to start without you."

"Don't you dare," I retorted, as I threw away the last vestiges of my clothing and dived onto the bed, managing to head butt her in the process. "Oh no, are you okay, " I cried, as she rubbed her forehead, and I must have looked crestfallen. A romantic moment and I'd ruined it.

"I'm fine. It'll take more than that to hurt me. But if you really want to show me you're sorry..." She wiped away an imaginary tear, and stuck out her bottom lip, as she gave me that same look all women do when they know they've got a man right where they want him.

What could I do? I kissed her. This time, unlike in the car, it was passionate. But it was her tongue that pierced first and, when I opened my eyes a few seconds later, she was staring at me, wrinkles around her eyes as she fought to smile as she kissed me.

"Why are you smiling," I asked, as I reluctantly pulled my lips away from hers to ask the question.

"Because I'm thinking of how happy I am at this moment. Is that a good enough answer?"

"It's the best answer I could have," I said, although my mind was already thinking ahead to the question I was already expecting to ask at sometime in the future and the answer I hoped she would give me. But that was far ahead. At the moment I only had one thought on my mind. Our lips were drawn back together and, as we kissed, my hand went to her breast. My fingertips strolling around her soft skin and gently brushing her nipple. My hand slowly strayed down towards its ultimate destination, taking its time to enjoy the journey while Rachel nuzzled up against my neck, letting me feel the warmth of her breath, and then close my eyes as she nibbled and sucked on my earlobe. I discovered she was shaven, and traced circles around her entrance. Gently slipping a finger inside her, up to my knuckle, feeling upwards and then pressing down, hearing her appreciation of my efforts.

"I need you inside me."

Not a request but a firm directive with which I was only too willing to obey. I raised myself to allow her to roll on her back and placed myself ready.

"Comfortable?" I enquired. It may have sounded silly but I was serious because I didn't want anything to spoil this moment. A first time never arrives a second time and I wanted everything to be perfect.

"Just get on with it," she murmured. "I've waited too many years for you to delay now."

I slid inside her in one movement. She gasped as we met, and I felt the tightness of her body around me. I took my time. This was one occasion I wasn't going to rush. I'd fucked my fair share of women. But this time I was with a woman I wasn't going to fuck. I wasn't going to have sex with this woman. I was going to make love to the only woman now in my world. Making love. The words spun around in my brain. Making love to my Rachel. What could sound better?