to be much use, I knew
that I should have gone to see Elizabeth, at least she has been around a bit.”
Joan screwed up her nose in disgust.
“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Charlotte. “I haven’t exactly
been successful in love, have I? I met an acquaintance of Grant’s this
week.”
Joan now edged forward. “Blimey, there’s a name from the
past. You’re not telling me that you are starting to pine for him again,
are you?”
“No, I am not!” proclaimed Charlotte, vehemently.
“Good he was a right prat!” pronounced Joan, always one to
be forthright in her opinion of Grant. “So what’s with the sour face then?”
“I don’t know to be honest. I think that I'm a little fed
up that I’m still unattached after all this time. I wanted to be settled when I
saw or heard from him again.”
“Why? Who cares what he thinks?”
“Well I don’t, not really. I don’t want him to think
that he was the love of my life, that’s all,” sighed Charlotte. “I do
want a relationship Gran, people seem to think that he broke my heart, so I’m
concentrating on my career.”
“So if he didn’t break your heart, why are you still on your
own?” The older woman asked, as she placed a hand on her granddaughter’s
arm. "I know that you've had a few dalliances. There was the posh lad, the
one that had the permanent ejaculation,” she said, smiling at Charlotte.
Charlotte grimaced at the thought of Ted, Paul’s friend.
“God Gran, who told you about that, Amanda, I'll bet? I wish it had been
a permanent ejaculation, and then maybe I would have given him another chance.”
“Whatever it was that was wrong with the lad, you still
haven’t answered my question. If your job isn’t everything why are you on
your own?” Joan’s tone was softer now, more coaxing.
“I suppose I haven’t met the right person.” Charlotte
smiled, and her voice was brighter now. “Let’s face it, who would put up
with you lot; my wonderful family? Well come on then, get on that ‘phone
and ring Arthur.” Charlotte stood up and pointed at the cordless
telephone resting on the coffee table.
“Do you think that I should?” Joan asked, her hand already
on the receiver.
“Yes,” said Charlotte, leaving the room. She stood behind
the door for a few seconds, and then when she could hear her gran’s animated
tones, she moved away into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
“That was absolutely lovely, thank you Stuart,” said Bets,
reaching up to kiss his cheek.
They were making their way across the gravelled car park
after an exquisite evening.
“My pleasure, I’m glad that you enjoyed it. So, where
now, it’s not too late?” he asked, putting a warming arm around Bet’s shoulder.
“Let’s just get into the car and decide then,” she replied,
smiling up at him.
The conversation in the car was led by where to go next, but
once they decided that a quick drink would be good, it suddenly became
stilted. Bets flicked nervously through Stuart’s CD selection. Why
did she feel like she was fifteen again, on a first date?
“Oh, Nirvana, I was never really a fan myself,” she said,
looking across at Stuart in the darkness.
“I'm not either, I only bought it for ‘Smells Like Teen
Spirit’. You're a big House Music fan though aren’t you?” he asked and then
burst into laughter. “This is ridiculous. We've been circling around each
other all summer, practically had sofa sex on your birthday. We've had a
wonderful evening tonight, and now we’re making small talk about bloody
music.” He stopped the car and turned to Bets.
“So, what do you suggest then?” she asked, licking her lips
longingly, the groin throbbing feeling from her birthday, suddenly returning.
Stuart reached across and gently took her hand in his.
“Well I know that I’d like to do, and that’s take you home, and at the chance
of sounding like a shite 70’s pop group, kiss you all
that I should have gone to see Elizabeth, at least she has been around a bit.”
Joan screwed up her nose in disgust.
“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Charlotte. “I haven’t exactly
been successful in love, have I? I met an acquaintance of Grant’s this
week.”
Joan now edged forward. “Blimey, there’s a name from the
past. You’re not telling me that you are starting to pine for him again,
are you?”
“No, I am not!” proclaimed Charlotte, vehemently.
“Good he was a right prat!” pronounced Joan, always one to
be forthright in her opinion of Grant. “So what’s with the sour face then?”
“I don’t know to be honest. I think that I'm a little fed
up that I’m still unattached after all this time. I wanted to be settled when I
saw or heard from him again.”
“Why? Who cares what he thinks?”
“Well I don’t, not really. I don’t want him to think
that he was the love of my life, that’s all,” sighed Charlotte. “I do
want a relationship Gran, people seem to think that he broke my heart, so I’m
concentrating on my career.”
“So if he didn’t break your heart, why are you still on your
own?” The older woman asked, as she placed a hand on her granddaughter’s
arm. "I know that you've had a few dalliances. There was the posh lad, the
one that had the permanent ejaculation,” she said, smiling at Charlotte.
Charlotte grimaced at the thought of Ted, Paul’s friend.
“God Gran, who told you about that, Amanda, I'll bet? I wish it had been
a permanent ejaculation, and then maybe I would have given him another chance.”
“Whatever it was that was wrong with the lad, you still
haven’t answered my question. If your job isn’t everything why are you on
your own?” Joan’s tone was softer now, more coaxing.
“I suppose I haven’t met the right person.” Charlotte
smiled, and her voice was brighter now. “Let’s face it, who would put up
with you lot; my wonderful family? Well come on then, get on that ‘phone
and ring Arthur.” Charlotte stood up and pointed at the cordless
telephone resting on the coffee table.
“Do you think that I should?” Joan asked, her hand already
on the receiver.
“Yes,” said Charlotte, leaving the room. She stood behind
the door for a few seconds, and then when she could hear her gran’s animated
tones, she moved away into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
“That was absolutely lovely, thank you Stuart,” said Bets,
reaching up to kiss his cheek.
They were making their way across the gravelled car park
after an exquisite evening.
“My pleasure, I’m glad that you enjoyed it. So, where
now, it’s not too late?” he asked, putting a warming arm around Bet’s shoulder.
“Let’s just get into the car and decide then,” she replied,
smiling up at him.
The conversation in the car was led by where to go next, but
once they decided that a quick drink would be good, it suddenly became
stilted. Bets flicked nervously through Stuart’s CD selection. Why
did she feel like she was fifteen again, on a first date?
“Oh, Nirvana, I was never really a fan myself,” she said,
looking across at Stuart in the darkness.
“I'm not either, I only bought it for ‘Smells Like Teen
Spirit’. You're a big House Music fan though aren’t you?” he asked and then
burst into laughter. “This is ridiculous. We've been circling around each
other all summer, practically had sofa sex on your birthday. We've had a
wonderful evening tonight, and now we’re making small talk about bloody
music.” He stopped the car and turned to Bets.
“So, what do you suggest then?” she asked, licking her lips
longingly, the groin throbbing feeling from her birthday, suddenly returning.
Stuart reached across and gently took her hand in his.
“Well I know that I’d like to do, and that’s take you home, and at the chance
of sounding like a shite 70’s pop group, kiss you all
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