Read Always Something There to Remind Me Online
Authors: Lilian Kendrick
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
‘Please, don’t worry about it.’ The reply came through gritted teeth.
The expression on his face spoke volumes as he accepted my apology, made his excuses and left me to my own devices. I decided enough was enough and stumbled off the ice to the seating area to wait out the rest of the session while Trudi carried on skating.
On the way out, Richard asked for my phone number.
‘I’ll call you when I know how much the new glasses will cost,’ he said.
As soon as we hit the car park, Trudi and I capsized with laughter.
‘For a moment there I thought you’d pulled.’ Trudi shook her head.
‘Instead of which, I’ll have another bill coming in. This bucket list is getting expensive!’
I’d been going to the writing group for about eight months. To tell the truth, I almost threw in the towel after the first two weeks, because I felt so far out of my comfort zone. Everyone seemed to think I was a bit of an oddball because I laugh when I get nervous and sometimes that’s not the reaction people expect. I’d been writing for years, but I’d never let anyone else read my stuff. Bob wasn’t interested and … well, there’d never really been anyone else to talk to about it. Sharing my stories didn’t come easily and everyone else seemed so full of confidence. I’d only joined as an alternative to vegetating at home alone. Anyway, I showed up for the third session, convinced it would be my last, and it all changed. That was the week Des spoke to me for the first time. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed him before, of course. Everyone noticed Des, especially Tess, the group leader. At first I thought they were ‘together’, but it soon became clear that wasn’t the case. Well, that night, I arrived just as the session was about to start. I glanced around, deciding where to sit so I wouldn’t be noticed; then Des arrived and ushered me to a seat.
‘Latecomers have to sit at the “naughty” table,’ he said with a smile that would have melted an iceberg. ‘I’m Des and I’m a … lousy writer.’ He feigned embarrassment and I laughed as I shook the hand he offered.
‘I’m Lydia and I’m probably worse,’ I replied. That was the start, and now, months down the line, we had a comfortable, easy-going friendship based on laughter and shared tastes in books and music.
* * * * *
We sat together in the back room of the pub where the meetings were held. There were twelve of us in the group most weeks. Three of them were really pretentious gits who thought everything should be ‘literary’ and ‘worthy’. A couple of the others could spin a good yarn, and then there were some who never said anything, but took copious notes. I often wondered what they found to write. Some weeks we read and critiqued each other’s work, but this time we had a guest speaker, Eve
something-or-other
. She wrote romance and she was talking about how to write sex scenes
‘First, you need to get over your own feelings,’ she said. ‘If the scene embarrasses you, the odds are it will embarrass your reader. Be comfortable with the terminology you use. It’s often better to use the proper names for body parts, for example, especially if you’re writing in the third person …’
Des whispered, ‘Who’s this third person? The first two haven’t “done it” yet, and now it’s a
ménage à trois
?’
I stifled a giggle and took a gulp of my Diet Coke. ‘Shut up! You’re embarrassing me,’ I hissed, but there was no stopping him.
‘You have to get over these feelings of embarrassment.’ He mimicked Eve
Thingybob
perfectly and I could barely control the laughter.
‘Behave yourself, Desmond.’ I thumped his thigh with my fist. He wriggled in his seat.
‘Ooh, that hurt,’ he muttered, and then, ‘do it again, please …’ He continued to tease throughout the rest of the talk and I did my best not to laugh out loud. The man was incorrigible at times, but such good fun. I couldn’t help but respond to the twinkle in his green eyes and the warmth of his smile.
‘What got into you tonight?’ I asked, on the way home in my car. ‘I’ve never seen you like that before.’
‘The truth? I was a bit … er … embarrassed by all that stuff. You know … the sex talk. I couldn’t write a sex scene if my life depended on it. I’m not even sure I want to.’
I almost laughed, but a sideways glance at Des revealed that he was deadly serious.
‘So, what happens next week when we have to share our own efforts with the rest of them? Are you going to chicken out?’
He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I guess so. I can’t do it, Lyd.’
‘Nonsense! You just need a little help, that’s all.’
‘Talking of help, I was thinking about your list.’ He was changing the subject with no subtlety whatsoever. ‘If you’re going to go on a talent show, you should get some practice in first. You know, they have a karaoke night at the pub every Saturday?’
‘Really? I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I haven’t sung in public since I was twelve, and that was only a school concert. Let me think about it.’
‘Well, you don’t have long before the auditions for
Stargazing
start. In fact, I downloaded a backing track for you today… just to try out. We can have a run-through now, if you like. That’s if you want to come in for a cuppa.’
I’d just pulled to a halt outside the rather swish-looking building where Des lived.
‘Which song did you get? Nothing too difficult I hope.’
‘
Hopelessly Devoted
– I think it’s perfect for you.’
In his study, we put it to the test. He was right; the song was OK for me. I could reach all the notes and I didn’t sound too squeaky. I went through it twice and Des applauded; bless his heart.
‘Do you think I sound OK?’ I unplugged the microphone and handed it back to him. He’s very careful with all his gadgets.
‘It’s a good start. We’ll practise again before Saturday and you’ll knock ‘em for six.’ Of course, he was just being nice, but sometimes that’s all you need, isn’t it?
‘Hey, I haven’t said I’ll do it yet!’
‘No, but you will, won’t you?’ There was that smile again …
‘Well, we’ll see. Now it’s your turn.’
‘I’m not the one who wants to be a singer.’
‘I don’t mean singing, you daft sod. You’ve helped me, now let me help you. You want to be a writer, so let me help you write your scene for next week. It’s easy once you get started.’
‘Are you going to write it for me? That’s the only way this could work.’
‘I won’t write it for you; you’re more than capable of doing that for yourself. But I’ll help you. Now, tell me, why is it so difficult? You can write about all your other life experiences, so why not sex? I mean, you have experienced it, haven’t you?’
He laughed. ‘Not for a long time, Lyd. Since Alice left I’ve been a born-again virgin.’
This was a surprising confession. I’d always assumed that Des was pretty active in that area. I don’t know why; we’d never really talked about it before, but he was an attractive bloke with a great sense of humour and he seemed to ooze self-confidence. In fact, throughout the time I’d known him, I’d often wondered why someone with such an amazing personality was friends with a boring old frump like me.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I finally persuaded him to let me help with his writing demon. I left him with strict instructions to be at my place the following evening with the first draft of his sex scene.
‘That’s not possible, Lyd. I’m sorry, but you’re just making excuses now.’
I had the distinct impression that Trudi was cross with me. Well, probably disappointed would be a better word. I couldn’t respond, to tell you the truth, as I was more than a little disappointed myself. I knew it shouldn’t have happened, but it had; I couldn’t explain it to myself, let alone to anyone else. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told her, but I needed to … confess, I suppose; to rationalise it somehow. In an ideal world I would have talked it over with Des, but things were far from ideal and I couldn’t quite bring myself to call him. Besides, he hadn’t called me today, either.
‘I didn’t plan it or anything.’ That sounded lame even to my ears. ‘It was accidental.’
‘I’m dying to know how something like that could happen by accident!’ I could hear the laughter in her voice now. Confession wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. ‘You’d better start at the beginning; just give me time to get a drink.’ The phone went silent for a few minutes and I used the time to snuggle more comfortably on the sofa. ‘Go on, then – tell me everything.’
‘Well, you know it was writing group on Thursday …’ I began.
* * * * *
‘This is going to be embarrassing.’ Des inserted his memory stick into the USB port of my laptop. ‘You have to promise you won’t laugh, or I’m not going to show you.’
‘What are you like? I offered to help you, Des; I’m hardly going to make fun of your efforts, am I? Just load up the file and let’s see how you got on.’
I perched the laptop on the arm of the sofa and spent the next ten minutes reading Des’s story while he popped out to the off-licence to get some wine. It wasn’t as bad as I’d been led to expect – certainly nothing that couldn’t be ‘fixed’ with a bit of editing – but there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that made me feel uncomfortable, if that’s the right word. I could sense the difficulty he’d had with the piece.
He returned with the wine and plonked himself beside me.
‘Well? What’s the verdict? Total crap, or what?’
‘Not at all. I kinda liked it.’
‘Now I’m truly damned with faint praise.’ He raised his hand to his forehead in a gesture of theatrical distress. ‘I told you I was no good at this. Tell me where I’m going wrong.’
This was an improvement. Suddenly, he wanted to try to get it right, so we drank wine and worked on it together, changing a few words here and there, and reading aloud to test the sense of it. Finally we reached the stumbling point. I stopped reading.
‘This is where it doesn’t quite work for me,’ I said. ‘You’ve built up this great atmosphere of sexual tension, but when you get down to describing the act itself the mechanics don’t work.’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘No, and you wouldn’t “get it” in the position you’ve described.’ I felt a little warm and tipsy from the wine, and I couldn’t help giggling as I continued. ‘It’s impossible, unless you’re a contortionist.’
Confused and also slightly tipsy, Des reread the paragraph, murmuring, ‘Impossible? Are you sure about that? Seems OK to me.’ It was the first time all evening he’d disagreed with me and I was a bit put out.
‘Trust me, Desmond. It just wouldn’t work. If they made a blue movie with that scene, they’d have to call it
Position Impossible
.’
‘
Position Impossible
– I love it,’ Des chuckled. ‘But I still don’t believe you. I think it’s quite … erotic.’
‘More like erratic.’ I laughed and stood up to stretch my back. We’d been leaning over the laptop for an hour and a half. Des stood up too and flexed his shoulders.
‘I’m so stiff,’ he said, and we both giggled like teenagers at the unintended innuendo.
‘Do you want me to give you a massage?’ I offered, only vaguely aware that I was flirting with him … and then … somehow … he was kissing me. Don’t ask me how; I’ve no idea. His lips were firm and warm and his tongue gently teased the roof of my mouth. I found myself responding as he put his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.
How did this happen? What are we doing?
My brain asked the questions, but was too befuddled to wait for the answers. I was powerless to resist; who the heck am I kidding? I didn’t even try to resist. I just sort of melted and thought ‘
Oh, this is nice …
’ then threw my arms around his neck and caution to the wind as we sank back onto the sofa. His hands moved gently across my back as we kissed and my spine tingled with excitement. I had almost forgotten how it felt to have someone hold me this way. The need to breathe normally forced me to pull back a little and meet his gaze. He was flushed and smiling, but he didn’t release me from the embrace and I rested my head on his shoulder as he laid a trail of tiny kisses down the side of my face and neck. His hands were underneath my sweater now and I could feel their warmth spreading across my bare skin as he slid them up to my shoulders and eased my arms free of the loose-fitting sleeves. I raised my head and he pulled the garment all the way off. For a brief moment I wished I’d chosen a sexier bra, but Des didn’t seem bothered by my choice of underwear as his hands and mouth continued their exploration and the bra soon joined the sweater on the floor.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasped. ‘Where are we going with this?’
Des raised his head and looked at me, his green eyes sparkling. ‘The bedroom?’
I’m not going to go into detail about the rest of the evening, but amongst other things we put Des’s theory to the test and it turned out he was right. It wasn’t
Position Impossible
after all. Who’d have thought it?
At some point during the night, I woke up and realised he’d gone. I cried a little, convinced I’d just lost my best friend.
Despite my protests, Trudi insisted that I should go ahead with the karaoke plan, even though it was now four o’clock and Des still hadn’t been in touch. She came over and I practised a few times, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t get over feeling like an idiot about the night before.
‘Put it out of your mind, Lyd. The guy’s a bastard, obviously.’
‘No he isn’t,’ I said. ‘It takes two to tango. He probably feels as stupid as I do and that’s why he hasn’t called.’
‘Did you try calling him?’
‘I’ve had other things on my mind …’
‘No you haven’t. You’ve thought of nothing else all day. Call him now. Put your mind at rest. If he’s gone to ground because the two of you got pissed and lost your marbles last night, then he isn’t the man you thought he was, is he?’ She handed me the phone and left the room.
I stared at the keypad for a couple of minutes before I could summon up the courage to place the call. I heard his voice at the other end of the line.