Relief washes over me like a strong tidal wave as my shaky legs finally give way causing me to collapse into a heap onto the woodland carpet. After a moment of submitting to my jumbled thoughts, the reality of the situation hits me with a mighty force. I feel ridiculous! What makes the humiliation worse, is that this man (whoever he is) has not only seen me naked, but he’s good looking in a rugged sort of way, so I fancy him just a little. I have always had a thing for men with dark, curly, untamed hair and 3-day-old stubble. Perhaps I like the unruly look because of my tame personality. I need to find out who he is, what he does, and more importantly, if he’s here to stay. Anyway enough speculation about this man, because I need to sort myself out with some clothes and get back to the cafe before another unsuspecting walker emerges through the bluebells.
I continue to be discreet, as I hastily gather my clothes and put them on. My former confidence has fled like a fly from a spider. Never again will I put myself into such a ludicrous position. Now fully clothed, I head off in the direction of the village, with my cheeks still burning like a hot chilli.
Perhaps this is a good opportunity to tell you a little more about myself, especially now that you know about my list. My best friend Kate and I own a cafe in the village of Chipham Green. We both lived in the flat above until Kate recently moved in with her boyfriend, Ben–the local vet. I sometimes feel envious of Kate and Ben’s relationship because they appear blissfully happy and comfortable with one another. I always imagined that Kate and I would get married at the same time – we used to plan our double wedding, but Kate has left me behind in that department with my status being very, very single.
When growing up together, Kate and I always dreamed of sharing a business within our beloved village. With her ability to make beautiful, country living style crafts and my ability to bake delicious (so people tell me) cakes, we have merged our skills together, to open The Tea Cosy, just off the village green. We were very lucky that Kate’s elderly aunt let us have the property at half the value. She was keen for us local girls to develop it into a cafe without losing its unique charm.
I adore our cafe; it is a haven of pure cosiness. We don’t have a massive space, but the space we do have is generally filled with people wanting some sort of refuge, be it getting out for a chat and a cake or a place to rest when people visit from nearby towns. We also sell Kate’s crafts, my chutney, and other items, such as work by local artists. In the three years that Kate and I have been in charge, the Tea Cosy has gradually become the hub of the village and the place to go for a chat and catch up on the village gossip. Our ethos is simple. We offer our customers decent, homemade food with ingredients sourced as locally as possible and a relaxing environment in which to eat it. More recently we have introduced regular themed nights, such as our Read and Feed evening, when a reading group meet and we feed them with cakes.
I have always loved cooking, especially baking–probably because I love eating cakes. I don’t have a particular schedule for my baking, but generally bake cakes to reflect my mood, although many locals often make requests or demands. Kate says she always knows when I am in a bad mood, because all of the cakes on offer are of a brittle texture, such as flapjacks. On happier days, the trays are full of fluffier cupcakes, intricately decorated with their own individual themes. When I need comforting my hugely popular sticky toffee pudding is awarded to our loyal customers.
Chipham Green is a pretty, traditional village attracting many city types for days out at weekends, however during the week is generally left to locals and retired walking groups. It has expanded with some newer developments over the years, yet still retains its beauty and charm, offering people a spacious village green with an ambling stream; a quaint, stone church; a pub, The Plough; and a handful of shops including our cafe. As the village is located on numerous public footpath routes, many of the village’s visitors come in the form of walking clubs all wanting refreshments and cakes, so Kate and I relish their regular visits.
Kate and I both grew up in Chipham Green and, apart from travelling to the nearest town of Avington for school and college, have never left, as many of our school friends have. This leads me back to my list. Although I don’t feel the need to travel to wild and wondrous places, I do feel I have (so far) led a quiet and safe life. I am certainly not ashamed of this, but the impending arrival of my 30th birthday, has made me want to do a few things that I would not usually contemplate. Kate, being far more adventurous and outgoing than I, feels no need to join me in compiling a list and finds the whole thing rather amusing, but I think she is secretly proud of me.
On arriving back at The Tea Cosy, I notice Ruth, my neighbour, one of the few people who would also be up at this early hour in the morning. Ruth is a quirky lady in her 50s, who makes no apologies for her eccentric dress sense and personality to match. For this, she has my admiration. After her husband died unexpectedly twelve years ago, she moved to our village before training as a landscape gardener. When her only son (Russ) moved to the city, she took the risk of leaving her job to start her own gardening business and has never looked back since. Despite the gap in our ages, I see Ruth as a wise friend, whose company I often seek, especially on cold winter nights when the cafe is less hectic. We often share a bottle of wine and put the world to rights – or so we think!
As I approach Ruth, who’s still in her Cath Kidston dressing gown, she glances up from the daily watering of her colourful flower-filled pots that surround her front door. “Are you okay Lizzie – you seem a little flushed and isn’t this rather early for you to be up and about?” asks Ruth as I walk towards her quickly.
“No Ruth I am not alright, may I come in for a cup of tea?” I reply somewhat sternly.
“Of course,” answers Ruth looking a little alarmed at the unaccustomed force in my voice.
I watch Ruth in her kitchen making my tea and glancing curiously at me when she thinks I’m not looking. Ruth’s kitchen is as quirky as her dress sense, with lots of clutter and nothing matching, but this makes it even more appealing. The effect of this has a designer look, whereas when I have tried this approach in my kitchen, it just looks untidy. Ruth hands over my strong tea – just the way I like it. Why does a cup of tea always make me feel more relaxed?
After I explain to Ruth about my embarrassing actions in the woods, my tension evaporates and slowly I start to see the funny side of the event. Ruth’s laughter is infectious and I can’t help but giggle at my predicament with her once I hear her booming laugh.
“I don’t know why you’re worried. If I had a figure like yours, I’d be quite happy to strip off and be seen by everybody. I wouldn’t be hiding that body behind a tree!” Ruth replies.
“Ruth you seriously don’t mean that. What gets to me more is that he had the most annoying look of triumph in his face as he walked off. What’s more irritating is that he knows my name. I have no idea how he knows me or who he is.”
“Lizzie it probably brightened his day more than the sunshine itself. What young man will take offense from a pretty, naked lady hiding behind a tree? Of course, he may have questions about why you were hiding naked behind a tree, but I’m sure he enjoyed every moment of it. And I certainly don’t understand this modern obsession with bodily hair trimming – don’t young people know about insulation and warmth? I still can’t work out why a girl like you is still single and not snapped up by some handsome, cake-loving farmer. You’re just like my Russ; he’s always single and so handsome that I wonder why.”
“He’s only 25 Ruth – maybe he’s enjoying himself too much,” I answer.
“True. Anyway, tell me what else is on this list of yours,” Ruth demands, still laughing at my expense as she pours out another cup of builders’ strength tea.
Feeling much better after speaking to Ruth, as I always do, I spend the next thirty minutes discussing the other tasks on my list with her. We decide that after the shock I had with my number one, I should select a more sedate item from my list to do next.
Note to self
You may well ask why this is so important to me, so let me explain. I have never, ever read a classic novel. I am talking about Charlotte Bronte’s Jayne Eyre; Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles; and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Of course like most women, I have seen the TV version of Pride and Prejudice and regularly replay the lake scene when Darcy (AKA Colin Firth) emerges from the water, dripping wet, whilst Elizabeth can only watch in wonder...
All my life I have been quite happy with easy-reading and am not ashamed to admit that I am partial to a Mills and Boon now and again, but as I approach 30, I feel that I should attempt classic literature, if only to feed my curiosity. Well okay, I’ve got to be totally honest with you–my Mum was always harping on about them when I was a teenager, and insisting I read one, so I have always rebelled against this. Now that I no longer live with her and haven’t for several years, perhaps I am overcoming my rebellion against this. I will turn my thoughts towards choosing a novel and reluctantly ask my literature loving mother for advice with this task.
Later that morning, as I start to prepare The Tea Cosy for opening, Kate arrives with her usual enthusiastic demeanour and I tell her about my progress with my list. Kate also finds my exposed, naked frolic hilarious. “I can’t believe somebody actually saw you naked in Bluebell Woods, although I’m still a little confused about why you wanted to run through the woods without any clothes on – each to their own. Why haven’t we heard who he is since we pride ourselves on being the keepers of all local news?” asks Kate.
“I asked myself the same thing and believe me -I’m going to find out more about him and how he knows my name. It’s driving me mad!” I reply.
Following some more chat, we begin our daily routine. You see–when Kate and I are getting ready to open the cafe, we like to continue our tradition of pretending we are famous singers. As adults, we have progressed, from using hairbrush microphones as we did in our bedrooms as children. I personally prefer my mop as my dance partner and a spoon as my microphone. We start with our favourite song to rev ourselves up for the day ahead – Don’t Stop Me Now, by Queen. Since we sing this song so often, we have our own unique dance routine and our own individual solo parts to sing. Kate finishes her solo part with a gyrating of her hips and then heads back into the kitchen. This is my big moment – my chorus part. “Don’t stop me now, I’m having a good time, I’m having a ball. Don’t stop me noooooowwwwww...” I complete my spin with the mop and sing the final note of my solo part at the top of my voice. Moving into my air guitar section, involving much head banging, I glance upwards noticing a figure in the doorway. In alarm, I drop my microphone (AKA spoon) with a clatter and become a little tangled with my mop. He stands there, solid, with his arms folded and yet another gratified smirk on his face that my idiocy has once again supplied. Having lost the ability to speak, I also stand and stare in stunned silence, mute and unable to throw in some witty remark that would have surely lightened the situation and avoided even further embarrassment. How much can one person take in one day before they shrivel up?
“I’m sorry to have to stop you now, since you’re having a good time and having a ball,” he says theatrically and gesturing towards my mop. Oh my goodness, he heard everything, all of my strangled cat sounding notes. Why Him again, to see my further embarrassment all within the space of three hours and now I would be happily swallowed up by a hungry killer whale. Had he arrived just one minute later, thirty seconds even, then Kate would have danced out of the kitchen to sing her lines and I would have been safely hidden in the kitchen taking the role of a subtle, backing singer. Gosh, I hadn’t noticed how tall he is; even though I’m fairly tall, he towers over me. Finding his height attractive, I am again annoyed with myself for fancying him.
“Hi, erm ... we’re just getting ready for customers,” I reply glancing at my watch. We are not open yet, but Kate frequently leaves the latch off the door once she arrives, and now I hate her for that. “Can I help you?”
“Well you already have. It’s not often you get to see an attractive naked lady attempting ballet at 6.00 in the morning whilst walking your dog. Then this to be followed by a personal dance and song show, although I do have to say, you need to work on that top note a little. Actually, the ballet could do with some work as well if I’m being honest,” he says, again with that amused look in his eyes. “Anyway, my purpose for visiting your lovely cafe, is to see if you cater externally for groups of up to fifty people–buffets I mean ... erm not the stripping or singing.”
At this point my mind is not able to comprehend a word that he says as I realise he saw the ballet. Luckily Kate arrives to my rescue – about time! “Yes we can organise that; I have some sample menus you can take if you’d like and do call us if there are any questions because we can be very flexible,” announces Kate with her usual vigour and care free persona.
“Yes I’ve seen how flexible Lizzie can be! Thanks for the menus and the entertainment, I may well pop in for a scone some time, if this is the sort of merriment you get whilst you nibble,” he says bemusedly as he walks out of the door. I can’t help but admire his rear as he departs, and then chastise myself quickly as he glances back and catches me staring at it.
Eventually when my speech returns, I notice Kate bent double in hysterics, which only increases further when I tell her that not only has he witnessed my poor singing and dancing, but he was the same man who saw me starkers and hairy in the woods this morning. And the ballet – he saw that too – it’s cringe worthy!
“Oh poor you Lizzie, but at least things can’t get any worse and if he ever fancies you after that singing, then you’ll know it’s true love. Why on earth were you doing ballet?”
“Just don’t ask – I can’t even think about it!” I was about to bite back with the argument that I don’t care if he ever fancies me, but Kate knows the phrase, the lady doth protest too much, so I keep shut. The thing is, I do find him attractive, but at the same time his over-confident attitude grates at me. The fact that I turn into a bumbling wreck when I see him, due to his over powering aura, means that I can’t say I like him. But he does have a perfect rear!
Note to self