Marjorie

Without realising it Marjorie found herself thumping the bottom of the tomato sauce bottle in tune with the increased pounding of her heart. In the instant she’d glanced up to see his familiar face emerging from behind a copy of ‘Melon growing for Beginners’, a large blob of the red sauce had squelched onto her egg and chips. Even the glistening bald head and multitude of lines under his eyes didn’t prevent her from remembering. It must be nearly thirty years she thought, and yet here he is in ‘Joe’s quick bite’ on Margate front. Their eyes met, exchanged phone numbers and returned to their sockets, but each continued to stare at the other. She didn’t have to search her memory for a vision of that distant night when they were together last. She could almost feel again, his warm lips on her neck and soft caresses under her jumper, as they sat in a cold, wet, bus shelter and waited for the number 23 which was always late. Her lips quivered into a slight smile as she remembered his clumsy attempted gropes. She wondered now, if she hadn’t resisted, would he have come back? She tore her gaze away from his mature, weather-beaten, craggy features. The sauce bottle was empty and the contents had drowned her dinner.

“Whoops.” She said. She considered giggling, but that would only draw attention. She hadn’t noticed him get up and walk toward her.

“I see you still like tomato sauce?” She heard a quiet musical voice say. She looked up. He was towering above her with his ‘Melon’ magazine under his arm and a broad grin on his face. “It is Marjorie isn’t it? I’m Jeffery. Do you remember Whitstable 1959?”

She studied him for a moment. He was taller than she recalled, but his hazel eyes still had that twinkle that captured her heart all those years ago. She put the bottle down as the pounding in her breast continued unabated. She put a finger to her lips.

“Jeffery...1959...that’s such a long time ago. I can’t quite place you?”

“I know It’s expecting a lot for you to remember. Perhaps It’ll help if you remember the number 23 bus turning up on time one night and saving your honour?” He laughed.

“Number 23...yes...It’s coming back to me now...” She felt a warmth flowing into her cheeks. “Jeffery...Yes... how nice to see you again.” She held out her hand. His grip was strong but gentle. “Oh,” she said. “I hope you don’t grab your melons like that?”

“What?” For a moment his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to make sense of her remark. When he saw her nodding toward his magazine, he chuckled. “Oh that...,” His face broke into a big grin again. “I grow the best in Kent, so they say.”

Marjorie was also giggling by this time. He had his free hand on the opposite chair.

“May I?” he said pulling it out in readiness.

Marjorie’s giggles had almost stopped, she nodded.

She watched him sit down. He still seemed to have that grace of movement she remembered. He put his magazine on the table and rested his hand on a picture of the biggest melon she’d ever seen.

“Are you going to eat that?” he said, pointing to a sea of red sauce on her plate.

Her heart began to pound again as he reminded her why she had hit the sauce bottle so hard in the first place. ‘Did he know?’ she thought. ‘Does he realise that I’d eat every bit of it if he asked me to?’ She picked her fork up and began trying to find a chip.

“I don’t think I will now. It’s always the same with those bottles isn’t it? If you tap them, nothing happens, so you hit them harder and it comes out all over the place. Somebody ought to invent something better.”

She looked up and he was smiling and he caught her gaze and seemed to invade her mind. His eyes were attacking her defences. She wanted to turn away but she couldn’t. She cursed herself for having feelings about him after all this time. She ached inside as she struggled to contain her emotions and, needless to say, her hormones. Was this lust she felt or love for the man who’d kissed her wet nose in a damp bus shelter in 1959? She tugged at her wedding ring and thought of Bert. He’d be waiting at home with his worn out slippers and a tartan scarf tied loose around his neck. As the picture of her husband of twenty years became clearer in her mind, she shuddered with guilt. While Marjorie had been fighting with herself, Jeffery had inched his chair closer. Not only was he winning the tug of love, he smelled nice too.

“If you’re still hungry...?”

“What...hungry?...no...no thank you, it’s gone now.”

“Gone?”

Marjorie began giggling again. Oh Jeffery, she thought, you were always able to make me laugh.

“My hunger...its vanished.”

He pushed her plate to one side and a small spillage of sauce dripped onto the table, at the same time he clasped her trembling fingers in his hand.

“Marjorie I want...will you...will you...can I give you a lift somewhere?”

She didn’t move her hands. His grip was soft yet firm and she didn’t want him to let go. She didn’t want him to give her a lift somewhere either. She moistened her lips and lowered her eyelids. Ask me to a hotel for Gods sake she screamed inside. Take me in your arms and crush my lips with yours. Sweep me up and whisk me to a private place, then ravage me like you promised thirty years ago. And when you’re finished, tell me I don’t deserve someone like you and walk out of my life, breaking my heart again.

Marjorie nodded

“That’s kind of you. Could you drop me at the bus station?”

It’d become windy and cold since she’d first entered the café. So when Jeffery helped her with her coat and put his arm around her shoulder she didn’t try and pull away. He remained, touching her, until he’d opened the car door and ushered her inside. While he walked around the other side, Marjorie lifted her skirt a little higher, not only for comfort she thought, and felt herself go red at other pictures racing through her mind.

“That’s better,” he said brushing a wisp of hair back into place. “It isn’t far to the station.” The words were more grunts than normal speech as he leant over Marjorie to retrieve a cassette tape from the glove box on her side. His neck was so close she could’ve kissed it, but what would he do if she did? She knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it if he rejected her, even though she thought he still felt something for her, she didn’t want to make the first move. ‘Why don’t you put your hand on my knee Jeffery? I’ll only make a feeble effort to move it away. Please, do something.’

During the short journey to the bus station she looked out of the car window, her mind was full of questions. ‘Should I tell him before it’s too late? Tell him what though? He hasn’t mentioned a wife or family yet, what if he’s happily married? I would be breaking them up. And I’m married, if not happily, then contentedly at least. Bert may not be exciting but he’s dependable and I’m sure he loves me. But this would only happen today. It wouldn’t be as if we were going to have an affair or anything. Just an hour or two in a hotel room and then goodbye and go our separate ways. What would be wrong with that?’

“Here we are then.” His strong voice crashed into her thoughts.

“Oh thank you Jeffery. You’ve been so kind. It has been marvellous seeing you after all these years. Maybe we’ll bump into one another again one day.” She got out of the car and saw they were parked on double yellow lines and knew he couldn’t stay. She bent down to look into the car once more. He was smiling.

“Goodbye Marjorie, it was lovely.” As the words tumbled from his lips he looked up and saw the traffic warden approaching. “I’ll have to go.” Before she could reply, he slammed the car into gear and drove away.

“Goodbye Jeffery,” she mouthed into a cloud of exhaust smoke. “Till the next time.”