Love at First Sight

It had a been a particularly uneventful week, come to think of it,
it had been a particularly uneventful year since he had stormed out of
the house, saying that he had had enough. Life with him had been a
roller-coaster. Highs, when nothing had been too good. Bouts of
jealousy and black rage, when it had taken all her ingenuity to placate
him.

Travelling home, tired after a hard day, she often fantasised how
wonderful it would be just to open the front door, kick off her shoes,
heat something simple and curl up in front of a weepy on the
television. The phone had rung just as she was leaving the office; a
client needed assistance, this caused her to miss her train. The next
one only got in fifteen minutes later but she knew he would be waiting
at the station for her. Now she would have to steel herself against the
black looks she knew she would encounter. Worse was the
cross-examination; where had she been and what had she been doing. It
always came down to the same old argument, she had plenty of time for
other people's problems but never for him. After she had managed to
placate him, and the dark mood had lifted, he would watch television
whilst she would go to the kitchen and cook.

When they first met, they went out to parties, clubbing and dancing. He
would come with her to choose her clothes. Her friends remarked how
sweet he was. They all wished their boy friends would show them as much
attention instead of spending time at the pub or going to football
matches with their mates. During the week, he would come into town and
they would go out for the evening. So, the relationship developed. It
was nice to have someone to take the initiative and easy when she had
had a demanding week to fall in with his arrangements. After a time
this began to get wearisome, his behavior was claustrophobic. If she
went out and met her girlfriends for the evening, he would come to,
happy to be the only man there. Later criticizing her friends so that
she would start to find excuses not to meet them. One by one they
slowly dropped away.

When they eventually split up, she felt bereft. She had fumed about
their last argument for some days. It had started over the usual thing.
He had hit a quiet patch at work, no new projects in the offing and
business was hard. When he got like this, his way of dealing with it
was to go to travel agents and bring back enticing brochures offering
holidays they could ill afford. So he would then go out and book a
discounted week leaving within the next few days. There was no way she
could get away from work at a moment's notice. Someone had to take over
in emergencies. She had to review her clients and postpone
appointments. This took a month, not a few days.

Then the argument began, it had kept turning back to the usual themes;
the amount of time she spent at work; her selfishness, didn't he always
pick her up from the station and take her wherever she wished to go.
Suddenly he changed subject. Always feeling insecure, he knew that in
the past, if he had even hinted that maybe there was someone else in
her life, she gave in. This time she had chosen to call his bluff. His
reaction was completely unanticipated. He had stared at her open
mouthed for a minute, then blew his top.

He had known all along, who was it? She had lied; saying that she
missed the train! He knew that it was only an excuse! They must have
met after work!

She was amazed at his outburst, didn't he know her better than that. A
ten minute affair!

Well, wasn't he right? How many lovers had she had?

She was tired of the bickering so stupidly she had said
"millions"!

With that he had packed a holdall and stormed out. Usually when he went
out in a bad mood, he would walk for miles, consider how stupid he had
been, and return in a much better frame of mind. He didn't come back at
all that day. Next day, she nearly ran home from work, disappointed
that he was not at the station to meet her. When she opened the door
the place was in darkness and deathly quiet. All evening she could not
relax waiting to hear his key in the lock or the phone ring. Perhaps
she should inform the police. How long did one wait before telling them
that you had had a row and your partner had walked out?
It all seemed so trivial now. For a week or two her life had followed
the same pattern, not being able to concentrate and rushing home each
night. Every time the phone rang, she jumped, hoping it was him.

One day she came home to find all his things gone and the front door
key on the table. Their relationship was over.

The next few months she remembered as grey, there seemed no point to
life and all her days went by with eternal monotony. Each morning she
got up; went to work; came home and went to bed. At weekends she
cleaned, cooked and generally lazed around waiting for Monday morning
when she could go back to work. In the past, she had longed to relax in
front of the television. Now that she was able to watch what she liked,
she could not find anything that interested her. There was no reason to
rush home. She was tired all the time and tossed and turned at night,
longing for the morning. She started making silly mistakes and ceased
to pay her clients the attention they needed. Her colleagues at work
began to remark on her lethargy and advised her to take a break, go
away on a holiday. Where would she go?

Entering a travel agent one day, she idly thumbed through the
brochures. The cruises looked good. They all went to nice warm exotic
places and the idea of being waited on, appealed. Well, what if all the
other passengers are couples? She would be the odd one out, always
feeling as if she was intruding. Then a mini cruise caught her eye.
Perhaps she could start with an Away Day to France. There was a
catamaran from Newhaven to Dieppe, which took just over two hours. She
could drive to New Haven and be a foot passenger, this would give her
time to look around the shops and maybe have a meal on the way back,
all she felt that she could handle at the moment.

The morning proved grey on the day of her outing, reflecting her mood.
She had booked and paid for the trip in advance, so she felt she had to
go, especially as her colleagues would be wanting a report. Entering
the port, the sun came out, setting the sea asparkle. It seemed as
though she had only just sat down to a leisurely late breakfast when
they've were already docking in France.

Dieppe was interesting and she lost all sense of time window-shopping.
She stopped at a Salon-de-The for coffee and cakes and had difficulty
choosing which cake she would like, there were so many different
varieties. She eventually chose a religieuse, because the name
intrigued her. Fancy calling a cake, a nun! But, they did look similar
to the old fashioned nuns with their flyaway habits. She sat for some
time in the quaint upstairs room, looking out over the harbour and
thinking over the day. Earlier she had contemplated buying a piece of
jewellery. The amber had caught her eye, especially the silver bracelet
set with a large stone; it would look stunning on her dark apricot
embroidered dress. She had brought the dress on the off chance. At the
time it had given her a lift. The silk fabric had clung sensuously to
her body and swirled softly around her body. She stared at the amber,
it seemed to mesmerise her. She was fascinated by the insects caught in
the petrified resin. Although the day was warm she shivered,
remembering the relationship that had trapped her. Next to the bracelet
was a silver brooch, and on an impulse, she bought it.

Now sitting in the quiet of the tea room, she took out the package. How
beautifully it was wrapped in coloured paper, fastened with toning
multicoloured ribbons. She carefully untied the strings and opened the
tiny box. Nestling inside was a delicate silver filigree butterfly with
an amber body. Its wings outstretched, ready to fly away, as if it just
emerged from its chrysalis. The beauty of it brought tears to eyes. She
knew she had to get out of the tea room or she would draw attention to
herself, so she went for a walk up on the cliff where the wind howled
off the sea. How had she got into such a state? She had allowed herself
to wallow in self-pity until she had become depressed. She resolved,
that like the butterfly, she would have to start trying to spread her
wings.

Time was getting on and she realised that she was hungry. Instead of
eating on the return journey, as she had planned, she went in search of
a small restaurant. She found one that was quiet and on entering she
noticed that one or two people were eating alone. It was lit by
concealed lighting, candles glistened on the tables casting flickering
shadows into the corners. Madam showed her to a table that was set for
one.

She saw him the moment she walked through the door, sitting relaxed on
the deep- buttoned velvet bench. The table was in an alcove, no candle
shone there. His dark eyes surveyed the room alighting on her for a few
seconds. She felt drawn into them, like floating in warm chocolate, it
was as if he had read her deepest most secret thoughts in that glancing
look. He was well dressed in a dark green velvet jacket, a gold chain
glistened round his neck. Regular customers went up to greet him, and
stayed to talk for a minute or two. Madam, who obviously ran the
restaurant, must have known him well, as she spoke to him every time
she passed by his table. Perhaps he was the local bachelor, who came
and ate in her restaurant every night.

He looked at her almost enticing her to go to his table. She wished she
had enough courage to go and speak with him, but she knew it would be
of no use. Her French was good enough to get what she wanted in a shop,
but not for polite conversation. He had an aristocratic air and
probably a noble French name to go with it. She had fallen in love with
him. How she would like to entice him to come home, but regulations
made it difficult to take pets back to England. Anyway a well bred,
aristocratic, apricot poodle, knowing the comforts of life, should
always stay in France.