Time and Place

PROLOGUE

I am beside the sea again in dreams that ebb and flow in waves of confusion. A tidal wave of faces. All of them you at different times and places. You are riding waves in the vastness of wet and blue. Your lips are comfortably numb.

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CHAPTER 1

We made love for the first and last time in candlelight. It seemed then, only natural to light the white candle, dance the flame to tunes of shadows. I sighed. I am a lover in the wilderness. Your face is the picture in my heart-shaped locket, you are the chain around my neck.

I roll more cigarettes. The tap drips. The aga smokes a little. Empty the dregs of red wine from the bottle into my glass. Are you whispering my name? I am feeling tired. I don’t know how long I can stay awake. Candles always resurrect you. I yearn for real arms not ghost arms around me. I want to hear your seductive voice to soothe me. It must be late now. Forget. I drink the last of the wine and blow out the candle. Sleep. A deep dreamless sleep.

Outside the whispering February wind teased the window panes. A bird sang with pure joy. I woke-up refreshed, snuggled up in a tight ball, enveloped in the softness of a vast, strange bed. My eyes flickered open and my borrowed, rustic retreat; enchanted me anew. I do not have to move; this is sheer bliss. The white rough walls that surround me are the epitome of sanctuary. The beams above me; guardian angels.

I succumb to the adventure of the new day and leave the warmth of the bed. I reach for my white, towelling dressing-gown; changing on a nail on the bedroom door. The other door on the right leads to a tiny bathroom. My feet accustomed to soft pink carpet, are chilled by the cold, stone floor. I run a bath and the steam from the swirling water veils my face in errant fog.

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CHAPTER 9

You were Sagittarius the archer. A traveller. I am a Scorpio born on bonfire night. Like wolves we hunt each other. A ritual we repeated. I was frightened of being in love. You were missing. I was alone. Unthinkable. Loneliness was a long distance tide. I sighed and pulled off my boots. Wriggled out of a little black dress. Snuggled under the duvet wearing a frown.

My mobile phone summoned me.
“ Don’t be mad,” you said. “Meet me on the beach.”
I dressed in haste. Left the house by the back door and ran down the street. Almost sunset. I knew where to find you. I crossed the road near The Sole Palace, fish and chip shop. Sat on the sea wall and removed my trainers.
“Hey you lover of mine,” you called to me.
The waves lapped gently in the background like a giant cat drinking milk. Sunset. A good for nothing breeze. My eyes averted in some dreamlike state., snapped instantly to you. Barefoot. Faded denim jeans. White vest t-shirt. Toned muscle. Long black hair loose. Those eyes.
“ Hey you time and place,” you said in your gravelly seductive voice.

I started walking towards you. The beach a carpet in our temple of love.
“c’mon babe,” you said.
We walked into the sea hand-in-hand.
Amorous waves enticed our feet, then our ankles; seduced by the temptress sea.
“Babe I’ve spent time thinking today…”
“I know,” I said wondering if you would pursue the unfinished sentence.
You smiled as if reading my thoughts.
You looked at me with the intensity I was totally addicted to.
“You are in love with being in love,” you fired at me.
I snatched my hand away. In self defence I wrapped my long black cardigan tighter around myself and folded my arms. You were doing the devil’s advocate routine with me again.

We paddled in silence and you offered your left hand for me to hold again.
“You are in love with me?”
“Yeah. I know. I want…” I faltered.
A ripple of waves. Your goddess the sea.
Your wildness cannot be tamed. I had to give you freedom and you always returned.
“I do love you,” your voice more liquid, flowing with promise. Then silence, like a mountain peak conquered and a view to savour before the drudgery of the downward trek. I felt heady as if drunk. My lone wolf captured in my fairytale heart and filled it with reality that did not hurt. You had picked thorns out of weary paws that no longer had to run through fear of abandonment.

I think we both knew that was the true beginning. Later you were strumming your guitar. Our treasures did not have to be bought from a gift shop. The mantelpiece above the bed became a shrine to our collection of pretty shells and unusual stones.
“I need to sleep.”
“Well sleep then,” you said.
“Sleep with me,” I murmured.
“I love you babe,” then you kissed me goodnight.