club sandwiches and fed bits of ham to the dogs who obviously deemed the possibility of a titbit worth momentarily vacating their sunbathing spots for.
‘I think I’d like a dog when we’re married,’ Julia informed him.
‘How about three dogs and six kids?’ Max suggested. ‘Or six dogs and three kids?’
They snorted with laughter.
‘We’ll need a big house.’
‘That won’t be a problem,’ replied Max. ‘By the time we’re twenty-five you’ll be the top interpreter at the United Nations and I’ll be the best history teacher in the country.’
‘Gosh,’ gasped Julia, proffering a piece of bacon to her canine friend. ‘Can you imagine us at twenty-five? It sounds so … old; so grown-up. I wonder what we’ll be doing by then.’
‘As long as we’re together, I don’t care,’ said Max, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand.
Julia blinked back a tear. ‘Stop being so romantic, Mr Burrell. You’re making me cry.’
They finished their food, washed it down with orange juice, and wandered into the village.
‘Oo, isn’t it gorgeous,’ cooed Julia, drinking in the honey-coloured houses with their overflowing window boxes, and shiny door knockers. ‘Let’s have a look around and choose which one we’re going to live in when we’re twenty-five.’
Arms entwined, they explored the village, and several tracks leading off it. One of them brought them to a secluded copse of trees overlooking a small lake. A mother duck and six tiny ducklings busied themselves at the water’s edge. They sat down and watched them.
‘This is perfect,’ sighed Julia, flopping down on her back and gazing up at Max. ‘I think we should stay here forever.’
Max chuckled and lay down beside her. ‘Well, I think, at some point, someone might miss us. We don’t have to go back just yet, though. The night is still young.’
‘Good.’ Julia smiled mischievously. ‘Because I haven’t congratulated you properly on passing your driving test yet.’ Twining her arms around his neck, she pulled his face down to hers and began kissing him.
Kissing Max always made her tingle. All over. And the way he touched her … well, it set every one of her senses on fire. But they still hadn’t made love. They’d talked about it. And they’d come close on quite a few occasions. But they’d always stopped in the nick of time. Things, for whatever reason, hadn’t been quite right. Until this evening. With the heady combination of birdsong, ducklings, clear blue sky and still-warm sun, it was as if they’d wandered straight onto a film set – arranged especially for them. Things couldn’t be more perfect. And this evening Julia didn’t want to stop.
‘You sure about this?’ Max asked, when the kissing had led to other things. ‘I’ve brought a condom with me.’
Unable to speak, burning with longing for him, Julia nodded. She’d never been more sure of anything in her entire life.
Their love-making had been slow, tender, their gaze locked the entire time. In Max’s usual competent way, he’d made her feel safe, special, loved. Not to mention experience feelings she never would have thought possible. The entire thing had been better than perfect. It had been absolutely exquisite.
‘Well, I certainly won’t forget this day in a hurry,’ Max whispered afterwards, holding her in his arms and nuzzling into her hair.
Julia swiped a tear from her face and knew for certain that she would remember that day for the rest of her life.
The post thudding down on the hall mat snapped her out of her reverie. She lifted her cup of coffee to her lips.
It was cold.
By the time Julia arrived at Waitrose, she was a jittering wreck. She had, however, made more of an effort. Wearing her best jeans and a blue shirt, she’d washed and blow-dried her hair, and even added a swipe of blusher and a touch of clear lip gloss. She’d tried one of her lipsticks but it was so long since she’d opened it that it had gone all gooey.
She attempted to concentrate on the shopping, but all the while her eyes scanned the aisles for gorgeous ex-boyfriends. She lingered longer than was obviously acceptable in the cereal aisle, causing a bemused assistant to enquire if she required any help. Julia flushed scarlet and politely declined the offer.
By the time she reached the checkout, frustrated tears burned her eyes.
‘Did you find everything you needed?’ the checkout lady asked.
Unfortunately not, Julia wanted to wail. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied instead.
Pushing the loaded trolley out to the car park with all the finesse of a drunken hippopotamus, Julia reached her car and began stuffing the bags into the boot, without a care for their contents. It was her own fault, she told herself. As much as she’d denied it over the week, she’d been desperate to see Max again today. Hoping to see Max again. She’d set herself up for an almighty fall. And boy, had she fallen.
*****
In the squash club changing room Paul gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look too bad for someone his age, he concluded, smoothing down his T-shirt over his almost flat stomach. Okay, so he had a few grey hairs, but who didn’t at forty? And a couple of deep lines had formed at the corners of his eyes, but he rather thought they added character. His teeth were pretty good, too, thanks to his six-monthly check-ups. But maybe they’d look even better if he had them whitened. He’d noticed something on the back of one of Faye’s magazines last week about some laser treatment that guaranteed …
‘Hi there, Paul.’
Startled out of his introspection, Paul mumbled some indecipherable greeting back to the interloper, before scuttling over to the bench to pick up his squash racquet.
What on earth was he doing? He’d never been vain before. He’d always prided himself on being smart for work, of course. Looking like an executive was part of playing the corporate game. But there any interest in his appearance had endeth.
Until his new assistant, Natalia, had started in the office.
In fact, until Natalia had started in the office, Paul had been a different man altogether. Completely focused on his work; drifting along in his home life; never questioning his existence. Taking it for granted, in fact, that, as you aged, nothing really excited you any more. But having a gorgeous, nubile, twenty-something by his side all day, whose sexy smiles and lingering eye contact suggested she found him attractive, had turned all of the above on its head.
Paul, nicknamed ‘The King of Spreadsheets’, now couldn’t look at a column of numbers without his mind wandering to Natalia’s vital statistics. Couldn’t settle in his own home without wondering what she was doing. Had begun taking an unhealthy interest in his shirts. And had started carrying out a detailed analysis of his life at every opportunity.
He’d never felt more restless, more invigorated, more out of control, and more bloody wonderful since university. It was like being eighteen all over again. And the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach each morning as he drove to work increased with every mile nearer to the office. It was a fabulous feeling he’d long since forgotten. The whole experience was better than any therapy – alternative or otherwise – and had re-energised him more than a ton of vitamin pills could ever hope to.
Not that anything had happened between him and Natalia. It really hadn’t. And it wasn’t his fault Natalia had invited herself along for a game of squash this evening. He hadn’t said anything to encourage her. Well, not much anyway.
‘Oh, so you play squash,’ she’d purred the day before. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving that a go myself.’
‘I could teach you if you like,’ Paul blurted out, before engaging his brain. ‘I’ll be going to the club tomorrow evening. Straight