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Memories By Our Favourite Spot

By: ParanormalQueen



This is a short story that just popped into my head. I tried to ignore it but it's holding on like a very stubborn terrier so guess I'm just going to have to put pen to paper...or rather fingers to laptop. 

It was partly inspired by someone who I've only known for a short time but whom I now consider a sort of inspiration. This is for you b579. You know yourself. Thanks for reading my poems and sharing yours with me. Meant a whole lot to me.

********************** *************************

I stand looking outside the window and reminiscing. Thoughts fill my head as I remember my life. The good, the bad and the overwhelmingly marvellous. I smile as I go over fond memories and then I cry as I think of how it is now. Then it blurs into a state of the bittersweet. The past clashing with the present. It had been lovely. Not a nicely paved road, but a good journey nonetheless. But now it was over. I stare, my eyes bright and unblinking, yet I see nothing.

***

I was twenty three, he was fifty nine. People saw us walking down the road or going into the supermarket and either sniggered or looked away as quickly as they could. There were those who looked on steadfastly, ignoring us so blatantly that it seemed they had eyes in the back of their heads when they passed. But we did not care. Why should we? We were in love. But in hindsight I guess one could not really blame them. I mean, I was young and he was old; I was dressed in expensive couture and he was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. 

I was black and he was white.

***

My name is Tamara Nagosi. I am half Nigerian, half Ethiopian. With long wavy black hair, large almond shaped eyes and a very tall, lean stature; I guess you could say I was a beauty. You see, I grew up to be very spoilt. My father died when I was six and I guess his side of the family tried to over-compensate for his death. My mother, who grew up in a strict Nigeria, tried to raise me up the way she was raised. She was stern and smacked me when I misbehaved. Then I would throw the largest of tantrums and my grandmother would swoop me up in her arms and throw my mother an evil glare. I learnt how to play 'the game.' Act in a terrible way, push my mother into raising her hands to smack me and then get my grandmother's doting love and affection. This went on till I was ten and my mother decided she could not take it anymore. She left me with my grandmother and I was pleased. Ecstatic even; now I could get away with anything.

Of course, now that I'm older I understand how my mother had wanted to drill into me that crying to get whatever I wanted was not the answer. That just because I was fortunate enough to have been born into a wealthy family with doting grandparents did not mean I was above everybody. I had been a monster and no one, no one but her had seen the wrongness of my training. Now I wish that I had been better as I grew up without a mother; at the same time I wish she had been stronger and persevered. 

***

I was twenty two and slightly drunk when I first saw him. At that time I had not spared him a glance. I had popped into the Starbucks on Hampstead for a much needed coffee. He was there, the only person there actually considering it was as early as 7 am. He was sat by the window, concentrating intently on what he was writing, oblivious to the dreary looking but, to me, wonderfully gray sky. His focus was solely on his notebook. At the time, I didn't care much about this man. All I wanted was my mocha with whipped cream. The perfect hangover cure.

As I grabbed my coffee, waving rather absently at the spotty boy behind the counter, ignoring the wide eyed look he gave me as I left the change from my twenty pound note on the counter for him. I don't think he had ever been tipped that much in his short existence as a 'coffee boy.'

I popped open my flip Nokia phone. It was the phone of the year. Now I laugh to myself as I see everyone with their Blackberry smartphones or IPhones. Forgetting the old Motorolas and Nokias.

I dialled my best friend's number, Alicia and soon was yapping away loudly as I gave her a detailed description of my night with an oil heir in his flat in Hampstead.

I was quickly cut short as I saw scoffed up trainers by my table legs. I glanced up to see the man staring at me furiously. He had the most intense green eyes and for a tenth of a second, all I could do was stare, captivated by his eyes.

Then I snapped out of it as his words crashed into me, 'I'm pretty sure the whole world would love to hear some more about how your man of the night treated your clitoris the way it should be treated, but some of us are a bit put off by your loud descriptions so if you could tone it down a little?'

I stared open-mouthed as he whirled back and marched to his chair, ignoring Alicia's squeaks coming from the phone. I had never been spoken to in such a rude manner in my entire life!

I snapped the phone shut, cutting Alicia off and stared at the man, still shocked. The coffee boy came round and asked, rather timidly, if I wanted him to send the other man out but I shook my head. A part of me wanted to march over to him and demand an apology for his rudeness, but another part, the larger part was intrigued by him. Someone had actually dared to talk to me like that? Especially when I had been surrounded by fawners all my life -- fascinating.

I did stand up in the end. And I did march over to him. But what came out of my smiling mouth was, 'I apologise for disrupting your concentration. Could I buy you a coffee as a proper apology?'

The man looked up. I saw him scrunch his nose a little as if he was trying to place who I was. This caused a little irritation in me. Could he have forgotten who he berated so suddenly? Only later did he tell me that his heart had been galloping when he heard my footsteps coming to him. He had thought I was going to yell or even hit him. We had laughed at this confession.

He shook his head curtly, his wavy brown hair, with a little grey interspersed evenly within it, shaking softly as well.

I was taken aback. I had been told I was pretty -- and I believed it. I was spoilt yes, fawned over yes, probably lied to, but my beauty was one thing I knew for sure was real. I had eyes too, of course.

I could not believe that he had not taken me up on my offer. Was he that appalled by me? I looked at him coolly, coldly even.

'Well, forgive me for being more of a disturbance. Good luck with your writing.' I turned and smartly left the cafe, thinking to myself that it was a good thing I lived far away in Sloane's Square. There was no way I'd be visiting that Starbucks ever again.

***

Two days later, I was there. It had been raining heavily and it was a cold, windy 7.15 am, but I did not care. I had tried to put that man out of my mind but I could not. At first it had been intrigue, then exasperation, and finally arousal. He had stirred something in me. I had never been instantly attracted to anybody. Not whilst sober anyway. My life was a whirlwind of partying and socialising and I always ended up in someone's bed, or in my bed with someone else. But never when sober. This was definitely a first. 

It was not even that he was handsome. He was rather ordinary. With his longer than average hair which had grey bits in it, and his alright build and height. But it was the little things that mattered. His eyes. His voice. The authority and lack of adulation. I did not care that he was probably old enough to be my father, and maybe poor due to his lackadaisical dressing; no. I had not even thought to check his wedding finger. He was certainly old enough to be married. None of that. I just wanted to see him again.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door, shaking the rain off my umbrella as I did so. I smiled nicely at the same spotty coffee boy whose eyes widened with delight as his face turned red. I looked around, as carelessly as I could, and to my dismay, saw that the only other people there where two middle-aged women drinking and chatting away companionably. I thought briefly of all the effort I had put into my appearance -- my carefully tousled and subtly highlighted hair, my 'natural' makeup highlighting my pronounced cheekbones, my simple looking Pringle of Scotland cashmere jumper tucked rather shabbily into high-waisted Christian Dior trousers. I wrinkled my nose glumly and ordered a large hot chocolate. I needed consolation.

I sat down and slurped my chocolate drink, not caring about the table manners that had been drilled into me by my strict tutors at finishing school. Who cared? As I slurped down the last dregs from my mug, chasing a tiny chocolate piece with my tongue, the door opened and I saw him walk in. I dropped the mug abruptly and tried to surreptitiously wipe my nose; I could feel moisture there and hoped I'd taken care of it.

I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye and then he turned from where he had been going and came over to a table next to me.

I tried to smile coolly at him but I think I failed miserably as my face ached trying to accommodate a large grin that it was not accustomed to.

He stared at me for a second, then leaned over to ask me, his voice a husky whisper, 'What are you doing here?'

I looked at him, taken aback a little. I replied as disdainfully as I could, 'What does one normally do in a cafe, dance?'

He smiled with an arched brow. Then he turned to his notebook and began to write.

I sat there for twenty minutes with an empty cup but he never looked up at me. 

I got up, resignedly and walked out to my car, telling myself that it was all pointless.

For the next two weeks, we repeated the same scenario: drink, be asked what I was doing there, reply with varying sarcastic comments, sit and stare, then walk out.

The third week I decided enough was enough. He sat down next to me and opened his mouth to ask the same question he had been asking but I beat him to it. 

I asked, my heart pounding, 'What do you think I'm doing here?'

He looked at me, surprised for a second. Then he smiled widely and leaned back against his seat, folding his arms across his chest. 

I used the opportunity to look at his left ring finger. Bare. I crossed my fingers inwardly. 

Then he uttered the words I guess I'd been waiting for subconsciously.

'I live five minutes away from here.'

Score.

I stood up, legs trembling for a second as I put on my coat and walked out of the cafe after him. It was dark outside. The December weather bitterly cold. I thanked all the Powers that Be that I had forgotten where I had left my car keys from the night before. Somewhere in my room most likely. I had taken a taxi instead so no pressure from wondering where to have parked the car now that I was walking silently next to him as he walked, or rather strolled comfortably to his house.

We had barely gotten into the rather dinky flat before he pushed my against the door and ground his lips against mine. Kissing me with no restraint. I clung to him as I parted my lips to let his tongue in. I had never been kissed so relentlessly. So surely. As I got fully into the kiss, sucking his tongue into my mouth and even biting it, he let out a harsh groan and let go of me. It was so abrupt I sank back hard against the door and hit my head soundly.

I rubbed it absently. I did not care about the ache. Why had he stopped it? This had surely been an amazing kiss.

He shook his head as if he could hear my questions and ran his fingers through his hair. He stalked over to the window and stared out of it, to whatever lay below.

'Why?' I asked through swollen lips.

He replied without looking at me, 'Because if I continue I won't be able to stop.'

I waited for him to continue but he did not say anything. So I helped him, 'And?'

He let out a sharp bark of laughter, 'And right now I'd probably be fucking you. Against the door, maybe on the floor, who knows? But I'd be fucking you.'

I shrugged, 'So? I mean, we both want it. And that's the whole point of inviting me back to yours. Why stop now?'

He shrugged too. Although his shrug seemed different to mine. He turned to pin me with his green gaze and replied, 'Because I've changed my mind. I don't want to fuck you anymore.'

I stared at him blankly for a second. Then I got furious, 'You've got to be joking. You bring me here and tease me with an out-of-this-world kiss, then you tell me you don't want to 'fuck' me anymore. And if it was a girl, she'd be called a cock-tease. You stupid prick. Do you actually think you'll be able to get a woman like me ever again?'

He shook his head smiling rather sadly at that, 'You're right. I don't think I'll be getting a woman like you ever again. Which is why I don't think there's any point indulging myself now, when we both know it won't ever happen again.'

I looked at him exasperatedly, who cared about tomorrow? 'How are you so sure it won't happen again? Why can't we just live for now and face whatever happens next?'

He stared at me like he was trying to decide something and I knew he was faltering. I walked up to him sultrily and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, 'I don't care about tomorrow. Let's just...live now.'

He breathed heavily and I felt the air waft over my forehead.

'I'm probably going to regret this but...' And with that he swung me up over his shoulder, ignoring my delighted shriek as he walked into the bedroom.

It was heaven.

His kisses.

His touch -- my face, my ear, the back of my knee, the inside of my wrists.

Places that had never been paid so much attention before. By the time he got to my pussy, I was panting. Tears streaming down my face, although I was not crying. I felt like my whole body was a pulsing erogenous spot. He merely flicked my clit with his finger before I shattered. I came to with his face above me. Grinning like he had just won the lottery. Guess he had. He had not known it then, but that was the first time I had orgasmed during sex. He smiled tenderly and wiped the moisture off my face. He brought a finger to his mouth and sucked in my tear. This caused my heart to swell. Here was a stranger, whose name I did not know treating me better than all my other male friends whose beds I had shared on several occasions. I could have wept.

He slipped on a condom, then slid ever so gently into me. I held my breath as he did so. Then he slipped out slowly then back in, slowly again. He held me gently as he did so. I had never had sex so tenderly. It was always rough, fast, hard. Him pounding away and me screaming that he moved harder. But this; it was unbelievable. I could feel him stroking every nerve in me. His cock, bumping my cervix gently before withdrawing completely then going back in.

I climaxed again. It was a gentle wave this time, lapping at my lax body softly. I cried as his eyes shut for a second, then opened with a sigh. He had come as well.

This had not been fucking. We had made love.

***

I woke up two hours later. He was standing by his window, smoking and looking outside. I studied him for a second. His face in the light was beautiful. Not in the physical sense. He had lines by the sides of his eyes and his lips, he had a little furrow on his forehead, strategically placed between his eyes. His grey hairs were more pronounced in the weak sunlight. He looked like a man in his fifties or even sixties. But to me he was beautiful.

I think I fell in love with him then.

He turned slightly from the window and looked back at me. For a second we just looked at each other. Then I smiled. After a little hesitation on his part which set my heart speeding a bit, he smiled back.

'I see sleeping beauty has finally tired of snoring.'

I squawked loudly at this. 'I do not snore!'

He laughed and threw his cigarette out of the window before shutting it and coming back to me. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before walking to his wardrobe to get a t shirt and throwing it on.

I looked at him, watching the muscles in back flex as he dressed up. My clothes were on the floor, and when he turned to look at me, sitting up with my breasts jutting out towards him, I felt shy all of a sudden. Like the young twenty two year old that I was. I held the duvet up and pressed it to my chest.

He smiled softly at that. I had thought he would taunt me that he had seen everything, but instead he just smiled. And I smiled back.

That was the start of our relationship I guess.

We met up practically every day. Sometimes we went for coffee at our Starbucks as I liked to call it. Or we sat at his while he wrote away in his notebook and I looked at him tenderly or painted my nails.

He had quit his job as an editor for a newspaper and instead wrote all the time. I asked and asked if I could read but he never showed me. Me, I did not have a job. I hung out with him or went shopping with Alicia or rang up my grandmother if I was in a jollier than usual mood. Or rang up my personal banker to pay my credit card bills. That was my life. Our life.

It seemed alright for the next six or so weeks. Just us in our own perfect little world. Then I got tired of holing up and wanted to be introduced to his friends. And introduce him to mine.

He said no.

I was adamant that we could not stay in his flat forever. He had never even come to mine to visit. He was reluctant but I wore him down. He had no choice but to come with me to Alicia's quarterly dinner party. I had missed her New Year soiree as I had wanted to spend it with him but I was not missing her January dinner party. 

On that day, I came round to pick him up as he did not have a car. He was dressed in his customary t shirt and scruffy jeans. The old me would have wrinkled my nose in disgust. Actually I still would have if he was just anybody, but he was my man. My boyfriend. He could wear a burlap sack and I would still love him.

He slipped into my little black Porsche and gave me a half-hearted kiss. I guess he was still unhappy about our foray into the real world, but I did not care. I had told Alicia so much about my man and she was looking forward to meeting him. I had not told that much to our other friend, Paula, but I did not really care about her. She was more Alicia's friend than mine so I owed her no obligation. Plus our friendship was more like a rivalry. She was not as rich as me and she hated it. I could not care less. 

We arrived at Alicia's garden flat in Notting Hill and I stretched over to the back seat to grab a cutely wrapped bottle of vintage Armagnac and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

'You ready?' I asked excitedly and he nodded. His excitement was nowhere to be found. 

I did not care. I was excited enough for both of us.

We walked together to Alicia's door and pressed the bell. 

The door opened and my grin faded to a normal smile when I saw that it was Paula not Alicia who had opened the door. She took in our very different attires. Him all careless casual and me all dressy in a vintage Lord and Taylor dress peeking out from my Burberry coat. 

'Tam Tam darling, how wonderful to see you. It's been yonks, n'est pas? Happy new year.' She gushed so sweetly rushing forward to smack the air by my two cheeks. This was my normal way of greeting but I guess I was not too enthusiastic as I was sure he could see the falseness of it all.

I smiled quickly and turned round to him. 'This is Matthew Greene. The guy I told you about.'

Paula widened her eyes dramatically like she had not seen him before. 'Guy?' She tinkled lightly, 'He's more of a man, dear. But he is rather dishy so one could understand, I suppose.'

The blood drained from my face at this rude remark but I could not call her out on it as she leaned forward to smack the sides of Matt's face before leaning back and yelling, 'Alicia darling, Tam Tam's here.' Then she walked off leaving us by the door.


Memories By Our Favourite Spot



I turned round to see Matt staring without any expression.

'I did tell you she was a catty old thing. Not all my friends are like that, I promise.' 

Matt just stared at me, then he walked into the flat. I followed, feeling my heart sink. I was already regretting forcing the issue of us leaving our tiny little world in Hampstead.

As the night went on, my spirit sank lower and lower. Alicia had been the only alright person there. She had been nice and sweet to him. She had been normal.

Everyone else had either been sweetly sarcastic or outright rude.

Jamal, a mixed race boy of English and Egyptian parents had drawled rather evilly, 'Wow, Tammy. Talk about trading in a new model for the older deal.'

Matt had just clenched his jaw while I smiled weakly.

Soon, the party was over. Or as over as it could be and I walked with Alicia quickly to the kitchen to tell her that we were leaving. 

'I'm so sorry about all these idiots. I had no idea that they would get so drunk and act so terribly.' Alicia apologised quickly.

I smiled bleakly, 'Oh hun, don't worry about that. It's not like it's something we wouldn't have done to somebody we didn't know. That's just how we are, guess it's terrible now because I'm the one on the outside and you're my best friend.'

Alicia just shook her head and we hugged.

I went back to Matt and we got into my car.

The drive was silent. I put on the car radio, then turned it back off.

When we got to his, he got out of the car and slammed the door before walking into his flat. 

I thought about coming out, but I changed my mind. He slammed his flat door. And I cried as I drove back home.

That was our first fight.

***

It had been two weeks since that day. We had made up rather tentatively. He called me the next day and apologised for walking away so rudely. I had accepted hurriedly, assuring him that it was understandable as my friends had been incredibly rude.

Now, we were sat on his sofa watching some dreary TV show on BBC. He massaged my feet before asking out of the blue, 'My old friend from work's wife is throwing him a surprise birthday party. Do you want to come?'

I turned to grin at him with pleasure. This was the first time he had spoken about his friends or invited me to meet them. Did I want to go? Hell, yeah.

On the day, I was ready in a pretty cotton dress which hugged my upper body but flared to my knees. I had on tights as it was bitterly cold. Matt was in khaki trousers and a simple shirt. This was the most dressed up I had seen him in...ever.

I teased him about it. 'Why don't you ever dress up for me?'

He replied, 'Because I need to feel young around you, and t shirts help me do that.'

I looked up at him at this. And he just smiled as we waited for our cab. I did not know he had felt that way around me. I had never done anything to remind him of his age or insinuated that it bothered me. I opened my mouth to ask him if the age thing truly bothered him, but the cab had come. I said nothing. 

We got to his friend's house and his friend was not there. His wife smiled as we came, although she widened her eyes a little at me. She hugged him warmly and said, 'Jeff's gone to get him. Told him they were off to some country club do.'

Matt laughed back warmly. He had never been this relaxed around me. Don't get me wrong, he acted quite normally with me, but I guess his guard was truly down as he was around his friends. His age group. I bit my inner cheek as it dawned on me.

We walked in and Matt was welcomed by almost everyone. It seemed he was the little social animal here. People gazed at me with varying expressions. For the men, it was lust, envy, lasciviousness. The women, surprise, disdain, even revulsion.

I pretended like I did not see all these. I did not want to act like my age and rush to the toilet to hyperventilate like I really wanted to. I stiffened my upper lip like my nanny had taught me to and played it cool.

Soon, his friend was there and everyone shouted 'Surprise.' Laughter and smiles all round. Then the party started properly. People drank and laughed and talked. I guess I felt a little bit relaxed as Matt never left my side, even as he spoke to his friends. His hand was always at my back, or on my arm.

Then I saw that a group of them were going to the heated garden to smoke cigars and I smiled at him to go along. He was not my bodyguard. He raised his eyebrows at me to ask if I was sure and I nodded imperceptibly. He smiled at me and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of my neck before walking off with his friends.

I looked round and saw that most of the women were in their little cliques and I did not think it right to go join them. What was the point as I was sure they were talking about me? I walked to the dining table to pour myself some more wine and felt rather than saw the women that looked at me. 

I heard one of them say, rather loudly, 'I cannot believe he divorced his wife to follow that girl.'

Another one replied, 'It wasn't because of her he divorced his wife, Mary.'

The woman who was Mary replied, 'Oh. Well it does not matter. He's with her. Look at how young she is, isn't he a bit too old for such?'

I was angry at this point. I turned round and walked to them making it obvious that I was not impressed at their tactlessness. 'Do you have something you want to say to me?'

The other women grew silent. Then Mary replied, 'No. Of course not. We don't speak baby talk here anyway.'

I widened my eyes at that. How rude. I opened my mouth to reply that she was a bitter old woman who would never see my age again but she turned round and started talking to someone else.

I stared at the other women who just looked away. The woman who had corrected Mary before just smiled at me sympathetically.

I was furious. Who needed these old crones anyway? The youngest here was probably sixty I thought angrily. I was going to get Matt and demand I leave. As I turned round, I heard Mary say, 'Maybe he just wanted to sample the other kind.'

I whirled round again. 'Excuse you?' I gasped.

Mary turned with a disdainful look, 'I wasn't talking to you, dear.'

'Why don't you repeat what you just said to my face?' I replied coldly. Sod what my nanny said. I was going to be doing some smacking and this wrinkled desiccated corpse was going to be the recipient.

It seemed she could read my taut body language because her look became wary, 'Look why don't you just...'

'Not only did you insult my boyfriend on his apparent cradle snatching, but you also insulted my race?' I said this icily. Although I was quiet, people had heard me and they were now focused on the spectacle that was Mary and I. 

Mary replied, her face turning a dull red, 'I didn't mean to say that...'

'Then what exactly did you mean by 'sample the other kind'?' I cut in.

She just opened and closed her mouth, nothing coming out.

'For your information, you stupid old woman,' People gasped, but I ignored, 'I was the one who did the chasing. Matt was reluctant to start this as he knew ignorant cows like you would talk but I didn't care. So if anyone was robbing anything here, it was me. Not cradle-snatching, more like geriatric loving.' More gasps. 'And as for my kind...well if you weren't such an uptight frigid twat, your 'kind' wouldn't be hunting for ours now, would they?'

Mary let out a little squeak as I had been advancing until I was towering over her plump self.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I whirled round angrily to stare in Matt's cold green eyes.

'Let's go.'

I objected, 'But she started it with her silly...'

He interrupted, 'I know. Let's go.'

As we walked away, me sullenly, him striding angrily, I overheard Mary saying, 'Thank God for that. Talk about showing her true colours...'

Matt's hand tightened on my arm before he turned back round to her. 'The only reason I'm taking her away from here is so she wouldn't teach you the lesson you rightly deserve. So if you know what's best for you, keep you daft mouth shut or I'll let her do it for you.'

Mary shut up immediately as if she were a robot that had been terminated.

Matt turned back round and we walked out of the flat. His friend whose birthday it had been came out after us. 

'Matt, I'm so sorry about it. You know how catty women can be...'

Matt just shook his head, 'Yeah, I know. It's not your fault and I'm sorry I've ruined your birthday for you.'

His friend shook his head, 'Not to worry mate. And you two are welcome back anytime. You are beautiful, Tamara. Don't let any jealous person tell you otherwise.'

I smiled at him thankfully, the tears I'd been battling threatening to fall.

He nodded and walked back into his house.

We were soon in a cab and on our way back. As soon as we stepped into his flat, I was pushed roughly unto the sofa and he was upon me, pressing hot, wet kisses to my neck. I arched as a rush of desire swept over me.

Our clothes were flung about the room and then he sank into me. 

It was a very furious coupling.

He thrust hard into me and I pushed up to slam as he went down.

He held my hands above my head and stared intently into my eyes throughout. I tried to do the same, but my eyes could not co-operate. They stared for a second, then rolled back into my head as pleasure swam in my very core. His cock was doing impossible things to me. I climaxed over and over as he relentlessly rammed his thick cock in me. He was like an unstoppable machine. I was so weak, I lay limply as little tremors tingled all around and inside me as he roared and came into my pussy. 

Then he lowered himself atop me and I breathed him into me. I licked the sweat from the back of his ear. I inhaled his sweet, familiar scent.

'I love you, you know that.' He whispered in my ear.

I nodded, tears sliding into my hair. 

I whispered back, 'I love you too. More than you could ever imagine.'

I felt something wet plop on my shoulder. To this day, he claimed it was just sweat, but I will always think differently.

***

We had been together for nine months. It had not been an easy ride, though. Apart from our respective friends struggling to understand our relationship, there was the problem of our families. Rather my family. His parents were dead and he had no children or siblings. It was just him. I had my grandmother who was just five years older than him. My grandfather was dead, but I had numerous uncles and aunties. I did not really care about their approval, just my grandmother's. She had raised me, and regardless of how spoilt I had been, that was her way of showing me love and I understood it now.

It was my twenty third birthday and I was spending it with my grandmother. The night before, he had stayed over at mine and we had made love sweetly. He had not yet given me my birthday present and I did not want to ask for it, but my inner voice was whining steadily. 

I ignored it.

Now we were on our way to my grandmother's house in Elstree. I had missed this house and it had been months since I was last there.

As the majestic gates opened and we drove down the long driveway, I quickly said, 'My grandmother can be quite doting so please don't think I'm still the spoilt girl you met nine months ago. That's just the way she still sees me so...'

Matt laughed and ran his fingers through my freshly straightened hair, 'I don't care, baby. I fell for you then, didn't I? I love you, spoilt warts and all.'

I giggled at this, but my heart was not truly in it. I was scared about what my grandmother could do. She was like a scary upper-class English lady trapped in an even scarier Ethiopian body. 

I was scared.

We got there and I took in a large breath as we walked into the house. 

The butler opened the door and I smiled at him in delight. I had missed darling Benjamin.

'Benji!' I squealed hugging him. 

He was a tad surprised. I had been normally aloof with him, so my exuberance was a tad shocking. He hugged me back then went back to his stoic self. I chuckled inwardly. He took our coats and led the way to the large drawing room.

Grandmother was sat waiting for me. The table filled with scones and macaroons, clotted cream and jam, biscuits and beautifully cut salmon and cucumber sandwiches. All reminiscent of our monthly trips to the Dorchester Hotel for afternoon tea. 

I grinned as I saw the spread; those trips had been the highlight of my childhood amongst others.

'Grandmother.' I greeted with a large smile as I crossed the room to hug the delicately pretty woman who stretched her arms to receive me lovingly.

'My darling Tamara. You've grown into such a beautiful young lady.'

Then she spotted Matt who was standing self-consciously by the door.

'And is that your new man?' She asked without any change in her tone.

'Yes.' I grinned, but this time it was softened with love as I went over to drag him over to her.

'This is Matthew Greene, my boyfriend.'

My grandmother nodded once with a cheerful smile on her face. 'Matthew. Wonderful. And how old are you Matthew?'

My heart sank immediately at this. Oh God.

Matthew, however replied calmly. 'It's a pleasure to meet you. Tamara has said so much about you that I feel like I know you already. And I am fifty nine, ma'am.'

One eyebrow rose, 'Oh my. Then it's best you call me Abrihet.'

Matthew nodded, not faltering. 'And that's a wonderful name, Abrihet. You can call me Matt.'

Grandmother laughed at this. It seemed it would be alright.

We had a lovely day. Ate all those lovely food, talked and got my cute baby photos showed to Matt. I can proudly say I was not embarrassed, I mean, I was a gorgeous baby. Still am *tongue in cheek*.

Towards the end of the day, grandmother called me aside and asked, 'So, are you sure he is the one you love.'

I nodded fervently, 'If he would have me grandmother, he is the man I would love to spend the rest of my life with.'

My grandmother nodded. She said nothing about his age. And I loved her more for it. There was no point stating the obvious, he was definitely older than me and I was aware of it. But I had been aware of it for a while now and I didn't care. I loved him nonetheless.

On the drive home, I held hands with Matt all through. My grandmother had accepted him. It did not matter if some of my friends were still being twats, or his for that matter. All was well in my world. 

As I parked the car in front of his flat, he asked me to come in. He sounded rather solemn. 

I got scared. What was wrong?

I walked into the flat with him, each step causing my heart to jolt.

Once we got inside he led me to our favourite spot, the window in his room and then...

He got down on one knee.

I just stared as tears started filling my eyes up.

'I told myself that I was going to take you to a really posh restaurant then get the waiter to put the ring in your cake or your champagne flute or something. Then I realised all that wasn't necessary. It's something you're used to and I wanted this to be different. Something you would actually appreciate and remember forever. So I thought I would do it here. We're always staring outside this window; me to smoke or you to just gaze as you always do. This is our spot; we've made love here, fucked here, cuddled here. So I thought it was appropriate. I know you're probably too young for marriage, I mean you're just twenty three but I'm fifty nine. And I'm willing to wait for whatever marriage date you choose as long as we're engaged for real. I mean, that's if you accept this of course...' He mumbled, his face turning red.

I sank down to my knees in front of him and threw my arms around him, sobbing out loud.

'Of course I'll marry you. I Love You. I'll marry you now, if you want!'

I laughed and cried as he did the same. We stayed on our knees hugging till he whispered in my ears, 'Probably best we stand before my knees cry for mercy.'

I giggled at this as we stood and kissed lovingly. 

We were going to get married. 

I was going to marry my man.

***

Now I stand at our favourite spot, looking outside the same window. Tears streaming down my face as I remember. It's the third anniversary of our engagement. 

I look down at the ring and twist it round my finger, smiling softly at it, amidst the tears pouring down. He had gone out in the rain to get some wine to celebrate our engagement but he had never returned. 

Later, the police came over to inform me that as he crossed the road some drunken driver had smashed into him. They informed me, as I stared at them blankly, that he had died instantly which made him lucky for not feeling any pain.

But how would they know? Have they ever been in such a situation to know if one felt pain at that instant?

I had shut myself from the world for a year after that. Holed myself up in his room and sat by the window crying.

Now tears fell, but they weren't tears of sorrow. Rather they were tears of joy as I remembered the life we had lived. Ups and downs, but we had loved each other. 

Created most of our best memories in this little room, by this window. Our favourite spot.

I held his notebook in my hands. The notebook he always scribbled in with the utmost concentration. I had never bothered him about what he wrote and he had never offered me to read it. Until the day of our engagement. He had told me that he wanted us to read it together as most of it had been about us.

Now that I had grieved him, it was time to concentrate on the good times solely. It was time to finish it all and start to piece my life back together. 

In order to that, I had to read this book. The book I had been too scared to open before.

I perched on the window sill, his duvet wrapped around me. 

Then I opened it and began to read.

THE END