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Nibbling Fortuna's Toes

By: oggbashan



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Copyright Oggbashan January 2016

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Ham House and the statue of the Goddess Fortuna exist in the 21st Century but this story is set in the 1960s.

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It all started and ended with a statue's toes. Female toes. Shapely toes.

They belong to a statue of the Goddess Fortuna that stands in the gardens of the National Trust Property, Ham House, by the River Thames.

I had met Beatrice during a fire drill in our office building. She worked on a different floor for another company. As we filed down the emergency stairs her handbag had caught on a banister and shed its contents. I had stopped to help her pick up the scattered items and had a wonderful view of her nylon-sheathed legs. Beatrice's legs are worth looking at, from a distance, or as I was then, a few inches away. It was the mini-skirt era of the 1960s and Beatrice's mini-skirt was far shorter than any woman working for my company would dare wear.

We left the building together that day and arranged to meet for lunch tomorrow.

We had been out together a few times for a meal and to a couple of West End shows for which our building was given free last-minute tickets. Neither of us was sufficiently senior in our workplaces to afford much that wasn't free or cheap. My major expense was my very old car. It was reliable transport but only because I maintained it myself.

Beatrice was and is spectacular. She is tall and apparently slim with natural blonde hair. Her slimness is only apparent because she has well-developed muscles and is seriously fit. She visits her gymnasium three times a week and plays active team sports at weekends. Her height makes her appear slimmer than she actually is. Her clothes emphasise the vertical and diminish her waist. Either she has good dress sense or someone who knows what would suit Beatrice advises her.

I'm reasonably fit but not in her league. I don't take myself or any sport sufficiently seriously. I know that I'm competent in several sports but I'll never be outstanding even in an amateur club. Sport is just one of my interests. I was beginning to suspect that sport was Beatrice's passion to the exclusion of everything else, including me.

Beatrice shared a run-down flat in Pimlico with three other girls. I had picked her up from her flat a couple of times. One evening we were intending to go to a free concert in the Embankment Gardens but when I arrived the flatmates had a crisis. It was raining and they had tried to shut the upper sash of a bedroom window. The sash cords had broken and the upper window had dropped to its fullest extent.

Beatrice asked me to help. I tried to shift the window. I could pull it up but even with cardboard wedged in the frame it wouldn't stay put. I wedged it as far shut as I could with a broom resting on a dining chair. That was very precarious but it held while I drove to my small house in Bermondsey, collected some tools and returned. As I drove there and back my car's windscreen wipers were struggling to keep the screen clear from the heavy driving rain.

I had found my hank of sash cord. Beatrice and her flatmate Emily had to help me as I took out the lower sash, attached new cord to the upper sash and fitted both frames securely. When I had finished I was soaking wet, tired and it was too late for the concert. 

Beatrice and Emily cooked a meal for all three of us while I tried to dry myself in front of the coal fire in the flat's only living room. The fire wasn't burning well. As I nursed a cup of coffee I looked at the fireplace. The grate was loose and too much air was passing through. The fireback was cracked with pieces missing. When I rented my first flat one of the fireplaces had similar problems that I had fixed.

Over the next few weeks I became an honorary unpaid handyman for their flat in exchange for meals and conversation, mainly with Beatrice but also with Emily and her boyfriend Alan. Alan helped me with some of the repairs as an unskilled assistant. He was more useful as the supply officer, borrowing tools and acquiring, legally with his bosses' permission, materials from work. I never met the third flatmate because she was on evening/night shifts at that time.

I was enjoying the company but the relationship between Beatrice and I wasn't really working. We met for lunch on most working days in a cheap café close to our building. She was a pleasant companion. She was delightful to look at. Whenever we were out together she attracted admiring attention but we were beginning to realise that we had little in common. We agreed to wait until the flat's repairs had been done and then go out to somewhere I'd choose, to discuss our relationship and its future.

I had arranged to meet Beatrice at Ham House on Saturday for a tour and a light lunch in the café. She was playing in a hockey match that morning. A friend would drop her off after the match and collect her later. I was struggling with my relationship with Beatrice. Were we friends or potential boyfriend and girlfriend? I didn't know. I don't think she knew. I thought that a few hours at a stately home would settle the matter. Either she would like touring a stately home and show interest in the building, its history and the numerous objets d'art or she wouldn't.

If the visit was a failure we were doomed to be no more than friends. If she shared some of my enthusiasm then perhaps we might build a relationship. If not? I'd regret it.

We toured the inside of the house before lunch. Beatrice soon began to disappoint me. She didn't seem interested in anything, not the rooms, nor the objets d'art, nor even the history of the house and its owners. Where I would have paused to look carefully and appreciate the workmanship or the unusual effects she just walked through as if all she wanted to do was reach the next room.

Over lunch she cut short any of my attempts to discuss what we had seen. When she did talk it was about her athletic achievements and her plans for her future competitions. By the end of the meal it was almost obvious to both of us that we were incompatible. Our interests diverged too much.

We toured the gardens. Beatrice began to appreciate the size of the property but she would have converted the plats of lawn into tennis courts. An archery target was set up in the wilderness garden. That did provoke some enthusiasm from her. She had never tried archery. As we walked back towards the house the entrance to the plats was marked by two statues. One, the Goddess Fortuna, had her feet wrapped in plastic matting. There was a notice attached.

Fortuna's toes had been attacked by grey squirrels. Apparently grey squirrels, apart from gnawing at tree bark, sometimes bite soft stone projections and Fortuna's toes had proved tempting. The damaged toes had been wrapped to prevent further damage and the National Trust were appealing for donations to repair them. The cost was estimated as only five hundred pounds because Fortuna was a modern copy, not an antique statue.

Beatrice winced at the pictures of the damaged toes. Her own feet were an essential part of her activities. Damaged feet would ruin her life. Fortuna's toes were the only thing that Beatrice and I had agreed about. Beatrice's toes were as perfect as her legs. If only there had been something meaningful between us I could imagine kissing her perfect toes.

We walked back to the entrance. Beatrice shook my hand and smiled ruefully at me, still holding on. 

"Thank you, Derek," she said, "I think we've found the answer about our relationship, haven't we? We are different and like different things. We can be friends but..."

"...that's all we'll ever be." I finished for her.

"Exactly." 

She pulled me towards her and kissed me on my cheek. Then she was gone towards the car park.

I went back into the house to leave a small donation towards repairing Fortuna's toes. I had to wait in the queue of those paying their entrance fee. When I explained what the donation was for it caused some consternation. No one had explained to the volunteers that there was an appeal for Fortuna's toes and they weren't sure how to enter it in the accounts. By the time they had decided to put my donation into a coin bag with a note the queue behind me had grown. 

I turned away and went out the front door. Beatrice was standing about fifty yards away. She waved at me. I waved back. The woman standing beside Beatrice waved too. Even at that distance I was startled by the smile on her face. Then they turned and walked out of sight.

That smiling face stayed in my memory as I walked slowly back to the car park. Why had a stranger's smile affected me so much? Was it because of my disappointment about Beatrice?

I sat in my car for a few minutes. Beatrice and I were still friends. If she wanted help I would give it. If there was anything I needed that she could do, I'm sure she would respond, but friends is all we would ever be.

Then she was there, knocking at my car window.

"Derek? Can you help? We can't get into Laura's car."

Standing beside Beatrice was Laura, the woman who had waved and smiled at me.

"Hello Laura," I said.

"Hello Derek," she replied.

She threw her arms around me and kissed me passionately, far more passionately than Beatrice had ever done. I returned her kiss and enjoyed every second. When our lips parted she still held me.

"Thank you, Laura," I said, "but what was that for?"

"For mending my bedroom window."

It was Laura's bedroom window I had repaired.

"If I'm going to get paid like that, I hope it needs repairing again."

"It won't. It works much better than it ever did and there are no more draughts. This one is for the fire."

Laura kissed me again.

"And now I need you again. I can't get into my car. The key won't work."

"OK. Where is it?"

Laura took me to her car still holding my arm. Beatrice followed us.

I looked at the car's lock. Laura's car was a smaller-engined version of mine, two door instead of four door. The lock was scratched and bent.

"Someone's been trying to break into your car," I said. "Was it like this when you parked?"

"Yes. It was working this morning. I had difficulty with it when I left work to come here but it did open eventually. Now it won't work at all."

I tried her key in the lock. Something was jamming it.

"I can fix that by replacing the lock, once we have the door open. The easiest way to get in is through the boot..."

"But the carriage key to open the boot is inside the car," Laura protested.

"Your key might be," I replied, "but mine isn't. It's in my pocket."

I produced it and opened the boot. I pushed the back seat out of the way. There were two metal beams diagonally across the opening.

"If we can reach the passenger door handle with the starting handle and push it forward, we'll get in. I can't. I'm too large."

I looked at the two of them. Laura was as tall as Beatrice but more thick set.

"Beatrice? Can you see if you can reach?"

Beatrice wriggled her body through the gap. Her legs were waggling as she stretched.

"Nice legs, aren't they?" Laura said.

"Yes, they're wonderful," I replied without thinking.

"Hey, you two! Stop talking about my legs and tell me if I'm getting close to the handle!" Beatrice yelled.

She couldn't see past the front passenger seat and was stabbing wildly with the starting handle. Laura and I directed her and she unlocked the door. As Beatrice wriggled herself out of the boot I went back to my car to get some tools.

Beatrice had laddered her tights. She was sitting on the lowered boot and removing her tights.

"No peeking!" she told me.

I didn't need to peek. Her mini-skirt left nothing to the imagination but she need not have worried. Her panties covered everything.

I unscrewed the driver's door lock, removed the key cylinder and refitted the handle.

"That's done. You can get in and out but you can't lock the car. Are you going back to the flat, Laura?"

"Yes."

"OK. I'll go home, get a spare lock, and meet you there. Does it matter if you have to use two keys, one for the door and one to start the car?"

"No, Derek. Two keys are better than leaving my car unlocked."

"Then I'll see you in about an hour."

"Hold it!" Laura ordered. "You're not walking off yet."

"Why not?" I replied. "I can't do any more here, without the spare lock.

"But I haven't said 'Thank you'."

Laura kissed me again. Her kiss was as passionate as the others had been. As she let me go Beatrice twisted me around to face her.

"This is for the car, the fireplace, the other things you've mended, and -- for being a friend."

Beatrice kissed me. Her kiss was not as hard or as intense as Laura's but it was a better kiss than she had ever given me. If this was a benefit of being Beatrice's friend instead of potential boyfriend, then I was happy to be her friend.

When I arrived at the flat Laura was waiting by her car. She helped me, holding parts and passing tools to me. As well as changing the driver's door lock I modified the boot lock to be key-locked instead of with a carriage key. That lock took the same key as the replaced driver's door lock.

When we had finished we went to their flat to clean up and drink coffee.

"Doing anything this evening, Derek?" Beatrice asked.

"No, why?"

"Then you are staying for dinner," Laura said. "Emily is away this weekend. Beatrice is going home to her parents tonight so it'll just be us two. You don't object?"

Object? The way Laura kissed I would be a fool to object.

"I am delighted to accept your kind invitation, Laura."

"I thought you might be. I'll refill our coffee cups. Beatrice? Before you go, please explain to Derek what we've agreed."

Laura went to the kitchen.

"Beatrice? What did Laura mean?"

"She has been jealous of me, Derek. You have been taking me to events and places that she would like. I haven't enjoyed them. She would have done. We agreed that if you and I decided to be just friends then she would take you instead. I think her lips have already claimed you, haven't they?"

I nodded. Beatrice's reaction was a surprise.

She sat on my lap, pulled me to her lips, and kissed me several times.

"I like you, Derek, but that's not enough. If you go out with Laura we can still be friends, as you are with Emily..."

"...Emily doesn't sit on my lap and kiss me," I protested.

"She would - if you weren't here at the same time as Alan. All three of us are really grateful for the work you've done on this flat. You've turned it from a grotty dump into a place we can be happy in. Laura has wanted to say thank you for a long time, ever since you mended her bedroom window. Even before the sash cord broke the window had been draughty and it rattled. She couldn't believe the difference you had made to it. It moves easily, doesn't rattle, and there are no draughts."

Beatrice kissed me again. This time the kiss was just a gentle touch.

"Laura's last boyfriend was a bastard. He used her, took money from her and then dumped her. At the same time you were in and out of the flat mending and fixing and for what? A few pecks on the cheek from a woman who wasn't sure whether we would ever be boyfriend and girlfriend. As far as she was concerned the contrast was painful even though at first she'd never seen you.

A few weeks ago she did see you. She had been taking a shower before going to work. We don't normally bother with dressing gowns between the bathroom and bedroom because we're just three girls. You were working in the kitchen. She couldn't get from the bathroom to her bedroom without you seeing her completely naked. She kept peering out to see when your back was turned until I spotted her gesturing at me. I grabbed you and kissed you. Remember?"

I remembered. It had been uncharacteristic of our relationship. Beatrice had turned me around so that I was facing into the kitchen and then made a production of that kiss. A herd of elephants could have trampled from the bathroom to bedroom and I wouldn't have noticed.

"Sorry if that kiss made you think there was more to us than friends. Did it?"

I nodded again.

"For a couple of days. It seemed different."

"That kiss was to help a friend. Kissing another friend to help Laura wasn't difficult. But now I'm worried. Laura needs a man, a good man. She thinks you're him. If you're not, please, please, be gentle with her. She doesn't deserve another hurt."

"I'll do my best, Beatrice. I've never hurt you, have I?"

"No. Despite your disappointment you've behaved as a friend should -- except perhaps looking at my legs too much."

"Why not? They are wonderful and you know they are. I wouldn't be a human male if I didn't appreciate them."

"I'll accept that."

Beatrice stood up, went to her handbag, opened it and took out a paper bag.

"This is for you. A souvenir of my legs you like so much. You can use them to mend your car, or whatever you want."

She handed me the bag. I looked inside. There were the tights she had laddered this afternoon. I looked up at her. She laughed.

"I hope you like your souvenir -- of my legs. If you are with Laura you'll see more of my legs from time to time. Those tights will remind you of what might have been."

"They won't," I said seriously. "There was no might have been. It wouldn't have worked out between us. We both know that. But I'll keep them as a souvenir of a good friend. A good friend who just happens to have the best legs I know."

Beatrice kissed me. I knew this was a farewell kiss even if it wasn't. I'd see her again but this was the end of us, except as friends. She left a few minutes later. Laura and I were sitting side by side on the worn settee drinking coffee.

"We're having spaghetti bolognaise," she announced. "It's about all we've got left in the flat until next week. Is that OK?"

"Anything I don't cook myself is better than OK, Laura."

"Good. Join me in the kitchen?"

In the kitchen we talked about nothing much until Laura asked about Ham House.

"What's it like, Derek?"

"It's a stately home like many owned by the National Trust. It is full of artistic objects, the gardens are wonderful... But there's a flaw in the gardens."

I explained about Fortuna's toes, Beatrice's reaction to the damage, and the donation I'd made to their repair.

"Beatrice is proud of her legs, and her toes, not just because of their looks, but because her athletics and sport are really important to her. They were more important than you, weren't they, Derek?"

"Sport certainly is. I can understand her dedication. I just can't share it, and she doesn't share my enthusiasm for art and culture."

"But I might?"

"Do you, Laura?"

"Do I what?"

"Share my love of art and culture?"

"Probably, Derek. Possibly. I haven't had much time or chance to look at art or experience culture recently. I'm sure I would have enjoyed Ham House far more than Beatrice."

"Then why don't you? We could go there tomorrow."

Laura laughed.

"But you were there today. Haven't you had enough of Ham House for one weekend?"

"We didn't see much of it, not as I'd like to see it. Beatrice obviously wasn't interested and we hurried through, ate lunch, walked around the gardens for about half an hour and then she went off to meet you. If I'd been with someone who appreciated what was there to be seen..."

"You'd have enjoyed yourself more?"

"Yes."

"OK. We've got a date. Ham House, tomorrow. Together."

"Thank you, Laura."


Nibbling Fortuna's Toes



"For what? Spaghetti?"

"For agreeing to go out with me tomorrow."

"We have the whole evening yet and we've barely met each other. You might be regretting your invitation later."

"I don't think so."

Laura served the spaghetti. We perched in the kitchen with a bottle of cola and talked about what Laura liked in art, music, performance and culture generally. We agreed on most things, differed in emphasis on some, like jazz. She liked trad jazz. I preferred more modern jazz. Neither of us hated the other's taste that much that we wouldn't be prepared to experiment by going to see something the other liked and we weren't so keen about.

About eleven o'clock I announced that I really ought to go home. 

"Must you?" 

I sighed.

"I'd like to stay but - today is the day that Beatrice and I decided we weren't meant for each other and we met for the first time. If I stay you and I will never know whether our relationship started because I was on the rebound from Beatrice."

"Oh," Laura said, "I see, I suppose. It seems a shame to waste an empty flat. Usually there are at least two of us here so romance is difficult. I don't know when we'll have another night alone."

"Whenever you want, Laura. You may share a flat. I live alone in my small house. It's not as large as this flat but it is always available for visitors."

Laura brightened up.

"So, if I wanted to, I could stay with you overnight?"

"Whenever you want to, but tonight is really too soon, isn't it? Think about it. We met for the first time a few hours ago and most of the time Beatrice has been with us. What do we know about each other?"

"I've heard a lot about you from Beatrice and Emily and the evidence of your work is all over this flat."

"But Beatrice told me virtually nothing about you except that you sometimes work night shifts."

"I do. Three weeks on, a few days off, then three weeks of day shifts but in between I'm studying."

"Studying what?" I asked.

"Nursing. I take my last examinations in December. You really don't know anything about me, do you, Derek?"

"Very little. Beatrice referred to you a few times. I think I know more about Emily than I do about you..."

"...and a lot more about Beatrice. She is inclined to talk a lot about herself, isn't she?"

"I don't, sorry, I didn't object. I was interested in her sporting activities and she's very good at some of them, isn't she?"

"Yes," Laura sounded doubtful. "She would be better and possibly in the running for national prominence if she would concentrate on one sport. She tries to be good at everything and is always trying new sports. She really needs a coach who will get her up to standard in the disciplines she is best at. I've tried telling her. So has Emily. But Beatrice enjoys doing so many sports. For example she plays hockey every weekend and sometimes picks up injuries that limit her athletics. I often have to patch her up when she gets back to the flat. Our first aid kit has to be very comprehensive -- just for Beatrice. Enough about her. What am I going to do with you?"

"What do you want to do with me?" I asked. 

"I have an idea."

Laura got down from the kitchen stool, held out her hand and took mine. We walked through to the living room.

"Sit there!" she ordered.

I sat on the settee. Laura climbed on, facing me and her knees either side of my legs. I was looking up at her face. Her mouth came down to kiss my upturned face and her hair fell either side of my head.

"I'm going to give you a sample of what I have that Beatrice hasn't," Laura said as the kiss ended. "Don't move."

She moved my head forward and down so that my face was against her clothed breasts. She pulled me tight into her cleavage. She was right. Beatrice, spectacular as she is, isn't over-endowed up top. She has small breasts on a muscular torso. On her they look right. Laura's breasts were much larger, softer and she was smothering me between them. Beatrice couldn't have smothered me.

Laura wriggled slightly. Now I was in real trouble. Not only was my face trapped in her cleavage but her breasts were pressed to the sides of my face. She had nearly surrounded my head with her soft pleasantly scented flesh. I was beginning to worry about running out of breath when Laura eased her grip. She held me deep between her breasts with just enough space to allow me to breathe.

Laura let me go, kissed me again, and climbed off.

"I think that's enough of a sample until tomorrow morning. You'd better go now before I, or you, get too excited."

She kissed me again at the flat's front door. Another kiss like that and my resolution to go would have evaporated.

I was in a daze as I went downstairs to my car. I sat in it for a few minutes before I was ready to drive to my lonely house. 

I arrived back at their flat about nine-thirty on Sunday morning. Laura came down to meet me.

"Your car or mine?" I asked as I recovered from another of Laura's kisses.

"You'd be a passenger while I drive?" Laura sounded incredulous.

"Why not? I can't see any accident damage on your car. You are probably as good or driver as I am, possibly a better one."

"OK. We'll go in my car. You'll have to wait while I get the starting handle."

"Starting handle? Why do you need that?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's got a fairly new battery but the starter motor seems pathetic."

I looked at the engine compartment, grasped a battery connection and waggled it.

"That's why," I pronounced. "The battery isn't properly connected. Hang on a sec."

I went to my car, took out a wrench and tightened the connections to the battery.

"Try starting it now."

The starter motor whirred briskly and the engine started. I put the wrench back in my car, locked it and got into the passenger seat of Laura's car.

I was right. Laura was a good driver. After the first mile I relaxed and enjoyed being chauffeured. I slumped in the seat to a more comfortable position. When she stopped at the next red traffic light Laura glanced quickly at me.

"You look relaxed. You really do trust my driving, don't you?"

"Why not?" I retorted. "It's pleasant to be driven for a change."

"But most men..."

"Am I most men?"

"No. I'm beginning to think you're not."

She let in the clutch as the lights changed. As we came closer to Ham House I had to give her a few directions until the National Trust road signs appeared. She pulled into the car park and reversed the car into a small gap. We climbed out.

"I've never had a man as a passenger who was as calm as you were. They usually stab a foot at an imaginary brake pedal and start criticising my driving."

"Then they are stupid. There's nothing wrong with your driving. The car? That's a different matter. It ought to respond better than it does. I'll have to sort it out." 

"What's wrong with it?"

"Do you want the complete list, Laura?"

"Yes, Derek, please. I can't afford repairs this month."

"You won't have to. I have most of what's needed and almost all the work doesn't need parts, just adjustments. For example, when you accelerate the car takes its time to respond. The carburettor needs cleaning and adjusting and the linkage needs greasing. The brakes pull to one side. They need balancing. One of the rear wheels is slightly loose. I can fix that here, now. A wheel bearing needs tightening slightly. That's a fifteen-minute job once we're back at my car. There are a few other things, all more minor."

"And you diagnosed all that during the drive here?"

"No. In the first mile. That's when I could relax because I knew there was nothing major wrong with the car."

"So, if you hadn't been working out what was wrong with my car you would have relaxed earlier?"

"Yes. Why not?"

Laura kissed me, hard.

"That's for being a great passenger. I've never had anyone, not even my parents, trust my driving that much."

"Now can I fix that wheel, please?" I asked. "I'd like it done before we go in."

It took me five minutes, most of which was jacking the car up so that the wheel was almost clear of the ground. A few turns of the wheel brace and the nuts were tight. I went to the public conveniences and washed my hands.

We had arrived too early for the tour of the house but not long after the gardens had opened. Laura took my hand as we walked slowly through the formal gardens. Behind a tall hedge she swung me around and kissed me again. My arms flapped wildly for a couple of seconds before I wrapped them round her and hugged. She hugged back and we continued our slow tour of the gardens hip to hip.

After a while Laura said:

"Where's Fortuna?"

"This way," I replied.

The notice explaining the damage to Fortuna's toes was still there. Laura read it carefully.

"Derek, did you ask her for a favour yesterday?"

"Well, er, yes," I replied sheepishly.

"Did she grant it?"

"I think so."

"Then she deserves this."

Laura pulled a small glass medicine bottle from her jacket pocket and unscrewed the top.

"This is Italian wine, Chianti, since she's a Roman Goddess. I'm going to pour a libation to her, in a moment. First, you should pour yours in thanks for yesterday's favour. A teaspoonful is enough to show your thanks."

Laura handed me the bottle. I poured a teaspoonful at the base of the plinth on which Fortuna stands.

"Say it!" Laura insisted.

"Say what?"

"Thank you."

I looked around. There was no one near us, no one in sight at all. 

"Thank you, Goddess Fortuna, for granting my request yesterday." I said.

"That's better. Now it's my turn."

Laura poured a couple of teaspoonfuls of Chianti on the ground.

"Please, Fortuna, grant my request. Now we should drink a small toast to her."

Laura lifted the bottle towards the statue, brought it down to her mouth, tilted it and drank a small amount. She passed the bottle to me. I repeated Laura's actions.

Laura pushed me so that I was leaning against Fortuna's plinth. She pulled my head down to kiss me. While holding that kiss, her hands went past me to grasp Fortuna's legs.

"Now she knows exactly what I want," Laura said as we walked away.

"And what exactly do you want?" I asked.

"You."

"And you think Fortuna will grant your request?"

"Of course. You want me too, don't you?" Laura shook her head. "No. It's too soon. Give Fortuna time. The rest of today will do."

We walked back to the house and started the unaccompanied tour. It was so different from my visit with Beatrice yesterday. We took our time, pointed out things to each other, argued about which was the best item in each room, talked to the room guides, discussed the history of the house and its owners and really enjoyed ourselves for a couple of hours. 

When we left the house we went to the café in the Orangery. As we queued, Laura stood behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist and her head resting against my back. I had to untangle myself to pick up the tray with our food.

"Sorry," Laura said.

"Sorry for what?" I asked as we sat down.

"For impeding you at the counter."

"That's OK. I enjoy having you wrapped around me."

"But I shouldn't do it so much, so soon, Derek. It's my way of demonstrating ownership. I like hugging you."

She suddenly looked sad.

"What's up?"

"I used to enjoy hugging Brian. He seemed to like it at first but later he would push me off. That hurt."

"Who's Brian?"

"I forgot. You know so little about me. Brian was my last boyfriend. It all ended in tears a couple of months ago. What made it worse was Beatrice's account of how you behaved with her. You weren't sure about the relationship; neither was she, yet you behaved impeccably. You never pushed her further than she wanted to go, never demanded anything, and didn't take advantage of her..."

"...and Brian did all that?" I interrupted.

"Yes. And more." Laura was almost in tears. 

I stood up, moved around the table, picked her up and sat her on my lap. She rested her head on my shoulder. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Cheer up. Brian's not here. I am, and our meal is getting cold. Eat up and then we need to talk, about you and about us. Food first and then we have as much time as you want."

We ate that meal awkwardly. At one point I stopped. Laura fed me. We attracted some curious looks from the few people in the café but I didn't mind. I had an attractive, warm friendly woman on my lap. The inconvenient eating was a small price to pay.

Afterwards we walked around the gardens again ending up at Fortuna's statue.

"I like my toes," Laura said. "I know they're not as elegant as Beatrice's nor do my legs go on forever, like hers, but..."

I looked at her toes as she mentioned them. They were nice toes peeping out of her sandals.

"...they look eminently suitable for nibbling." I finished for her.

Laura laughed.

"No one has ever nibbled my toes!"

"Then you've been missing something," I retorted.

"So, Derek, when are you going to nibble my toes?"

"Tonight?"

"Why not? You could, if I come to your house. Beatrice and Emily will be back in the flat this evening."

"What about tomorrow morning?" I asked. "When do you have to be at work?"

"Never. Tomorrow is part of my time off, as is today. I'm on day shifts from Wednesday."

"What about your studying? Didn't you say that you had to study on your days off?"

"Yes. I've recently taken some exams. There's no real pressure to study for a couple of weeks. I can relax for a few days. I'd like to spend them with you, but you have to go to work tomorrow, don't you?"

"Maybe not. I'm owed some time-in-lieu because they're reluctant to pay for the overtime I did last month. I could ring my boss first thing tomorrow. If he agrees I could stay away from work Monday. If he doesn't, I'd just be a few minutes late because I normally walk to the office. If I go by bus I would be there almost on time."

"So we might be able to have another day together?"

"If, and it is an if, my boss agrees."

"I've still got some wine in the bottle. I think Fortuna needs another libation and a plea that your boss should agree. OK?"

"Yes."

Laura poured the rest of the Chianti at the foot of Fortuna's pedestal.

"Please, Fortuna, make Derek's boss agree." Laura said. 

We walked around the gardens for another hour and went back to Laura's car. It started promptly and we drove off.

"That's incredible," Laura said.

"What is?"

"The difference you've made to starting this car."

"It wasn't difficult. Now that the battery is properly connected it has enough power for the starter motor, and because it's properly connected the dynamo charged the battery as you drove here."

I pointed at the ammeter in front of her.

"When we left the flat that was reading at maximum. Now it is reading one because the battery is nearly charged, and the dynamo is replacing what you used when you started. By the time you have driven a couple of miles the ammeter will read just above zero. As long as it is above zero all the time you have no problems with the battery or dynamo. Most of the year you would only use the battery when starting."

"I didn't know what the ammeter was for."

"It measures how much electricity you are generating and using. If it goes below zero to a minus figure then the battery is supplying electricity, not the dynamo. That's a warning sign. If you turn those on..."

I pointed at the electrical demisters stuck to the inside of the windscreen.

"...then the dynamo probably won't cope on its own, particularly if you have your headlights on. At this time of year you don't need demisters. Even when you do, it's probably better to use a soapy cloth than to turn the demisters on. They eat electricity and can drain your battery when you need it most for starting."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Why should you, Laura? Unless you go to a car maintenance class no one explains that to you and car handbooks are boring to read, if you've got one."

"I haven't."

"I think I've got a spare one for this model. I'll see if I can find it when I'm sorting out the other problems. Do you check the oil and water regularly?"

"Yes. Dad showed me and it's very simple on this car, isn't it?"

"Everything is very simple on this car, and on mine."

"Hey! That knocking noise from the back has gone."

"That was the loose rear wheel. If you listen carefully you can still hear a faint rumble."

"Yes, I can just hear that."

"It's the loose wheel bearing. I'll sort that out, either later today or with the other items tomorrow if I have tomorrow off. When was your car last serviced?"

"Serviced? When I bought it."

Laura looked at the speedometer.

"I've only done three hundred and forty miles since then."

"How long have you had the car?"

"Three months. Before that I was borrowing one of my brother's cars."

"Brother? You've never mentioned a brother, Laura."

"Haven't I? No. I haven't told you anything about my family, have I?"

"Except that you've mentioned your father, no."

"OK. I have a father. He is a civil servant. So was Mum. They met during the war when he was in the RAF and she was working at an RAF station. I have two older brothers. One is married and they have a baby due in a couple of months, the other is still living at home and working in London. He's flat hunting and hopes to move out before Christmas but he has to sort out his cars. He lent me one of his better cars, a more modern one than this; while he used one he wanted to sell.

He sold that one and wanted his car back so he and my father found this one for me. But..."

"...do your brothers have names?"

"Oops! Of course they do. The married one is Alex, married to Susan. The younger one is Terry, short for Terence. He's the one with the cars."

"And where do your parents live?"

"Hayes, Kent not the one in Middlesex, close to Hayes Common. Enough about my family for a while. What about yours?"

"Mine? I don't have much of one. I was an only child. My father was a soldier. He was killed in Aden a couple of years ago. My parents divorced when I was thirteen years old. I was at boarding school when they divorced. My father had custody because my mother didn't want me..."

"That's sad. Why didn't she?"

"She was fed up with my father's frequent postings and wanted to settle down. He couldn't without giving up his Army career. She stayed in England when he was posted to Singapore. Thinking back, the marriage was probably broken before then. While my father was away she met an Australian. My parents divorced. About a year later she went to Australia and married the man she's met. I'm still in touch with her, and him. He seems a great person but I've only seen him twice since they married when he's come to London on business."

"What happened to you?"

"The boarding school was paid for by the Army. During the summer holidays I'd visit my father, wherever he was, but for the other holidays I either stayed at the school, went on holidays organised for kids of my age, or, rarely, visited my father's brother in Scotland. When I'd finished school I went to University and lived in digs. 

My father had a posting to London for a couple of years. The family home had been sold and the proceeds split between my parents. My father bought the house I live in now with his half of the money. It was my base when I wasn't at university. I'd graduated and started work at my present job when Dad went off to Aden and never came back.

At one time I thought that he might have taken too many risks and wanted to die. His Army friends told me that wasn't true. He'd met another woman and they were thinking of getting married. After all the divorce had been seven years earlier. He went out on patrol and a land mine exploded under their Land Rover, killing all four of them. It was one of the things that could happen in the Crater district of Aden then.




Nibbling Fortuna's Toes



One of Dad's friends helped me with the paperwork after Dad's death. I inherited the house outright with no mortgage and had some money from the Army and insurance, not a lot, but enough to help me until I could become fully qualified at work, which I am now except for the award ceremony next month. I'll get a promotion and better pay, probably in October."

"So I'm driving a wealthy man who's going places?"

"Not exactly. You haven't seen my house. It's better now than when we bought it because Dad and I worked on it, mending the roof, a sagging wall, removing wet rot and that sort of thing. I still have to decorate several rooms and the bathroom is an antique -- working but not pretty. The bathroom is this winter's project."

Laura stopped the car outside their flat, parking just behind mine.

She looked at me.

"This is it. Decision time. Am I coming with you to your house?"

"Yes, if you want to. It can be without preconditions. You can sleep in the spare bedroom or in my bed if you want to. Even if you are in my bed that doesn't mean we have to make love. It's your choice."

"Thanks. Wait here. I'll just get some things and I'll be with you."

While Laura was gone I looked at the engine of her car. The accelerator linkage needed greasing and the carburettor was mucky. The fan belt was slightly loose. Otherwise everything seemed fine so I wouldn't have much to do to sort her car out.

Laura was carrying a sports bag. For a night or two away it didn't seem much. I'd expected her to bring far more.

I wrote down my address and phone number in case we became separated on the way to my house. I didn't think we would because traffic at that time on a Sunday was light and we had to drive just a couple of miles.

Laura's car stuck behind me all the way. I drove to the side of my house, waved her alongside me, and we both parked off the road on the levelled bombsite that had been the house next door -- until the 1940 blitz. I was paying the executors of the recently deceased owners a small annual rent to use the site.

Laura looked at my house.

"It looks great," she said.

"It does now. It was a wreck when we bought it. It had been damaged in the Blitz and never repaired. Let's go in and I'll make some coffee and show you around."

I put the kettle on and took Laura around the house. She was amazed that it was tidy and reasonably clean. Upstairs she stopped on the landing.

"How many bedrooms has it got?" She said looking at the doors on the landing and the stairway leading further up.

"Three down here. There could be another two or three up there but I haven't renovated them yet. I've done the basics, the windows, the plaster, and the electrics but I haven't decided whether to have two bedrooms and a large bathroom or three bedrooms and a small bathroom. Before I do, I've got to do this bathroom."

I opened the bathroom door. The bath was an old roll-top standing on ornate legs. The toilet had a high-level flush. The washbasin stood on a cast iron frame. I'd repainted the bath inside and out so it didn't look too bad but everything was old fashioned.

"It's better than ours," Laura said. "At least you have room to move around in it. We don't."

I knew. I had sorted out their erratic plumbing.

"Which is your bedroom, Derek?"

"This one."

I opened the door. Laura walked in. She looked at the massive double bed and the Victorian wardrobe, dressing table and chest of drawers. She walked over to the window and looked out.

"There's not much of a view from anywhere," I said. "Just rows of houses."

Laura came back towards me.

"All the view I want is here," she said, hugging me before she kissed me.

We went downstairs for coffee and perched on the kitchen stools.

"Shall I sort out your car now?" I asked. "We still have daylight. Once I've fixed things we would have the rest of the evening together and perhaps tomorrow."

The telephone rang in the hall. I picked it up. It was my boss. He wanted me to go to Birmingham on Thursday. I agreed and then asked if I could have Monday as a day-in-lieu. He was slightly reluctant but agreed. I went back to the kitchen and told Laura. She hugged me again.

"See," she said, "Fortuna has smiled on us -- again. We owe her and her toes a lot."

"I suppose so, but if we have a day together I'd like to fix your car now. We can go out tomorrow -- all day if your car is done."

"Can I help?"

"Of course."

We finished the coffee. I took a pair of axle stands out to the bombsite and jacked her car up. I removed the wheel bearing, packed it with grease and fitted a new split pin to the retaining nut. While the rear wheels were in the air I adjusted the brakes. I lowered the car and repeated the adjustments on the front brakes. Laura drove her car around the block. The brakes worked perfectly. They hadn't been unbalanced, just poorly adjusted.

I tightened the fan belt slightly, greased the throttle linkage and then removed the carburettor. I dismantled it, washed it in petrol, dried it and refitted it. While Laura pressed the accelerator I adjusted the carburettor so that the engine ran smoothly. She drove it around the block again.

"It sounds different," she said.

"So it should," I replied. "It's correctly adjusted, the brakes aren't binding and the wheel bearing is as it should be."

We went back into the house. I cleaned myself up while Laura made us some more coffee. I sat down with the coffee.

"What are we eating tonight?" Laura asked.

"Well," I said, "there is some food here but I thought we could go to a café around the corner. They do three course meals on Sunday evenings for a reasonable price. I don't usually cook on Sundays because I go out. Would a café meal do?"

Laura nodded.

"Breakfast?"

I opened a cupboard door to show a range of cereals.

"You can choose any of those. Or do you want a cooked breakfast?"

"Cereal will do but why do you have so much?"

"Sometimes one or two of my father's Army friends stay here when they are visiting London. They used to come to help me with the house repairs and to make sure I was OK, but now they use me as a base for a couple of days. I like talking to them about my father and since I've been to many of the places that they have, we can talk even if they're much older than I am."

"That's why you have a spare bedroom?"

"I have two spare bedrooms at present. I can put up anything from one to four visitors as long as they don't mind sharing a room. As Army types that's no problem. Once I had eight here. Several of them used sleeping bags on the living room floor."

"Are you expecting any visitors tonight?"

"Only you. They warn me days in advance if they're coming."

I turned my head and looked at the wall calendar.

"The next time someone's due is three weeks away."

"So we have tomorrow to ourselves?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go to the café. I'll cook for you tomorrow evening."

"If you want to, Laura. I must warn you about the café. They know me there, and Beatrice."

"Beatrice? She's been here?"

"Only in passing after a day or evening out. I don't think she ever went further than downstairs."

Laura seemed to think about that.

"Why did you need to warn me about the café?"

"They'll want to know who you are. They might not ask, but they will want to know about Beatrice. Angelo, the owner, liked her and was interested in her sporting activities, far more than I am. He plays the part of an amorous Italian. He even tried pinching Beatrice's backside once but she shoved him away so hard he hit the café's wall. He treated her with respect after that."

"He'd better not try pinching my bum. I thump harder than Beatrice."

"He won't. I explained that English girls don't react as Italian ones would. Most Italian girls, according to Angelo, think that having their backside pinched is a compliment. I'm not so sure that he was telling the truth about Italian girls. Anyway, Beatrice's reaction got him in trouble with Bella, his wife. She liked Beatrice too."

"Liked? Why the past tense?"

"Well, now that Beatrice and I have decided to be nothing but friends, I'm less likely to take her there."

"I don't see why not. She's still your friend, and mine."

"OK, but tonight we're going. I'll introduce you to Angelo and Bella -- as Beatrice's friend. That do?"

"Yes."

A few minutes later we walked around the corner to Angelo's café. It was nearly empty. Angelo was delighted to see me, even more delighted to meet Laura, as Beatrice's friend. Bella came out from the kitchen to meet Laura.

After the meal Laura went to wash her hands. Bella sat in her chair for a few seconds.

"This one is better for you, Derek. Beatrice is nice but not your type."

"I know, Bella. We've agreed to be friends and nothing more."

"That's good. I think Beatrice will be a good friend but not a partner. We'll miss her. Angelo became excited every time she came here because she looks so wonderful. He says that she reminds him of what I looked like when I was young. It's not true. I was good looking, yes, but never like Beatrice."

"You're still good-looking now, Bella," I said.

Bella stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and patted my shoulder.

"You would make a good diplomat, Derek. I'm a middle-aged Italian housewife..."

"...who cooks great meals and smiles beautifully," I added.

Bella really smiled. When she smiles like that I could see the woman she had been. No wonder Angelo loves her.

Bella pecked me on the cheek again as Laura came back.

"Kissing the cook? I know the meal was good but did you need to kiss Bella?"

"She kissed me," I protested. "She thinks she's my Italian mother whose job it is to make sure I eat properly and marry the right girl. She was telling me that Beatrice wasn't the right girl but we both knew that."

"I think I need to keep an eye on you," Laura said mock seriously. "I go to wash my hands and come back to find an attractive Italian Signora kissing you. Have you any more so-called mothers around that I should know about?"

"No. Bella's the only one although some of the older women at my work can be motherly..."

"Motherly! I'll bet they are!"

"None of them are serious but they treat me as an orphan who needs to be watched in case he's not looking after himself properly."

Bella brought our coffees.

"Hang on to this one, Laura," Bella said. "He's a good one."

"I know," Laura replied, "But what do I do when I find him kissing you?"

Bella laughed.

"He didn't. I kissed him. That's different. He's a good friend. He and his father helped us rebuild this café and Derek is always there when we need help with the council's paperwork. He won't accept free meals from us, so a motherly kiss or two is nothing."

"As long as they are motherly, Bella."

"You're jealous of me? Surely not. You should trust him. I do. Angelo does. Beatrice does. Ask anyone around here. We all like Derek."

I was getting embarrassed. Bella stood beside me and patted my shoulder.

"I wish I'd had a bambino like this one."

She went back to the kitchen.

"What am I to make of that, Derek? Bella thinks you're wonderful. So does Angelo. Beatrice told me that you were nice but not for her. I thought she was pushing me towards you to give what she couldn't but now? Is she stupid?"

"You know she's not, Laura. We just don't share the same interests. I like her. She likes me. That isn't enough. You know it isn't. Bella likes me. I like her, and Angelo, but we're just friends. Angelo was stunned by Beatrice when she first came here. So were most of the customers. This is a small community where everyone knows everyone else. If you come here again, even without me, they'll know who you are, that you are my friend and Beatrice's."

"I don't want to be known as Beatrice's friend. I want to be yours."

"You are, Laura. You know you are and you might be more than just a friend. We have tomorrow to get to know each other better. Let's change the subject. What do you want to do tomorrow? The weather forecast is still good. We could go out of London, perhaps to another National Trust property, or to the sea..."

"The sea! I haven't been to the seaside for years."

"Then the sea it will be. Anywhere specific or will you leave it to me?"

"Somewhere where it isn't too crowded, too stony, yet there are facilities nearby."

"OK. I think I can meet those requirements but it's a longish drive and we should start early, perhaps leaving about eight o'clock to avoid the traffic. Can you be ready by eight?"

"Of course. I'm a shift worker. I can get ready for any time."

"Perhaps we should go to bed reasonably early instead of sitting up talking." 

"Bed sounds good."

I wasn't sure that Laura meant that she was tired or that she wanted to drag me off to bed with her. We finished the coffee, I paid the small bill, and we walked back to my house.

Laura insisted on using the spare bedroom to change while I went to the large bed to wait for her. She walked into my bedroom wearing a too-large T-shirt. She got into bed beside me. I was lying on my back.

"Light on, or off?" I asked.

"Off, please, Derek."

She snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"What do we do now, Derek?"

"Up to you, Laura. Whatever you are comfortable about."

Laura lifted herself up to kiss me. Her hair fell either side of my face. If the light had been on I wouldn't have been able to see much. She had let her hair down and combed it out. It was longer than I had thought, shoulder length, possibly a bit more.

Despite my best endeavours I couldn't resist becoming erect. Laura felt it against her leg.

"Down boy!" She ordered. "Not yet!"

"I can't help it," I protested.

"I'm sure you can't," Laura replied. "If you could, I'd be worried. I think Fortuna has done her best for us. I'm in bed with you. That's one of the things I asked for. You have tomorrow off. You asked Fortuna and now we have tomorrow for us. That reminds me. What did you ask the Goddess for when you were with Beatrice?"

"That we could recognise that we would only ever be friends."

"Then Fortuna has granted almost everything we asked for, hasn't she?"

"Everything I asked for -- yes. I don't know what you asked Fortuna."

"My last request will have to remain a secret for a little while, wrapped up like Fortuna's toes. Toes! You promised that my toes would be nibbled. They can be, now!"

"They're at the wrong end of the bed," I protested.

"Easily fixed. You know where they are. Go nibble!"

Laura giggled as I burrowed down her legs between the sheets. My hands found an ankle. I grasped it and lifted the foot towards my mouth. I kissed each toe slowly, opened my mouth and tried to nibble the little toe. Laura snatched it away.

"That tickles!"

"So it should. Shall I try again?"

"No. I think I get the idea. Perhaps later. Since you are down there how about working your way up my legs?"

"OK, Laura. Legs it is."

I kissed each leg above the ankles. I licked. Laura's legs were beautifully smooth to the touch of my lips and tongue. She squirmed and giggled as I approached her knees. She became quiet and still as I reached the inside of her thighs. I could hear her breathing hard as I gently opened her legs so I could kiss further up. Her thighs were soft, silky, yielding at first but with muscle underneath.

She flinched as my tongue touched the first of her pubic hairs. She sighed as I kissed her hard. Her legs spread wider. I followed the warmth to a scented place. My tongue reached in. Laura's hands cradled my head as I moved deeper. I began to move my head in and out. Laura's hands taught me the rhythm she wanted.

Her hands pressed harder. I worked my tongue in and around, losing myself between her legs that wound over my back. Laura was panting hard. Her hands were insistent. I matched her tempo as she began to squeal above me. I couldn't keep doing this. Laura's body was starving me of breath. I tried to grab some air between her hands thrusting my face against her, but I was failing to get enough.

Laura squealed once more, much louder, and her hands relaxed. I turned my face to one side and panted against her soft thigh. Her hands stroked my head softly. 

Once I had my breath back I returned to kissing and tonguing her. Her hands guided me, less fiercely this time, but she made sure I knew where and when she wanted me. Laura started squealing much earlier. Her legs clamped hard around me. Her hands pulled me deeper into the damp cave between her legs. 

I heard a breathy "Yes!" as she came again. 

She pulled my head to rest on her stomach. I relaxed against it for a few minutes until I thought Laura was ready for more. She was.

I slid my face between her legs again and, slower this time, I brought her back to the peak and beyond.

Laura wriggled me up the bed. She slumped against my shoulder.

"Goodnight," she whispered as I wrapped my arms around her.

She didn't mean it. A hand was wrapped around my erection, stroking it gently. She rolled to her back. I penetrated her. I tried to prolong the coupling but I had been too excited by making her come and she was clamping hard around me. Soon, too soon, I had come inside her.

"Now, it is really goodnight, Derek," Laura said as I lay beside her. "Sleep well, and have this to remind you I'm here."

Her breast pushed against my face. Her fingers slid the erect nipple between my lips. I opened my mouth. More of Laura's breast followed, almost more than I could put into my mouth. Laura pulled her T-shirt behind my head and held me to her breast as we went to sleep. 

I stirred later. Laura's breast had gone. She was sleeping on my shoulder and my arm was around her. I went back to sleep listening to her steady breathing.

The next morning I left Laura sleeping while I shaved and showered. As I went downstairs to the kitchen I heard her moving around. I had just made the coffee when she appeared.

"That was fast," I said.

"Practice," Laura replied. "As a shift worker I have had to learn how to get ready quickly if I am to be at work on time."

We had breakfast and I washed up the few items.

"Ready to go?" I asked.

"Your car or mine?" Laura asked.

"Mine, I think," I replied. "It has more fuel in it than yours."

"I could fill mine up," she retorted.

"You could, but we ought to be on the road as soon as possible to avoid the traffic jams..."

"On a Monday?" 

"OK, perhaps they won't be so bad on a weekday, but until the government builds more motorways, any route to the coast has choke points."

"Where are we going, Derek?"

"Camber Sands? There's a long sandy beach and it shouldn't be crowded."

"I've heard of Camber Sands, but I've never been there."

"Then that's where we'll go."

The journey might have been boring except that Laura and I spent so much time talking about ourselves, what we wanted from life, and how we might get there.

Even crawling through the traffic in Sevenoaks and Tonbridge seemed bearable with an intelligent entertaining woman by my side.

I drove to the main car park which was almost empty. We had a coffee in the café and set off for a walk along the beach. For once there was no wind to whip stinging sand around our legs but the day would soon be hot. We took our shoes off and paddled through some of the channels left on the beach before dabbling in the water as the tide retreated.

Laura had no problems. Her mini-dress was well above the water. I had rolled my trousers up but they kept slipping down and I was wet to the knees.

"We should have brought swimming costumes," Laura said, "but mine's at home, not even at the flat. I want to go in but..."

"Even with the few people around, you'd raise eyebrows if you stripped off. We haven't brought a towel."




Nibbling Fortuna's Toes



"What are you going to do about your wet trousers?"

"I have a spare pair in the car. I'll nip into the gents' toilet and change."

"You could change in the car, I wouldn't mind," Laura said.

"I could, and have, but there isn't much room."

"What's that?" Laura said, pointing.

"That's Rye. An old walled town."

"Can we go there?"

"Of course. When?"

"Now? The beach is great but if I'm here I'd rather be swimming. What is there in Rye?"

"There's a castle tower, some of the walls, an old church and ancient streets."

"Come on then, I've had enough beach."

I changed my trousers and we drove the few miles to Rye. Laura loved it. We had lunch in an old pub and wandered around for hours.

The journey back to London was even slower than going. We were stationary in Tonbridge for about twenty minutes while commuters poured away from the station in their cars.

Back at my house we decided to eat at the Italian restaurant again because we were both too tired to consider cooking for ourselves.

I drove Laura back to the flat so she could be ready for early duty the next day. It had been a perfect introduction to each other.

+++

My relationship with Laura developed slowly over the next few months, partly because her shift work and studies didn't coincide with my free time. When we were together we enjoyed each other's company, but too often we couldn't meet. Towards the end of the year working on her studies became essential ahead of an examination just before Christmas.

Both of us were temporarily broke. Laura was spending on expensive medical books. I had been offered the bomb site next to my house for a bargain price. I had taken out a short term bank loan to finance that, and was trying to repay it as quickly as possible.

I was often in the women's flat either waiting for Laura to return from work or spending a few minutes before she went off for another shift. While there I had serviced all their sash windows so that they no longer rattled in a wind or let in draughts. I had done a few more maintenance tasks in the flat so that the three women were more comfortable.

During the autumn I helped Beatrice and Emily practise their driving. They had lessons with a professional driving instructor. I had put all three women as drivers on my car insurance. They were nervous about their driving abilities and worried about passing the driving test. They shouldn't have been. They were competent and careful. The two learner drivers had booked their tests for early January, scheduled within an hour of each other. Emily and I would wait while Beatrice took her test, and Beatrice and I would be in the test centre's waiting room while Emily took hers.

During December I was with Beatrice and Emily far more often than Laura. I didn't notice the disparity that much. I knew that Laura was busy, and I enjoyed the short times we had together. A few times I had collected her from the hospital. Twice in one week I had Laura crying in my arms as yet another patient had died on her shift. She was suffering from the strain of the impending examination and the increased workload as more patients were admitted. 

It didn't help that the weather had been cold and wet. Laura and I couldn't go out for even half a day. We spent time on the settee of the flat with me holding her nursing text books and asking questions to test her for the examination. I also spent hours on that settee with Beatrice or Emily, sometimes both of them, testing them on the Highway Code.

Other times I might be sitting with any one of the three in Angelo's cafe. He always greeted Beatrice with enthusiasm, but Emily and Laura were also very welcome there.

I was being stretched at work. One of my colleagues had gone into hospital for an operation. I was trying, and failing, to cover his work as well.

All four of us were stressed, irritable and sensitive to any adverse incident. Laura wanted to spend Christmas with me at my house yet her parents wanted her to come home for a family Christmas because the whole family would be there.

+++

Unfortunately I had to work right up to Christmas Eve while many people were taking a longer break. The three women would have several days off. Laura would work her last shift on Saturday night.

The Sunday before Christmas was a disaster.

At 7 am that morning Bella from the cafe was knocking at my front door. I had just finished breakfast. I was due to see Laura at the flat at 11 am. 

"Derek, please can you help us?" she said.

It was obvious she had been crying.

"What's wrong?"

Bella blurted it all out in a rush.

"It's Angelo's mother. She's had a heart attack. She's in hospital. She's asking for Angelo, her youngest bambino. The family don't think she'll live more than a couple of days. Angelo has booked a flight from Heathrow to Genoa but there's a transport strike. He can't get to the airport. Can you?"

"Of course I can, Bella. I'll have to telephone and leave a message for Laura. Can I do that from the cafe?"

"Yes. If we go now we should have plenty of time."

I grabbed a coat and started my car. I parked it outside Angelo's cafe. He was standing inside the door with a small suitcase.

"He needs the telephone," Bella said.

"Over there, Derek."

I rang the flat. Emily answered. I told her I was taking Angelo to Heathrow. I asked her to give my apologies to Laura. I'd be back as soon as I could but not before about one o'clock. Emily gave me, and Angelo, her love.

I loaded Angelo's suitcase on to the back seat and we set off for Heathrow. Even though it was a Sunday the traffic was heavy. We crawled along the A4. Angelo's flight check-in was at 12 noon. We ought to have enough time and to spare despite the congestion.

We arrived at Heathrow. By the time we walked into the concourse it was 11.15 am. But Angelo's flight, like many others, was delayed by fog over Europe. The incoming flights were two or more hours behind schedule, and the departures were being delayed as well. The estimated departure of his flight should have been 1 pm, with check-in at noon. It might be leaving at 3pm with check-in at 2.

Angelo was worried. His brother would be meeting him at Genoa airport. I told Angelo that his brother would know as much as we did, and would wait if necessary. After several cups of airport coffee Angelo was still worried. I told him to ring Bella to let her know what was happening, and if possible, for her to ring the flat to tell Laura I'd be very late.

When he came back he was less stressed. His brother had rung from Italy. Their mother was in less immediate danger, still poorly, but likely to survive for a week at least. Beyond that, the doctors weren't sure, depending on test results still being analysed. So Angelo wouldn't be too late despite the flight delays.

I suppose I should have rung the flat directly to talk to Laura. There was a simple explanation. I had intended to get cash from my bank on Monday. The car parking charges had taken most of my coins. I had a couple of pound notes.

Angelo's flight was ready for check-in earlier than we had feared. As soon as he had passed through to the departure lounge I went back to my car and started driving back to London, heading for the women's flat.

The traffic congestion was even worse on the way back. It took me a couple of hours to travel a few miles. I arrived at the flat at a quarter to seven. I rang the door bell. Beatrice answered the door.

"Derek! You can't come in. There's a crisis upstairs. Laura and Emily are in tears. I can't explain now. They need me. I'll see you at the cafe in an hour. Go!"

"But the cafe might be shut..."

"If it is, I'll come to your house. But go! Now! If they see you the shit will really hit the fan. Go!"

I went, wondering what had happened.

The cafe was open but not serving meals. Bella was coping on her own with teas and coffee.

"Thank you, Derek," she said. "Angelo has telephoned from Italy. He arrived safely and is on the way to see his mother. She's complaining about the hospital food. That sounds as if she's feeling better."

"Better? I hope she is. Beatrice is coming here. There's something amiss with Laura and Emily. I can't think what. They were OK when I last saw them on Wednesday evening."

"Beatrice is a sensible woman even if my Angelo likes her legs too much. I'm sure she'll sort it out. Coffee?"

By the time Beatrice arrived I was on my third cup of coffee and had eaten a piece of Bella's wonderful cakes.

Beatrice sat down beside me with a sigh. Bella was making the special tea that Beatrice likes.

"What's up?" I asked.

"What isn't?" Beatrice replied. "I'm glad I haven't got a boyfriend at present. Laura and Emily are arguing because Alan has dumped Emily."

"Why should..."

Beatrice pressed a finger to my lips.

"Shut up, and listen. I've had enough of arguing people today. Right. This is the situation. Alan thinks that Emily has been two-timing him with you..."

I started to protest. Beatrice's finger stopped me.

"...and they argued about it at lunchtime. I was out doing some training and came back to find both of my flatmates in tears and yelling at each other. Emily's denials hadn't satisfied Alan who had stormed out of the flat. Laura thought there must be some truth in Alan's accusations so she was very unhappy with you. Going off with Angelo to Heathrow was a 'betrayal' according to Laura. She's not thinking straight. This morning, despite being Sunday, was her last examination and it was harder than she thought it would be. She wanted to come back and cry all over you. But you weren't there, and Bella's message meant you wouldn't be for hours."

Bella brought Beatrice's tea.

"Thank you, Bella. How's Angelo's mother?"

"Improving, we think. Angelo will let me know when he's seen her. I'm expecting him to telephone in a couple of hours."

"Give him my love, please, Bella."

"I will, but not in those words, Beatrice. You know what he's like."

"I do, Bella, and I know he loves you. The flirting is just words because he tries to pretend he's an Italian stallion."

Bella laughed.

"You're right. It is a pretence. If you expected him to live up to his words he'd run a mile."

"Straight back to the woman he really loves -- you."

"I know he does, Beatrice. But you need to talk to Derek. If you want more tea, just tell me."

"Thank you, Bella." 

"Where was I? Oh yes. As far as I can work out Laura made some passing comment earlier this week, while Alan was there, that Emily was seeing more of you than she was. That wouldn't have mattered if it hadn't been true, and that Alan and Emily were already arguing about some unimportant detail about Christmas.

It seems to have stuck in Alan's mind, and he accused Emily this morning of preferring you to him. If they had asked me, I would have said that I had been with Emily every time we were with you. But I was out. When I came back, it was too late. Alan had gone and Emily was in tears. Alan had met Laura on the doorstep and told her he had broken up with Emily because of you. Cue for arguments between Laura and Emily which had been going on for some time when I returned.

Neither of them was amenable to reason. I kept telling both of them that when you saw Emily it was Emily AND Beatrice and you had behaved as you usually do with friends. Alan's rejection had given Laura enough to accuse you.

Before you arrived, they had both decided to go home for Christmas. They were packing. Laura would run Emily home and then continue on to Hayes. Laura left a message for me to pass on to you when and if you arrived. But you arrived before they had gone. In the state they were in your presence might have started them off again, and Laura might have said something unforgiveable. So I told you to go away.

They've now left. Laura's message is "You have to choose between me and your friends". I think I know what your answer will be, but it's up to you. Whatever you respond, she won't get it until the New Year when she comes back. So? What would you answer?" 

"Beatrice," I said slowly, "You know me too well. You know what my answer has to be. I will have to choose my friends, including you, Emily, Bella and Angelo. I hope Laura will find out that it's all a misunderstanding, and that Alan will too, but if not? I wouldn't be me if I let my friends down. I'm sad for Laura, sad for Emily and Alan, but maybe they'll find out the truth. A few days' break might be good for all of them."

"I knew you'd say that, Derek. Thank you. I am pleased to keep you as a friend, and no more than that."

"I still like your legs, Beatrice."

She giggled.

"So does Angelo."

"Back to reality, Beatrice. You and Emily have driving tests shortly after the New Year. I'll be there for both of you, whatever Laura and Alan might think. It's a shame that Emily has gone away. We could have practised in almost empty streets around Christmas."

"I think she'll manage. She's a good enough driver now."

"So are you. Both of you should pass easily as long as you don't make a silly mistake."

"That's always possible, but we have had good instructors, both the professional and the amateur."

Beatrice reached forward and stroked my cheek.

"Sometimes, sometimes, I wish we had more in common, Derek. But we don't have. We are still friends."

Bella arrived, bringing more coffee and tea, to hear Beatrice's last few words.

"And he is a good friend, Beatrice. I wish there were more people like him."

"I'm no saint," I protested.

Beatrice and Bella kissed my cheeks. I was embarrassed until I saw that the cafe was empty except for the three of us.

"You'll do as a substitute until I meet a real one," Beatrice said.

"You will," Bella said. "Someone who shares your interests as well as appreciates your legs."

Bella sat down with us. She looked quizzically at Beatrice. Beatrice took the hint and explained what had happened between me and Laura. I went to the cafe's toilet while they talked.

When I sat down again I was hugged by both of them. Bella broke off to answer the telephone. From her expressions I could tell it was Angelo. A few minutes later she came back to us.

"Angelo's mother is OK. She, and her family, have had a scare but it seems there was no permanent damage. She'll have a few more years yet. Angelo will be back on Wednesday evening..."

"I'll collect him from Heathrow," I said."

"Thank you, Derek. I gave him Beatrice's 'love'. I won't repeat exactly what he replied, but he thanks you, Beatrice. He is sorry he missed seeing your lovely long legs."

Beatrice stretched out her legs.

"I like them too," she said.

"So do I," I replied.

"Angelo would like to see them so much that he has invited you two to spend Christmas Day with us, for a traditional Italian Christmas meal. You will accept, won't you?"

I looked at Beatrice. She nodded slightly.

"Thank you, Bella. We accept with pleasure," I said.

"Apart from Angelo and me, there will be my daughter Gemma and her twin boys."

"Boys?" Beatrice sounded interested.

"Too young for you, Beatrice," Bella laughed. "They're eleven years old, football mad, and typical Italian boys. They think women are a nuisance."

"Football mad?" Beatrice turned to me. "Have you got a football, Derek?"

"Yes. Why?"

"If you bring it, we can take the boys to the park and I'll show them that women can play football."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Derek."

"That would help, Beatrice." Bella said. "The boys would be in the way while Gemma and I are cooking."

"Not Angelo?" I asked.

"No. He cooks for the cafe but a traditional Italian Christmas meal is best done by women." Bella replied.

Soon afterwards I drove Beatrice back to the empty flat. On the way she suggested that she should stay with me after the Christmas meal, if she could use the spare room? I would drive her to her parents' house on Boxing Day when public transport was sparse.

+++

The few days before Christmas were boring. I was working hard and failing to cover two people's work. It was nice that the bosses recognised my efforts with a larger than normal Christmas bonus, but I didn't like being unable to do everything promptly. The Christmas bonus meant that I would clear the bank loan as soon as I could get to the bank in January.

Beatrice and I had lunch together. She was feeling lonely in an empty flat. She hadn't had any contact with Emily or Laura. What depressed her most was the pile of presents under the Christmas Tree. There were presents from me to all three women; presents from Alan; presents to me, including a large one from Laura -- and they would sit there unopened to the New Year.

I collected Angelo from Heathrow on the Wednesday evening. His mother had gone home from hospital with strict instructions to let her daughter produce the Christmas meal. I felt sorry for that daughter-in-law. Angelo's mother prides herself on her cooking.

+++

I collected Beatrice from the flat on the morning of Christmas Day. She was wearing jeans and boots, but had her party wear in a suitcase with her overnight essentials. I parked my car, put her suitcase in my house, and we walked to the cafe. Beatrice had transferred her party wear to a carrier bag.

The twin boys, Julio and Augusto, weren't impressed with the idea of playing football with Beatrice and me, but their mother Gemma told them to get out of her way. Their names were because they were born either side of midnight on 31st July and 1st August.

In the park we set up a small goal of piled bags. Beatrice told the three of us to be goalkeepers. She would try to score past us.

She did. It was embarrassing. She seemed to produce the ball from impossible angles or above our heads.

She demonstrated dribbling as we tried to tackle her. We failed, again and again. By this time the twins were beginning to appreciate that Beatrice knew far more about football than they did. She turned the kick-about into proper coaching. By the time we had to go back to the cafe the twins thought Beatrice was the greatest woman they had ever met.

At the cafe she disappeared into the ladies toilet. A surprisingly short time later she emerged, high-heeled, in her shortest mini-dress with glossy tights on her long legs. Angelo couldn't take his eyes off Beatrice's legs. The three women laughed at him.

That meal was wonderful. We enjoyed ourselves, stuffed ourselves with great food washed down with Italian wine, and finished off with Italian ice-cream made by Gemma. In the early evening her husband Roberto joined us. He is a sous-chef in a West End hotel and had been cooking traditional Christmas lunches for the guests. Angelo and Bella were obviously proud of their son. The twins were competing to tell their father what a marvellous footballer Beatrice was, so much so that she was blushing.

When Beatrice and I left, there was a flurry of hugs and kisses. To their parents' surprise, the twins wanted to hug Beatrice too. As Bella showed us out, she said:

"The twins surprised me. Normally they keep well away from women, and don't like the Italian habit of kissing everyone."

"But this is Beatrice," I replied before she could. "She has wonderful legs -- for football."

Beatrice pretended to hit me.

"Thank you, Bella," Beatrice said. "We have enjoyed ourselves."

I added my thanks but was interrupted by a strong hug from Bella.

"That's what friends are for -- enjoying each others' company."

Beatrice and I walked back to my house holding hands. For the first time in days we felt happy. As we got to my front door, Beatrice lifted our entwined hands to look at them.

"This is a sign we are friends," she said. "We are nothing else."

"I know, Beatrice," I replied. "You're a great friend, and I need a friend now Laura seems to have dumped me. Come in, and find the spare bedroom. You can lock it on the inside, but you won't need to."




Nibbling Fortuna's Toes



Beatrice kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, Derek, but before that, coffee?"

"Of course." 

While Beatrice made the coffee I lit the ready-laid fire in the living room. We sat side by side, but not touching each other, on the settee. Beatrice brought me up to date with recent telephone discussions with Laura and Emily.

Emily was still upset about Alan's unjustified accusations. Even if he knew the truth, and apologised, she was still uncertain that she wanted him back. Alan had rung Beatrice. He had left some things in the flat and wanted to collect them before Emily returned. While arranging a day and time with him, Beatrice had told him that he was an idiot because she had been with Emily every time she was with me, and nothing had happened.

Laura had received my Christmas card and letter. She was still hurting, and Beatrice's statement hadn't helped. If Laura was in the wrong, and knew she was, she would find it difficult to apologise.

Beatrice would try, again, to convince Alan when he came to the flat. If she could, perhaps time would help to sort us out. We left it at that. We went to bed, in separate rooms, and slept.

When I woke up in the morning I could hear Beatrice in the kitchen. I showered, shaved, and joined her.

"If Laura knew..." Beatrice said.

"...knew what?" I interrupted.

"That I had spent Christmas night in your house. The way she's feeling now, she would assume the worst."

"So? We don't tell her."

"Keeping secrets from her? I think that's wrong. If she was her normal self she wouldn't mind. But she's not, yet."

After breakfast I drove Beatrice to her parents' house. She kissed me before getting out of the car but we knew that kiss had no more significance than one of Bella's.

+++

I went back to work early to try to clear the backlog. I heard nothing from the flatmates for a couple of weeks.

I met Beatrice on the office stairs. 

"Emily just rang me, Derek" she said abruptly. "There's a leaking pipe in the bathroom. Could you?"

"Of course, Beatrice. I'll be there as early as I can this evening. What about Laura? Will she be there? That could be awkward."

"Laura is with her parents today. It should be safe."

"OK. I'll be there."

I drove to the flat with my plumbing tools in the car. Emily opened the door for me.

"Thanks for coming, Derek," she said. "I'd turned the water off when I left for work, but we can't use the bath."

In the bathroom a joint on one of the old cold water pipes had cracked. I lit my paraffin blowlamp and in a few minutes had soldered it back together. I turned the water fully on to test it. No leak. I cleared up after myself and went to the living room.

"All done," I announced to Emily.

She burst into tears. I sat down beside her. She snuggled against my shoulder and sniffed. I produced a clean handkerchief.

Emily started to tell me she was missing Alan. He might have been unreasonably jealous, but they loved each other. She wanted him back, to apologise, and for things to be as they were.

I heard the flat door open. I assumed it would be Beatrice. It wasn't. It was Laura, and Emily was resting her head on my damp shoulder.

Laura shouted at us. Emily jumped up as if she had been stung. The two of them were yelling at each other, accusing each other of impossible things. I picked up my tools and left quietly before they turned on me.

Two days later I got a letter from Laura, effectively saying "How could you?".

I replied by the next post "What is it to you if I comfort a friend? You've dumped me. You don't want me. Emily needed me.".

Meanwhile I was helping Beatrice and Emily with driving practice. I had to set a time to collect them outside so Laura wouldn't see me.

On the day of their driving tests I took them to the test office. Emily and I waited while Beatrice took her test. Beatrice came back smiling. She'd passed. Soon afterwards Emily had passed too. Back at my car Beatrice took the L plate off the front and Emily took the other L plate off the back. Beatrice drove us half way back to the flat, and Emily drove the rest of the way. I parked the car and walked back around the corner to find Emily and Alan hugging each other. I left them to it and joined Beatrice for a cup of tea.

Emily came in.

"Alan's gone back to work, but we're together again. He apologised and wanted to know if I'd passed the test. One thing led to another..."

"We saw," I said. "Reconciliation in seconds..."

"Not quite," Beatrice said, "The flat is full of the flowers he's been sending Emily every day for a week."

"All we need now is for Laura..." Emily suggested.

"...to see what a fool she's been," Beatrice added.

"And a boyfriend for Beatrice?" I said.

"That's possible," Beatrice replied. "I'm seeing one of Roberto's friends. He's a Maitre D' at the hotel, but English. He's working there to finance his athletics training."

"Aha," I said, "A sportsman? That has possibilities."

"I'm joining him in Regents Park later for a run around the perimeter," Beatrice said.

"Better and better. Good luck."

I left them to celebrate their success and went back to work. I was happy for them, but still sad that Laura and I hadn't got back together.

+++

Valentine's Day was coming. I bought a card and wrote a letter for Laura. I posted it a few days early.

The day before Valentine's Day I received her card to me. All it said inside was:

"Meet me by Fortuna's toes at noon on Valentine's Day. Bring a libation for her."

I was there. So was she. We didn't need words. Our lips were too busy kissing. 

Fortuna received a grateful libation.

The End.

*

Notes for reader:

The story is set in the mid-1960s, but Ham House and Fortuna's toes are as they were in 2010.

Derek's car was a 1951 E493A 1172cc Ford Prefect; Laura's car a 1948 EO4A 933cc Ford Anglia. Owning any car in central London at that time was still a rarity for younger people. The older small Fords were popular because spare parts were readily available and servicing was simple.

Electric demisters were a popular accessory but not very effective, usually clearing a six-inch radius arc through which the driver could peer, and they used most of the dynamo's output. A more useful solution was a damp cloth soaked in washing-up liquid.