Above and Beyond

Chapter 8

  Wroxham – ‘Capital of the Broads’ (but don’t let Hoveton hear you calling it that) is within the Norfolk Broads, and it was the only place that both Alice and Algie agreed on after a secret ballot officiated over by yours truly. For some reason the New Forest was not suiting Alice, it must be all that grass, so they decided to move, on ‘doctors orders’ (well the doctor can pay then, I thought), but where to, and unfortunately when two strong willed young minds clash with the force of a thunder storm it inevitably started to complicated. The ‘simple’ solution was arrived at by Sandra, my 1st ex, and Algie (Algernon’s) mother, but unfortunately a civil war somewhere in the world (there is always a civil war somewhere in the world, I thought) meant it was left to yours truly to sort out the nitty-gritty.

  After several rounds, almost ranging from John O’Groats to Land’s End, I finally produced (on-line of course) six properties that were currently available at the various favoured locations. The winner turned out to be a small (ish) cottage (only 6 bedrooms – but plenty of room to expand) off Beech Road (of course) Wroxham, with extensive moorings in a private lagoon; and I thought it was a snip until I realised that a zero had dropped of my laptop. They visited each of the properties – separately so as not to argue in public, and sent me a ‘points out of ten’. Wroxham was not only the outstanding favourite by a country mile, but for an extra zero they could have all the boats, furniture and the rest of the trappings (they had never been used), and move in straight away, Alice had even talked to the next door neighbour/famous interior designer who had designed the interior – and it was absolutely ppppurfect. The only down side was that there were only three members of staff at the moment, but hey-ho as I was footing the bill, yet again, it was ‘pretty please my wonderful popsy wopsy’.

  The day that I arrived for my first visit to their new home coincided with the day chosen by the Gods above as ‘England’s summer’ and either by accident or design they collected me downriver in one of their launches, and once we arrived in ‘their lagoon’ it soon became apparent that it was going to take a long time to get me indoors. Robin and his tribe had ‘popped down for the week-end’ as well, so as soon as I disembarked from the launch ‘not so little’ Mark commandeered Pops and we were off. Grabbing my spare hand he started showing me all the ‘secret places’ that he had already found on his previous visits, and as there was well over an acre of land I bet there were going to be a lot more to find. What was my other hand doing I hear you ask? It was pushing Macey along in her pushchair, and did it weigh a ton (the chair – not Macey). Eventually we all collapsed on the glorious patio overlooking the river and watched the water born traffic glide past as we sipped iced tea, one could definitely get used to this sort of life, well almost everyone, David was having a purple fit every time a boat pottered bye that was capable of toting an RPG.

  Next morning, after being shamed into an invigorating swim in the outdoor pool by Mark, I vowed to jam the pool heater on its maximum setting before I ever dipped even a pinky into its frozen wastes again; my body was too used to Mi Casa’s thirty degrees MINIMUM. After dodging the ice cubes coming out of the poolside shower we slipped into shorts and tee shirts and were off exploring the spectacularly manicured wilderness again, which got rudely interrupted when Clyde (one of my brace of manic Yorkies – Bonnie being the other miscreant) came charging towards me. As usual I bent my knees slightly, patted my chest and he leapt onto my thighs then ran up my chest to be caught expertly by myself, just before gravity plummeted him back to earth, and for this he reward me with sloppy kisses, it was one of our party pieces. As he started checking for ear wax I suddenly had one of my thoughts, he must be very tired after that run, he had started it in Spain, and also his tail had grown back on the way. Bonnie and Clyde were ‘Spanish’ Yorkshire Terriers so they came minus the majority of their tails. Despite thinking that the practice of ‘docking’ tails was barbaric, we had no choice but to accept it, it was fait accomplí.

  ‘Whisky, what on earth are you doing, put that rather nice man down’, said a typically English hedge row, then I spotted a pair of green eyes peering through it. Instantly I knew that (a) those eyes could wreak havoc on the uninitiated, and (b) the owner of them had a name starting with S.

  As Clyde, or as it would now appear Whisky, continued to ream out my ear, the hedge row continued, ‘I am so sorry, I don’t know what has got into him, he has never done anything like that before in his life, he doesn’t even like men’

  ‘I hope his owner does’ I thought as Whisky changed ears, ‘and who on earth calls a dog Whisky anyway?’ was another thought, then I though ‘who calls theirs Bonnie and Clyde’, end of thoughts.

  ‘Hello Mrs Martin’ chipped in Mark, and he made me jump, I had forgotten all about him, how on earth could I ever forget my first grandchild? Then I continued looking into those eyes, and forgot all about him again.

  ‘Hello Mark, is this your infamous Pops that you were telling me all about?’ and with that a slender, lightly tanned hand glided through the hedgerow, ‘Suzanna Martin, your neighbour, you can call me Suzie if you like’.

  Taking the proffered hand I gently shook it, careful not to break anything, and stammered (in as deep and manly a voice as I could muster) ‘Andrew Michaels, and you can call me anything you like’.

  The laughter that followed, I knew would be emblazoned into my brain for the rest of eternity.

  From deep below a squeaky little voice burst forth ‘Yes’ - I think he was starting to feel out of it, surely children should be seen but not heard, then he forever redeemed himself by continuing, ‘and Aunty Alice asked me to ask you if you could pop round for a cup of tea, as she would like to ask you something, if I saw you that is’ (does a hand and forearm count? Obviously it does) ‘and can I play with Whisky please’.

  ‘Of course’ the arm continued, ‘but make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near the pool, and tell Aunty Alice to put the kettle on, I will be around in five minutes’.

  With that the hand disappeared, but the voice continued, ‘can you wait at the quay please Andy and catch my painter’, and for the briefest of moments those eyes seemed to twinkle even more.

  After unloading Whisky, who seemed totally at ease with Mark, I instructed them both to be careful, and nodded to David - who just happening to be taking a constitutional in close proximity of me – to make sure that they did, and he did, perhaps he was starting to relax a teensy weensy bit.

  As I headed towards the quay, first I wondered if my first impressions were way out, if she was going to throw a tradesman over the fence for whatever heinous crime that he (or she) had committed, and second, she must be built like a Sumo wrestler, perhaps wrists are very misleading, but then after the longest five minutes in recorded history a small electric boat slid quietly around the end of the adjoining fence and into my heart, it was delivering the most perfect blonde haired, green eyed, tall, slender woman into my life (I desperately hoped), beautiful did not come anywhere close to describing her.

  As she primly sat behind the wheel, skilfully guiding the small craft towards me, I could not help but notice that she was definitely not dressed for messing about on the river. She wore a khaki safari dress that I imagine would, when she was standing, end just above her knees, but now, as she sat there in the shade of a Bimini, her golden legs seemed to go on forever, and on her head was a straw boater that cast a further shadow over her face, but those green eyes still seemed to blaze through. She eased the craft alongside me, killed the motor and leant forward to grasp the bow line (AKA the painter), when for some inexplicable reason the top two buttons of her dress popped, revealing, only a few feet away from my face, perfect heaven. I had never been a boob kind of guy, anything over a handful seemed to be a waste to me, and here was living breathing proof of that. As she picked up the painter and deftly threw it to me she seemed totally unaware of the problem that her dress was causing me, but fortunately I was one of those rare males that can multi-task, and managed
to look at two things at once, and still catch a rope. With difficulty I located a nearby cleat and secured the vessel but unfortunately by the time that I returned my gaze to the vicinity of the buttons they were firmly back in control, and there was just the hint of a blush on her cheeks. As I gazed at her face my mind raced to try and describe it, then it came to me Elfin, with just a hint of mischief around her eyes and lips. I quickly secured the proffered stern line and as I came up for air that hand came out from under the cover and took mine again. I helped her ashore but unfortunately there were no more mishaps, but I did think that she was taller than I had imagined, then I realised that she had on high healed straw sandals that matched her boater, perfect for walking on grass, and putting our lips on a level pegging. Then it was panic stations, her lips were heading straight towards mine, then at the last moment they veered off to one side to gentle peck at my left cheek. Pausing for what seemed like a lifetime she then lifted off ever so slightly and moved to kiss my other cheek, but fortunately (for me) not far enough, and our lips ever so slightly brushed in passing, I will go to my maker remembering the feel of those soft lips and warm breath as she gently breathed out. After again pausing for a lifetime she stepped back and purred ‘I think that is how they do it in Spain isn’t it?

  ‘Not without causing a population explosion of apocalyptic proportions’ I thought, then tried to think of a Country that required full on snogging as the requisite form of greeting, but unfortunately the moment slipped by.

  ‘Right, lead me to my cuppa Andy’ she ordered and linking her arm in mine we walked up the garden path towards the house.

  Following tea and biscuits Mark again played a blinder, ‘Pops, can we go for another swim please’, and looking at Suzie ‘and can we take Whisky in as well?’

  To absolutely no one’s surprise she said ‘only if I come as well’, and pulled out a couple of small pieces of material from her shoulder bag, ‘fortunately I’ve come prepared’ and Alice immediately hoped that Mark was not about to be given his first biology lesson. Emma hated her even more, Robin and Algie were weighing up their chances if I didn’t take the hint, and I was fervently hoping that the icebergs in the pool would dissipate my obvious approval.

  Eventually we all ended up splashing around in the ‘slowly getting warmer’ pool, with Whisky keeping us all entertained with his antics, especially when a small body-board appeared, but eventually I cried ‘old age’ and sat on the top step to recover, followed almost immediately by Suzie. I was hoping that she would follow as I thought it was about time for a little chat.

  ‘Am I being a bit OTT?’ she started.

  ‘Ever so slightly’ I said with a grimace.

  ‘Does that mean I have to stop?’

  ‘Yes – but’ but before I could get any further her face sort of crumbled, then came back to life and then she jumped to her feet and started doing a jig.

  From across the pool I heard the plaintive wail of ‘Oh father – you have just cost me £10,000’, and swam over to me.

  ‘What is going on’ I asked her, only half jovially.

  ‘Well’ she continued ‘Suzie is on the fund raising committee of a local charity, and to put it bluntly her dress sense is at best agricultural, even at fund raising events its jeans and jumper. Her socialising is non-existent, as is her love life (at this point Suzie tried it interrupt – but to no avail). She will do anything she can to help you, but if you show her the slightest kindness in return, especially if you are a male, then she freezes solid, but I know that under the surface, and below the jeans there is a beautiful person waiting to burst out, even though she vehemently believes that she is not worthy of affection. When we moved in she was the first to offer a helping hand but even though we became ‘best friends at first sight’, as soon as I told her who my father was she disappeared, but I persevered, and with my charm, wonderful personality (sic) and Mothers special cake mix (almost neat Brandy) she finally admitted that she had had a bit of a thing for you when you took on those nasty Pirates, but then quickly went off you again when Sandra arrived on the scene, and with every new notch in your bedpost her feelings went even further south. Well I called her bluff - and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, £5.000 to her charity if she became SEXY SUZIE for a day, and flirted horribly with you to wind you up, then yet more cake mix arrived and somehow she ended up doubling the wager if she got you to run a mile, ‘she just knew you would’ you could never fancy someone like her in a million years.

  I was gob smacked, I didn’t know what to say, so I looked up at Suzie for support but all I got was a blank stare and she walked off, and Alice began to cry.

  ‘I’ve done it again haven’t I Daddy, I thought you might like her, you don’t have much long term luck with your women, and she is so very beautiful’.

  I couldn’t fault that reasoning, but I needed to sort out my head, so I said that I was going to go and have a quick siesta, and followed in Suzie’s footsteps.

  I presumed that Suzie had gone out of the front gate and returned home, knowing that Whisky and her boat would be safe, but as I made my way to the side entrance into Alice and Algie’s home I heard sniffles coming from behind a tool shed. Peering around the corner I found Suzie squatted down on her haunches and looking really sorry for herself. She spotted me and sprang up, which caused her left breast to become detached from its totally inadequate support structure. As we both looked at the miscreant mammary, for want of something better to say I said ‘I thought you had gone home’.

  ‘How can I’ she mumbled ‘I am practically naked, people might see me’.

  And before I could engage brain I blurted out ‘and getting more naked by the minute’.

  She gave a half laugh/half sniffle and said ‘as if you care’, but she was still not replacing the item in its holder, then something strange happened, her naked nipple sprang to life, it was like an organ stop, and it was quickly followed by something in my swimming trunks, which she couldn’t take her eyes off.

  ‘But you wanted me to stop’ she snapped.

  ‘If you had let me finish my sentence I was going to say was ‘yes, but only in front of Mark. If we are going to get married then you will have to let me finish at least some of my sentences’.

  Now that did stop her sniffling, so taking it as a good sign I grabbed her hand and lead her through the side door into the house, where fortunately my door was the first one that we came to. It was also fortuitous that the corridor was void of human life as bits of bikini started to litter the floor.

  By common consent we decided on a shower first (all rooms are en suite of course) but halfway through she let out a scream, and I thought that I must remember that spot, but she persevered and said ‘we can’t, I’m married’.

  Now that did grab my attention, several times in my recent past married ladies – well perhaps not quite ‘ladies’, had propositioned me, and as soon as it became clear that they were ‘spoken for’ it was ‘goodnight Charlene’, or Mavis or whatever – not even a mild flirt to pass the time at a boring party . I even drew a line at ‘engaged’.

  ‘You are married?’ I repeated, it never even entered my mind that she might be married, no ‘S’ had ever been remotely married, or even engaged, and now the first one that I wanted to marry at first sight, turns out to be already married.

  ‘Technically’ she said, ‘but I’m still a virgin’.

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