Harri had first met Ben Elmys a little over a year ago, shortly after she’d moved to Staffordshire.
Everything had seemed so much lighter. She’d left the stress and danger of London for a slower pace of life and had been pleasantly surprised to be partnered with someone as sparky as Sabih Khan. They’d hit it off immediately, like a younger brother and older sister reunited after years apart. They’d never met before, but that’s how it had felt—easy and familiar. They’d slipped into a natural rhythm of banter and honesty, and when Sabih had found out she’d registered for eHarmony, he’d mocked her relentlessly, but she didn’t care. She was determined to make the most of the move to the country, and at thirty-one, she was resolved to find someone to share her life with. Once he realized how much it meant to her, Sabih stopped teasing about finding love in the algorithm.
“So, today’s the big day,” he said as she pulled up outside his house at the end of their shift.
The algorithm had given her one man she was interested in. A guy called Benjamin Elmys, and she’d made the mistake of giving Sabih a running commentary on their email exchanges.
“All ribbing aside, I hope it goes well for you,” Sabih said as he climbed out of the car. He turned and leaned in through the open door. “Just remember to take your baton in case he’s a weirdo. I’m sure he won’t be, but don’t be afraid to club him if you’re not sure.”
Harri scowled at him.
“He’ll be normal, though,” he went on. “Everyone knows there aren’t any weirdos on the Internet.”
He flashed a grin and shut the door.
Harri drove to Newcastle-under-Lyme, the market town on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent, and parked in the multistory near the cinema. She checked her makeup and fixed her hair. Butterflies filled her stomach and her heart thundered like a tiny drum as she thought about what might lie ahead.
The center of Newcastle-under-Lyme is pedestrianized with shops and cafés on either side of a broad pavement. Harri’s nerves grew as she walked the red bricks towards the Guildhall, a large Victorian building that marked the very heart of town. There was a café on the ground floor where she was due to meet Ben. She passed old couples, young lovers holding hands, and parents pushing prams, and felt her loneliness more keenly, suddenly aware she was surrounded by the consequences of love. Only today was different. Today brought hope she might have found someone.
She hurried to her date, not wanting to keep Ben waiting, but a small part of her longed to turn around, to run away. She was afraid she might not like him, nor he her, and she wasn’t sure she could cope with another disappointment.
She forced herself on, and her stomach was churning by the time she entered the Clockhouse, the café that occupied the Guildhall’s clock tower. There weren’t many people inside, and Harri recognized Ben immediately. He looked even better than his profile picture. The interest she’d felt online became the electricity of attraction in the flesh, and fear gave way to excitement as she walked towards the table near the back of the café.
He smiled when he saw her, and his grin lit up her world. He stood, and she saw he was tall and muscular. Not heavily built, but athletic.
She’d never believed in love at first sight, maybe because it hadn’t happened to her, but as she moved towards this man, profound knowing hit her, reverberating deep within her soul, and she felt an attraction that was impossible to resist. There was lust, the intrigue of exploration, of getting to know a new person, but there was something more, something deeper that came from her ancient, primal self. It was as though she’d found the part of her that was missing.
She hadn’t read Shakespeare for years, but his words came to her: “No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved.”
She had always dismissed them as shorthand for what had been for her the arduous and ultimately disappointing journey of falling in love. But she understood them now. They signified the instant attraction felt when a match was so perfect it seemed as though the gods themselves were smiling down on the couple. Judging by the grin on Ben’s face and the bright shimmer in his amber eyes, he felt something similar.
He tried to pull out a chair, but the legs caught the edge of an uneven floor tile and sent it toppling over. They both lunged for it before it hit the floor, and their hands touched as they caught the chair back. Her skin tingled at his touch.
“Sorry,” he said quickly.
He moved his hands so they were no longer on hers, and she was surprised to feel disappointed. He righted the chair, and she took a seat.
“This is odd,” he said as he sat. “Knowing someone you’ve never met in person.”
“The perils of Internet dating,” Harri replied.
She knew he worked at a university, that they had a common love of poetry, movie soundtracks, and country walks.
He nodded and smiled. “Have you met many people through the site?”
“You’re my first,” Harri replied. “You?”
“The same.”
She was glad. She already couldn’t bear to think of him with someone else.
A waiter approached. “What can I get you?”
“Black coffee,” Harri said.
“Me too,” Ben added, and the waiter withdrew.
Harri smiled and Ben responded in kind, and for a moment they sat at the table like a couple of blissed-out fools.
“ ‘When you come to me, unbidden, / Beckoning me / To long-ago rooms, / Where memories lie,’ ” Ben said, and Harri’s eyes widened. “Maya Angelou,” he added.
“I know. That’s one of my favorite poems.”
“Mine too. It’s beautiful. So evocative.”
It might have felt strange to hear poetry from someone she’d just met, but somehow it was perfectly natural with Ben.
“Can we pretend we’ve known each other forever? That we trust one another? That there’s nothing we could say or do that would offend? No truth that would deter? Can we be ourselves even if we act a part with others?”
Harri was bemused but intrigued. She wasn’t sure she was ever completely herself with anyone.
“I want to be honest with you,” Ben went on, “but I know that’s not how these things work, is it?”
“It takes time,” Harri replied. “We’re vulnerable creatures. We carry our hurt with us, and each wound forms new scar tissue that makes it harder to see the person beneath. It takes time to open up to someone new.”
“And we are new to each other, aren’t we?”
Harri felt as though the world had gone dim and he was the only person in it.
“Yes,” she agreed. “We are new to each other, but at the same time I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
It was a brave thing to say, but no more so than his quoting Maya Angelou, or his suggestion that they be completely honest with each other.
“I feel it too,” he admitted, and Harri breathed a little easier. “I feel as though I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her stomach churned. This was getting intense.
“Two black coffees,” the waiter said, breaking the spell and bringing the real world rushing back as he deposited two steaming mugs on the table.
“Thanks,” Ben said.
“Thank you,” Harri added as the waiter left them.
They spent the afternoon in that café, talking, letting their drinks go cold. Ben was gentle, kind, calm, charming, and funny, everything she could have hoped for in a man, but more than that, she tried her very best to live by his suggestion and felt she could be herself around him, because he was so real and honest. For the first time in years, she’d met someone who made her feel safe. Not physically, because years patrolling the streets of London meant she knew how to handle herself. He made her feel secure in being who she really was, that it was okay for her to be honest. She could share her thoughts and feelings, her opinions, insecurities, and longings, and he wouldn’t judge her or turn them against her.
His movements were as gentle as his sense of humor, and his voice was soft. He seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say.
They shared similar taste in films, books, and food, and talked a great deal about their common love of poetry. Coffee turned into lunch and lunch into dinner. They spent the whole day together relishing each other’s company, laughing and grinning, neither willing to break their newfound bond.
The café could have been the grand dining room at the Savoy for all the joy and excitement Harri felt. Every mouthful of the simple sandwiches they’d ordered tasted glorious, simply because she was with him. And she could see he felt the same way. His eyes shone with happiness and desire, and even though they’d met only that morning, she’d started to dare to dream she’d finally found someone she could spend her life with. They talked and listened to each other, but looking back, Harri could hardly recall exactly what they’d said.
Finally, a different waiter came over and told them the café was closing, and Harri glanced around and realized the place was deserted. She checked her phone and saw it was a few minutes before eleven.
“Wow. I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I lost track of time.”
“Me too,” Harri replied, and they both chuckled.
Ben settled the bill in spite of Harri protesting they should split it, and they walked outside. The summer nights were waning into autumn and there was a slight chill.
Harri wished Ben would put his arms around her, that he’d invite her back to his place, but he didn’t.
“I had a wonderful time,” she said.
“Me too.”
The town center was empty, and when the waiter shut the café door, it seemed as though they were the only people in the world.
“Would you like to do this again?” Ben asked. “Not this, but something else,” he added awkwardly. “Maybe a walk. I know a great place out near Maer.”
“That sounds nice,” Harri replied casually, trying not to betray her elation.
Ask me home, she thought. Just ask me home.
“I’ll call you to arrange a time,” Ben said.
There was an awkward moment of silence.
“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he said at last.
“If it’s not out of your way.”
“Of course not.”
So they walked side by side through the deserted town, past the silent shops and still cafés, and the stillness and silence created a weight of expectation that stifled language. They didn’t say a word until they reached the car park, and under the ugly glare of the yellow strip lights, they loitered by her car.
Ask me home! Harri shouted inwardly.
“Do you need a lift?” she tried.
He shook his head. “I walk from here.”
“Well…”
“Well, good night,” he said, stepping forward and giving her an awkward kiss on the cheek before hurrying away.
Harri watched him go, disappointed their date had ended but thrilled she’d met him, and she got into her car and drove home with the radio on loud, excited, dreaming of a life together.
It was the happiest she’d been in a long time.