Oliver, in his furry lined jacket which made him look like a teddy bear, gave Effie a warm hug which she returned with enthusiasm. It was Christmas week. The two had gone separate ways for the day itself, Oliver to his daughter’s and Effie to Jane’s. Cathy and Jim had taken the children up to stay with his parents for a few days.
‘It’s their turn to have them’. Effie felt she had to explain to Jane who tended to disparage conventional family customs.
‘God, Mum, if Alastair and I ever tie the knot I hope you won’t expect us to shuffle between our respective parents every Christmas.’
‘No, Darling, I won’t expect other than your usual considerate behaviour.’
‘Right.’
They both laughed. Always easier to laugh with Jane than with Cathy. Maybe that wouldn’t change however good a job she did on digesting the recent emotional upheavals. ‘Give yourself time’ Susie had advised with her counsellor hat on. ‘You know it’s not Cathy’s fault her best friend had a mother with a roving eye and no moral principles.’ Effie knew that perfectly well, but it still did not quite stifle those bubbles of indignation. She could follow the process quite visually, imagining a set of scales with a great lump on one side marked ‘guilt’ with an equally huge mass on the other marked ‘resentment’. Her birth sign, after all, was Libra.
But it was Christmas and having got through the day itself she was determined to enjoy herself. She and Oliver had been getting on well, if still tentative on the issue of sex. It was something they joked about rather than practiced beyond some hugs and kisses, which Effie felt no need to complain about because she had her own problems to struggle with and felt there was plenty of other evidence that he liked her.
She disentangled herself from the bear hug and hoisted her bag into the boot of the car. This was Oliver’s Christmas present to her – a couple of days at a country hotel: ‘set amongst the delightful rolling hills of the Cotswolds, this luxury hotel with every facility, makes every effort to sooth away the stresses and strains of city life. The de luxe spa with its magnificent swimming pool will pamper your body and soothe flagging spirits while the five star restaurant will cater for every taste. Try starting your evening in the glamorous Gloucestershire bar where you can sip champagne while you listen to the sounds of our resident impresario who will serenade you with romantic songs that promise a world of dreams.’
‘Can’t be all nonsense’ had been Oliver’s optimistic justification for apparently succumbing to the sales blurb. ‘We can always leave if it’s too awful.’
‘Oh, I’m really looking forward to it’ said Effie as she settled down in the passenger seat. ‘I don’t want to think about anything serious. It’s been a difficult few months.’
Oliver said nothing but squeezed her hand before starting the car and speeding off in the direction of Chipping Notwood and the Golden Beagle Hotel. ‘Shouldn’t it be ‘eagle’?’ Effie chuckled. ‘Maybe they couldn’t decide whether they liked birds or dogs.’ Which comment was clearly Milton’s cue to bark enthusiastically from the back seat. ‘Can’t be bad if they let us bring Milton’ said Oliver. More yaps from said hound who was clearly delighted to be included in the party, sensing wide open spaces.
Oliver had booked for two nights. The journey, which started off well, deteriorated once they left the motorway. Effie found it difficult to read the map from Oliver’s well-thumbed edition of ‘the A to Z of England and Wales’ and after several wrong turns which left them back where they had started, she made the fatal mistake of muttering that it was a pity he didn’t have a sat nav. Oliver’s usual calm, benign self was instantly replaced by an outraged wildman.
‘Effie! I have never needed the assistance of technology in order to be able to find my way around this country... in all my forty years of driving I have always got to my destination unaided and usually on time... all I require is an intelligent woman who can read a map properly. Please don’t mention that word again - ever!’
Even Milton looked startled. Effie was so shocked at this revelation of Oliver’s touchiness and temper that she was silent, leaving it to Milton to begin agitating, breathing hard and then howling, a mournful, penetrating howl.
‘Now see what you’ve done. Upset the poor dog!’ Effie sniffed, blew her nose and then relented a little. Their first row. And they hadn’t even made love properly yet. ‘I think we’d better stop; get our bearings and let the dog have a pee.’
The rest of the journey took place in darkness and silence. This was only relieved when Oliver turned on radio 3, which Effie hated, and they proceeded to the sounds of bellowing organ music. Oliver muttered to himself as he peered at signposts, swore under his breath a few times as he reversed into a main road and finally let out a triumphant ‘aha!’ as a large notice loomed into sight proclaiming ‘The Golden Beagle’. He mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ as he drew up outside a rambling country mansion. They headed straight for the bar after dumping their bags in the bedroom giving Effie just enough time to register that there was a large four-poster double bed and an en suite bathroom with a plastic shower curtain and a bath with an emerald green stain surrounding the plughole. ‘We both need a drink’ she stated.
The rest of the evening passed through several stages like a game of hide and seek, moving from cool to warm to very warm and finally, hilarity, no doubt fuelled by a generous amount of alcohol and good food so that by the time dinner was over they were both utterly exhausted and could only stagger up to their bedroom and fall unceremoniously into the four poster bed, to drop instantly to sleep.
They slept late and well, finally woken by Milton tugging at Oliver’s bedcovers. Once they got going they occupied themselves very happily walking the dog, though as Effie pointed out, with Milton there was no question of ‘walking’ anywhere: the creature was in paradise, racing around like a mad thing. They swam in the large pool and explored nearby villages in the car, indulging in day dreams of the country cottage they would buy ‘one day’. Back at the hotel Effie subjected herself to the manipulations of a nubile young man who pummelled and kneaded her unwilling flesh for half an hour which was about as much as she could stand.
‘So much for ‘soothed and pampered’. It was more like ‘bruised and battered’ she complained half-seriously to Oliver. ‘Still, some of that Xmas excess must have budged.’ Oliver, who seemed to have the constitution of a one hundred percent ectomorph, only chuckled.
‘All very well for you.’
‘But you know I like your embonpoint. It really suits you, and I fully expect you to have the whole three courses tonight.’
Effie did not need much persuading, so that the two of them ate and drank their way through a number of delicious dishes including a dessert comprised entirely of cream, chocolate and brandy which the two attacked with gusto. Oliver was telling Effie a story about an incident when a glamorous woman had mistaken him for a chauffeur when he had drawn up outside a department store to pick up his wife: ‘This dolly woman dripping furs just plonked herself down on the back seat and waved me on to some smart address – just like this.’ He gesticulated wildly with his cream-laden spoon and a large dollop flew across the gap between the tables to land with a neat splat on the hand of the woman next to them. Oliver leapt up profusely apologising, and clasped the offending hand in his. Effie had a distinct sense of déjà vu - wasn’t it Kenneth all over again? - and for an awful moment she thought he was going to lick it off.
‘My dear lady, I’m so sorry. Entirely my fault. Here, let me wipe it off.’
The object of this apology was a young rather brassy blond woman who was wearing bright pink lipstick and a fitted dress to match. Far from making a fuss she began to laugh, reassure Oliver and introduce her partner, Stan, who looked like an overgrown teddy boy from the sixties. The result of all this was that the four of them ended up back in the Golden Gloucestershire bar carousing for an hour or so and becoming the best of friends with the inevitable result yet again that by the time they eventually got to their room they dropped, like two heavy logs, into the mock Tudor bed and slept like babies.
Effie’s sleep was interrupted by the sound of a dog barking and shuffling noises but she dozed off to dream of a golden Labrador nuzzling into her and pulling her along towards an ocean she could just make out in the far distance. The dog was barking again and pushing its nose into her so that she opened an eye to see Milton standing there at the bedside, panting expectantly. With the other eye she saw Oliver, already dressed and grinning, dog lead in hand.
‘It’s a marvellous crisp morning. Milton and I saw the sunrise while you were in the land of nod. And now, my dear, it’s time for tea’ said Oliver as he plugged in the kettle which nestled on a tray laden with cups and assorted tea bags. Let’s see - English breakfast I think.’
Effie closed her eyes again, half-awake, and listened to the comforting sound of water coming to the boil, of Oliver humming as he clinked cups and tore open packets. She felt warm and comfortable. Pleasantly calm. She shut her eyes again and was aware of Oliver sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. ‘Your tea, madam.’ She raised herself, took a sip of the hot beverage and sank back on the pillows. ‘Considering last night, I feel amazingly good’ she smiled. ‘Me too. Haven’t felt so energised in ages.’ He tore open a small packet of McVittie’s digestive biscuits and offered one to Effie who took hold of it, but he did not let go. ‘Let me give it to you’.
Effie took her hand away and allowed Oliver to break the biscuit which he fed her in small pieces. ‘You really look good, you know. I think you look your best first thing in the morning. Fresh, unadorned.’
‘You must be joking.’
‘I never joke about such things’ he laughed, cuddling in closer. ‘Would you like some more tea... or something else, perhaps?’
‘Well....’ Effie put her tea cup down.
Oliver was not waiting for an answer but was already tugging off his trousers in a sudden burst of ardent enthusiasm. He threw his shirt to the ground and within seconds was snuggled up next to Effie in the bed, grasping her in his arms, stroking her hair and covering her in kisses. ‘My god. Oliver, I didn’t know tea could have such a dramatic...’ she did not finish her sentence as Oliver covered her mouth with his own and for a few moments they held each other like young lovers, seeking each other’s tongues, mouths, and feeling the still unexplored parts. Effie put up no resistance, had no desire to and sensed her own body for once reacting the way she wanted it to, gradually warming up, becoming aroused, excited by the sense of Oliver becoming aroused too, of something hard pressing against her. ‘My darling, my darling’ he breathed in her ear as he raised himself and Effie willingly opened her legs. She wanted him and tried to guide him in but somehow it wouldn’t go.
‘I’m too dry’ she whispered in his ear ‘it won’t go.’
Immediately Oliver was up and riffling somewhere in a bag and back again with a ‘this’ll do the trick. Cheekie Charlie, my Durex friend.’ And within seconds Effie gasped as Oliver entered her to the sound of a triumphant ‘yes....! followed by plenty of panting and rolling around until Effie found a comfortable position where something really did happen and a minute later something happened for Oliver too. He breathed out her name as he came and she burst out laughing as he sank back, exhausted but smiling.
‘Well, you really are the man who fixes things’ she said as she nestled into the protective space offered by his arms.
‘I hope you mean that as a compliment.’
‘Oh yes’ Effie could say sincerely.
‘And was it OK?’ There was a mild note of anxiety in the question.
‘More than OK.’
‘Sure?’
‘Oliver, it’s not like you to display unnecessary worries.’
‘Sorry, but it’s been so long, and I’ve wanted it so much for quite a long time and I’ve worried a lot that my body would let me down, as you know. I mean, one thing to want and another to do.’
Effie’s response to this was to give Oliver a big hug and kiss him on the ear nearest to her. ‘My dear man, please don’t worry on my account. It’s great if we can but honestly doesn’t matter if it doesn’t work, you know.’
‘But I want it to work.’
Another kiss was deposited this time on Oliver’s bald head which made him laugh and seemed to be Milton’s cue to remind the pair that there was a third party present. He barked excitedly. ‘Breakfast and some more exploring I think’ said Oliver raising himself. `I’d forgotten about the dog. And all this activity is making me hungry.’
‘Me too’ cried Effie as she exited the bed with the nearest thing to a leap she had got to in years. She felt happy. At last she dared to think that things were going in the right direction. She reflected on this in the bathroom as she peered at herself in the mirror. Something felt relieved. It wasn’t just that they had made love at last. The relief was that she had desired Oliver and there had been no lovely blue eyes sneaking into her fantasy as she reached towards climax.