The Weaver And The WindChapter 18 Serenades and Love Songs
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Sunday Love Songs 02 free porn video
Second and final part. It will make more sense if the first part is read first. Both parts are quite long.
‘Steve Wright’s Sunday Love Songs’ is a real BBC Radio 2 programme: Nine till eleven am GMT every Sunday. I’m not sure if they still do the long lost friends item.
In any case, they never connected Kevin and Nicola with each other, since they are both fictional characters!
All characters in sexual situations are over eighteen.
—–
We left Kevin searching and worrying about Nicola who seemed depressed and intent on avoiding him. Now, having received a love letter from her with mixed messages, he travels to his childhood home for Christmas, hoping that Nicola will go home for Christmas as well.
Christmas is really the only time my siblings and I, Kevin Connors, find ourselves together in our parents’ house. This particular year, Patrick was bringing his steady girlfriend, Marie, before driving away the day after Christmas to her parents’ place.
I was somewhat surprised that my parents assigned them to the guest bedroom, leaving Lorraine and I to fight over the remaining bedroom with a double bed. We tossed a coin and I lost. I was not particularly bothered, since the room I was left with, while having only a single bed, was my old room.
The three of us got on well together, though we saw little of each other over the course of the year. Lorraine was working and living in Newcastle and Patrick was in Leeds.
I had my parents to myself for Friday night. Lorraine arrived on the Saturday morning and Patrick and Marie would join us on Sunday afternoon.
Lorraine was always fun. She was loud and always happy, always laughing. Once settled in and having assured our parents she would be in all night, she dragged me out shopping.
Of all the women in the world, for me there is only one who makes shopping fun: Lorraine. She prattled on about life, asking my advice on clothes, and on presents for Mike and the parents. After an exhausting two hour marathon, she propelled me into a coffee shop and ordered coffee and sinfully creamy cakes.
‘Something’s not right in your life Li’l-bro,’ she said seriously.
Li’l-bro was her joke. Mike was ‘Big-bro’, even though now as adults, I was three inches taller than he was.
‘Come on, spill, what’s wrong?’
Lorraine was like that. When I started walking Nicola to school, she caught on immediately and teased me that I was in ‘lurve’ as she put it. When I went to spend the deflowering weekend with Nicola, she knew exactly what I was doing and even covered for me at home. She was always one highly perceptive girl, now a woman and even more so. She also knew when I tried to bullshit her. Only the truth would do.
‘You know about a BBC programme on Sunday morning called ‘Sunday Love Songs’?’ I asked her.
She did, though she did not listen to it. Very wise, I thought. I then told her the whole sorry tale, ending by showing her the letter. Yes, I was still carrying it round with me! Inside pocket, against my heart of all things!
‘Always thought you were special,’ she said abstractedly, then shook herself, ‘OK!’
‘OK?’ I puzzled.
‘Catalogue of misunderstandings. I could go into that in detail, but it boils down to one thing. She is madly, besottedly in love with you.’
I opened my mouth to speak but she had not finished.
‘And you are in love with her.’
She sat back with a satisfied smile, as if she had solved all the world’s problems. Not mine!
I sat forward, ready to refute her assessment.
‘Don’t argue,’ she said with a dismissive gesture, her eyes sparkling, ‘I’m right.’
Ever the optimist!
I collapsed, waving vaguely at her to continue. I realised I had missed my gorgeous little sister.
‘She fell in love with you when you had that weekend with her at school. You must be some lover, Bro! But she had no experience of boys in general, so she went ahead and got it. Oh, yes, even down among us a couple of years behind, it was common knowledge that she was playing the field. God! Did we feel jealous — she could get any guy she wanted without any effort.
‘And that story that she ended up with you after the prom was true?’ she asked with a giggle.
‘She tricked me.’
‘Of course she did.’
‘No,’ I said petulantly, ‘it was Cloe wanted Nick’s partner. I ended up taking Nicola home.’
‘God!’ she expostulated. ‘You’re still so naïve! It was the other way round! It was Nicola that wanted you! Cloe and she organised it between them.’
‘You mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, bugger!’ I had suffered another revelation. ‘I turned her down, I insisted on a condom, and she didn’t want to use one, so I walked away.’
‘I’m impressed!’ she laughed. ‘You see how hard that must have hit her, don’t you?’
I explained about my comment about Chlamydia, and her response. She smiled lovingly.
‘Kev,’ she said sweetly, ‘you showed you cared even when you turned her down. Can’t you see how that will have affected her? How many other boys would even have turned her down? But to care enough for her to warn her, well!’
I smiled. What else could I do? Her praise was worth ten times anyone else’s.
‘I think that when you went your separate ways,’ she went on, ‘and she had various relationships, unconsciously she compared them to what she had with you–‘
‘I can’t believe,’ I interrupted her, ‘that one weekend of sex–‘
‘No, no, no!’ she interrupted in her turn. ‘You’re thinking like a typical male! It was the whole package she missed and compared others to, all those years of friendship in lower school, your strength in refusing her, and yes, the sex that weekend, all rolled into one.’
I shook my head, but she was continuing.
‘So now we come to recent events. She’s had a number of relationships, no casual stuff any more. None have been totally right for her. Then perhaps she was reminiscing with a friend and she remembers you and what you did for her. She decides to get in touch. So what does she do?’
‘That bloody stupid programme on the radio,’ I answered.
‘I don’t think she was expecting you to be listening. I think it was a romantic gesture, hinting to the world in general and perhaps you in particular that she loves you. Perhaps one of her flatmates dared her to. I’ll bet she was staggered when you replied. I bet there was a delay before she got in touch?’
‘Well, yes,’ I said thoughtfully. Sarah had told me as much and this had been my conclusion when I got Nicola’s letter. Where did my sister get all this insight from?
‘You both had a wonderful weekend?’ It was phrased as a question though it was clear she knew the answer.
‘Yes. Now I think about it, it was very intimate and almost restful.’
‘And you didn’t make a pass at her?’
‘Well, no. She was a guest and we hadn’t seen each other for ten years. I didn’t know what she wanted.’
‘You see?’ she said triumphantly. ‘She knows you have a sex life, that you have sex with more than one woman. Most men she’s been out with would want to fuck her and would show it, but not you. You show her respect and friendship as you did in school. She sees you are the same person you were — and she can’t get you out of her system. Your aloofness turns her on, makes her want you more!
‘Did you tell your girlfriends what happened?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘They told you you were in love with her, didn’t they?’
‘Well, yes,’ I admitted.
‘See, we women are all agreed! We just know.’
‘We’ve only seen each other for one weekend, I don’t think so.’
‘Yes! You only met for one weekend. You haven’t seen each other since, yet look at the pair of you! She wrote you a love letter, and you are unhappy.’
‘No I’m not!’
She gave me the look. Perhaps I was.
‘As I said, you’re
unhappy — or angry, and you said Sarah said Nicky was depressed after that daft misunderstanding. She tried to to be heroic by saying good-bye, she didn’t mean it, Kevin!’
‘Li’l bro,’ she concluded, ‘You have to see her.’
‘Great idea, Lorraine,’ I retorted scornfully. ‘I don’t know where she is. Remember?’
‘Kevin,’ she reproved me, ‘she’ll be back home for Christmas won’t she? Once Christmas Day is over, go to her parents’ house and talk to her.’
Was it possible? Certainly we all came home for Christmas, but would she? I began to feel excited and a little apprehensive. I nodded to my wise little sister. She smiled smugly.
——
I found myself thinking over Lorraine’s assessment of my situation as I lay in bed that night. My wandering thoughts began with anticipation of seeing her after Christmas, and sharing our feelings for one another. After all, we were in love with each other weren’t we? Everyone kept telling me that.
I sat up abruptly. No! Wait a minute. Think things through. It wasn’t as easy as that. I should use my head.
Something about that letter gave me an edgy feeling. Looking back on the past few days and weeks, I’d shown the letter mainly to women. All, including my sister, told me with pity for my stupidity and blindness that she was the love of my life and I was the love of hers. Female intuition based on one letter. Having read the letter they interpreted all the other events in the glow of that loving missive.
On analysis, how loving was it? If she loved me to distraction, and if I was the only real love of her life, that heroic ‘setting me free’ did not ring true. Not at all. If she wanted me so badly, she knew where I was, why want to ‘set me free’?
After the disastrous misunderstanding and my email, she made no further effort to contact me. She could have emailed back daily until I gave in and replied. She knew where I lived, she could have camped on my doorstep until I conceded her point, which was valid enough in its way.
She did nothing. She was depressed was she? But when Sarah urged her to allow her to contact me, she refused. When she found out I might be coming, she disappeared totally. It made no sense. One thing was clear: she did not want to see me. The love of her life? Ha!
The card and letter professing all her lifelong love, effectively told me to get lost.
Those thoughts provoked me into contemplating our relationship from start to finish. A childhood friendship. In fact that was probably all it ever was. When she made contact so many years later perhaps it was nostalgia, a longing for an innocent life.
Then that final year. We had sex for a whole weekend. It was good, and yes I was good. Then she fucked half the males in the year and I did half the females. We were never a couple that year. Never.
Then? A few emails and after that, nothing. Ten years later she comes onto me, tentatively it is true, and we spend another weekend together, this time with no sex. She is seeing someone else at the same time, ostensibly to ‘try one last time’ out of a sense of obligation to him. She lies about him to me by omission.
In the past eleven years we had been together a total of eight days! So what of the protestation of eternal love? Lorraine had told me it was because I did not try to get into her pants like her other admirers, because I did not try to woo her. Was it that which made me so attractive, being unattainable? Or was it because it was a throwback to our time before we had sex?
On my part, where did my feelings come from? OK, I am male and she was a very highly attractive woman, desirable and very sexy. She turned me on, there was no doubt about that. Anything more? I had to admit that we got on very easily over that weekend, we were very relaxed together once her initial nervousness was laid to rest. I also enjoyed being in charge of the relationship. She had to ask me to go visit her, and I graciously agreed because I had to be in London anyway.
So, where would I stand in a perfect world? I was attracted, we were emotionally compatible. I thought I could also say she was attracted to me, and she felt at ease with me. So I would be willing to see where a relationship would lead, and I would hope it led to a more intense commitment. If I settled down, I could see it being with her.
But.
The tortuous puzzle over her behaviour needed to be sorted out to my satisfaction. I needed to be able to trust her words, which so often seemed at variance with her actions. Was she devious, or simply mixed up? Damaged or damaging?
Lorraine and the other women were wrong. What I felt for Nicola was affection and lust. It might grow into love, but after all this trouble it would take time. If she was at home for Christmas she might well be grateful to be taken out and then we could talk. Satisfied I had sorted everything out to my satisfaction, I lay down again. I would try to see her on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day. It turned out I was wrong about that.
Patrick and Marie arrived at lunchtime on Sunday, and in the afternoon we decorated the tree and the house. Lorraine had been to visit some girl-friends from school days and arrived mid-afternoon much to my parents’ disgust. She joined in the decoration somewhat shamefaced.
After a light salad evening meal we ‘children’ went to our local pub for the evening. Lorraine had told us that there would be quite a few people we knew there, and we were looking forward to a good evening.
I was first through the door. The pub was very full, all the chairs taken and a number of groups were standing around. Then I saw her, and stopped dead. Nicola.
Lorraine bumped into my back, while Patrick and Marie funnelled round me. Lorraine saw what I saw and I heard, ‘Oh, shit!’
There were six of them, three couples, and the third of the couples was Nicola — and Barry Wilkes. She held her drink in one hand and had the other tucked into his arm. The group were sharing a joke. She was smiling at him. The other two couples had their backs to me, but Nicola was facing us, though as yet she had not seen us.
Barry had somewhat gone to seed, he had a beer gut and looked out of condition. Lorraine had told me that he now owned a small building firm, and it seemed he spent too long at a desk. He had clearly left his sporting life far behind.
Nicola shocked me. While still very beautiful, she had lost weight and her face had taken a rather gaunt quality. Her clothes were marginally too big for her. Considering that when she had the weekend at my place she was immaculate, the contrast was striking. Then something on her ring finger sparkled. An engagement ring.
She saw me. Her smile disappeared. She stiffened and immediately took her arm away from Barry, who absently put his arm round her shoulder. She resisted, shaking him off. He looked at her but didn’t understand.
She had paled, and I saw a mixture of tension, discomfort and guilt on her face.
Without a word I turned and left the pub. The whole event must have taken thirty seconds at most. I bumped into Clive, an old school friend, on the way out. He was leaving as well. He had made good and ran a motor showroom.
‘OK, Kev?’
‘Yeah, Clive, you?’
‘Yeah, OK.’
And the exchange was over as we hit the outer door, as he marched off to his Jaguar.
I vaguely heard Lorraine calling after me, but I was simply intent on getting away.
As I reached the entrance to the car park, I heard a different shout. Her voice.
‘Kevin, please!’
Call me a fool, but I stopped and turned.
She was running after me, but when she saw my face, she stopped.
My anger was intense. Engaged? To him? All the while writing to me that I was her true love? She had to ‘let me go’? Settle for second best? The bitch!
‘What do you want Nicola?’ I forced through gritted teeth.
‘I need to talk
to you,’ she said hesitantly.
‘What’s that on your ring finger?’ I growled.
The effect was interesting. She brought both hands to her mouth, which had the effect of displaying the ring to me.
‘You are a lying, cruel bitch!’ I spat. ‘The ‘love of your life’ has finally had enough! To think I’ve been worrying myself sick over you for months! Have a good life with your ‘second best lover’. Good bye!’
I turned away and marched home. I was shaking with rage. My mother opened the door to me, was about to speak, saw my face and stood back. I went straight to my room and went to bed. I did not sleep.
The angry thoughts went round and round. Two hours later there was a knock at the door. I feigned sleep. A second knock. I grunted.
Lorraine, for it was she who knocked, took that as an invitation and crept into the room, coming to the bed and sitting on the edge. I turned over to face her, switched on the bedside light and then sat up, squinting at her in the sudden light.
‘What is it Sis?’ I asked, my resignation showing.
She was silent for a moment then spoke quietly.
‘I thought you might not manage to get to sleep, and I want to tell you what happened after you left.’
I grunted, but I knew I wanted to hear.
‘When you left the pub, I followed you, and so did Nicola — well you know that. I shouted you but I don’t think you heard. She ran after you and then you stopped. I heard what you said. It was cruel.’
‘She had it coming,’ I said, my anger starting to rise again.
‘Calm down, Kevin,’ she said sharply. ‘You need to know this.’
I subsided.
‘Just listen, you do really need to hear this,’ she ordered. ‘When you stomped off–‘
‘I didn’t–‘
‘I was there, remember. You stomped. Now just listen and then you can sleep.’
She drew breath then launched.
‘She just stood there in floods of tears. So I took her arm and led her back into the pub and made for the Ladies’. You know it took Barry all that time to make it to the door. He couldn’t work out why she was upset. He thought Clive had said something. He wanted to comfort her, but I told him to leave it and I’d see to her.
‘The loos there are really plush. There are chairs to sit on while you touch up your make up, so I sat her down. I fussed over her a bit and then sat down with her and held her hand. Then she started talking.
‘Kev, you don’t realise the effect you’ve had on her. She’s not the confident girl about town you think she is. Her self image has always been bolstered by male attention right from when she was a young teenager, but she realised a while ago that this is just a body image, and she’s seeing wrinkles and she’s feeling the years going by. She tried to make a go of two relationships with very nice men, but she couldn’t get past her belief that it was her looks — her body they were really attracted to, and that such relationships would not last as she got older and lost her looks.
‘That’s when she thought about you. You always gave her the impression that it was the real her that you liked, and the weekend with her proved it. Then it all went wrong. She knew you as calm and balanced, and the email threw her totally. She took you at your word. She thought you hated her. That’s why she kept away, and why she ran away — she was depressed and she couldn’t face you arriving and despising her.
‘You don’t realise it, but she’s in awe of you. It’s almost worship, Kev. When she ran she knew you had her mobile number, but she didn’t realise that her phone had failed. She hoped against hope you would ring her, but you didn’t. Then she hoped you’d phone her parents.’
‘I did. I told you that.’
‘And I told her. That knocked her back and she broke down again. She couldn’t believe that her mother could have lied. I told her it showed you really were looking for her, but she came back straightaway that you didn’t answer her letter. Why didn’t you?’
‘No address, no postmark,’ I answered.
‘Oh, shit!’ Lorraine looked worried at that. ‘The silly cow!’
‘If she’s so much in love with me, why is she engaged to Barry?’
‘She didn’t say much about that but I got the impression that her mental health went further downhill when she got home, and Barry was round fairly early on. Apparently he’s been very good to her but he was always pushing for a permanent relationship. It was only after she got no reply to her letter, that she gave up and said she’d marry him. Now she’s upset that you’re around and just seeing you has brought it all back.
Barbie
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