I woke to the sound of rain and crept from the sofa to stand near the flickering embers of the turf fire. Agnes was making coffee in the kitchen. “How do you take it?” she asked. “Black’s fine”. I tried not to look at her fine cleavage as she poured, but failed. We sat at the bare wood kitchen table cupping our hands around the mugs of steaming coffee and blowing on the surface before each sip. “I really liked your bipolar performance. Did you do much research?” “Not really, I’ve been working on it for a while and I know a couple of people who helped me understand some of the inner feelings.” I was lost in her eyes and my concentration was slipping, so I just nodded.
Colin appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Any coffee going?” “Sure, there’s plenty and we can make more” said Agnes. I liked that ‘we’. What was I thinking? I barely knew Agnes and I was punching above my weight. But it was worth a shot.
“We could go for a walk down to the beach later if you two are up for it” Colin said. “Good idea. It might blow away some of the cobwebs. I really should stay away from whisky” I replied. “Is Audrey up yet?” Agnes asked. “Barely” said Colin.
Agnes finished her coffee and went to get changed to brave the elements. I pottered about for a bit looking at the books that took up most of the wall space. Loads of poetry, a few reference books and a very interesting assortment of novels. Writers as diverse as Alberto Moravia and Yukio Mishima shared shelves with Jilly Cooper and Dick Francis.
There was a sudden flurry of activity and then we were all kitted out in raincoats and wellies. I thought we looked like one of Posy Simmonds cartoons of the English upper middle classes doing their weekend in the country thing. Less Barbour and Burberry more hunt saboteurs.