CHAPTER 40
Harriet
Dorset
Harriet drove towards Bridport, barely able to contain her excitement at the thought of seeing Scott again. She took a left at the end of the lane, turned up the volume of the radio.
‘Baby love,’ she sang along lustily to the Motown hit.
The last two days had passed in a blur. Joanna had gone to Prague, their mother had been quiet ever since the conservatory episode and Harriet had been busy typing up the untidy pages of her scientist employer’s manuscript in between her usual chores.
Nothing had changed and yet everything was different.
She was no longer a virgin. She could hardly believe it and obviously there was nobody she could tell .
. . And yet, she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
She felt something catch and tighten within her.
Now she knew what it felt like. Now she knew what it meant.
Now there were no secrets. She had hovered on the dizzy edge and then she had jumped right in.
Heavens. Did she feel more fulfilled? More well rounded and complete?
Not exactly. But at least she had finally thrown off the burden of virginity.
She was a woman of the world – at last. She was liberated.
She braked as she spotted Owen’s red tractor ahead.
He always seemed to be holding up her progress, but even that didn’t concern her now.
Her worries about money, the cottage and Mother had all faded to insignificance.
Even the stalker was no longer a worry – and it had been so long since she’d seen him, she’d begun to hope that she might have scared him away at last. She could still feel Scott’s fingers on her thighs. She was still floating.
It had been an intense and exciting experience – but embarrassing too.
Harriet had felt gauche and inexperienced – which was exactly what she was.
A quick fumble with Jamie in Big Barn didn’t really count.
She’d always known he fancied Joanna. All the farmhands had fancied Joanna.
She was taller, slimmer and had oceans more confidence.
Joanna could shake her head and her chestnut hair would swing back into perfect shape, her eyes both smiling and knowing at the same time.
She was sexy. Harriet had never known how she did it.
She watched her younger sister; she even practised in front of her bedroom mirror.
But her own curly hair never swung back into shape – most of the time it didn’t have any.
And sexy remained as elusive as confidence. It still did.
Getting dressed in front of Scott had been equally embarrassing. He lay there, watching her with lazy eyes, smoking on something sweet and heady that he’d lit as soon as she got out of the bed and that she strongly suspected to be marijuana. Even more embarrassing was the whole virginity thing.
Harriet blushed at the memory.
‘Fuck me,’ he had said, ‘it’s your first time.’
‘Yes,’ she’d said – clearly her efforts at disguising her lack of experience had been in vain. ‘It’s a personal choice.’
This had been true to begin with. Because she’d had her opportunities.
After Jamie had come Kevin, who worked in the garage on the main road, but this had never progressed beyond kissing, mainly because she knew her father didn’t approve of him.
There was Rob, a delivery man, who had taken Harriet out for dinner and tried it on in the back of his car – until she got him to admit that he was married.
And Stuart from the end cottage in the lane who had always made his feelings clear.
But none had made her pulse race. None had made her throw caution to the wind.
The village had remained reasonably devoid of single male talent.
And after a while, as you slipped into your thirties and trudged towards your forties, it became harder. More of an issue, somehow, to let go.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she had let go with Scott. He was very attractive, yes; dreamy, yes, yes; seductive, yes, yes, yes. But it was more than that. It was as if he represented freedom. That freedom of spirit that Harriet longed for.
Owen was chugging along at ten miles an hour.
Ye Gods . . . Even their own decrepit blue tractor would go faster than that – if it had some diesel in it.
What was wrong with him? Didn’t he realise the world was passing him by – or at least, on this occasion, wanted to pass him by?
But there was no chance in this narrow lane.
It seemed an age since she had walked on air out of Scott’s camper van and into the taxi that had taken her home.
It had been a bit awkward the morning after when she’d asked Owen for a lift into Bridport and tried to find a reason why she had left the pick-up in the long-stay car park all night, but thankfully, Owen hadn’t asked too many questions.
Perhaps her neighbour had his own problems to worry about; there was a sadness in his expression, he seemed to lack his normal joie de vivre, so perhaps he was thinking about his lost wife again or mourning yet another of Joanna’s absences.
Owen was waving his arm energetically out of the cab window.
Waving her on, but pointing to the layby ahead.
He wanted her to stop, she realised. Bugger.
She revved the engine impatiently. Not now, Owen.
She was on a mission and she didn’t have the time or inclination to make polite conversation with her neighbour.
But she had little choice. She nodded and raised her hand in acknowledgement. Pulled over behind the tractor.
Harriet switched off the engine and wound down her window. She watched as Owen climbed out of the cab. He was a good man, she reminded herself. And he’d done so much to help them over the years since Father died. She should be nicer to him.
‘Hello, Harriet.’ Now, he was at her window, giving her a strange sort of look.
‘Owen . . .’ Harriet couldn’t resist tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well, now . . .’ He leant on the door, his expression serious. ‘I wanted a word about tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Harriet’s mind was blank. What had she forgotten now?
‘I haven’t told you yet.’ He laughed. Looked at her appraisingly.
It was a nice friendly sound and she found herself smiling back at him. ‘Oh, I see. What is it then?’
‘You look different . . .’ He let the word hang.
‘Different?’
He didn’t elaborate. Heavens, she thought. Did it show on the outside too?
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘You’ve cooked me so many suppers in the past. It’s way beyond time for me to reciprocate, I reckon.’
‘Hmm?’ Harriet couldn’t quite concentrate.
She glanced at her watch. Would Scott still be in the car park?
She hoped so. Would he be surprised to see her?
Probably not. They’d been so caught up in their passionate encounter that they hadn’t exchanged numbers.
She’d considered emailing, but an email through Someone Somewhere would surely trivialise the experience.
Face to face was better, richer, more romantic by far. She sighed.
Owen was still talking ‘. . . take you out to dinner,’ he said.
Harriet did a double-take. ‘All of us?’ Mother would love it, of course.
Joanna would probably go for it too – if she was back from Prague, that was.
But she wasn’t due back for a few days yet and Owen had mentioned tomorrow.
Harriet was certainly tempted too – going out to dinner was a rare occasion in her life. ‘That’s really kind.’
‘Well, now . . .’ He paused.
Harriet thought quickly. ‘It’s sweet of you to suggest it, Owen, but .
. .’ What if Scott wanted to arrange something special for the two of them tomorrow night?
If Joanna had been around to look after Mother, it would be different.
But she wouldn’t be. Harriet’s brain went into overdrive.
However, if Mother was being safely looked after by Owen, it would give her the ideal opportunity to meet up with Scott.
Owen was giving her that funny look again. It was making her feel slightly uncomfortable. ‘But?’
‘Mother would love to go out for dinner,’ Harriet said.
‘But I’m afraid Jo won’t be around – she’s in Prague.
’ That would be a disappointment, she knew.
It was obvious he had a bit of a thing for her sister – didn’t everyone?
But she didn’t want him to postpone it – after all, as he’d pointed out, he did owe her for all those suppers. ‘I’d be so grateful, though.’
‘Would you?’ He brightened.
‘Absolutely.’ It was only one night and they got on well enough. Mother would be so thrilled to be taken out – and by a man. ‘It will be a real treat for her.’
‘Treat for her?’ For some reason, Owen seemed confused.
‘Yes. Because there’s something I might have to do. Somewhere I might have to be.’
‘You mean you . . . ?’
‘I’m really sorry but I might not be able to make it.’ She flashed him another breezy smile. That was how she was going to be from now on – breezy, not a care in the world; that’s what losing her virginity would do for her. ‘So, it would be a godsend if you could look after Mother.’
She started up the engine, inched the truck forward. Owen frowned as he took a step backwards. Well, he had offered.
‘I’ll let you know when I get back from Bridport,’ she called out of the window as she drove away. ‘And, thanks so much.’
*
Her nerves were fluttering as she drove into the car park. But, thank goodness, Scott’s camper van was still parked over by the river. And the door was open . . . He must be inside.
She parked the pick-up and glanced in the mirror.
Everything was intact. She’d plucked her eyebrows and was wearing a generous coating of Joanna’s lipstick again – with a hint of blusher and some face powder.
She took a deep breath, swung herself out of the cab, dusted down her jeans and sauntered over, trying to look casual.
Although it was quite chilly, Scott was sitting on the steps of his van with a notebook and a guitar resting on his knees. He was wearing a parka jacket and a scarf. His hair was loose today, hanging forward to frame his face. Heavens, he looked so wonderfully creative and absorbed.
‘Hi.’ She hovered.
He glanced up. Looked blank.
Blank? Surely that wasn’t right?
‘Oh, hi.’ He smiled vaguely as though he couldn’t quite place her. After less than three days?
Harriet felt her stomach dip. Inside, something that had grown and blossomed began to shrink and fade.
‘I was just passing,’ she said. ‘I wanted to, er . . . thank you for the other night.’
‘Yeah.’ Scott struggled to his feet. ‘The other night. It was great. You were great.’
But he was looking at her as if she appeared much older in this light.
‘I thought maybe we could do it again,’ she said. She heard herself stammer. ‘That is, go out sometime.’
‘Right.’ He smiled. ‘Sure. Sometime.’
‘Like tomorrow,’ she persevered. ‘Dinner perhaps?’
‘I’d like to,’ he said.
Harriet waited.
‘But I’m moving on. In the morning.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart sank. Literally. What had she done? What had she been thinking of? Why had she ever imagined . . . ?
‘It was cool to meet you and all that,’ Scott said. ‘We had some good vibes, yeah.’ He paused. ‘But I’m not into commitment, I guess you realised that.’
Commitment? She had only asked him out for dinner. ‘Of course, I understand perfectly,’ she said, sounding about ninety. Yes, she was beginning to understand – only too well.
‘The other night was a groove,’ Scott said.
‘A groove,’ she echoed.
‘Yeah.’ He gazed at a point beyond her left shoulder. ‘It’s a beautiful thing – to go with the moment.’
Two days ago she had been beautiful too.
Harriet turned away.
Good vibes? Free love? A groove? What a load of bollocks. She crossed the car park to the pick-up truck. Thirty-nine years old and she wasn’t safe to be let out alone. And he had made her think that she was special . . . What an idiot she had been.