Song: 'Daydreamer' - Adele
The motorway drive from the south coast is plagued by heavy, stop-start weekend traffic all returning to London. The car is warm and I find comfort in the heated seat with my coat draped over me. Soul music flows gently from the speakers and Harry's hand hugs around mine. He concentrates on the traffic whilst I look out of the window and reflect on our weekend that just was.
After the revelations about my past, we strolled hand in hand along the seashore from Avon Beach to Mudeford Quay.
During the summer months the area bustles with tourist families who sit on the quayside for a spot of fishing. Children are fascinated by the different sizes of crab attracted to the bait net on the end of the line. It becomes a game to see how many they can catch before carefully releasing them. Wide eyes and smiling faces watch them scurry sideways down the slipway and back into the familiarity of the sea.
Next to the working quay is a set of quaint fisherman cottages, rendered all white with black painted window frames. White salty residue carried on the sea breeze obscures the small squares of glass but that does not deter the holidaymakers. They pause as they pass by and lean over the white picket fence to nose through the tiny windows to see the traditional décor inside.
Further along, crowds stand in anticipation that the giant wooden doors of the RNLI lifeboat station will open. Although eager to catch a glimpse of the impressive lifeboat and its crew, a launch signifies people at sea are in distress and need rescuing which never a good thing for all involved.
A stone's throw from the lifeboat station, raucous laughter fills the air from the Haven House Inn. It is always rammed both inside and out with diners keen to enjoy the catch of the day from the fish menu. They occupy the wooden picnic tables with a cool crisp glass of wine or locally sourced real ale and enjoy the views. On a clear day you can see all the way across the Solent to the Isle of Wight on one side and to the picturesque Christchurch harbour on the other.
Being out of season, this Saturday was a different story. The tables outside the Inn were practically deserted with only a handful of bikers gathered after their good weather ride for a swift half pint of beer before heading home for the evening.
A few families milled about enjoying as much of the British Summer Time before the end of the month when the clocks go back by an hour. The return to Greenwich Mean Time signifies the arrival of shorter daylight hours.
Whilst we were there, the lifeboat stayed housed at the station with thankfully no call out. Nevertheless, I wanted to share this place with Harry. We sat on the edge of the quay with our fingers entwined, my head was on his shoulder and our legs dangled over the side of the wall.
The golden ball of flames fell behind the blacked out horizon, casting the last rays of the day across the small, choppy waves that lapped against the stone wall. Two boats moored at the end of the jetty bumped together in time to the rhythm of the tide. The fading light enriched the earlier pastel painted heavens with striking purples and rich salmon haloed clouds.
Once the black of night had melted the final glows of daylight away, we returned to our tree-house hideaway at the Chewton Glen Hotel. We wrapped around each other under the heated drench of the shower to warm our bones and wash the dirt of the day away.
Despite the now biting chill of the autumnal evening, we cuddled on a lounger under the duvet Harry had gathered from the bed. Little hot water bottles in cream knitted jackets warmed our feet. The cleansing of the crisp evening air around the balcony carried the white of our breaths away through the breeze towards the blanket of beacons glittering beyond the canopy of trees. Their sparkling silver lit up under the dominance of the moon.
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Being loved in Harry's arms reminded me of when we laid on the grass at the winery and looked up at the stars. Planet Earth really is a small place where we all live under the same sun and the same moon wherever we are in the world.
Sometime around 2am when our noses were pink and our faces numb, the inviting king-sized bed called to us and we fell sleepily into the welcome of its warmth and each other.
Sunday was a new day and after sampling the delights of the hand delivered breakfast hamper, we headed for the Spa. Harry ran a few miles on the treadmill whilst I immersed myself in the Sunday papers over coffee followed by a leisurely dip in the pool.
We checked out at midday and took the scenic drive towards the motorway. The car tyres rattled over the cattle grid when we entered the tranquility of the New Forest. We drove through the beautiful expanse of open heathland where wild ponies and cattle roam free towards a tucked-away, 15th Century thatched country pub I had researched, being conveniently located just before the motorway to London.
The Green Dragon at Brook serves a traditional Sunday roast. All the sea air had made me ravenous and whilst Harry opted for chicken, I decided to tuck into the beef; the lure of roasted parsnips and Yorkshire pudding too good an opportunity to turn down. Afterwards, Harry enjoyed the cheeseboard whilst I indulged in sticky toffee pudding with dairy custard. He insisted on sampling some for himself, licking every last morsel off my spoon before wickedly grinning and giving in to order one for himself!
And now we are driving back to London. Do I regret telling him everything? No. I actually regret not telling him before. I had it in my head that he may run and not look back or stay with me out of pity. Truthfully, I knew in my heart he would do neither but my head still told me to keep it all inside of me.
There have been periods of extended silence between us over the last couple of days. A few times I caught Harry open his mouth as though he was going to say something before he thought better of it. I coaxed it out of him every time though, eager that nothing was or is ever off limits for discussion.
When he said to close the book, I know he did not only mean for me. As much as I have been carrying around on my shoulders the burden of when to tell him, he has been patiently shouldering the burden of not knowing on his. The fact the truth has not tainted how he feels about me is the biggest relief of all. His love is totally selfless. He loves me the same as he did yesterday and the same as he will tomorrow.
We return to London with those burdens lifted and looking to move forward together in our lives with the past left in the past.
We eventually arrive back in Hampstead at 8pm. This time next week I will be ensconced in the room of my new house but for now, I am glad that I am at the familiarity of not only Harry's home but his arms too.
-*-
Today I start my new job at Lee, Merritt & Thompson; a media law firm based in the West End of London. I keep pinching myself that I have secured a job at such a prestigious company. It is one of the leading law firms for media, entertainment and creative industries and looks after every aspect of music, film, television, digital media, marketing and brands, publishing, live events, sport and theatre.
Out of that extensive list, I am joining Marketing & Brands. It is a relatively small team of seven lawyers to which I am the assistant to brand owners, working alongside another assistant, Laura, who looks after personality and celebrity brands.
I am apprehensive about the role because I want to make a good impression and that wakes me early. I take a moment to indulge in the handsome specimen beside me. Sprawled out on his front, his breathing is calm and his features relaxed. His head is buried in the pillow and a ringlet has spiralled across his cheek. I reach out and gently sweep it aside to join his other curls haphazardly splayed out in all directions. He twitches and the corners of his mouth turn up pulling a smile across his pink lips, then he hums contentedly back to sleep.
Coming out of the bathroom after my shower, I am greeted with a now empty bed. Harry's dulcet tones waft happily up the stairs as he sings along to the radio and I dance around the bedroom as I dress.
When I finally join him in the kitchen, he does not hear me enter because he is too ensconced in breakfast preparations. Stripy pyjama bottoms hang low on his hips but his back is bare. I press my nose and lips into the smooth curved channel running down his spine and fold my arms around his waist. He turns and his arm reaches over my head to rest around my shoulders as he eases me into his side. He connects us together in a kiss then steers me to sit onto a stool. I am so nervous I feel nauseas but he insists I eat something.
Whilst I butter a slice of toast, he pokes around in the fridge. He places on the counter a cling-wrapped chicken salad sandwich he has made, along with a bottle of water and a banana. He has written on the yellow skin in black marker pen, 'I'm bananas about you.'
I beam at him with a thank you smile then pull him into my arms. He squeezes against me, kissing the side of my head. Suddenly, I glance at the clock and realise I need to leave if I am going to make the bus to the tube at Hampstead. Harry halts my panic insisting he is driving me in today.
Monday morning Central London rush hour tests my already shredding resolve. The six mile journey should take twenty minutes but takes forty, what with sheer weight of traffic, roadworks and a broken down car blocking the road. The repeated beeping of horns and gesticulating out of car windows is ridiculous. At one point, I think I may have to ditch the luxury chauffeur driven arrival, pop on Harry's trainers that are in the back of the car and make a run for it. He keeps reassuring me he will get me there on time and we pull up across the street from the office with 5 minutes to spare.
He leans over the console, cups my cheek in his palm and kisses me with tender lips.
"Good luck. You'll be brilliant but you can always call me if you wobble," he chuckles, sensing my apprehension.
I return his kiss. "I know, I'm lucky to have you."
"No, we are lucky to have each other." He reaches to the seat behind, grabs my bag and hands it to me. "Now have wonderful day and I will pick you up at 5pm."
I get out the car, cross the busy street and push around the heavy revolving door. Before I head any further, I glance around to see Harry still parked up and watching me go in. I blow him a kiss and he raises his hand and smiles before driving away. I take a deep breath, turn and head to reception.
