Twenty Years
(For A)

by Andrew Lee-Hart

 

 

How we met

 

We used to kiss in the freezer. Pushed up against boxes of frozen peas, I thought that our lust would melt the food around us and that eventually we too would melt, due to the heat from our two bodies, pushing into each other.

 

I had never known passion like it and she told me the same.

“Not even when Mark and I first met. Not even close.”

Perhaps it was the thought that one of our colleagues would come in and catch us that was responsible for the frantic fever of our kissing, or at least partly so. But once we started, we soon got lost in each other; stroking each other’s bodies under our uniforms, oblivious to our surroundings. Once I knelt down and lifted up her blouse and kissed her tummy; so incredibly sexy with tiny goose bumps, and the lightest of hair.

“Oh don’t” she murmured, “not my stretch marks, and my tummy is so fat.”

But it wasn’t and I gorged on her. 

 

We had hit it off straightaway in a friendly sort of way; both seeing in each other a restless soul, who wanted to be somewhere else. Lisa had married young and now had a toddler called Carl. She had to work as her husband Mark could only find part-time job as care worker.

“I wanted to go to University, study anthropology, travel to Central America…, or anywhere really, but here I am, in this lousy job with a husband and a baby.”

“Maybe when Carl is older….”

“Nah, it is just a dream. If only I was single like you. You can do anything.”

I had just completed my PGCE, after graduating in History a year earlier. And now I was desperately looking for a job in a college or school, but this was the early 1980s and the dole was full of history teachers, many with far more experience than I had. I certainly did not think that I could “do anything”, not even close.

 

Lisa only ever mentioned her husband in passing, I got the impression she was unhappy but, it was only an impression as she never went into detail and I certainly never thought our relationship more than a friendship between colleagues. True I found her attractive, and loved her company, but she was married and I assumed that was the end of the matter.

 

And then one day, after our shift had finished she suggested we go for a drink.

“I know I should get back, but I could do with a drink or two. I cannot face going back to the flat…. I want to forget who I am for awhile.”

I had planned to go and see my on/ off girlfriend Naomi, but I rang her on the work payphone to say something had come up. Even then I was not expecting anything, I just wanted to spend the next couple of hours with Lisa rather than Naomi.

 

We sat in a corner at the White Rose, which despite being in Nottingham city centre was quiet, with just a couple of old men playing dominoes. We talked and talked; and for the first time she went into more detail about her marriage to Mark.

“He is quiet and gentle but no passion. We hardly ever have sex; the last time was weeks ago, and the fact he rarely wants to makes me feel so unattractive…. I feel as if there must be something wrong with me. That I must be hideous or smell or something…. I know I am not beautiful, but he married me and now seems uninterested. Even after we married we hardly ever shagged, not like other people do.”

I held her hand and she squeezed it.

 

“You are not ugly, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met and you certainly don’t smell,” I told her.

“Thank you” she said, “thank you.”

But it was all true, sitting opposite me, her eyes on the verge of tears I could not believe how lovely she was and she smelt of roses; faint but sexy. And whatever happened afterwards I always found her attractive, body and soul. And still do.

 

Next moment it seemed, I looked at my watch and it was almost eleven; we had been there almost three hours and were still holding hands. There was a small car park behind the pub and of one accord we walked into it and we kissed passionately, she pushing me against the wall whilst my hands stroked her bottom, in the semi dark of a Spring night.

“I love you” she told me.

“I love you too, more than anything,” I replied, although before that night I had not even thought about it. But as we stood together pushed against each other I felt an overflowing of love, that I thought that she must be the one for me, I did not care about her husband or that we were both drunk. Lisa was the love of my life.

 

I walked her home, still holding hands, and then she kissed me at the end of her street, before hurrying away and I slowly walked home, thinking of her.

 

The next morning we were both on shift again. As I set off for work I was nervous. Would she feel that I had taken advantage of her? Maybe complain to our manager and have me sacked? But when she walked into the smoky staff room she gave me a shy smile, and as nobody seemed to be looking at us she stood close to me and stroked my arm. And then later we stood together in the large freezer in the basement, and before either of us said anything, we were kissing passionately, our bodies pressed together as close as we could make them.

 

And so it began.

 

 

Rowing

 

We were lying together naked in my bed and Lisa was crying.

“You could tell I was upset and yet we still ended up having sex…. That’s all this is to you, a chance to have sex without any responsibility. I am risking everything for this; my marriage, Carl….”

“Well divorce him, come and live with me, that’s all I want. You and Carl. We can get a house together. You know you love me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Her eyes looked red but after a moment she lay in my arms; her breasts soft against me. I kissed her shoulder, her skin pale against mine.

“I love you Lisa, more than anyone I have ever met; whatever you want to do I will do.”

“I know” she murmured into my ear, “I know.”

 

Later she sat up in bed, “I love you both. Mark is difficult but he is who I married. He is kind and a good father to Carl… but with you it is passion and I feel that I can do anything when I am with you… that life is an adventure. When I am at home and we are watching television or I am reading, I wish you were there beside me. I wish you were my husband and Mark my slightly gawky friend. But you are not.”

“I miss you too; whenever you are not there, I want you by my side; not just this, but just spending a day out together or eating a meal, waking up beside you.”

We kissed, both warm. The bed smelt of her; rose and the scent of her skin. After she had gone I waited several days before washing my sheets, desperate not to lose her scent.

 

“Can you love two people?”

I thought about this.

“Parents love all their children, so why not? I am sure that my parents loved my brother and me, equally.”

“Sounds a bit weird,” she admitted and laughed, “but I do love you both, I really do…, which is difficult for you, but it is how I feel. I want you both in my life.  I know it is greedy, but with two of you I can cope with everything life has to throw at me.”

 

 

Daytrip

 

I drove us to Lincoln.

“I haven’t been here since I was a child, and yet it is so close.”

Her hand was on my knee as we slowly headed towards the city; the cathedral had been visible for awhile, dominating the flat Lincolnshire landscape, but not appearing to get any nearer.

“I love it there, I often go.”

“You are lucky… just having a whim to go somewhere and setting off.”

“Can’t you do that? Arrange a day out with Mark and Carl?

“But it is so difficult, you don’t know…. There is so much organising, and then Carl says he doesn’t want to go or Mark gets a phone call at work, or I am tired…. In the end it is easier to stay in or go to the park.”

 

“Who did you say you were going out with?”

“Friends from work. I mentioned you and the two Janes.”

“So he knows about me?”

“I mention you sometimes…, not everything obviously but he knows a little about you. I feel bad, because he was so happy that I was going out for the day…, said I deserved a break…, if only he knew.”

“But we are going out for the day. And you do deserve it.”

 

We walked around Lincoln castle, holding hands. It was warm and I had never been happier. Also I had just been offered a job at a decent secondary school and would be starting after the summer holiday. And whilst I would miss seeing Lisa at work, I felt my life was at last moving forward, that I was doing what I wanted to do in life.

 

We sat on a bench in the Lucy Tower, where the graves of prisoners who died in the castle lie; each marked by a small stone, with initials carved into them.

“Do you think it will be the end?” she asked, “when you start at Beeston Comp.”

“End of what?”

“Us, the end of us.”

“Do you want it to? I don’t.”

“But we will never see each other. And there will be all these clever teachers and sexy sixth form girls. And all I am is an old married lady doing a dead end job.”

“I have never wanted anyone since I met you. There is no need for it to end; we can still see each other, and there is less chance of you getting bored of me.”

“I would never do that” she laughed, “but this is impossible for you… you need somebody you can spend your time with. I had to lie, to get a day away. One day you will get tired of this, the sneaking around, the days we don’t see each other. You will want somebody you can watch television with… come home to at night.”

 

She felt warm against me, I could not imagine being happier. My whole wellbeing due to this fragile young woman beside me.

“Why don’t you start looking for something else. I noticed a vacancy in Beeston library; I could see you there; an attractive librarian, helping old age pensioners and homeless people.”

She looked at me, “that might be fun actually.”

“It was advertised in the Evening Post, go into the library and pick up an application.”

And we kissed above the bones of captives who had died in this castle many years ago. A place so peaceful despite the anguish and uncertainty of those who had once lived there.

 

 

Work

 

We would meet in the Central Recreation ground, just behind the library, where Lisa now worked, and would walk around, chatting, and then go back to my flat to drink coffee and then make love. Sometimes, instead of sex she preferred to sit on my sofa and talk about her day. We had two hours, before she needed to pick Carl up from the babysitter’s, and it was difficult to know how to make the best of it.

 

Of course, she often had other things to do; see her mother who had just recovered from an operation, or do some shopping, but most weeks we had at least two or three days together. When I knew I wouldn’t be seeing her I missed her dreadfully and felt on edge all day, wondering where she was and what she was doing. It was as if I was paralysed, whilst I was not with her I could not plan anything, in case she needed me, and I did not want anything to get in the way of that.

 

This story is not about my being a teacher, but of course my relationship with Lisa impacted on the rest of my life, which was work. My fellow teachers would ask me about my love life. Was I married? Did I have children? At first I tried to fend off these questions, but in the end it was easier to lie and mention my girlfriend Lisa and our imaginary life together. No Mark, no Carl, just an Eden of sex, concerts and days out.

 

There was a teacher, Ellen, who I got on well with. She taught Literature and was dark haired with a Gothic element about her, more typical of my previous lovers, than Lisa. We sat together in the staffroom and talked about books and music. My serious addictions to Siouxsie and the Banshees, and The Birthday Party were due to her.

 

We did go out once; The Fall were playing at Rock City and I invited her, feeling guilty for doing so, and whilst I told Lisa I was going to a concert, I told her I was going with a male friend Stuart, someone who in reality I had lost touch with soon after I met Lisa. Even then I could tell that she was jealous and of course I would much rather have gone with Lisa, but it was impossible.

 

Ellen and I stood, pushed together, as Mark E Smith spat out his surreal lyrics and his backing band pumped out complex rhythms. This was probably the Fall at their best, so I am glad I got to see them, and Ellen was a lovely companion, just at the wrong time. After the concert had finished, we headed out into Nottingham, our bodies still close together, as if our close proximity had meant we were now a couple.

 

“Does Lisa mind you going out with someone else?”

We were sitting together in a nearby pub after the concert, which we had both enjoyed. Our knees were touching under a rickety table, and she was gazing deep into my eyes. I uhmed and aahed, before telling her about the whole relationship with Lisa, the first time that I had ever done so. I am not sure what I was thinking; was I after sympathy or was it just the need to offload? Or perhaps it was just a defence mechanism to warn her off.

 

She looked at me, her face expressionless, but I noticed that our knees were no longer touching.

“That’s not good.” She said after awhile, “does her husband know?”

“I hope not.”

She looked at me, “I am glad you told me.”

Shortly afterwards we left, I did offer to drive her back home, but she said that there was a bus which dropped her outside her house, and she left me standing, with the briefest of waves.

 

After that our friendship with never the same; we occasionally talked of books and music in the staffroom, but mostly we didn’t, and we never went out again.  A few months afterwards she began to talk about her boyfriend Mike and sat chatting with her colleagues from the English department. After that I am not sure that we ever talked properly again.

 

 

Her flat.

 

“You have never seen where I live.”

“Er no.”

“Come on then, it isn’t far.”

In fact I knew where she lived and occasionally, when I was feeling even more lonely than usual, I walked past there in the evening, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the window. But they were on the third floor and at best all I saw were blurred outlines, behind ethnic curtains.

 

We left the Recreation ground, as close together was we could be without actually holding hands.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Mark is out at work and we never see our neighbours. And we have been to your house many times….”

She smelt beautiful, an exotic new perfume and I longed to make love to her and kiss every part of her. But when we got to the flat we stood there awkwardly and then she showed me round as if I were a guest.

 

There were a couple of photographs of Mark and more of Carl and I remembered when I had seen them for the first time last Spring, after bumping into them all in the Arboretum on Mansfield Road. Lisa had hold of Carl’s hand, now a stocky seven year-old, and I realised that the diffident looking man just behind must be Mark. She called my name and I walked over and shook Mark’s hand, I thought that he looked a little like me, but thinner and with paler skin. I even toyed with the idea that we might have become friends, a foolish thought that I did not pursue.

 

His handshake was soft and he barely smiled as he said hello. We stood there for a few moments without talking, it was windy and cold for May, and Mark seemed to be shivering. Lisa stood between us and tried to make conversation, but eventually Carl had dragged her away, and Mark followed them after giving me a bow.

“What am I doing to you?” I thought, as I turned away, and for the first time seriously considered ending the relationship, until Lisa rang me briefly that evening to tell me how much she loved me.

 

 I felt similarly conflicted whilst Lisa and I undressed and made love in her bed, which smelt of incense and was covered with a beautiful blue throw. It was only as she clutched me tight, that for a moment that I forgot about Mark and the fact that I was in this flat, the last place I should be.

 

We did go to her flat a few more times, but I found it strange and wondered why Lisa was so insistent that we make love in her bed.

 

 

Thirty

 

“Happy birthday Lisa, and well done on being thirty.”

She laughed shyly.

“Do you feel really old now?”

“Yes, but only because everyone keeps reminding me of how old I am.”

Who is everyone I wondered, before I remembered myself and smiled.

“They will soon forget,” I told her.

 

“Didn’t you find the same when you turned thirty last year?”

“Not really, hardly anyone knew. My mum thought it was the previous year and as it is during the Summer Holidays they did not know at school. Anyway I am glad I am here to celebrate yours with you. Only three days late.”

“Well thank you for treating me to this meal, it is lovely. I love a good Turkish restaurant.”

“Yes it is good, lovely lamb. Really tender.”

 

We sat together, in a corner, looking like a slightly mature couple out on a date whilst the kids were being babysat. If only it were true. The waiter came up to us.

“Everything okay? Oh sir and madam, back again so soon? You must have enjoyed it last time.”

I was about to make a comment, when I realised that Lisa was looking embarrassed, so I just gave him a smile, told him it was delicious and asked for the bill.

 

“Did you come here with Mark?”

“I am sorry.”

I laughed and so did she.

“He obviously thought I was Mark.”

“I don’t think he was looking at you so much.”

We walked through Nottingham hand in hand.

“You can come back to mine?” I suggested tentatively.

“I am sorry, it is late… and we are up early to see Mark’s parents down in Brighton.”

“No problem”, and I kissed her lightly and let her go.

 

 

A Year without Sex

 

We sat together in the Castle Café, after having looked at a Mark Gertler exhibition in the castle’s galleries. It had been pleasant, and I was glad that I had suggested it and that she had said yes.

“How are you? It seems ages.”

“Okay. Carl is doing well at school. He has really grown up the last couple of years. You would barely recognise him.”

 

Almost imperceptibly, Lisa and I had gone from being lovers to friends. She had stopped coming to my house, and there were no more daring trips to her flat. Occasionally we would meet for a coffee in a café, or visit an exhibition. But apart from a brief, almost embarrassed kiss no physical intimacy. I still hoped that it would rekindle itself, but I was beginning to think that it might be for the best and that I should end the whole relationship, and that we both should get on with our lives. Or that is what was happening anyway.

 

We sat facing each other, drinking tea and eating scones.

“I miss you” I told her.

“We still see each other. What you mean is, you miss fucking me.”

“No not just that… but yes I do miss that.”

“We are in our mid-thirties, we are too old for that. Get a girlfriend; you cannot waste your life waiting for me.”

“I know.”

“If you know, then do it… get someone in your life; marry, settle down. It is too much for me…. I used to think that I could love two people, but it is too stressful. I needed to choose.”

I swallowed the rest of my tea, and felt sad. She had always been part of my life, and I did not want anybody else. The thought that it was unravelling without my being able to do anything about it made me very sad.

 

“We were trying for a baby. That’s why I stopped. I had to know that it was Mark’s. If we were going to have another one it had to be now. Biological clock and all that.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing. Perhaps we did not try hard enough, or it is punishment….”

“I am sorry.”

“Are you?”

We sat watching each other. Should we go, or stay talking, hurting each other even more?

“Oh fuck it,” she said, “let’s go to your house. We only live once, and I miss you too, I have done all this last year or so. I need to be in your arms… come on I don’t have long.”

And she left the table without even looking at me, and after a moment I followed her, as I always would.

 

 

Vienna

 

We were in Vienna when Tony Blair came to power.

“I hope that Mark remembered to vote; I did a proxy vote so he is voting for both of us. I wasn’t sure a postal vote would arrive on time.”

“Who did you ask him to vote for?”

 “Labour of course, we always vote Labour. Don’t you?”

“I had a postal vote, sent it off on my way to the airport.”

“Yes, but who did you vote for.”

“Oh Labour of course.”

And in fact I had voted Labour for the first time in my life.

“Good, I assumed you must do.”

“Well my mother is a socialist and my dad used to say that Harold Macmillan was the best Prime Minister we ever had, so it was always difficult.”

“Who is Harold Macmillan?”

“Oh a Tory Prime Minister from before we were born, not like Mrs Thatcher though, more old-fashioned.”

“Oh the Tories are all the same.”

 

We walked around Vienna, popping into churches and visiting galleries. It was hot and I should have been happy and at times I was, it is a lovely city and I was with the only woman I had ever loved, and yet…

“Mark would like this” she murmured, as we walked around the central cemetery and looked for the various composers’ graves. “He loves Beethoven; he often makes me listen to it; some of it is quite good. Quite relaxing.”

“I like Beethoven too.”

“Oh I didn’t know.”

“My favourite composer Mahler was buried here, you should listen to him.”

“I will ask Mark if he has heard of him.”

 

The holiday had taken a lot of organising; even though it was just for three nights. She had claimed it was with a friend, who was in on our secret. And then as the time drew near, she became nervous.

“I am sure he guesses something. And will he be okay?”

“He is an adult.”

“But he is no good on his own.”

Even when I arrived at East Midlands airport, I was unsure if she would turn up. But as I reached the gate, there she was, as beautiful as I had ever known her.

 

We had enjoyed the sights; particularly the Belvedere Palace, but even there it was as if she was making notes for a future holiday with Mark; who apparently loved art and would find it fascinating. It was only when we climbed the tower of St. Stephen's cathedral, that she seemed to forget about him for a few moments. We kissed, whilst below hundreds of tourists and Viennese stood in the square and talked and squabbled and perhaps looked up to see the couple kissing passionately somewhere between ground and sky.

 

As we lay in bed together, on our last night having made love, I asked her to marry me, as much out of desperation as anything else.

“But there is Mark, you know I am never going to leave him. Why are you spoiling it?”

And yet I had always dreamed that she would come to me eventually and that we would live together. But lying together in the Hotel Mozart, I realised that it would never happen, that this was it, and anything else was a fantasy.

“Sorry” I said, and kissed her gently, and I stroked her back, content with what I had, because I was lucky to have even that.

 

 

The early hours

 

“I wish I could stay the night?”

“So do I.”

We were drinking real coffee whilst Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas played on my computer.

“I wish I lived with you. Why didn’t I choose you all those years ago?”

“It is not too late.”

“Isn’t it? Perhaps I am lazy, but I think it is.”

 

“I love you.”

“I know. I am sorry…, it is late and I am a little drunk…. I need to get back.”

“Are you crying?”

“I told you, I am drunk. Order me a taxi and I had better go.”

“Better put some clothes on.”

“In a minute, there’s no rush….”

 

 

A young man

 

“Who was that young man I saw you with yesterday?”

“When? What are you talking about?”

“In Tesco. He was pushing the trolley and you were laughing and joking.”

She looked shocked, “that was Carl, my son.”

 

I thought about it; and of course it could be true; he had been two when we met and now it was almost twenty years later. This young man was her son.

“It goes so quickly.”

“Well we are in our forties; I could hardly have a little boy. He is an adult, working.”

“Yeah, you did mention it, but I still see him as little, or as a schoolboy.”

“He is hardly that.”

 

She smiled at me, “anyway I have only got an hour, let’s get our clothes off.”

“That’s all it is, just sex. I don’t share any of the rest of your life.”

“What did you expect? Popping round for dinner with Mark and Carl? Going on holiday with us? This is an affair, we have sex… that is what people having affairs do. If you want someone to spend your time with, then find someone else. I can hardly object…. actually I would have been pleased if you had met somebody else, it would have taken the pressure off.”

“You would have objected.”

“No, at first maybe, but no I would have got over it.”

 

She got up, “anyway I didn’t come here to row….I have enough of that at home. And you are obviously not in the mood for sex. See you next week.”

 

The door slammed and I sighed. Knowing that she would be back sooner or late and that we would make up and carry on, out of habit if nothing else.

 

 

Then

 

I awake, with her by my side. I had been dreaming about her; our working together in Sainsbury, getting drunk together, the time I thought I had made her pregnant and she was worried whilst I was happy at the thought that I was part of her, rather than just a bit on the side, our holiday in Vienna which was not as good as I hoped, but which I still looked back on fondly.

 

There were the rows and the jealousy, my attempt to date somebody else, but which did not work because she was not Lisa. And yet on the morning of my fortieth birthday she is lying by my side and I am thankful for that, because I do not need anything else.

 

“Would you like a coffee?”

She turns and smiles at me revealing her body, which is as beautiful as I remember it from all those years ago.

“If you are making one.”

“Of course, and I bought some croissants, I will warm them up.”

“Oh how scrummy,” and she smiles at me with what must be contentment.

 

“Have you waited for me all this time?” she had asked me after we made love last night.

“Oh, I guess.”

“Well thank you, I don’t say it very often, but I am grateful. I could not have survived without you; knowing you were there if I needed you, an escape from Mark and work. I hope that it was worth it.”

“Of course it was, every lonely minute, every jealous thought. There was never a doubt.”

 

 

Now

 

I stand in the kitchen and make coffee in my favourite blue mug. I remember Lisa well, that crazy few months of passion and lust, and then the final argument which was going to happen sooner or later, and then our final parting, she left the supermarket a few days later and I never saw her again, whilst soon I got that job at Beeston Comp, where I am still teaching all these years later; and will probably stay until I retire.

 

Perhaps two other people could have made it work; if I had been less jealous, and Lisa so honest. But it was not for us, not then and not now.

 

I return to my bed and drink my coffee and eat my croissant, wondering how I am going to fill my day. Notts County are playing at home this afternoon, so I might call my friend Pete and arrange to meet up and go to the game, and get a drink after, but no matter how drunk I get I will never tell anyone about Lisa, my lost love. She is too precious for the common herd, or perhaps the relationship was too flawed to bring up to the light.

 

Or I could do what I often do and visit the second-hand bookshops on Mansfield Road and then read in the Arboretum and hope that she will be there, alone and waiting for me, because in the end this is all I have, even after all this time.

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