The Gesture
by Gurmeet Mattu
Genre: Romance
Swearwords: None.
Description: Proving that you love someone in a unique Scottish way...
_____________________________________________________________________
“Hey, dreamy, remember me?”
“C’mon, I might have a bad memory, but I’m not likely to forget you in ten seconds.”
“So?”
“You want me to do what?”
She grinned, mysterious. “Something. Anything.”
“That’s not a great help.”
She smiled. “That’s part of the challenge. Knowing what to do.”
He shifted uneasily on the couch. “I was proposing marriage, not slaying dragons.”
She reached across and stroked his nervously tapping hand. “All I want you to do is prove that you love me. A gesture.”
He stuck his tongue out at her. “Will that do?”
He didn’t know if she’d placed a time limit on him, but the days were passing and he was getting worried. What did she want? What could he do? What did she expect of him? He loved her, there was no doubt of that, and wanted to marry her. Surely that should be proof enough for her. But no, there was that defiant streak in her, which wouldn’t accept anything as simple as a declaration of his intent, she must have some grandiose gesture. But what?
He was no fool, our man, and began his quest with a phone call to his beloved’s mother.
“She wants a gesture, Jean.”
“Aye, that’s my girl.”
“Any idea what she’d be looking for?”
“Oh, it’s not for me to say.”
“Aww c’mon, give me a hint for a start. What are we talking about here, a box of chocolates? A diamond ring?”
“That’s kind of predictable is it no’, son?”
“Oh,” he was on it like a shark, “So you think she’s after something out of the ordinary?”
“Well, I would be.”
“Aye, but I’m not after you, I’m after your daughter. Even though you have got better legs than her.”
“It’s compliments like that’ll get ye hung.”
“Give me a break, tell me what she wants.”
There was a long sigh that Stevie thought was going to last for ever. “Ye know Nancy, son.”
“I thought I did.”
“Well that’s the whole thing, nobody knows her. She’s always been a strange one, and I’ll say that even if she is my own lassie. There’s always been a part of her that’s closed off to the rest of us. Her own wee private space.”
Stevie grunted. “That’s no help at all.”
“Sorry Steven. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
He snorted with disappointment. “Call me if you come up with anything, Jean. That’s if you want me for a son-in-law.”
“You’ll do, you’re the best she’s dragged home so far.”
“Thanks very much.”
But our hero, confused though he was, wasn’t so easily thwarted. He drove round to Nancy’s office, parked and waited. Nancy didn’t smoke but her best friend Carol did and sure enough, half an hour later, she appeared at the door for a puff.
Stevie ambled over casually and gave Carol his most disarming grin. “Hi Carol.”
She frowned. “What are you doing here? Nancy doesn’t finish till five.”
“I know. It was you I wanted to talk to.”
“Me? What for?”
Stevie looked suddenly sheepish. “I proposed to her, but she wants some kind of gesture before she’ll accept.”
Carol blew nonchalant smoke. “And?”
“Well, I thought with you being her best pal, you might be able to give me some kind of clue about what she’s looking for.”
Carol thought about it, a lengthy process. “Ye haven’t got a spare world cruise about yer person have you?”
Stevie perked up. “Do you think that’s what she’s looking for?”
“Naww, that’s what I want. Nancy won’t want you spending daft money. She doesn’t like spending daft money.”
“Listen, Carol, I don’t like spending money, daft or otherwise, but I’m willing to break the bank for Nancy.”
“She wouldn’t appreciate it. Something wee, but meaningful, that’s the kind of thing she’d be looking for.”
There was a cold wind blowing and Stevie slapped his arms for warmth and wondered about the thermal qualities of Carol’s abbreviated skirt.
“But that would be just a gift, Carol, does that count as a gesture?”
“Don’t ask me, my boyfriend’s idea of a romantic gesture is grabbing my bum.”
Stevie nodded knowingly, “Aye, he’s a very tactile chap is our Dougie.”
“Tactile? He’s a letch!”
Stevie tapped his foot impatiently. “This isn’t solving my problem, Carol.”
She stubbed out her cigarette and nodded in agreement. “No, it’s not. It’s a hard world, Stevie.”
And with that she about-turned and was gone.
Flummoxed, Stevie drove home and logged on to the internet. Google came up with 360,000 pages for romantic+gesture and they were all banal, ranging from the massaging of feet to doing the laundry. That wasn’t Nancy’s style. Nancy was special. A lady. A high born princess. A diva. A prima ballerina. A goddess. With dimples.
And such an utter nutter that she’d refuse to marry him if he didn’t come up with this amazing gesture.
He slumped down on the couch and tried to replay his entire relationship with Nancy from the moment they’d met. In those three years there must be something that would point him to his target. In all the time they’d spent together, every conversation, every action, there would be something. Small perhaps, something passed unnoticed, but vital to his purpose. He cursed his terrible memory.
But it couldn’t be that hard. The pub they’d met in. The nights out. The parties. The engagements. The weddings. Her granny’s funeral. The holiday to Portugal. Dig, dig, there must be something there. The kisses. The cuddles. The laughing. Again he fumed at his inability to remember. He’d had to work so hard to pass exams at school.
But Nancy must have left him a clue, it was the only thing that would make any sense.
But she knew about his memory, she knew he wouldn’t remember. And that’s when it came to him. His sweet Nancy had tied his faulty memory to her other passion.
A gesture she wanted? A gesture is what she’d get. He reached for his bookcase.
That Saturday he picked her up from her flat on the south side of Glasgow and drove to Alloway in Ayrshire. The ring was in his pocket and he knew she would accept it because he’d fulfilled his part and was about to provide her with the gesture she so desired.
“Burns Cottage?” she asked, “We’ve been here before.”
“I know. That’s when you told me you loved Burns’s stuff.”
“So why again?” but her eyes were sparkling.
It was his turn to be mysterious. “You’ll see.”
He parked the car and took her by the hand to the door of the cottage. The book was in his pocket, but it was only there for reassurance, he daren’t consult it. She looked at him expectantly as he filled his lungs before declaiming the words Robert Burns had written over 200 years ago; words which Stevie had memorised.
“Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.--
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met--or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas! for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!”
“That’s about lovers parting,” Nancy complained.
Stevie grinned glumly and tried to explain. “It’s about intense emotion, and it’s got your name in it.”
Nancy smiled, appreciating the effort he’d put in, and nodded assent.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Proving that you love someone in a unique Scottish way...
_____________________________________________________________________
“Hey, dreamy, remember me?”
“C’mon, I might have a bad memory, but I’m not likely to forget you in ten seconds.”
“So?”
“You want me to do what?”
She grinned, mysterious. “Something. Anything.”
“That’s not a great help.”
She smiled. “That’s part of the challenge. Knowing what to do.”
He shifted uneasily on the couch. “I was proposing marriage, not slaying dragons.”
She reached across and stroked his nervously tapping hand. “All I want you to do is prove that you love me. A gesture.”
He stuck his tongue out at her. “Will that do?”
He didn’t know if she’d placed a time limit on him, but the days were passing and he was getting worried. What did she want? What could he do? What did she expect of him? He loved her, there was no doubt of that, and wanted to marry her. Surely that should be proof enough for her. But no, there was that defiant streak in her, which wouldn’t accept anything as simple as a declaration of his intent, she must have some grandiose gesture. But what?
He was no fool, our man, and began his quest with a phone call to his beloved’s mother.
“She wants a gesture, Jean.”
“Aye, that’s my girl.”
“Any idea what she’d be looking for?”
“Oh, it’s not for me to say.”
“Aww c’mon, give me a hint for a start. What are we talking about here, a box of chocolates? A diamond ring?”
“That’s kind of predictable is it no’, son?”
“Oh,” he was on it like a shark, “So you think she’s after something out of the ordinary?”
“Well, I would be.”
“Aye, but I’m not after you, I’m after your daughter. Even though you have got better legs than her.”
“It’s compliments like that’ll get ye hung.”
“Give me a break, tell me what she wants.”
There was a long sigh that Stevie thought was going to last for ever. “Ye know Nancy, son.”
“I thought I did.”
“Well that’s the whole thing, nobody knows her. She’s always been a strange one, and I’ll say that even if she is my own lassie. There’s always been a part of her that’s closed off to the rest of us. Her own wee private space.”
Stevie grunted. “That’s no help at all.”
“Sorry Steven. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
He snorted with disappointment. “Call me if you come up with anything, Jean. That’s if you want me for a son-in-law.”
“You’ll do, you’re the best she’s dragged home so far.”
“Thanks very much.”
But our hero, confused though he was, wasn’t so easily thwarted. He drove round to Nancy’s office, parked and waited. Nancy didn’t smoke but her best friend Carol did and sure enough, half an hour later, she appeared at the door for a puff.
Stevie ambled over casually and gave Carol his most disarming grin. “Hi Carol.”
She frowned. “What are you doing here? Nancy doesn’t finish till five.”
“I know. It was you I wanted to talk to.”
“Me? What for?”
Stevie looked suddenly sheepish. “I proposed to her, but she wants some kind of gesture before she’ll accept.”
Carol blew nonchalant smoke. “And?”
“Well, I thought with you being her best pal, you might be able to give me some kind of clue about what she’s looking for.”
Carol thought about it, a lengthy process. “Ye haven’t got a spare world cruise about yer person have you?”
Stevie perked up. “Do you think that’s what she’s looking for?”
“Naww, that’s what I want. Nancy won’t want you spending daft money. She doesn’t like spending daft money.”
“Listen, Carol, I don’t like spending money, daft or otherwise, but I’m willing to break the bank for Nancy.”
“She wouldn’t appreciate it. Something wee, but meaningful, that’s the kind of thing she’d be looking for.”
There was a cold wind blowing and Stevie slapped his arms for warmth and wondered about the thermal qualities of Carol’s abbreviated skirt.
“But that would be just a gift, Carol, does that count as a gesture?”
“Don’t ask me, my boyfriend’s idea of a romantic gesture is grabbing my bum.”
Stevie nodded knowingly, “Aye, he’s a very tactile chap is our Dougie.”
“Tactile? He’s a letch!”
Stevie tapped his foot impatiently. “This isn’t solving my problem, Carol.”
She stubbed out her cigarette and nodded in agreement. “No, it’s not. It’s a hard world, Stevie.”
And with that she about-turned and was gone.
Flummoxed, Stevie drove home and logged on to the internet. Google came up with 360,000 pages for romantic+gesture and they were all banal, ranging from the massaging of feet to doing the laundry. That wasn’t Nancy’s style. Nancy was special. A lady. A high born princess. A diva. A prima ballerina. A goddess. With dimples.
And such an utter nutter that she’d refuse to marry him if he didn’t come up with this amazing gesture.
He slumped down on the couch and tried to replay his entire relationship with Nancy from the moment they’d met. In those three years there must be something that would point him to his target. In all the time they’d spent together, every conversation, every action, there would be something. Small perhaps, something passed unnoticed, but vital to his purpose. He cursed his terrible memory.
But it couldn’t be that hard. The pub they’d met in. The nights out. The parties. The engagements. The weddings. Her granny’s funeral. The holiday to Portugal. Dig, dig, there must be something there. The kisses. The cuddles. The laughing. Again he fumed at his inability to remember. He’d had to work so hard to pass exams at school.
But Nancy must have left him a clue, it was the only thing that would make any sense.
But she knew about his memory, she knew he wouldn’t remember. And that’s when it came to him. His sweet Nancy had tied his faulty memory to her other passion.
A gesture she wanted? A gesture is what she’d get. He reached for his bookcase.
That Saturday he picked her up from her flat on the south side of Glasgow and drove to Alloway in Ayrshire. The ring was in his pocket and he knew she would accept it because he’d fulfilled his part and was about to provide her with the gesture she so desired.
“Burns Cottage?” she asked, “We’ve been here before.”
“I know. That’s when you told me you loved Burns’s stuff.”
“So why again?” but her eyes were sparkling.
It was his turn to be mysterious. “You’ll see.”
He parked the car and took her by the hand to the door of the cottage. The book was in his pocket, but it was only there for reassurance, he daren’t consult it. She looked at him expectantly as he filled his lungs before declaiming the words Robert Burns had written over 200 years ago; words which Stevie had memorised.
“Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.--
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met--or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas! for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!”
“That’s about lovers parting,” Nancy complained.
Stevie grinned glumly and tried to explain. “It’s about intense emotion, and it’s got your name in it.”
Nancy smiled, appreciating the effort he’d put in, and nodded assent.
About the Author
Gurmeet Mattu is an award-winning writer. A trained jounalist, he has written comic books, stage plays, radio plays and TV sitcoms, and his screenplay Disciple won a Scottish Screen/DNA Films First Draft award. He was born and lives in Glasgow, Scotland, though his forebearers are from India.
If you enjoyed Gurmeet's humour, you might like to read his novels which are available in Kindle format and can be read on PCs, Macs, iPads and iPhones as well as the Kindle reader. Click the book cover below to go to the relevant Amazon page.
He now publishes and edits the comedy emag, Amock, which you can find HERE.
If you enjoyed Gurmeet's humour, you might like to read his novels which are available in Kindle format and can be read on PCs, Macs, iPads and iPhones as well as the Kindle reader. Click the book cover below to go to the relevant Amazon page.
He now publishes and edits the comedy emag, Amock, which you can find HERE.