Annie Christie's That Long Hot Summer
Episode Five
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: For Daniel and Shelley, secrets are divulged and love is declared over a Chinese meal for two… in the glasshouse.
Swearwords: None.
Description: For Daniel and Shelley, secrets are divulged and love is declared over a Chinese meal for two… in the glasshouse.
On Tuesday Daniel went on a shopping spree. He bought a range of pans and kitchen ware, everything you could imagine necessary for cooking Chinese food. Wok, bamboo steamers, ladles and the works. He’d taken advice from Mike, who, reluctantly, he’d told on Monday about both the date from Sunday and the forthcoming one for Friday. Mike had been most insistent that Daniel had the house prepared for his ‘friend’.
‘At least get some pots and pans in mate,’ he said. ‘And some plates and crockery. Your stuff’s minging. It’ll maybe take her eyes off all that plaster and…’ he didn’t continue.
‘I’ve got that covered,’ Daniel said.
Mike assumed he meant wallpaper, but Daniel had other ideas. He knew they were a bit bizarre, but on Monday it had seemed like a good idea. On Monday he thought Shelley might appreciate it. On Tuesday he was out shopping in the Chinese quarter – Mike had pointed him in the right direction. On Wednesday Daniel carried on with his ‘master plan’ and by Thursday night, when he had it complete, it was too late to worry because it was too late to change anything. But he started to worry. He wondered if he could cancel, or at least postpone the date, but he realised that while Shelley might know his address, he had no way of knowing where she lived, or worked, or indeed anything about her. Other than that she was nice.
‘She’s your friend,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll accept you for who you are or…’ He didn’t like to think about the ‘or’ part.
He told himself that Shelley was cool. Shelley wasn’t like other people. She certainly wasn’t like Mike – judgemental and… well… just stupid. She was nice. He knew that. Maybe he could pull it off. Just maybe.
But he was sweating it big time come Friday on his way back from work. There was only an hour to go before she arrived when he realised his coffee wasn’t fairtrade. So he went out to find a grumpy mule. He didn’t but he did manage to find some Fairtrade Kenyan coffee in the local supermarket. Better that than nothing. At least he had tried.
Seven on the dot the doorbell rang. He had a doorbell. With a normal ring. It was the last normal thing in the place. He prepared himself. He’d turned the thermostat down to 20 and was fully dressed. Here went nothing. He opened the door.
She came in, laden down with bags of cooking things.
‘Kitchen?’ she said as he took the bags from her.
‘I know,’ she said, ‘it looks like I’m feeding an army, but I didn’t know what you’d have.’
‘I don’t have a dishwasher or a tumble drier,’ he said. ‘I don’t like the noise…’
‘And they’re so bad for the environment,’ she replied, smiling.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘The kitchen’s a bit small,’ he apologised. And then saw her looking out into the yard.
‘And I don’t have a garden.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said. The penny was beginning to drop. ‘The plants?’
It was now or never.
‘You’re going to think me crazy,’ he said, ‘but…’
He took her hand. That was a bold move, but he had to make some form of contact before he froze. And he led her into the sitting room.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘It’s like a tropical paradise.’
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I love it.’
‘I hoped you would,’ he said. ‘I thought you might just understand.’
He wasn’t sure quite what there was for her to understand. That he’d bought all these plants because he didn’t have the nerve to talk to her, that he’d been trying to connect, that it had all got out of hand…. That actions have consequences. How could she understand all that.
‘And the lights?’ she asked.
‘The lights?’
‘You were in ordering lights, remember,’ she said. ‘Did they ever come?’
‘Not exactly as planned,’ he said. And opened the door to the dining room.
‘Wow. Just wow,’ she said.
In the dining room, the greenhouse sat resplendent, with a table in the middle, laid out for a Chinese meal for two, with the string of LED lights hung round the glass, reflecting into the room.
‘It’s brilliant,’ she said.
‘I don’t have a garden,’ he said. ‘So I built the greenhouse in here…’
‘I can see that,’ she said. ‘I love it.’
She kissed him.
He was flustered. He wondered whether she had actually said ‘I love you’ instead of ‘I love it’, but he really couldn’t focus. It was a kiss. That was more than enough.
As she opened the Fairtrade wine and began to construct their Chinese banquet, just for two, he began to feel, once more, like he was a balloon that she was blowing up. She was blowing confidence into him in a way he’d not experienced since his mum was alive. Since he was about eight years old. He was beginning to feel, if not free, then at least a bit alive.
She told him all about her family. About how she was the second middle of four sisters who had grown up just outside Manchester, in the countryside, where her parents still lived. An ordinary kind of life. But Shelley, he thought, was no ordinary kind of person. She told him that she was now working in a Garden project in Salford, that it was much better than the supermarket. She was half way through a part time course in International Development but it wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be and she was trying to get practical experience. Which, in practical terms, meant she was working at a local community garden project. ‘That’s where I learned to cook Chinese,’ she said. ‘My boss is a Chinese migrant. He’s a cool guy. Like something out of Karate Kid, you know.’ She told him how hard life was for the migrants and refugees she came across at the project, but how much she loved the work. ‘Much better than uni.’
He was overwhelmed by how full her life seemed to be. And how empty his seemed in comparison. What could he tell her. Days spent in the lab. Not achieving anything. He wasn’t even sure what they were expected to achieve any more. It was like everyone was just marking time until someone got funding or a great idea and they could actually ‘do’ some real research. A pointless life. And then he came home and did… nothing. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but now it seemed like he wasn’t even living. She was living. She was having a life. He was just…
‘I’ve told you just about everything,’ she said as they sat down to their steamed jade buns and homemade pineapple fritters. ‘Sorry, I just got carried away.’
‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’m interested. In everything. Everything about you.’
‘But what about you?’ she said. ‘It’s only fair now. Can I ask some questions? You don't have to answer, of course, but in the interests of full disclosure I have to tell you that I really like you and I want to know more about you. I want to try and get to know you. Because I want to make love to you and I don’t do that with people I don’t know. Is that all right?’
He was flabbergasted. What had she just said? How could he reply to that?
‘Uh… yeah, ask away,’ he said.
‘You can tell me to mind my own business at any time,’ she said. ‘But I think you’ve got a lot you want to say. And I really, really want to listen.’
Daniel realised he felt safe around Shelley. He felt good. Right now, in this moment. He felt he could talk to her. She didn’t expect it, and so he could talk. She could ask questions and he wouldn’t mind answering them. It was Shelley asking. She wasn’t just anyone. She was Shelley. Unique in all the world. And she liked him. Was that not enough. Sufficient unto the day. For now at any rate. He pushed to the back of the mind the fact that she’d said she wanted to sleep with him. That was too scary for words. So he talked.
‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’ she asked. It seemed a tame place to start. A sort of standard ‘what’s your favourite band, what did you study at University’ kind of question. But it was an attempt at an easy start. How could she know?
‘Brothers,’ he replied.
‘How many?’ she asked. ‘One or two?’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
She laughed. ‘One or two?’
‘I had two,’ he said. ‘I only have one now.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s not your fault. These things happen.’
She waited for him to continue.
‘Thomas lives in Australia,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s ten years older than me, which makes him thirty six and he moved five years ago. He didn’t come back for my parents… for the funeral…’
‘Your parents are dead too?’ Shelley asked. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me about it.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ Daniel said. ‘It was three years ago. A car crash. Killed them outright They wouldn’t have suffered at all. That’s what they told us anyway.’
‘I’m glad for that at least,’ Shelley said, ‘but it must have been tough on you and your brothers.’
‘Brother,’ Daniel said. ‘Christopher died before. When I was small. He was four years older than me. ‘It was an accident. A tragedy.’ He paused. ‘Actually, it was a massacre.’ He carried on because it was easier than waiting for the questions. ‘He was in a classroom and a madman came and mowed them down. I can’t say the word. Sorry.’
Shelley reached out and took his hand. ‘No, please, you don’t have to…’ she said.
‘We moved from that place into Edinburgh,’ Daniel continued. We had that Lowry picture. In the old house and the new one. I used to look at it on the wall every day. I used to think Christopher was one of the children in it. I didn’t really remember him. Just from photographs. But he looked like me. So I preferred to imagine he was a boy in the painting. It made him unique. I used to imagine he was the wee boy by the wall at the bottom right. With the dog. I wanted a dog, so badly, but I couldn’t have one because we lived in a flat and so I just had the dog and Christopher in the picture And sometimes the boy was Christopher and sometimes it was me with the dog. It was like we were the same person. I could talk to him. Without words. I could feel… well, it helped. Especially when mum and dad were arguing.’
‘Did they argue much?’ Shelley asked. She didn’t know what else to say. It was less a question, more a sign that she was still there, still caring about him.
‘For a while,’ Daniel said. ‘When we first moved to Edinburgh. About where I should go to school. Mum wanted me to go private. After, you know what. Dad thought it was a waste of money. They talked about a special school as well, because, well, you know, after it, we went to counselling and they said I was probably neuro diverse. Dad said I was just traumatised after Christopher’s murder and… so anyway, they sent me to a private school in Edinburgh. And then they argued a bit less. Mum went out to work to help pay for it. Thomas left home and got an apprenticeship. Dad worked all the hours there were… and I got through school and made it to University.’
‘What did you study?’ she asked. Safer ground for a moment.
‘Chemistry,’ he said. ‘At Edinburgh. I stayed at home. Dad wanted me to spread my wings, but mum wanted to hold on to me. It was understandable, I suppose. Then Thomas went to Australia when I was in my second year and I…’ he paused, ‘I suppose I could have been like Lowry. I might have stayed the rest of my life with my mum and dad. But then they died.’
‘I’m so, so, sorry,’ Shelley said, and as Daniel looked at her he saw that her eyes were filling with tears.
‘Please don’t cry,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. It was three years ago.’
‘Your life,’ she said, ‘It’s been so… sad.’
‘Not sad,’ he said, ‘just a bit difficult at times. To make friends, you know.’
And she kissed him again. This time the kiss filled his balloon till he thought it might explode. In a good way.
‘I know we hardly know each other,’ she said, ‘but Daniel… I just want you to know… you can trust me. And even if you can’t trust me now… and even if I hardly know you… I love you. I want you to know that. I really do love you.’
‘How?’ he said ‘Why?’
‘Because of the plants and the way you try even when it’s hard and the lights and the new pots and pans and how brave you are and… isn’t that enough?’
‘There’s something more,’ he said. He felt full of the breath of confidence and he wanted to act before it started oozing away, leaving him flat again. He’d felt flat and empty for too long. He was only just realising that. Shelley was giving him breath. And hope. And love.
He took her by the hand and led her upstairs. He stopped outside the door.
‘We should take our shoes off,’ he said. ‘And socks.’ They stopped and did so. She didn’t ask a question, not even a flicker of a suggestion of one. She just did it.
And he opened the door. They stepped into the bedroom. Their bare feet felt the grass. It was the mysterious turf that had turned up on his doorstep. On Thursday, in a last attempt at bravery, or just to hide it away, he’d laid the turf in the bedroom. It carpeted the floor. He hadn’t worked out how long it would last, or if he’d have to water it. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He looked at Shelley to see what she would say.
‘I do love you, Daniel,’ she said and wiggled her toes in the grass.
‘At least get some pots and pans in mate,’ he said. ‘And some plates and crockery. Your stuff’s minging. It’ll maybe take her eyes off all that plaster and…’ he didn’t continue.
‘I’ve got that covered,’ Daniel said.
Mike assumed he meant wallpaper, but Daniel had other ideas. He knew they were a bit bizarre, but on Monday it had seemed like a good idea. On Monday he thought Shelley might appreciate it. On Tuesday he was out shopping in the Chinese quarter – Mike had pointed him in the right direction. On Wednesday Daniel carried on with his ‘master plan’ and by Thursday night, when he had it complete, it was too late to worry because it was too late to change anything. But he started to worry. He wondered if he could cancel, or at least postpone the date, but he realised that while Shelley might know his address, he had no way of knowing where she lived, or worked, or indeed anything about her. Other than that she was nice.
‘She’s your friend,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll accept you for who you are or…’ He didn’t like to think about the ‘or’ part.
He told himself that Shelley was cool. Shelley wasn’t like other people. She certainly wasn’t like Mike – judgemental and… well… just stupid. She was nice. He knew that. Maybe he could pull it off. Just maybe.
But he was sweating it big time come Friday on his way back from work. There was only an hour to go before she arrived when he realised his coffee wasn’t fairtrade. So he went out to find a grumpy mule. He didn’t but he did manage to find some Fairtrade Kenyan coffee in the local supermarket. Better that than nothing. At least he had tried.
Seven on the dot the doorbell rang. He had a doorbell. With a normal ring. It was the last normal thing in the place. He prepared himself. He’d turned the thermostat down to 20 and was fully dressed. Here went nothing. He opened the door.
She came in, laden down with bags of cooking things.
‘Kitchen?’ she said as he took the bags from her.
‘I know,’ she said, ‘it looks like I’m feeding an army, but I didn’t know what you’d have.’
‘I don’t have a dishwasher or a tumble drier,’ he said. ‘I don’t like the noise…’
‘And they’re so bad for the environment,’ she replied, smiling.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘The kitchen’s a bit small,’ he apologised. And then saw her looking out into the yard.
‘And I don’t have a garden.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said. The penny was beginning to drop. ‘The plants?’
It was now or never.
‘You’re going to think me crazy,’ he said, ‘but…’
He took her hand. That was a bold move, but he had to make some form of contact before he froze. And he led her into the sitting room.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘It’s like a tropical paradise.’
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I love it.’
‘I hoped you would,’ he said. ‘I thought you might just understand.’
He wasn’t sure quite what there was for her to understand. That he’d bought all these plants because he didn’t have the nerve to talk to her, that he’d been trying to connect, that it had all got out of hand…. That actions have consequences. How could she understand all that.
‘And the lights?’ she asked.
‘The lights?’
‘You were in ordering lights, remember,’ she said. ‘Did they ever come?’
‘Not exactly as planned,’ he said. And opened the door to the dining room.
‘Wow. Just wow,’ she said.
In the dining room, the greenhouse sat resplendent, with a table in the middle, laid out for a Chinese meal for two, with the string of LED lights hung round the glass, reflecting into the room.
‘It’s brilliant,’ she said.
‘I don’t have a garden,’ he said. ‘So I built the greenhouse in here…’
‘I can see that,’ she said. ‘I love it.’
She kissed him.
He was flustered. He wondered whether she had actually said ‘I love you’ instead of ‘I love it’, but he really couldn’t focus. It was a kiss. That was more than enough.
As she opened the Fairtrade wine and began to construct their Chinese banquet, just for two, he began to feel, once more, like he was a balloon that she was blowing up. She was blowing confidence into him in a way he’d not experienced since his mum was alive. Since he was about eight years old. He was beginning to feel, if not free, then at least a bit alive.
She told him all about her family. About how she was the second middle of four sisters who had grown up just outside Manchester, in the countryside, where her parents still lived. An ordinary kind of life. But Shelley, he thought, was no ordinary kind of person. She told him that she was now working in a Garden project in Salford, that it was much better than the supermarket. She was half way through a part time course in International Development but it wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be and she was trying to get practical experience. Which, in practical terms, meant she was working at a local community garden project. ‘That’s where I learned to cook Chinese,’ she said. ‘My boss is a Chinese migrant. He’s a cool guy. Like something out of Karate Kid, you know.’ She told him how hard life was for the migrants and refugees she came across at the project, but how much she loved the work. ‘Much better than uni.’
He was overwhelmed by how full her life seemed to be. And how empty his seemed in comparison. What could he tell her. Days spent in the lab. Not achieving anything. He wasn’t even sure what they were expected to achieve any more. It was like everyone was just marking time until someone got funding or a great idea and they could actually ‘do’ some real research. A pointless life. And then he came home and did… nothing. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but now it seemed like he wasn’t even living. She was living. She was having a life. He was just…
‘I’ve told you just about everything,’ she said as they sat down to their steamed jade buns and homemade pineapple fritters. ‘Sorry, I just got carried away.’
‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’m interested. In everything. Everything about you.’
‘But what about you?’ she said. ‘It’s only fair now. Can I ask some questions? You don't have to answer, of course, but in the interests of full disclosure I have to tell you that I really like you and I want to know more about you. I want to try and get to know you. Because I want to make love to you and I don’t do that with people I don’t know. Is that all right?’
He was flabbergasted. What had she just said? How could he reply to that?
‘Uh… yeah, ask away,’ he said.
‘You can tell me to mind my own business at any time,’ she said. ‘But I think you’ve got a lot you want to say. And I really, really want to listen.’
Daniel realised he felt safe around Shelley. He felt good. Right now, in this moment. He felt he could talk to her. She didn’t expect it, and so he could talk. She could ask questions and he wouldn’t mind answering them. It was Shelley asking. She wasn’t just anyone. She was Shelley. Unique in all the world. And she liked him. Was that not enough. Sufficient unto the day. For now at any rate. He pushed to the back of the mind the fact that she’d said she wanted to sleep with him. That was too scary for words. So he talked.
‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’ she asked. It seemed a tame place to start. A sort of standard ‘what’s your favourite band, what did you study at University’ kind of question. But it was an attempt at an easy start. How could she know?
‘Brothers,’ he replied.
‘How many?’ she asked. ‘One or two?’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
She laughed. ‘One or two?’
‘I had two,’ he said. ‘I only have one now.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s not your fault. These things happen.’
She waited for him to continue.
‘Thomas lives in Australia,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s ten years older than me, which makes him thirty six and he moved five years ago. He didn’t come back for my parents… for the funeral…’
‘Your parents are dead too?’ Shelley asked. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me about it.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ Daniel said. ‘It was three years ago. A car crash. Killed them outright They wouldn’t have suffered at all. That’s what they told us anyway.’
‘I’m glad for that at least,’ Shelley said, ‘but it must have been tough on you and your brothers.’
‘Brother,’ Daniel said. ‘Christopher died before. When I was small. He was four years older than me. ‘It was an accident. A tragedy.’ He paused. ‘Actually, it was a massacre.’ He carried on because it was easier than waiting for the questions. ‘He was in a classroom and a madman came and mowed them down. I can’t say the word. Sorry.’
Shelley reached out and took his hand. ‘No, please, you don’t have to…’ she said.
‘We moved from that place into Edinburgh,’ Daniel continued. We had that Lowry picture. In the old house and the new one. I used to look at it on the wall every day. I used to think Christopher was one of the children in it. I didn’t really remember him. Just from photographs. But he looked like me. So I preferred to imagine he was a boy in the painting. It made him unique. I used to imagine he was the wee boy by the wall at the bottom right. With the dog. I wanted a dog, so badly, but I couldn’t have one because we lived in a flat and so I just had the dog and Christopher in the picture And sometimes the boy was Christopher and sometimes it was me with the dog. It was like we were the same person. I could talk to him. Without words. I could feel… well, it helped. Especially when mum and dad were arguing.’
‘Did they argue much?’ Shelley asked. She didn’t know what else to say. It was less a question, more a sign that she was still there, still caring about him.
‘For a while,’ Daniel said. ‘When we first moved to Edinburgh. About where I should go to school. Mum wanted me to go private. After, you know what. Dad thought it was a waste of money. They talked about a special school as well, because, well, you know, after it, we went to counselling and they said I was probably neuro diverse. Dad said I was just traumatised after Christopher’s murder and… so anyway, they sent me to a private school in Edinburgh. And then they argued a bit less. Mum went out to work to help pay for it. Thomas left home and got an apprenticeship. Dad worked all the hours there were… and I got through school and made it to University.’
‘What did you study?’ she asked. Safer ground for a moment.
‘Chemistry,’ he said. ‘At Edinburgh. I stayed at home. Dad wanted me to spread my wings, but mum wanted to hold on to me. It was understandable, I suppose. Then Thomas went to Australia when I was in my second year and I…’ he paused, ‘I suppose I could have been like Lowry. I might have stayed the rest of my life with my mum and dad. But then they died.’
‘I’m so, so, sorry,’ Shelley said, and as Daniel looked at her he saw that her eyes were filling with tears.
‘Please don’t cry,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. It was three years ago.’
‘Your life,’ she said, ‘It’s been so… sad.’
‘Not sad,’ he said, ‘just a bit difficult at times. To make friends, you know.’
And she kissed him again. This time the kiss filled his balloon till he thought it might explode. In a good way.
‘I know we hardly know each other,’ she said, ‘but Daniel… I just want you to know… you can trust me. And even if you can’t trust me now… and even if I hardly know you… I love you. I want you to know that. I really do love you.’
‘How?’ he said ‘Why?’
‘Because of the plants and the way you try even when it’s hard and the lights and the new pots and pans and how brave you are and… isn’t that enough?’
‘There’s something more,’ he said. He felt full of the breath of confidence and he wanted to act before it started oozing away, leaving him flat again. He’d felt flat and empty for too long. He was only just realising that. Shelley was giving him breath. And hope. And love.
He took her by the hand and led her upstairs. He stopped outside the door.
‘We should take our shoes off,’ he said. ‘And socks.’ They stopped and did so. She didn’t ask a question, not even a flicker of a suggestion of one. She just did it.
And he opened the door. They stepped into the bedroom. Their bare feet felt the grass. It was the mysterious turf that had turned up on his doorstep. On Thursday, in a last attempt at bravery, or just to hide it away, he’d laid the turf in the bedroom. It carpeted the floor. He hadn’t worked out how long it would last, or if he’d have to water it. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He looked at Shelley to see what she would say.
‘I do love you, Daniel,’ she said and wiggled her toes in the grass.
About the Author
Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
That Long Hot Summer is Annie's third McSerial written for McStorytellers.
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
That Long Hot Summer is Annie's third McSerial written for McStorytellers.