Friends for life

Eyes met in mutual respect and love. He was there, still just where he was needed. A smile.  She had a face to be stared at and admired. Round, lovely and joyous. Soulful expressive eyes too. How lucky he was.

His head was egg-like, hair given up trying to grow. But at his age he still looked good. Elegant and distinguished. And most importantly he was there for her always.

Oh how lucky she was. She vowed to do whatever he wanted. A subservient role, yes, but she was happy knowing he was happy too. Losing his wife was a huge loss. A terrible blow. 50 years is a long time together, inseparable from school. 50 years gone in a heart breaking instant.

Many of his friends had taken flights to Thailand to seek a mate. But not him. Too much of a cattle market for him. A bit trashy too, he thought. He had morals and better standards than this.

He had met her, was introduced by the next door neighbour. In the park of all places. And the love and attraction was instant!  He felt guilty falling in love so soon after losing his wife. Should anyone, can anyone fall in love, so head over heels again. It’s not right. Is it? But it was Valentine’s day. Was this a sign from above?

She moved into the house soon after – much to the delight and blessing from his three daughters. The house was tall and crumbling but warm and homely. He drank tea from a trembling cup and saucer. Not for her. She loved her cool refreshing water. Once she had tried alcohol. Never again. It was a mistake, a really big mistake.

They loved to watch TV together even the daytime trash. He loved running his hands through her soft hair. She enjoyed it too. It made her feel wanted and nice.

They felt safe together and dry. It smelt of liniment which got up her nose, a lot more than his, but it was a necessary price to pay for mobility.

She couldn’t dance and thankfully wasn’t expected to do so, literally having two left feet! She loved to watch though. He had several dancing partners, all with varying degrees of arthritis. Dancing was good for him and kept aching joints moving. She never got jealous. Jealousy never came into it. And she never thought about being unfaithful. Why should she? Everything she needed was here. Wherever they went together she was still his centre of attention – even in the company of far more beautiful people – which pleased her a lot.

They loved to walk. No more than a dawdle now but hey, they had all day.  Nothing urgent. She loved early morning walks with the warmth of the early sun on her back and head. Destination the hill top, always. Through street after street of white painted 1960’s bungalows. And then on past the new L-shaped houses with strange double aspect bow windows. Across the train line, desolate now, skirting around the wheat fields and through the farmyard where Charlie the Collie always bounded up for a fuss.

They always sat on the hill top looking down on urban decay and industrial decline. The council had promised to revitalise the area, but as usual everyone was still waiting. A funding problem apparently. Yet the view always satisfied the soul  somehow.

She breathed in the sweet sharp air. Closed her eyes and smiled to herself .She relaxed and as all Golden Retrievers do, she rested her head gently on extended front paws and let out a contented sigh.

Written by:  Dave Harcombe