Connie’s encounter

She left "Primrose", the co-working cafe where she usually spent many hours, feeling strangely depressed. She'd spent at least half a day trying to cobble together a short story, and it seemed today her brain was in a permanent 'snooze' mode. Should she give up writing entirely? Or was this a childish reaction to her writing task not turning out well? 

She stomped up the main street trying to decide where to go and what to do. She noticed a side street and turned into it, finding that she wasn't familiar with it. 'Strange', she whispered to herself. She thought she knew all the shopping streets in this area. As she walked, trying to rewrite her story in her head, daylight slowly faded, and twilight took over. The street unexpectedly shone brightly as the Christmas lights spluttered into life. The entire street seemed to buzz with the general buildup to Christmas, and her spirits lifted. She looked at the pretty shop windows, all wearing their Christmas best. She was not a particular Christmas aficionado, but as she continued along the street, she began to slow down and look at the shop windows with increasing interest. There was one shop, more brightly lit than the others. She stopped and looked. It was by far the cutest shop she had ever seen. It had two large windows stuffed with several different eye-catching book displays. With their bevelled edges, the sizeable sparkling display windows brought attention to the brightly painted, substantial red wooden door, hung with a large, quite stunning rose gold Christmas swag. On either side of the door were Georgian lamps casting out cheerful bright beams to guide her to the entrance. The signage above the door simply said 'Bookstore' in clear gold lettering. She hadn't been in a bookstore for years but found herself opening the door, and as she stepped in, she noticed how much larger the inside of the shop was than it had appeared to be from the outside. The bookstore's illumination provided a warm, welcoming flush and an overall atmosphere of cosy warmth that immediately made her want to stay. Numerous sofas, chairs and stools decked in cushions of scrumptious velvets, silks and decked with cashmere throws just cried out to be sat on.

All the fixtures and fittings were strung with multicoloured Christmas lights casting a magical glow. The walls, from head to floor, contained shelves crammed with books. Everywhere you looked - tables and cupboards - there were books. Everything was beautifully displayed and made her itch to open a book, any book, or even several books and start flicking through them. She dropped her backpack and laptop onto one of the comfy chairs, searched for her reading glasses and started to wander.

How strange that there were no signs indicating the genre of the books on offer. Usually, the fixtures were labelled 'Crime, Romance, Business Studies, Sci-Fi', but this shop had no signage. As her eyes swept over the fixtures, she suddenly knew exactly which book she most desired. She had never read this book and, indeed, had never owned it. She was too shy to request it, so she needed to be able to locate it on her own. She walked up to the nearest bookshelves and peered at the first spine. She stepped nearer and squinted, then she stepped back and blinked. She took her glasses off to wipe the lenses on her skirt, popped them back on, and tried to reread the spine. It was weird that she couldn't read the spine - no author or title. The spine appeared to be blank.

She heard a noise behind her and turned to the shop counter. A good-looking man of an indiscriminate age had appeared from nowhere. His name was displayed on the counter - Oliver Mellors. 'Oliver Mellors', she thought, 'I think I know that name.'

'Hello, can I help'? he asked.

She smiled and, looking into his attractive eyes, said: 

'What a lovely shop. Have you been open long? I've never noticed it before.'

'Most people say that. However, they can't keep away from this shop once they find it.

She laughed. 'Where are they then? There's no one here.'

'‘Ah, it depends on the time of the day. Soon it'll be jam-packed.'’

She looked around, believing him to be speaking the truth. This was a huge shop and seemed to get bigger and more beautiful the more she looked. 

'‘Yes, you can help me. How have you stocked your books? There are no signs indicating which categories are where."

'‘No, we don’t label the areas - we think it looks messy, so we decided to let the customers wander and enjoy being in a bookstore.  But you can always ask any of the staff.  They are here to help.'’

From one of the many comfortable chairs, she heard a woman saying:

'‘So sorry I watched you come in, but my colleagues and I thought you'd prefer if you had a wander".  She wore a name badge saying ‘Hilda'’.

'‘What colleagues?'’ she looked around. There wasn't anyone.

She heard a man's voice coming from a group of chairs behind her:

"Hi", he said. 

She turned to look and saw two women and a man smiling at her. Each wore a name badge: Bertha, Malcolm, Ivy. Surprised she hadn't noticed them before, she smiled back.

Hilda said' ’I know exactly which book you are looking for. Why don't you sit on that sofa over there, and I'll bring it over to you.'’

'‘How on earth would she know what book I might want. I've only just come into the shop", Connie thought.  Before she could disabuse Hilda and explain that she couldn't possibly know what book she might be seeking, Hilda, without any hesitation, went to one of the middle bookshelves and began to search the many books.  Within minutes, her hand shot up to one of the upper shelves, chose a mulberry-coloured leather-bound book, and triumphantly presented it to her.  Connie couldn't see the title, but the book was a perfect fit for her hands - she began to open the pages.  Her eyesight must be poor tonight The words only seemed to appear as she swept her eyes over the page. One minute it was a blank page, and the next, it was a page full of printed text.  How strange.  She shook her head and, placing the book on a table near the magnificent sofa on which she was stretched out, took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes.

She felt the warmth of Oliver Mellors near her She turned to look at him.

'‘Got everything you need? Are you warm enough? Comfortable? he asked solicitously.

She nodded and nestled into the sofa picking up the book again. Mmm, this sofa was so comfortable, and the environs of the cosy bookstore just enveloped her; her eyes slowly closed as Ivy silently and carefully removed the book from her hands.

The smell hit her first. Perfumes, gentle perfumes, newly mown green grass, warm bark from a tree. She opened her eyes slowly, realising she must have fallen asleep. As her eyes opened wide, she realised she was sitting in an enormous wicker garden chair on a large, beautifully manicured lawn surrounded by flower beds and trees. There was a large round table set for afternoon tea. A recently cut crumbly fruit cake, china cups and saucers, a coffee pot, teapot, milk, and sugar.  A lady wearing the smart uniform of a maid stood smiling at her. 

'‘Would you like your coffee poured? The others should be here soon.'’

'‘The others?"

Ignoring the question, the maid picked up the coffee pot and poured her a cup of coffee, placing the cup in front of her.

While waiting for '‘the others'’, she looked to her left and saw an enormous comely Edwardian-era house. Through the french windows of the house came the others ambling along. '‘Why! it's the staff from the bookstore, Hilda, Malcolm, Bertha and Ivy", she exclaimed to herself.

'Hi, how's that book going'? Hilda asked as the teas and coffees were poured.

'I'm not underway with it. I must have fallen asleep.'

Hearing a noise, they all turned towards the house, and there was the bookseller standing tall, handsome, and waiting for someone. She felt a curious stirring in her loins and said, 'It's Oliver Mellors.'

Hilda shouted: 'Oliver, Oliver, Connie's here waiting for you.'

Behind Oliver, a man was being pushed in a wheelchair. As Oliver and the man in the wheelchair came towards her, she had a strange feeling she recognised the man being pushed, and the house seemed familiar too.

'Who's the guy in the wheelchair'? Connie whispered to Hilda.

'Clifford, why that's Clifford, your husband.' 

'I have a husband called Clifford?' said Connie, genuinely shocked. She had no memory of being married to Clifford.

'Connie, I don't think you've worked out yet which book you are reading - have you'? said Ivy.

She said, 'How do you all know which book I'm reading? Did I tell you I was looking for a particular book?'

They all smiled, and Malcolm said, 'It was pretty obvious which book you were looking for when you walked into the bookstore."

'Was it?' shaking her head to try and remove the confusion.

'It's Lady Chatterley's Lover', they all said in unison. 'Do you recognise everything now?' 

Was she looking for Lady Chatterley's Lover when she walked into the bookshop, and if so, how the hell did they all know? How on earth did she seem to be sitting in the garden of the Wragby estate mentioned in Lawrence's book and having tea with some of the main characters?

She reached for the book tucked down the side of her chair and looked at the spine, and sure enough, she saw D H Lawrence "Lady Chatterley's Lover" printed clearly.

Oliver Mellors, his handsome face looking straight at her, said:

'Let's walk to The Pheasantry', he said, pointing to a relatively large wooden hut in the woods not too far away, '… afterwards, you can have some peace to read your book'.

Afterwards? What did he mean by 'afterwards'? But she knew precisely what 'afterwards' meant, and social proprieties meant nothing in this glorious fantasy world she had found herself in.

He walked by her side to the Pheasantry in silence, just the loud beating of her heart accompanying their steps. He opened the door, bowing to encourage her to enter. As she walked into the hut, her heart was pounding, and he closed the door firmly after her. The warm and friendly darkness of the hut encased them as his arms encircled her, pulling her in close to him. She remembered her body willingly yielding to his and her breathing changing in pace and coming in quick gasps.

She stretched and yawned in the Primrose Cafe snooze area; a pleasant smile played on her face as the memory of her risque dream began to replay itself. She pulled herself up from the floor where the oversized comfy cushions were scattered for the co-workers to come and relax or snooze when they needed a rest. She wandered back to her working desk in the relatively large cafe and opened her laptop, ready to complete her short story. She noticed a man she had never seen before, wearing a backpack and clearly recently arrived at the cafe. He did a complete tour of the cafe, trying to find a desk to work on. Finally, coming by her two-person desk, as she knew he surely would, said: 

'Hi, would you mind if I sit opposite you? There are no other seats available.'

'Help yourself', she smiled, indicating the empty seat.

He unpacked his backpack, hauled his laptop out of it, flipped it open and began to key in his password.

He looked up and smiled gently at her. 

'Hi', he said 'I'm Oliver'.

'Good to meet you; I'm Connie.'

Presently he said:' I'm new around here. Anywhere to eat or get a coffee later?'

She looked at him and said, 'Yes, there's a place called 'The Pheasantry' not far from here. I'm sure you'll love it.