Beneath the Green

Laura and I didn’t live together. She lived the van life. In her Volkswagen T6 Transporter. It wasn’t the iconic Volkswagen, that was the Westfalia. They stopped making them a long time ago. You can still find them, but they need a lot of maintenance. She’d converted hers herself. Well, she certainly designed it. May have got someone else to do the heavy lifting. The first date we had was at a rustic country pub in Cheshire and she’d turned up in Betty, whose exterior exuded Mother Nature with her mottled hues of greens and browns. She’d joined me on an outside table, and we smoked rollies, beaming at each other. Her entire visage was a marvel to behold. But especially the piercing green eyes. And the lips. Bee-stung and comely.

As we sat outside, laughing, smoking, getting to know each other, three men who were slightly worse for wear decided to occupy the table next to us. They were loud, obnoxious, and quite insistent on talking to us. One of them in particular, a physically imposing but socially awkward man.

“You look like you’re on a date,” he said.

“We are,” Laura said.

“Looks like it’s going well.”

“It was until a few minutes ago.”

Undeterred, he continued, this time focusing his intention on me. “You’re a lucky guy, being in the company of such a beautiful woman. I’d like to be where you are.”

As he spoke, he stooped forward, peering at us. It was very unnerving. More than a little intimidating, like he was going to do something unsavoury.

“I am very lucky,” I said. I was feeling uncomfortable, so I imagine Laura was feeling the same. Not that she showed it. I produced as genuine a smile as I could muster, and told him, “It’s been great talking to you. I think you’d best get back to your friends now.”

He did not take the hint. Maybe less of a hint than a suggestion. Couldn’t have been much clearer without telling him to fuck off and stop ruining the vibe.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” he continued.

Neither of us answered.

“Is it a first date?”

No-one said anything.

“It is! A first date! I didn’t realise it was a first date. How did you guys meet?”

Laura stubbed out her cigarette, put her hand on my triceps, and whispered in my ear to go inside. Awkward shouted after us, but his words were drowned out by the exiting music as we opened the doors. She took me by the hand and led me to a little nook round the corner from the bar, a couple of steps down from ground level. There were only two tables in there, and neither was occupied. The rare sighting of an English sun had drawn everyone outside.

“Those guys!” she said.

“I think he was pretty drawn to you. You have a very distinctive look,” I said.

“So do you,” she said.

We looked at each other. In that way you do, when lust takes over. I slowly moved my hand to her cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, leaning in gently as I did so. She tilted her head forward slightly. I leant in further, and she met me in the middle, our lips locking in a full-on embrace.

The first kiss was magical. After our lips separated, we sat making eyes at each other, hands stroking each other’s hair and face. She smouldered, charged with desire, lips curled provocatively. I floated, as high as it seemed possible to go, then higher again, through the clouds. It was a moment in which time stood still. I had no idea how long it lasted. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. Time was but a mere irrelevance to the sensory overload I was experiencing.

Eventually the lust subsided just long enough for me to head to the bar and top up our wine. I returned back to the nook, and we clinked glasses.

“Tell me about Betty,” I said.

“Well,” she said, placing her glass down. “We got together about five years ago now. Love at first sight.”

“She is certainly very good-looking.”

“Oh yes. She is a beaut.”

“Did you move in straight away? Or was that a gradual thing?”

She flashed a brilliant smile. “My lease was up on the rental flat I had. I’d used the campervan loads over the previous two years, so more and more of my life was in there. And then I started to become more in harmony with the earth and believed excessive materialism to be unnecessary.”

I saw the subtext, and flashed a smile back. “So you had a big clear out?”

She laughed, throwing her hair back, blowing a stray strand from her nose. “And some! I was a 40-year-old single career woman. Imagine everything I’d accumulated over the years. Sold some stuff, but mostly gave it away to friends, family, and charity.”

Perhaps because I was pootling along in the middle lane, on a never-ending motorway, leaving the rat race seemed like an enviable proposition. I had massive respect for the commitment it must have taken to get rid of everything and change your life like that. It added layers to the lust.

“I’m holding a wedding ceremony for some friends in a few months,” she said. “I’ll be driving up to Scotland. A road trip. Want to come with me?”

“Yes,” I said, before she’d barely finished the sentence. I was trying not to let myself get drawn in, but if love at first sight was real, then I’d imagine it was a lot like this. But I shelved those thoughts as best I could. Needed to figure out whether the yearning was in my brain, or balls first.

“Smoke?” she said.

We went outside. Our new friends were still there. Socially Awkward barked something unintelligible at us, and his companions calmed him down. It was much easier to tune them out now. The cigarette led seamlessly into more intimacy, like we were horny teenagers.

Later, as the dark settled, we stood opposite each other at the van, holding hands.

“When would you like to see me again?” I said.

The green eyes shimmered. “As soon as possible,” she replied.