Too Hot For Comfort

“I can’t take much more of this Joe. It’s going to be another scorcher” Mary moaned as she pulled back the curtains letting the hot humid breeze engulf the bedroom, closely followed by shafts of searing sunlight hitting every corner with a fiery glow. If only she didn’t sleep so badly at night she might be able to wake up earlier and enjoy a cooler, more pleasant atmosphere!

An hour later, gazing in sadness at her bedraggled garden, she thought that the British heatwave was certainly not a thing of beauty – unless you were a beach going, sun worshipping person who only owned a concrete back yard! And she definitely wasn’t! She loved being outside pottering in her beloved garden but lately even the smallest of jobs sent waves of sweat dripping down her forehead, stinging her eyes and landing on her glasses. “Give me autumn anytime” she muttered to herself as she gave up and started back towards the bungalow for coffee time and a cool down

It was frustrating that all the hours spent tending the garden, bringing life and colour to the once derelict plot, seemed a waste now as the blistering heat had reduced it to clumps of dying, wilting, brown and faded flowers. The hosepipe ban hadn’t helped and she had long ago got rid of the water butts. The whole place looked miserable, forlorn and tired with the few remaining roses struggling to add their last bit of colour here and there. And it was still only the last day of July. 

“The garden’s gone past it now – a bit like me” she chuckled as she spoke in the direction of the mother blackbird, blackberry in its beak, still hanging around in the hope adding a worm to take back to her second brood.

 “Think the rest of the day’s going to be a lazy one” she continued “It’s much too hot now to do anything”. Just like yesterday and the sweltering ten days before that – well that was her excuse and she was sticking to it. 

She gasped as she walked back into the bungalow, the stifling heat in the conservatory catching her breath.  It was south facing and quickly creeping up towards forty degrees and it was still only coffee time!

“I’m just going to have a coffee” she told Joe as he raised his head from the sofa and looked at her with one eye open. “I expect you’re just as happy with water”.

They met in the kitchen, her for a coffee and him for his water. He followed her back in to the living area and they both plopped on to the sofa. Even that small exertion was too much and caused them both to puff and pant. “Just shows how old we’re getting” she smiled.

Today the gusty humid breeze brought no comfort at all.  Even the flies, unable to tolerate the heat, were noticeable by their absence. This allowed her to open all the doors and windows, leaving the vertical blinds pulled across the patio doors to keep the sizzling sun out.

It was a large open plan room with living, dining and kitchen areas. There were three fans humming away. One in the kitchen and the other two in the main area, one of which was trained on his end of the sofa and one on hers.

They sat in companionable silence until suddenly a shadow flitted across the blinds followed by a gentle thump. “Oh dear I think a bird has flown into the window, poor thing” She said. Joe was feigning sleep so she thought she’d better go and investigate. Then she heard the sound of crockery hitting concrete. Oh dear, she thought, someone next door has lost their barbeque on the floor.

No sooner had she slowly got to her feet when the front doorbell rang. She opened the door to find the next-door neighbour standing there, wrapped in a towel over a swimming costume, water running down her legs making a dark stain the doorstep.

“Is everything ok?” “Has it done any damage to your conservatory?” She could hear the concern in the neighbour’s voice.

“I shouldn’t think so” Mary answered, “I assume it was only a bird”.

The neighbour laughed. “No it was a sudden gust of wind that just lifted our garden parasol straight over your fence and I was dreading it might have broken one of your windows!”

They walked through the bungalow and there was the upturned parasol, wedged on the small patio, flattening all her potted plants. When she saw the bits of broken green pot she realised it wasn’t someone’s barbeque on the floor but her favourite geranium. The neighbour reached over and salvaged her parasol, mortified at the damage done to the pot. “I’m so sorry” she kept saying.

“Not to worry, my dear, worse things happen at sea, and it’s too hot and I’m too old to worry about it!” “Just go back and enjoy the pool with your family.

As they returned to the front door the neighbour, clutching the now furled and controlled parasol, nodded towards the sofa saying “I’m surprised neither of you heard it.  Thanks.  Goodbye”.

“Well that was enough excitement for today don’t you think Joe?” A question that elicited no reply. “I know I’m stating the obvious so here’s something else that’s obvious. The temperature in here is 29.5 degrees and I can’t stand it any longer”. “Let’s just go into the bedroom for a while where it will be cooler”.

He acknowledged her this time, getting up and following her into the bedroom.  North facing, with all the windows open and the fan going full speed, it was actually very pleasant. The drop in temperature was slight but palpable and lifted their spirits.

They lay side by side on the bed. It took her longer to get up on to it these days but, once there, it was blissful. He closed his eyes immediately, but she lay there with her mind wandering like a butterfly. Her bare arm touched his leg and he gently stirred, rolling on to his back, seemingly almost in anticipation.

She smiled to herself. Typical male thing she thought. One touch and it’s “hey come and get me!”. Well those days were long gone. He was a lovely companion of twelve years but that’s all he would ever be. She had lost her childhood sweetheart and the love of her life thirty years ago and knew he could never be replaced. 

Her mind wandered back to the many happy hours they had spent in this bedroom. Young and foolish as the song goes. True she thought. She remembered pillow fights; using the bed as a trampoline wondering if the springs would break; Sunday mornings reading the papers with breakfast in bed: wild, magical, heady sex in the early years followed by meaningful, tender love making as the years went by. There had been two babies born in this same room (though on a different bed) who later jumped all over it and them, encouraging their two dogs to do the same, until they would all end up in a laughing messy heap. They were good times. Fortunately, memory had faded and blotted out the sad times – apart from when she had to say goodbye to her love, again in this room. That would never be forgotten although the hurt and grief had diminished somewhat over time. She was just so grateful for the many years they had had together.

The droning of the fan was getting into her head and her body was beginning to cool down. Her eyes felt heavy as she turned towards her companion. She watched his chest moving rhythmically  in time with his breathing and instinctively reached out to him. She watched as the swirling air blew his hair across his eyes. At least he’s still got hair, she thought, not like my thinning locks. Mind you he was a bit younger than her so she thought it was to be expected. She could always blame her hair loss on her medication. Still if that improved her a quality of life then it was a small price to pay.

When she woke it was nearly six o’clock. As she stirred he opened his eyes and looked at her expectantly. She knew he thought she might have a friendly snuggle into his neck for a few minutes.

She smiled and said “It’s dinner time Joe so don’t even think about it as you’ve definitely missed that boat!”

This time he got off the bed with more alacrity than she did and got to the kitchen before her.

She laughed as she gave him his dinner. “Yes, Joe, it’s true what they say - a dog is certainly man’s (or woman’s) best friend!”.