Going round the Bend

Polly

By Kay Beer

Polly had not expected to bump into Adam at the local mini supermarket; it had been an unexpected pleasure on the dull damp Saturday afternoon. She had last seen him ten years ago at a human resources meeting in Hove but over the years they had lost touch because he worked abroad now.  Adam was still the same tall guy but his blond hair had turned silver white which made him look very distinguished and handsome, quite striking. Polly did her best not to gush, he looked so dreamy.

They talked animatedly as old familiar friends, blocking the narrow aisle oblivious to all manner of confusion and congestion they caused their fellow shoppers. Enjoying his relaxed easy chatter, when Adam hurriedly explained that he had to dash, his father was in hospital and visiting hours commenced twenty minutes ago.  Apologising profusely Adam surprised Polly by asking her to join him for lunch next weekend.

Greedily Polly accepted.  Smiling to herself she promptly forgot to buy the vital ingredients required for that evening’s supper, wrapped up in a myriad of thoughts about how lucky she felt to have bumped into Adam after so many years absence. During the week she prayed that the weather would be good for the following weekend as it always cheered her up if the sun shone and improved her mood hugely.  But, if it was inclement, at least that was a good excuse to find a cosy country pub, with a roaring log fire.

Getting home late from work she hit the answer machine button and stood stock still as Adam’s voice pierced the silence and filled the hallway. Hi Polly.  About Sunday, would you mind meeting me at my house, say mid day? Hope this is okay with you, looking forward to seeing you. Bye. Leaving her his contact details, address and number. The answer machine fell silent. Polly leapt with joy, hugging her arms tightly around her body; she raced upstairs to survey her wardrobe to work out what she would wear, wanting to look sexy, alive and drop dead gorgeous.

Sunday morning dawned, a thin pale blue sky strung with white paper trails threaded in all directions with wispy grey clouds as if an artist had washed the soft colour scheme across the skyline. Happily driving across Brighton to Hove in a very good mood she was pleased and surprised at how easily she found his house. Clinging to the steep incline his house offered panoramic views across the valley and climbing the steep flight of steps Polly took a deep breath, regaining her composure she rang the door bell. Adam beamed at her as he opened the door. Standing on the step she realised just how tall he was; at six foot seven inches, he towered above her, making Polly feel protected but slightly self conscious. Feeling shorter than usual despite wearing her tallest platform boots. As he swooped in to peck her on the cheek she caught the scent of his aftershave, heavenly. Laughing nervously at his carefree casual manner because he caught her off guard. Throwing on his leather jacket on she looked hard at the man in front of her, he was thinner than she had remembered and this worried her, she mused she might cut herself on the sharp edges. He had taken care to dress casually but smartly. His jeans emphasised his long legs and his jacket masked his lack of backside. As they left the house Polly casually offered to drive, which Adam seemed happy to accept but of course this was a foolish notion. Gripped in a flurry of flustered nerves Polly drove hopelessly badly.  

Adam gave clear directions which Polly’s brain attempted to compute.

“Next right,” was all he said.

Polly violently swung the car and hooked a left.  Already off course and heading in the wrong direction Adam quietly and calmly asked, “could you turn right at the next junction?” 

Polly dutifully obliged by flinging her car and taking the next left. She had absolutely no concept that she was going in the wrong direction, being hopelessly flummoxed driving her date. 

“Typical woman driver,” he said jovially, “so, you don’t know you’re right from your left?” laughing at her. 

Polly through him a sideways glance, “am I going the wrong way?”

“Yes,”

“Oh.” She did her best not to blush. They both laughed at the predicament.

“Ahead, next junction turn right, please…”

Polly failed miserably throwing the car to the left, certain that she had followed his instructions to the letter.

Adam laughed out loud and hung his head as he wiped away tears, “Holy cow,” was all he said as he hooted genially.

At the next junction Polly turned left of her own accord, as there had been no instructions from her bemused passenger.

“Do you think that there is any chance that you could at some point turn right please, and head in the general direction of the coast and towards the sea instead of away from it?”

Polly realized that driving her date around the bend was probably not the best way to secure a second date however, endearing or funny this peculiar trait of not knowing her left from her right.

As they approached the next crossroads Adam changed tactics.  “Follow that taxi cab,” he pointed to the one ahead. It seemed such a simple request.  Life is not simple and in the twenty seconds that it took to reach the intersection two more taxis turned up from different directions at the appointed junction.  Polly and Adam collapsed into a heap of giggles, faced by three taxis Polly had no hope of turning correctly. Throwing a long arm across her body he yelled “that way.”

“Oh, right, okay.”

Finally arriving at Brighton beach, Polly parked parallel, beautifully, in a tight spot redeeming some of her earlier disastrous driving. They ambled off casually along the promenade to find a beach front restaurant. Sitting in the sunshine on a bright clear November day eating lunch by the sea was a novel experience, but the table was a little too close to the walkway for Polly’s comfort as it was teeming with pedestrians strolling hither and thither, enjoying this unexpectedly balmy afternoon.

As they tucked into their meal Polly dropped her knife and fork. The cutlery fell clattering on to her plate as she wished she could concertina and fold up to hide under the table. “Oh shit.” she nosily exclaimed.

Adam looked puzzled.

“My parents,” she squeaked as her dad waved to her nudging his wife, drawing her attention to their daughter seated ahead of them.

“Hello,” her voice sunk.

“Hello darling,” her dad smiled at her approvingly.

Reluctantly “Mum, dad, meet Adam.”

Heart pounding, palms sweating; head bursting she wanted to scream go away mum. Not now! Thinking what are you two doing here? Eyes blazing, directed at her father, pleading with him to take her mother away, she heard Adam say these fateful words. “Would you like to join us for coffee?”

Polly nearly choked. God she wanted to kick him in the shins, this was preposterous. How dare he.  Resisting the urge to actually kick him because she thought, can a datee kick her date on a first date? No, don’t be ludicrous her internal voice yelled back.

Luckily her father declined and began to steer his wife away by the elbow, sensing his daughters discomfort at their unplanned meeting.

“Shit, shit, shit” Polly muttered under her breath and as she glanced up she saw a delicious smile sweep across Adam’s face, “that was fun,” he said “watching you squirm, would not have missed it for a world.”  

“You, you …” the word ‘bastard’ died in her mouth as he lent forward and kissed her.