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Authors: Jack Sheffield
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Mister Tibbs
and we sat on the bed together watching Sidney Poitier in his iconic role while chatting about the evening and what we might do the next day.
Later, the television was still on when I finally climbed into bed and it was almost midnight when Beth emerged from the bathroom in a nightdress I hadn’t seen before. Her honey-blonde hair looked slightly tousled as she walked barefoot towards me.
‘Are you
really
watching this?’ she teased. The new programme was
Claire Rayner’s Casebook
with a discussion dedicated to stressful marriages and divorce. I switched it off. ‘I don’t think it applies to us,’ I said.
Beth smiled as she turned out the light. ‘I agree,’ she said as she climbed in next to me and we kissed. It was two hours later that we finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Next morning I awoke first. I crept out of bed and peered out of the window at the view of the park and the countryside beyond. It was an eerie world of grey and ghostly images, all life blurred and featureless. Slowly, the dawn sun spread its warmth over the sleeping land and illuminated the moist vapours of mist covering the fields with a shroud of silence.
It was then that I reflected on our perfect night, and I looked back at Beth and marvelled at her naked body. Making love with this beautiful woman had always been special, a journey of ice and fire, but somehow last night had been
different
. There was an insistence about Beth, a fresh urgency and a desire that could barely be satisfied. One thing was certain … I would never understand women. As I hunted for my shaving kit at the bottom of my sports bag I smiled. Life was full of surprises and I wasn’t complaining.
Over breakfast Beth and I were still stifling yawns, but a new day awaited us in this beautiful city and it was ours to explore.
‘More coffee?’ asked Pippa after a breakfast of croissants and delicious Welsh honey from Fortnum & Mason.
‘Yes please,’ said Beth sleepily. I watched both Beth and Laura blow on the surface of their coffee before sipping it tentatively, mirror images across the table, but clearly with different moods on this beautiful day.
‘So what are your plans?’ asked Pippa.
‘Just a little exploring,’ I said. ‘Probably the Abbey and the Roman Baths.’
Pippa looked across at Laura, who seemed deep in thought. ‘Laura and I have things to do, but we could meet you for afternoon tea – say three o’clock outside the Pump Room in the Abbey courtyard.’
‘Fine,’ said Beth. ‘Then perhaps a little shopping.’
The thought of shopping with three women filled me with horror, but I said nothing.
So it was that on a sunlit autumn morning Beth and I, hand in hand, walked the streets of Bath and marvelled together at this beautiful Palladian-style city designed by the architect John Wood.
‘You look happy,’ I said.
‘I am,’ she said simply, and there was peace in her green eyes and firmness in the way she held my hand as we strolled into the city centre. Two thousand years ago the Romans had arrived and had fallen in love with the natural thermal spas and so they built their elegant baths and temples. History touched every street and building, and I recalled that Jane Austen lived here from 1801 to 1806 and set parts of
Northanger Abbey
and
Persuasion
in the city.
We walked into Bath Abbey, known as ‘the Lantern of the West’. The wonderful light that illuminated the interior explained why, and we sat on one of the pews to enjoy the mantle of peace that descended on our private haven.
‘I love you,’ I whispered.
‘And I love you, Jack,’ she said quietly, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘We needed this time for the two of us.’ Her words were like balm on a wounded heart and, for a fleeting moment in the sanctuary of this grand medieval cathedral, I understood the meaning of unconditional love.
Later we walked down North Parade Passage past Sally Lunn’s, the oldest house in Bath and,
and we sat on the bed together watching Sidney Poitier in his iconic role while chatting about the evening and what we might do the next day.
Later, the television was still on when I finally climbed into bed and it was almost midnight when Beth emerged from the bathroom in a nightdress I hadn’t seen before. Her honey-blonde hair looked slightly tousled as she walked barefoot towards me.
‘Are you
really
watching this?’ she teased. The new programme was
Claire Rayner’s Casebook
with a discussion dedicated to stressful marriages and divorce. I switched it off. ‘I don’t think it applies to us,’ I said.
Beth smiled as she turned out the light. ‘I agree,’ she said as she climbed in next to me and we kissed. It was two hours later that we finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Next morning I awoke first. I crept out of bed and peered out of the window at the view of the park and the countryside beyond. It was an eerie world of grey and ghostly images, all life blurred and featureless. Slowly, the dawn sun spread its warmth over the sleeping land and illuminated the moist vapours of mist covering the fields with a shroud of silence.
It was then that I reflected on our perfect night, and I looked back at Beth and marvelled at her naked body. Making love with this beautiful woman had always been special, a journey of ice and fire, but somehow last night had been
different
. There was an insistence about Beth, a fresh urgency and a desire that could barely be satisfied. One thing was certain … I would never understand women. As I hunted for my shaving kit at the bottom of my sports bag I smiled. Life was full of surprises and I wasn’t complaining.
Over breakfast Beth and I were still stifling yawns, but a new day awaited us in this beautiful city and it was ours to explore.
‘More coffee?’ asked Pippa after a breakfast of croissants and delicious Welsh honey from Fortnum & Mason.
‘Yes please,’ said Beth sleepily. I watched both Beth and Laura blow on the surface of their coffee before sipping it tentatively, mirror images across the table, but clearly with different moods on this beautiful day.
‘So what are your plans?’ asked Pippa.
‘Just a little exploring,’ I said. ‘Probably the Abbey and the Roman Baths.’
Pippa looked across at Laura, who seemed deep in thought. ‘Laura and I have things to do, but we could meet you for afternoon tea – say three o’clock outside the Pump Room in the Abbey courtyard.’
‘Fine,’ said Beth. ‘Then perhaps a little shopping.’
The thought of shopping with three women filled me with horror, but I said nothing.
So it was that on a sunlit autumn morning Beth and I, hand in hand, walked the streets of Bath and marvelled together at this beautiful Palladian-style city designed by the architect John Wood.
‘You look happy,’ I said.
‘I am,’ she said simply, and there was peace in her green eyes and firmness in the way she held my hand as we strolled into the city centre. Two thousand years ago the Romans had arrived and had fallen in love with the natural thermal spas and so they built their elegant baths and temples. History touched every street and building, and I recalled that Jane Austen lived here from 1801 to 1806 and set parts of
Northanger Abbey
and
Persuasion
in the city.
We walked into Bath Abbey, known as ‘the Lantern of the West’. The wonderful light that illuminated the interior explained why, and we sat on one of the pews to enjoy the mantle of peace that descended on our private haven.
‘I love you,’ I whispered.
‘And I love you, Jack,’ she said quietly, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘We needed this time for the two of us.’ Her words were like balm on a wounded heart and, for a fleeting moment in the sanctuary of this grand medieval cathedral, I understood the meaning of unconditional love.
Later we walked down North Parade Passage past Sally Lunn’s, the oldest house in Bath and,
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