Ah, finally we come to the last installment of Ian Turnbull's sweet love story, "An English Compliment." You can always read it again!
Chapter 5: The way back to the hotel
The walk to the car seemed longer than usual. After he shut the
door, he pulled down the sun visor and flicked open the illuminated vanity
mirror that some clever designer had incorporated. He looked at his own lips.
Angela had done a good job. He was disappointed; he wanted there to be a
vestige of her lips on his, something to mark the occasion. He placed the
napkin on the passenger seat beside him, and started the engine.
As he drove back over the now familiar roads, Bernard was thinking over how
useless yet again he'd been in Angela's company, for although he'd said his
compliment, had he said anything else, no! He was disappointed with
himself. Why was he so, inept? He spoke
to women regularly; he even flirted with them, but put a woman in front of him
that raised his heart beat, well, then, panic, worry, and complete incompetence
at organising the flow of words that issued from his mouth!
His mind wandered to an unexpected encounter he'd had some weeks
back, Angela was hurrying back from some emergency shopping requirement for
Ellen. He hadn't used his command of English very well that day; he thought
about the great writers, what they had, and what he didn't. They did their
polished lines at the writing desk, Bernard did his blunders in real life.
He considered the lucid lines of Shakespeare, the smugness of the well written
verse, the drama unfolding in iambic pentameters, humph. I bet Shakespeare
hadn't come out with lines like that when in front of Ann Hathaway! No, he'd
probably blurted out incomprehensible drivel like I do. He remembered how stunning Angela had looked
dashing across the shopping mall car park or parking lot as she'd say. The sun
was behind her, and seemed to float around her hair, and at that moment she
competed with sunlight itself. She wasn't dim, like the faces on photos taken
facing the sun, where the camera hadn't compensated for the light behind the
subject! No there was no need to for compensation in that image; she radiated
her own light. Even just standing on tarmac on her way somewhere, she was
radiant.
He was convinced Shakespeare faced with that visage, would have
probably blurted out, “You look, you look just
like a summer's day” just as Bernard had. Of
course Shakespeare would have gone back to his desk later and polished it. Then
for all posterity we would have the lines “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day” How much more majestic does that sound. The splendour of lines
carefully crafted at the writing desk,.........yes Shakespeare must have worked
on that for some time, it wasn't spontaneous like......................
Flashing lights blinded Bernard back to the reality of the journey
home. He stamped on the brakes and brought the Ford to a sudden tyre tearing
halt. He realised what had happened all too readily. As he had turned left
across the carriageway he had gone into British driving mode and entered the
next road on the left side. He had done this a number of times before but had
realised before encountering any traffic, corrected his driving and had escaped
without consequence. Paper had fluttered around the car with the almost
instantaneous halt. He was facing another car nearly bumper to bumper, with a
rather irritated looking lady peering at him over her steering wheel.
Sheepishly he pulled the wheel to the right, and started to skirt around the
vehicle, as his door lined up with hers he pressed the button and the window
glided down. “I'm terribly sorry” He said with a true sincerity, “I lost my concentration for a moment then.”
The lady looked at him with head-wagging gentle disapprovement, “From England, eh, well we drive on the right
here! Didn’t they tell you that when
you picked up that rental?” Her eye's looked skywards
for a moment and then a slight smile came to her lips. Bernard took this as a sign
of forgiveness. She drove on before he could add anything else to his apology.
Where a moment before there had been a rare perfect order in a car
that Bernard was driving, there was now a mess of papers in the passenger foot
well where the large plastic wallet had deposited the car's paperwork, the
rental agreement .........what to do if you have a breakdown, the insurance if
you had an accident, etc, etc. There was quite a pile, which of course Maine
had diligently explained to him. He leant over and scooped up the shuffled
paperwork and stuffed it back in the provided wallet. The car moved off with
Bernard considering how letting his mind wander, might have meant a new lesson
from Maine, and now he was making sure he stayed on the right side of the road.
Chapter 5: The next morning
Maine was on; it was her early shift and Bernard was enjoying the
inspection of the returned car. No rubbish found, no new dents or scratches; he
was on a roll!
“I see my training is
working” said Maine, “Don't you feel so much better driving round in a
clean car? You never know who you might give a lift to!”
“Actually Maine, I do feel
better about it. It's a challenge I have risen to!”
“Well all that remains now
is to finish off the paperwork. Let’s go to my desk. You haven't got any further bookings. Is your
stay over?”
“I have to go to Boston now
and decide where I am to work; for the operation here, or our operation in
Boston!”
“Well you'll do well now,
with a nice clean car in Boston! Of course you won't get the service you're
used to here!” Maine added with a wink!
Bernard couldn't help liking Maine. She was relentless, yet fun.
You wouldn't take her on in an argument and expect to win! He remembered one of
her sayings that had made him laugh, when he'd returned a car that had been
troublesome!
“Well do you know what FORD
stands for? “
“Er, no?”
“Fix Or Repair Daily!” Came the sharp answer in her wisecracking New
York accent.
He had managed to score a wisecracking point with Maine when he
asked her if she knew what his car at home stood for, LOTUS. “Lots Of Trouble Usually Serious!” Maine had laughed and shaken her head, “We won't be renting those then!”
Bernard drew up the chair opposite Maine to finish off his credit
card transaction; she was always efficient, yet managed to keep up a
conversation the whole time! He thought there's not many who could do that and
keep you amused doing what really was a pretty mundane thing, renting a car.
Maine pulled all the paperwork out of the wallet, and then with
delight held up a white napkin in front of Bernard with a set of lip prints in
dusky pink. “What's this,” enquired Maine, or rather who does this shade
belong too? Now you don't wear lipstick do you?
Bernard knew he was flushing, and was about to bluster an answer, before he
could..........
“Well have you done it?”
“Done, er, what Maine”, asked Bernard, thinking surely Maine is asking
if he had, well had been intimate with the lady.
“Have you called her?”
“No, why would I call her?”
Maine put the napkin down on the desk revealing the other side;
there was a message written in what looked like eye-liner pencil.
Call me soonest, two kisses and a cellphone number.
“You haven't called her,
and she wears lipstick like this? Is she hot?”
Bernard thought Maine could work for the police; her interrogation
seemed as irresistible as her lectures. “Err, yes and no!”
Maine slipped into New York wisecrack mode again, “What you can't make up your mind?”
“No I haven't called her,
and yes, well, she's hot! Yes, she's hot!” Bernard wouldn't normally have used that expression, but he knew
if he tried to express it any other way he'd fail; two failures talking to
women within twenty four hours, even for two different reasons, one because her
physical presence intimidated him, and one, because the familiarity, although
strangely welcome, floored him!
“Well don't you think you
should call her?”
“I've packed my cellphone
in my suitcase, as you're not allowed to use it on the flight”
“Who packs their cellphone
in their suitcase? What are you nuts, what happens if the baggage handlers lose
it? Geez Louise, you Brits haven't heard of American airport baggage handlers!
They could lose the airport, they're famous!”
Bernard hadn't thought about that, and now felt incredibly naive!
Maine, turned her telephone around and pushed it over to Bernard's side of the
desk!
“But I won't have any
privacy here” even Bernard thought his
objection sounded pathetic.
“Nobody is going to hear
you on the other desks, there's plenty of space between them.”
Bernard looked up at Maine, and was about to say something about
not being alone, when she anticipated his further protest. “Hey, I'm part of the team. If it wasn't for my
diligence this would be lost to you, wouldn't it? Do you know how boring it is cleaning and
checking cars? This is the most excitement I've had for ages. Would you deprive
me of it! Look what I've done for you, I expect she's seen how well you keep
your car and it's made a good impression on her! I'm coaching you, we're a
team! …........................And,
doesn't it say ring soonest? Well? This is soonest!”
Bernard considered telling Maine that Angela had never seen his
car, but felt he didn't want to disappoint her, and he thought if Angela who
was always so well presented had seen how he had kept the car, well he may have
not made such a good impression. He knew why he liked Maine, there and then.
Maine had sass; it wasn't a word used back home, and there wasn't really an
equivalent. She didn't have cheek, that was our word, but she had sass all
right. Sass said something more, something irrepressible, and he liked her all
the more for that sass.
He smile, grabbed the receiver and punched in the cell phone
number. Maine was almost beside herself. She beamed; there was a slight
squeaking. Maine was actually jigging up and down on her chair with excitement.
He heard Angela's voice just answer with “Hi!”
“Hello Angela,
it's........... Bernard!”
“Oh, Bernard, I thought you
weren't going to ring, and I had made a fool of myself. Where are you?”
“Well I'm at the airport!”
“You are? You haven't
checked in yet, and there's no queue at the desk right now!”
“Wow, how do you know that?”
“I'm standing here Bernard,
I wanted to say good-bye, and we didn't get a chance last night!”
There was a “ha” as the air gushed from Bernard's lungs and he had to take another
breath to answer.
“I'll be right there, right
away. Bye, I mean, see you, see you shortly!”
Bernard put down the receiver. Maine was looking excited; he knew
she'd heard the entire conversation and she looked like she was going to
explode with joy, “Aren't you glad that you
called now?”
“Yes I am Maine, yes I am!”
“Well go on then, go and
see the girl! Angela, nice name too!”
Bernard shot to his feet and started to gather his case, and
papers.
“Just a moment” called Maine and reached behind her, and placed
in front of Bernard, a wrapped up bunch of flowers.
“You've got flowers here?” This was an amazing day already for Bernard,
and Maine had flowers at her desk. “Just in case of an airport romance?”
“Of course!”
Maine thought she'd better relieve Bernard of his puzzlement. “Don't you men ever notice anything? Look there's a vase of flowers
on each desk to make the office look nicer, though why I bother, I don’t' know! Sheesh, if men ever notice anything we
do! I do the flower arrangements every day, always getting in fresh flowers!”
“Well, won't you need these
then?”
“Hey, I've been around a
bit; I can trim up yesterday's and make 'em look real pretty! Don't you want to
give her flowers?”
Bernard leant over Maine's desk and kissed her on the cheek; he
was amazed himself at being so reckless in his behaviour. “Yes Maine, I'd love to give her flowers,
thank-you, thank-you so much!”
“Well it's spring now, and these flowers say spring! Go, take them
and go, she's waiting!” Maine slipped into her
wisecrack voice “I expect you'd prefer it
if I'd planned ahead for today and had ordered roses?”
Bernard looked into the wrapper to see what the flowers were, “Oh no Maine, not roses, daffodils, daffodils are
perfect, just perfect!”
