U3A Writing: A Winter's Night
A cold night, a warm fire, a favourite tray of food, all waiting to welcome a lover, in Eve Fogaty's entertaining short story. If only the football match had lasted longer...
The weather was as cold as…well it was cold. She had a warm comforting fire in the lounge and the toasting fork at the ready. She was waiting for the front door bell to ring announcing the arrival of her dreamboat.
She made sure the log basket was full and the tea set was waiting on her favourite tray and that it also held the bread and home-made jam. Her best tea set was at the ready too. Everything must be just right. As Mrs. Bucket would say, “My Royal Doulton with the hand painted periwinkles,” only hers was Noritake.
Looking around the room to soak in its ambience, she saw low lighting, and a few candles placed around, giving off their rose perfume to help stir the senses. Romance must be lured with the right setting, and she had hopes for tonight. She pulled her heavy velvet curtains to shut out the cold, dripping trees and the gloomy sky.
Again her eyes travelled around the room. Was the setting right? She plumped up the floor cushions once more. Her silver teapot and milk jug gleamed, reflecting the cheery flames of the fire in its shiny surface. That in itself made one feel content.
Was that his car? No, just another passing car, but he was late. He should have been here five minutes ago. Her nerves were being stretched to breaking point. Briiing, briiing. Yes, he was here. Her mouth felt dry, so swallowing quickly, she straightened her dress and answered the door.
“Madam, we are collecting for the….”
“Go away!” she yelled angrily. She couldn’t believe it. It was supposed to be him, not some charity collector. “No!” she yelled again in a nasty voice. Tomorrow she knew she would feel sorry for that show of temper.
Then a car turned into the drive. Yes, it was him, at last. “Sorry I’m late, Love, but there was a bit of an accident holding up the traffic. Come here and give me a welcoming kiss.”
Taking his arm, she led him into the warm comforting lounge. “Gee, Darl,” it’s warm in here. Dark, isn’t it? Run out of pennies for the meter?” he chivvied her.
She gave him a playful slap and pulled him down on the floor. As he was sinking into the cushions, she asked him, “Tea or coffee, Love? And I will make some toast. Nothing like toast cooked on an open fire.” She busied herself to try and calm her nerves. It was what was to come after the tea that made her tremble.
After a tea which stirred memories of childhood evenings, she slid down beside him and offered him her toasty, jammy lips. The cushions on the floor cradled their bodies, and they snuggled up together. The room enfolded them in the gentle ambience of that romantic place. Love took over and the warmth enhanced their passion.
Then the doorbell demanded their attention. “Oh damn,” she said, “I thought the kids would be at the footy match longer than this.”
The kids burst into the lounge room, bringing the winter’s cold air with them, destroying that loving feeling. “Damn,” she called out. Who would have kids? It was their anniversary, and trying to recreate that romantic night he proposed was finished.
“Gee, Mum, good-oh, toast! We’re hungry. Got any vegemite? I like that better than jam.”
Geelong U3A
