Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Seventeen

Seventeen

 “I want to see Bobby,” where the first words out of my mouth as we stood outside the hall, refreshed with Nina’s courage and fighting spirit. Susanna stared at me.

 “But you don’t know where he lives,” she protested. Something clicked inside me; something sparky, something bold, something devious – a glowing energy switched on.

 “Oho! ‘You don’t know where he lives’. Does that mean you do?” I grinned. Susanna sighed, throwing down her arms.

 Twenty minutes later, Susanna and I were standing outside a cottage, half-hidden in ivy. I started to push open the gate, which creaked uninvitingly but Susanna pushed me back, saying we didn’t want to alert his family. His family!

 My eyes bolted up to the burst of sudden brightness in the front bedroom and the shapes of a woman clutching a wailing baby to her bosom transferred through onto the faded peach curtains for all to see. Was Bobby married? The question pounded in my head.

Nervousness swayed in me like a rocking boat in a storm – for, after all, I was meeting a complete stranger.

 “So this is Elsie.”

 I averted my gaze, heart suddenly drumming, to the boy standing in front of me. The gentle wind blowing in the background rushed down my throat and blew my vocal chords away. Because Bobby was perfect.

 In my mind, he was a stereotypical baker’s boy; rather round in the face but with a muscular frame, smiling eyes and a large grin.

 “You look very different from your interview,” Bobby finally spoke.

“What interview?” I wondered faintly as one of his large, chapped hands closed around mine, a hard shell around a pearl. I hadn’t any time to consider the impropriety of this gesture for my face was burning and I was struggling to think as I stared at his face, which was a big white moon emerging from the duskiness of the night.

Susanna, sensing we had fallen into our own little world, suggested all three of us go down to the beach. I couldn’t help but feel annoyed; this was the first time I’d ever met Bobby, after weeks of warm and funny notes from him and I wanted us to have some times to ourselves. He was everything I had imagined.

Bobby nodded:

“I’ve got provisions.” He swung the bottle of pale ale in his hand up in the air and my eyes widened with rebellion.

“Let me have some,” I said boldly, gesturing at the bottle with my clammy hand as soon as we reached the beach. I realised how snobby my voice sounded and Bobby looked me up and down with some kind of nervous awe.

 It was rather eerie in the dark, the pebbles crunching too loudly under our feet, the turbulent sea crashing and spitting froth at us as we got nearer. Why weren’t we talking? Surely we should be conversing of some sort? Desperate to prove to Bobby that I wasn’t just a rich and spoilt heiress, I snatched the bottle from him, wrenching the lid off.

The bitter taste filled my mouth. It was like honey, golden-brown but sickly sweet. I spat, retching, wiping my mouth, stumbling. Bobby gave me a quick sideways glance, rather nervous again.

“Oh damn and blast it, let’s get tipsy!” Bobby roared, suddenly pulling me down onto the shingles. My back winced: the pebbles were so cold. No, I wouldn’t think of John. We both stared at each other in utter confusion and burst out laughing. This was by far the weirdest situation I had ever been in. We took turns swigging the ale, laughing and singing old songs. The drink gave me the feel of being wild and free.

“C’mon, let’s go in the sea,” Susanna moaned, pulling me (literally) out of my shoes and into an icy shock. I shrieked, swaying, clutching onto my friend. I handed the bottle back to Bobby, who had waded in beside me. We gave each other shy smiles.

A glimmer emerged from behind the dust in the sky, casting light on the three of us; Susanna, cold and tired; myself, a little drunk, dizzy and confused and Bobby, who threw aside the bottle and placed his lips on mine.