COFFEE & REID

Dad and I walked the lane as we have done for many a year, then through the village to Ms Stephenson, dad’s trawler’s name and the surname of mum before she married dad. Just recently I’ve been spying on a mermaid, as Toby who was my best would calls girls that you liked to catch but can’t net. She looked twenty something with an attractive fresh face framed by her sun bleached locks. This beauty worked part time in the new coffee shop in our village; for all I knew she may well be a mermaid as all I could see of her was her waist up as I glanced through the Georgian window.  

Shite, bollards, were his words muttered in time to dad clambering up the greasy engine room ladder. With a grim look, “Her big end gone on the vow vow,” for some reason dad couldn’t say Volvo, “she’s flocked son, its game over.” I started the ancillary emergency engine and raised the sail on the tired old fishing trawler then continued to head home to our fishing village, Old Leigh. I often wandered which or who would pack up first, dad or trawler. He said, “She’s only good for scrap now there is no money in the pot for major renovation; I was hoping to pass her down to you, sorry son.” We sailed in silence with dad’s head in his hands.

As we strolled back along the cobbles I peeped into the coffee shop. Our eyes meet, they were a warm coffee colour, she gave me the cutest of smiles, my heart went from zero to hero I did not know what I wanted from her, but I knew I wanted it.

The truth was dad’s heart was not into fishing since mum died plus he was not getting any younger. For me dad’s decision was one of the best days of my life, I detested that old brute of a boat with its unforgiving maintenance, the constant stench of mildew and diesel fumes. The freezing, biting winter gales stealing my youth, mutating my face and hands to dried out pieces of leather. I sometimes have glimpsing thoughts of my old mate Toby who after his fiancé dumped him on the eve of their wedding got drunk then walked into the sea at high tide never to be seen again. No I’m not ready for that.

I moved out of dad’s cottage and got digs down the lane, he said, “I understand, you go and make a life for yourself, I‘ll buy the beers next time I see you, good luck.” Dad had recently been collecting his state pension and being such a tight bugger I knew he would be ok.

Ever since I started working at fifteen I always put a little aside from my percentage of each catch, which meant I now had enough money to travel the world and the seven seas, also a trade to full back on if needs be. Would the Bahamas be a good start?

I was lodging with a writer, one of the many arts and farts who had gentrified the village recently. Many of the natives thought they were tossers but Domonic, or Dom which he hates me calling him, was cool. He didn’t want any rent just one day’s work a week tarting up his house and gardens which suited me fine.

I started planning my tour of the world using Dom’s travel books for inspiration but there were so many.  I would sometimes have a break, investigating the abundance of fiction stored upstairs. It was another world, a world all of its own, the stories would take my mind to new dimensions, thoughts and feeling. 

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Dom was researching a for new book about the history of Old Leigh and how people from London were buying second homes and what issues it was bringing to the village. In my spare time we would visit places of interest and I would pass on some local knowledge. In the second week I took Dom to Hadleigh Castle overlooking the Thames estuary which through different times in history had defended the Essex coast. Just lately the village has been attracting a new type of invader, turning the place into an arts and farts ghetto.

Afterwards Dom suggested we visit the Coffee & Reid, coffee shop and the Mermaid’s aquarium. We entered through the newly pastel painted door with its annoying ringing bell and soon were greeted by a charming attractive lady. Dom and her indulged in small talk punctuated with appropriate smiles and laughter until we were majestically escorted to our daintily printed covered table, with its obligatory rose placed in a sweet miniature vase. It was obvious Dom had been here before and the charming lady was Ms Reid. It was clear there was a thing going on between Dom and Ms Reid, but what kind of thing I could not fathom out.

Dom asked me which coffee I would like, my reply was, “Strong and dark, like my women.” Dom with a blank expression, “That will be an Americano, I take it.” Feeling rather stupid, I replied with a nod and a grunt.

I studied the room, I noticed most of the people who were alone were either reading or perusing the mass of second hand books that were stacked from floor to ceiling along two walls. Then as I was staring out of the rear window were Ms Stephenson use to be moored up, “Sir would you like I take your order?” I looked up flock a duck, it’s was the Mermaid. “Yes, can I have an Amercoco?” I wasn’t sure if she was laughing or smiling at me but whatever it was, it was nice, she continued to take Dom’s order and then spirited away. Dom gave me an amusing look and continued to tell me the reasoning behind all the books. Patrons could select a book or two to read with their coffee and meals and if they so wish take the book home by paying a small charge.

Mermaid girl asked her aunt, Ms Reid about me, she said, “Do you mean the guy who peers through the window? He’s one of the in-breeds (locals). You can always tell they all have big ears and long noses. Josh is into off road cyclist, he holds the record for a local around the Olympic mountain bike track adjacent to Hadleigh Castle. You should chat up Josh and get him to show you some biking routes with your new tractor bike (mountain bike).” Ms Mermaid raised her eyes brows in thought.

After coffee Don and I parted company, Don went home and I paid a visit to God’s waiting room, The Old Smack to check up on dad. There he was in his usual snug with his bunch of cronies, retired fishermen and seamen. After reminiscing about the good old days with the old farts, I arranged a meeting with them for Don in the snug to get their thoughts and feelings on how the village was changing. Afterwards knowing dad was doing ok I left the old sea dogs to their liquid launch.

On leaving the pub feeling a bit wibbly, wobbly as I was not used to drinking midday I heard a bike bell ringing and someone shouting. I found myself upside down like a helpless crab with a bicycle wheel parked between my legs. Mermaid girl said, “I was hoping to bump in to you.” With an aching crotch I replied, “You have a funny way of going about it.”

After we both apologised to each other, Mermaid girl said, “Hi I’m Sam Reid my aunt owns the Coffee and Reid shop. I won’t rub your groan better, but I can treat you to a cup of americoco if you like.” We hit it off instantly, literally. Sam and I returned to the coffee shop, to relay our story to Aunt Reid who found it most amusing, try telling that to my private parts. We were then served two aromatic coffees with hot cross buns on the house, courtesy of Aunt Reid.

The conversation was what you would expect, except I left out the bit about travelling the world and Sam forgot to tell me she was going back to uni at end of summer to finish her master’s degree in English literature. Following the get to know you stage, it was arranged to ride out to the Olympic mountain Bike Park. When I told Sam that not only did it have the official race track, but also various routes for varied cycling abilities this seemed to put Sam in a happier place. It was arranged do it after Sam’s lunch time shift the next day.

I waited outside the coffee shop, Aunt Reid came out and read me the riot act, “You go gentle with Samantha, she’s only just taken the stabilisers off and I don’t want to see any scratches or dents.” Did she mean the bike or Sam? “And keep your bicycle pump in your pants, Samantha does not need to be pumped up.” Thank God Sam turned up, Ms Reid passed Sam a bag of goodies, pasties and cakes and ended with, “Send me a postcard.” 

Travelling along the lane to pick up the path that would take us to the park, Sam apologised, saying, “Sorry about my nutty aunt, it’s the menopause.”

I clocked Sam’s sexy bum, her bike wasn’t bad either. Sam had a full suspension high end model, with the newly favoured 29 in wheels and with her riding style I could tell Sam  was not a compete novice. With a good pace we soon arrived at the mixed ability track that skirted the Olympic race route.

It was getting hot so we took a short break, then tackled the track with Sam following me as I knew the way. At the end Sam was loving it, so we hit the track again this time with more speed. At the finish Sam started chanting, “again, again.” I noticed Sam had a flatty so we moved to the beach several yards away and I started to repair the puncture. I looked up to see Sam strip to her bra and pants then dive into the sea, she was gorgeous with all the lumps and bumps in the right places and a body glowing with a summer tan. Once I had repaired the tyre in record time, I peeled off that lead to frolicking in the waves with my Mermaid.

On the beach we dried off and munched on Aunt Reid’s tasty treats, then we shared the isotonic drink from the bladder in my rucksack. Sam talked about the book of fiction she had published last year and the help she had from Dominic and Aunt Reid in promoting it, the book was doing rather well. I asked her want it was called, “How a Mermaid Catches a Fisherman,” she giggled.” The rest of the afternoon was spent soaking up the sun only to be interrupted with snogs and laughter. For the next two months we had joy we had fun, we had sex in the sun.

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 On one early foggy morning I got a phone call from Uncle Elfie land lord from the Old Smack Inn. “You need to come down right away, it your dad.” The cleaner had found dad dead in one of the Gents cubicles, he had suffered a heart attack and passed away. I was in shock, I phoned Sam to give her the bad news and that I would not be meeting up that day. Ten minutes had passed when Sam entered the pub and gave me a comforting hug, last year she had to help her father deal with the loss of her mother. Sam was great supporting me in the following weeks as I muddled through the emotional and practicalities of dad’s death, she was an angel.

After dad’s funeral I moved back into his old cottage and started renovating it. With Sam’s ideas and my hard work it was turning out well, the theme was old meets new, with cool duck egg for the outside walls and a deep orange for the interior, giving it a cosy warm feel. Sam began in the garden mixing vegetables with colourful tropical island plants. Sam asked me if I would like to do some banging and screwing in the garden, it turned out she needed some help making good the garden fence and afterwards I was rewarded with cuddles and  kisses for all my had work.

Sam was great with the interior, the cottage needed a woman’s touch, with the shabby chic sea theme and clever use of lighting the home was looking as good as any that had been recently developed.

Sam started to write more in the cottage that she did at Aunt Reid’s as well as staying over more. Sam had become part of the furniture, it was decided that she would move out of Aunt Reid’s rooms above the coffee shop and live in the cottage.

A couple of weeks later Sam had a meeting with her publisher in London. Whilst she was way I took Dom to the harbour, so he could get the view of the fishermen for his new book. I hadn’t been there since dad had Ms Stephenson moored there. It was quite emotional catching up with my long time fishing buddies, we chatted and joked for ages and when I left I didn’t realise how much I had missed guys and the work.

When I got home Sam was cooking dinner, I asked her how it went, “Busy, speak later!” So I went up stairs and passed the time with my telescope whilst listening to the shipping forecast. I explored the Thames estuary, Canvey Island, the birds then the boats and trawlers. After being down at the harbour earlier, it was the trawlers that I was most interested in.

Josh, “Din, dins,” At the table it was very quiet, Sam broke the silence, “My book has just won the Costa book for fiction prize, it’s a very big thing to get in the book world. My publisher has offered me a further two book contract, its serious money. I was going back to uni to finish my masters in English literature, but now my plans have changed. When I’m gardening I often see you with your telescope surveying the fishing harbour and the trawlers out in the estuary. I think you need to be fishing again. Not for mermaids though” she teased!

Sam was right I had travelled the world reading Dom’s travel books. It was time to start a new chapter with Sam and be my own skipper.

Sam continued, “With the money I have made from my book and the new contract, I would like to buy your father’s cottage, so you can use the money for your very own brand new shiny fishing trawler, with a modern wowo marine engine.”

It was a lot to take in but it made so much sense. My answer had to be, “Good idea Bat Girl.” The deal was done with a hug.

“Oh just one other thing I have a present for you, its packaged here as Sam rubbed her stomach, we’re having a baby!”

THE END