The Builders' Report (chapters 5 & 6)

Chapter 5
May 2010

Because it was a bank holiday weekend, Jason had closed his yard for the three days. He hadn’t made any plans for the weekend simply because the holiday had been upon him before he had had time to realise that it was this weekend and not the next. Dressed rather scruffily, he had, nevertheless, taken advantage of the quiet to go down to the yard with the view of checking the status of the various current jobs and giving a quick look at the books. That done, he’d also taken a look at the materials in stock and made sure they wouldn’t run short. Silly really, because his yard manager was more than competent.
He knew that he was killing time because he was, in fact, feeling at a bit of a loose end. By mid-day, he had had enough and decided he would go to the nearest supermarket and buy some fresh fruit and vegetables. He didn’t need anything else.

He had long ago discovered the advantages of having a good freezer which he usually kept filled with every type of ‘ready-meal’ known to exist. He also had a pantry which boasted jars and tins of every fancy he had ever had, plus boxes of cereals, crackers and biscuits. If ever there were penury of any product in the shops, he wouldn’t have to worry for a good while. He knew that this mild form of hoarding was due to his years ‘in care’ when he had never been able to eat enough to satisfy his hunger but it didn’t stop him from keeping the cupboards full.

As he was padlocking the wrought iron gate to his yard, he sensed someone had stopped near to him. He turned and saw a young woman looking up at the large panel with the yard’s information on it. Even in jeans, scuffed half-boots and an anorak with a bag on her shoulder, she exuded class, besides being lovely. Having read the board’s information, she was turning to leave without a word and Jason had to refrain from grabbing her in an effort to get her attention. Instead, the words rolled off his tongue.

“Can I help ya, love?” He offered her his most beguiling smile, the smile that seduced eight women out of ten.

“Not today.” She had replied straight-faced and dismissingly. She began to move away.
She offered a challenge with her rigidity. She was one of the two remaining women out of ten who was immune to his usual flirting procedure. One of the two was usually gay but something about this one had him doubting that she was. He had followed after her enough to place a light hand on her arm without realising it.

“Would ‘not today’ mean tomorrow, then? I’d be happy ta help tomorrow – or the day after...” He continued with a smile, hoping to melt her defences a little with his banter.

“No.” She replied without the slightest softening of her features.

“‘No’, for which one?” Pretending to be obtuse, he was still hoping to make headway with her by keeping her talking.

“It means – when and if I want your help, I’ll ask for it.” Not picking up on his attempt at humour, she gently removed his hand and glared at him.
Jason had felt her rebuff as surely as if she had slapped his face but instead of terminating their exchange, it had encouraged him to continue. His tone became more conciliatory.

“Sorry. Don’t mind me. I’m a bit unpolished when it comes ta business. Jason Dooley, of Dooley Brick Builders.” He cocked his head in the direction of the panel as he put out his right hand waiting for her to shake it. She looked at the extended hand and for an instant, he wasn’t sure she would take it. Slowly, she brought her hand forward and clasped his. He saw and felt the change in her as his large, rough hand enveloped her soft, elegant hand. He also felt the change in himself as though the physical touching of her skin to his had prompted some type of osmosis. She was studying his face unabashedly while her hand still held his. Then realising that their hands were still joined, she had released his without looking away. He could see her mind working but hadn’t the least idea what she could be thinking. So, he spoke in another bid to keep her attention.

“I was just locking up for the weekend and then I was going for a coffee over there.” He indicated the café which was across the road. “May I buy you one for the road?”

His smile was less brash... Cleo was touched by the intense look in his eyes. She recognised the appeal in them and, against her better judgement, decided to accept. Here, she was in the territory she hoped to make hers. People didn’t know her and because of that, she could drop her business façade. She could be ordinary. It wasn’t as if she’d ever need see the man again. There were other builders on her list.

The soft smile with which she graced him, churned his innards. It was all he could do not to sigh out loud because, until she had smiled, he hadn’t really seen just how beautiful she was.

The coffee had turned into more than just a coffee as they had sat getting to know each other. They’d ordered cottage pie and peas and roly-poly pudding with custard for dessert. It wasn’t that either was particularly hungry but after the first half hour with their coffees, neither had wanted the moment to end. They had begun to discover that they had more than one thing in common which also included school canteen meals of ‘cottage pie and peas and roly-poly pudding with custard’. She seemed so cultivated that he’d been surprised to learn that she hadn’t gone to boarding school; she hadn’t dwelt on that fact or any other aspect of her school life.

Like one of those films that speed up the development of a seed or some other action, they were the constant that didn’t move. People came and went around them leaving cups, plates, paper napkins and crumbs on the surrounding tables, only to be cleared away by the café owner until others came to start the process again and again. They sat at their table oblivious to it all for an indeterminable amount of time.

Unfortunately, the call of nature was the factor that broke the spell. Once standing, both stiff from the Formica chairs, they realised that they were also going to have to move on, but to where? Would this be the moment when they went their separate ways? Jason mentioned the supermarket and ‘Bingo’! They had both needed to go shopping for the weekend. Because she had walked to his yard earlier, he offered to take her with him in his van.

Cleo didn’t remember ever laughing so much. Jason had the knack of turning a supermarket shopping spree into a hilarious outing. His perspicacious analysis of other shoppers had Cleo stifling her laughs into a handkerchief for fear of upsetting anyone. Just when she thought that it wouldn’t be possible to be witty yet again, Jason said something else to astonish her. It came to him naturally, just slipped out of his mouth.

He was rough looking. He spoke with a working class accent as one would expect of a builder but his observations and razor-sharp wit belied his origins. She was seeing him with new eyes; looking past the man that gave the impression that he thought he was God’s gift to women. There was also a vulnerability to him that she sensed. When she’d asked if he was Irish, because the name Dooley certainly was and he had the gift of the gab, he had simply answered that he didn’t know, before rapidly changing the subject.

It finally came to the moment when he took her home with her shopping. He quietly admired her house, which did put her into a different league from him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have afforded a house similar to hers, it was just that he hadn’t cared – until now. He suddenly wanted to puff himself up to impress her, while knowing full well that she was immune to superficial displays. He carried a bag of shopping to her front door not knowing how to relinquish his hold on her. He, the smooth talking charmer, was tongue-tied. Realising she wasn’t going to invite him in, he somehow found the words to ask her if she were free tomorrow? He would like to take her to visit one of the country manors that wasn’t too far away – if she were interested? He saw that she hesitated and it hurt him that the time they had already spent together hadn’t been enough for her to want more. He was already subjugated.

Cleo hesitated a fraction of a second before answering Jason’s proposal to visit one of the nearby manors. She didn’t ‘date’ and this smacked of a date. Did she want to encourage a builder, a workman, a man who seemed to be very sure of himself? She was so used to weighing up all her options before making a decision that she was doing it with Jason. Suddenly, she felt ashamed. He had been charming and it had been the first time ever that she had felt carefree and, yes, happy. It was a feeling that she wanted to have again even at the risk of accepting a ‘date’. She also found that she truly wanted to know him better.

“Yes, I would like that.” She replied with enough enthusiasm in her voice for him to feel relieved.

“How ’bout I come for you at 9 o’clock and we can have breakfast at a place I know?” He suggested eagerly. They would remain on neutral ground to avoid any hint of pressure.

She would never know why she had done it. Had there been a certain resonance to his voice that had encouraged her? The twilight had certainly prevented her from seeing him clearly as they stood on her doorstep, so it hadn’t been the expression on his face. She had lifted her hand to touch his rough cheek with an intimacy that was completely foreign to her. That almost affectionate gesture sent a thrill through Jason. Instinctively, he knew he mustn’t alarm her, so he slowly brought his mouth towards hers to kiss her gently on the lips. She didn’t back away, but her responding kiss was infantile. He didn’t know what message it was sending but he didn’t care. He gave her a second, soft kiss before backing away.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow at nine.” He hadn’t dared add the usual ‘love’ that finished his phrases because the word had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning and he wasn’t sure he wanted to use it light-heartedly.

She had stood on the doorstep and watched him walk down her path to the white van that had turned yellow under the street light. She seemed to be detached from her body, unable to move it. He turned before getting in the van and gave a last wave of his hand. She found the use of her hand again and gave him a little wave, not sure he would see it so far from the lit street. The van may have been gone five minutes, maybe more, before she turned the key which finally gave her entry into her home.

Chapter 6

Jason had slept sporadically. The anticipation of his date the next day had played havoc with his nerves. He had dreamt of driving over to pick Cleo up and then not remembering where she lived. The panic had woken him and once he was awake he had begun to think about everything they had discussed and had then realised that he hadn’t asked for, nor had she volunteered, her telephone number. He did know where she lived but he didn’t know her surname. How had he been so negligent? Then he started to worry about what he would wear. He had dozed again and then had jerked awake at seven, afraid that he would over-sleep. This time he got up, showered leisurely, and got dressed in some casual black trousers with a blue shirt and black leather jacket. It didn’t look too dressy but not scruffy either. He tried to boost his confidence by saying that she had agreed to go out with him, not his clothes. He had looked a bit rough yesterday and she hadn’t been put off. Somehow, his reasoning hadn’t quite worked because he still felt jittery.

Cleo hadn’t fared any better. She had ruminated for hours before finally going to sleep. She didn’t date because she didn’t want the complications that were inevitably created in any relationship. It would end with someone getting hurt; she had seen it happen time and again around her. How often had she been aware of the domestic problems of her employees? Her one attempt of ‘bonding’ had finished with recriminations being hurled back and forth, putting the blame for its failure on the other. If she hadn’t swept that experience under the carpet some eight years ago, there would have been little chance that she’d have accepted Jason’s invitation. Awake early, she showered. She hadn’t thought about clothes when she had agreed to go but now she looked at her limited wardrobe of jeans, jeans and jeans. She just hoped he didn’t plan to try and impress her with some expensive, exclusive place that would frown on them.

She sighed, wondering how she had been so weak as to accept his proposition when she normally made a point of keeping her distance from any suggestion of personal involvement. Anyway, she rationalized, it needn't be more than this once. She was hardly making any great sacrifice by spending the day with him. Originally, this was supposed to have been time for herself gardening or visiting the area, however, it was flexible since nothing had been carved into granite. If this day proved to be a waste, there still remained tomorrow to relax and recuperate. The experience could be added to others to reinforce her determination not to date.… This train of thought did not make her feel any easier.

Jason was punctual. The door’s knocker had reverberated in the empty hallway despite only two light taps. Cleo had been ready for more than an hour so was prepared to leave without inviting him in. She hadn’t wanted to prolong the date in any way but as soon as she had opened the door and found him standing on the doorstep, she was incapable of any reasonable thought. His timid smile had melted all her defences; he had fused her to the spot where she stood.

“Hi Cleo. Ready to go?” He had tilted his head slightly with the question.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his glossy, raven black hair or his ‘oh so blue’ eyes or the white teeth, just visible as his smile increased. There was something about him that hypnotized her and she hated to think that it would be so easy to join the queue of women who desired him in some way or other.

“I’m afraid that I only have jeans with me, so I hope that is all right?” It was lucky that she had been able to speak without muttering or stuttering.

“Anything you wear would be all right. You have the bearing to carry it off.” He replied perfectly truthfully. It was enough to make her smile and ease her tension. Before she could see it coming, he had taken her hand and pulled her out of the house. She had stiffened, afraid that he was going to kiss her but he had leaned behind her to pull the door shut before pulling her down the path towards his car. His enthusiasm was infectious. She was now looking forward to their breakfast while wondering what he had planned for the rest of the day.

It was easy to see that he favoured black. His Peugeot 406 was black with black leather seats. He merged with the car as he took her down country lanes on a mystery tour to breakfast. He finally pulled in to what must have been a coaching inn in the nineteenth century or earlier. It literally took her breath away with its low eaves and gables under which sat mullioned windows. Inside, the low, oak beamed ceiling had to be original! The fireplace at one end of the room had a small gas fire in an open grate that imitated perfectly the coal fire of distant times. The wooden tables and chairs, the pews, the framed pictures, the candleholders and plates on the wall and any number of other details added to the illusion of an inn two hundred years ago. Perhaps some of them were authentic. As she looked around, through an archway she noted the wooden bar, which was handling the Sunday morning breakfast rush but which would quickly adapt to its drink selling when the 'regulars' began to arrive. A thrill of excitement ran through her and she turned to Jason to congratulate him on knowing about this ‘petit bijou’, little jewel. He was delighted by her obvious appreciation of the place. He took her hand again and pulled her towards the bar saying,

“There’s someone I’d like ya ta meet.”

The manager turned out to be one of his best friends from school days. It explained how he had known about the place but, in fact, it had been more complicated than that because they had lost contact with each other when they had been in their teens. It was thanks to a job that had needed doing, two years ago, that he had rediscovered his friend after sixteen years. He was a regular visitor now, although Mike had let it drop that it was the first time he had come accompanied. The thought had, surprisingly, pleased Cleo.

They found themselves a table for two in a corner near to a window. Breakfast had been delicious and time had passed without them noticing it. They had wandered outside to sit and talk under a May sun and in no time at all they were having a simple ploughman’s lunch with a glass of cider each. They were both a little sorry to leave but it was with promises to Mike that they would be back soon.

Each time Jason took her hand to lead her somewhere, it became more natural, so that by the time they were on their way for the visit of the stately home, he had only had to hold out his hand for her to take it. They were both happy for the excuse to touch hands because it was subconsciously the prelude to something more sensual. Jason’s long strong fingers with their rough skin were masculine to their very tips. His palms might have been callused but they were supple enough to envelop Cleo’s hand and take command. Because she had finally given him her hand voluntarily, it had been the first step to acknowledging his dominance. She already sensed the harnessed force that he contained. It frightened her to lose her usual control but at the same time, it thrilled her. That was the effect he was having on her – frightening and yet thrilling.

As they visited the rooms in the house-cum-museum, her mind kept shifting back to the hand holding hers. For the very first time, she relaxed, free of her years of decision making, of being the one to exact what she wanted. Today, she had only needed to follow, to be led by the big warm hand.