The mistress�s revenge

Chapter 4 - letters and a meeting

After that amazing telephone call, I started to write to Stephen, every day. I locked myself in my room with the the Calor Gas heater, the only heating we had apart from the living room gas fire.
I did it under the guise of studying, but I did not study! I appeared to be doing everything I ought to in preparation for my exam, yet I was doing nothing!
Occasionally Stephen rang me, on other occasions I rang him, but the calls were nothing in comparison to that first call.
He wrote me a letter, full of romantic, sensual poems. Some of them I had no idea what he was going on about. Some I thought, were more like songs with no music to them. There were hundreds of them. I thought he must feel the same way about me as I felt about him.

Then one day he said he wanted to come and meet me. He said he could not come in the evening. He would have to come during the day. Besides which, he had some birthday money to spend and he knew exactly what he wanted to spend it on!.
It seemed rather odd to be spending the only time I was going to have with him shopping. I had never been shopping with a boyfriend before. It was going to be strange seeing a boyfriend in daylight without the beer glasses.
I had to meet him at the Central Station at 11.00 on a Wednesday. A weekday meeting did not seem strange either. I worked shifts. I often had days off during the week in lieu of the weekend. He was not working, so it was a good way to avoid the crowds and the more expensive train fairs. The only hitch was, he had to leave before 16.00, to make the most of the off peak ticket.
I was so nervous about meeting him again. Maybe he was not as handsome as I remembered from that night out a month ago. Maybe he was not the same funny, interesting guy I had been talking to on the phone. I might have been talking to his brother as far as I knew, although he claimed he did not have a brother.
I spent all morning getting ready and I was at the station half an hour early in case he decided to get an earlier train.
He didn't. He arrived on time. I greeted him with kisses and cuddles. He brushed me off. He was not keen on public affection he told me.
Fair enough.
He was as handsome as I had remembered. Even more so, in fact. He had large almond eyes of a deep blue, he had soft shapely lips and a cleft chin.
Even if he was not happy for us to hold hands together as we walked down the street, I was happy. I wanted everyone to see me with him. I wanted to show him off! I wanted to make other people jealous of us!
He was hungry. I said we could go to my flat and I could make him a sandwich, but he did not want that. He wanted to go to McDonalds. After eating a large burger, large fries and a large coke, he was ready to go shopping.
He wanted to buy one of those suede fringed Davy Crocket jackets that were fashionable for about 2 minutes in the eighties. He said everyone had a biker jacket or a denim jacket. He wanted something different. He liked my biker jacket, though. It was pillar box red and stood out in a crowd of black in a similar style.
He knew exactly which shop he wanted to go in, tried a few on, then paid for it.
There! that was his shopping done! now he could relax!
He wanted to ride on the Metro, so we did that, even though the bus was more convenient. We only had to go 2 stops, then had a bit of a walk to get to the flat.
There, he relaxed. There, he was much more affectionate. It was no surprise that we ended up in bed and making love. He was certainly no disappointment in the bed department! He was the best lover I had ever had and I'd had quite a few!
However, he was aware of the time passing on the clock. He had to get back to the station to catch the train.
We travelled back to the station on the Metro. 3 stops this time. I threatened to get on the train with him. I didn't want him to leave. Surely he could stay... or maybe I could go with him! He laughed, but he was serious. No way could I go back with him!
Maybe I could borrow my parents car and visit him next time?
NO! that was not a good idea, do not do it! he said. Just Write. I would see him again soon.

But is was not the same afterwards.
When I rang him, he was often very distant. His mother would often answer the phone and pass me on to him in a rather crumpled manner.
Something was wrong, but I did not know what it was.
I did not get any more letters from him.
He stopped answering my phone calls. His mother said I should stop calling because she did not know where he was.

What? Had she reported him missing? Had something happened to him? She refused to answer any of my questions and put the phone down.

Meanwhile I was left feeling unwanted and bereft.

The lack of study meant I failed my exams and I would have to resit later in the year.
I chastised myself for being sucked in by someone like Stephen. I wanted to know what had happened. It was all very strange.