I Saw The Light

by

Insane Englishwoman.

An original story and therefore copyright. ©
Written for the Royal Academy of Bards Valentine Special 2012

 

This is a companion piece to my short story Those Who Cannot See (which was written for the RAOB Valentine Special 2011).

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Leslie sat back suddenly and groaned as her back protested the move. She had been sitting, slumped forward, elbows resting on her knees, deep in thought for hours. Her computer had gone into stand-by mode long since. She wondered just exactly when it had become dark outside.

“She wants me. Christ on a crutch, she wants me.”  Speaking aloud the same words she had been thinking, over and over, for the past several hours, did nothing to change her totally gobsmacked sense of wonder.  She wanted to sing. She laughed aloud. Then stopped, as she realised she sounded as if she’d finally lost her mind completely.  Ah what the hell, there was nobody around to care, she opened her mouth to start singing but snapped it shut again as her attention was drawn to the calendar on the wall. “Oh my God. It’s St Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I have to do something. What time is it? I’ve got time. Thank God for late-night shopping.”

Without bothering to switch off her computer, or turn the lights on, she checked that she had her wallet, snatched up her car keys from the hook, and ran.

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The shopping centre was surprisingly quiet with few people still shopping. Leslie had had no trouble finding a large bunch of red roses at the florist’s shop. Although the price made her blink a bit. Extortionate didn’t begin to cover it. She was having more trouble finding a card. She had tried three shops already without finding anything appropriate. If The Card Sharp didn’t have anything she was stuffed.

As she approached the shop she could see the perfect card in the window. It had two cute teddy bears on it, one handing the other a rose. And neither of them was wearing trousers or a frock. Not even a bow ties. There was nothing to suggest male or female. She was delighted, fed up with the stereotypical cards she’d seen so far. It was a bit big, though. The closer she got the more she realised just how big. In fact it was nearly as big as Anne. She’d have to put the back seats down just to get it in the car. Never mind. It was perfect after all.

She entered the shop, and very nearly turned around and left. If she hadn’t been desperate she would have. The assistant was chewing gum. Leslie hated that kind of thing. She tried to ignore it and pointed to the window. “How much for that one?”

The assistant stopped chewing. “What? The big one?”

“Yes, please. Is it for sale?”

“No idea. I’ll get the manager.” The assistant reached over to a bell-push and a buzzer sounded at the rear of the shop. A harassed looking middle-aged woman bustled up to the counter, oozing officiousness and superiority.

“Yes, Tracy?”

“The lady wants to know how much the card in the window is.”

The harassed woman sighed. “Which one, Tracy? There are a lot of cards in the window.”

“The big one. The really big one.”

“Oh.” The woman turned to Leslie. “It doesn’t have an envelope.”

Leslie hid a grin. “No, I don’t expect it does at that size. But I’d still like to buy it.”

The woman stated the price. Leslie paled. After not having to think about Valentine’s Day for over five years it now seemed as though she would be spending all five years’ worth at once. Ah well, Anne was worth it. She handed the assistant her credit card.

Carrying the card and the roses back to her car proved to be quite a challenge. The card was too large to tuck under her arm, too heavy to hold in one hand, and in danger of crushing the roses when held in both hands. She had tried tucking the roses under her arm but the thorns gave her piercings in places she’d rather not be pierced.  For a moment she wished she’d only bought a single rose, she could have carried that between her teeth. Yeah, right, she’d have looked a right wally, a greetings card on legs clutching a rose in its mouth. She’d be damned glad to get to the car.

She was starting to feel a bit like one of Alice’s playing cards. Was it Through the Looking Glass, or Wonderland? She couldn’t remember.  “Damnit, I’m a writer, I should remember.” She chuckled. “What’s that got to do with anything? Lord, I’ve always hated those books anyway. Oh, thank God.” She rested the roses on the bonnet of her car and scrabbled in her pocket for the key.

The card and roses safely stored, (she’d been right about needing to put the back seats down), Leslie returned to the shopping centre, she’d earlier noticed a young man with a huge bunch of balloons and she hoped her was still there.

She found him arguing with a prospective customer. A rather rude man, (Leslie decided he was certainly not worthy of being called a gentleman), who was attempting to get a discount. The balloon seller agreed that, yes, he did still have a lot of balloons. Yes, they were going to be out-of-date by tomorrow. Yes, his boss wouldn’t be pleased he hadn’t sold them. But no, he was not going to sell for less than half price ‘just to get them off his hands.’ The customer called him a nasty name and stomped off.

“What a pleasant person.” The balloon-handler nodded his agreement. “How much?” She pointed. The balloon seller told her. “No.” She shook her head. The salesman looked as if he was about to repeat his no discount speech. Leslie interrupted him, “No, I don’t mean one. I mean how much for all of them?”

“All? But there are over twenty of them. They’re all the same message, just different colours.”

“Yes, all.”

“Are you sure?”

“All.” She held up a handful of banknotes. “All.”

“Fantastic! For that you can have discount. There are twenty-two. I’ll let you have the odd two for no charge.”

On the way back to her car Leslie discovered just how difficult it was to manoeuvre twenty-two large, helium-filled balloons. Her respect for the peddler’s skill increased. Trying to get all twenty-two into the car however was more than simply difficult. She felt as if she were wrestling in zero gravity, whilst cocooned in bubble-wrap. She was grateful for the low roof the top-floor of the car park possessed. It trapped runaways within reach. Twice.

She left everything in the car when she arrived home. It was going to be considerably easier that way.

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Leslie sipped her cup of freshly brewed coffee and contemplated her kitchen. She had wanted to cook a Valentine dinner for Anne as a surprise. Unfortunately things had not gone quite according to plan. At least the smoke alarm had stopped blaring. Either the battery had gone flat or the smell of burnt lasagne sauce had finally dissipated. Perhaps she could close the windows now. It was getting a trifle chilly with all of them, plus the garden door, hanging wide open.

The lasagne had been her third attempt. The first had been a curry; Anne’s favourite food was Indian. That had spot-welded itself to the saucepan and she might never be able to get the pan clean. The second had been a lamb casserole. That had set fire to the oven and only the fact that she kept an extinguisher handy had stopped the whole kitchen going up in flames. The pan the lasagne sauce was in had melted, aluminium was such fragile stuff, but at least she wouldn’t have to clean that one.

She thought about trying something else but decided against it. It was nearly midnight, she was tired, and the neighbours probably wouldn’t thank her if they were woken by the fire brigade. Perhaps she should buy a take-away Indian meal instead. She’d think about it in the morning.

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Leslie stood on Anne’s doorstep and practiced some deep breathing in an attempt to stop the elephants in hob-nailed boots from stamping on the butterflies that were dancing in her stomach.  The balloons were packed in carefully, bumping slightly against the roof of the porch, but otherwise stable. The card was propped up carefully. The roses were in water. She’d panicked when she’d realised that not only did she not have a vase she didn’t even have a jam-jar she could put them in. The plastic measuring jug wasn’t ideal but it was all she had. Now all she needed to do was ring the bell.

What if she’d made a huge mistake? What if Anne didn’t really want her? What if after all this time she wrecked a good friendship?

“Come on you pillock. She kissed you. Ring the damn’ bell.”

The door opened. Leslie heard Anne laugh. "Where are you, you idiot? Come out of hiding."

Leslie stood and held out a red rose. "It's St Valentine's Day, didn't you know? Be mine?"

"You lovable idiot. It's always been you too. I gave you so many hints and you didn't see a single one. What's that line? None so blind...Come here." Anne pulled Leslie towards her and kissed her.

As they drew apart Leslie sighed. "You make my knees go weak. I always thought that was just a cheesy line to use in stories, but it isn't. You really do make my knees buckle." 

"So where are you taking me for my valentine dinner?" Anne rested her forehead against Leslie's.

"Erm... my house?"

Anne laughed and kissed her again. "Sounds good to me."

Leslie couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. Damn! Life was good.

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