bride stones

She loved him, so he must love her.

StoryKettle » Amy » bride stones

Copyright © 2018, Michael M Wayman

There was no road, no car park and no kiosk selling tea and souvenirs. You had to walk there, the three of them had to walk, there was a rough path.

Halfway there they stopped to look at the view, there was always a view, sometimes spectacular and sometimes better. Jimmie wrapped his arms around the police­woman and around Amy, he liked doing that, he knew that he had strong feelings for both of them.

But he could not describe those feelings, he had no words for that, words were not his thing. Nor could he say that his feelings were greater for one of the girls, he could not compare, Jimmie didn't think that way, he said nothing about his feelings.

He did know that he had to express his feelings much stronger on Amy in the hope that she would stay. Amy had suddenly appeared into his life and she had said that she would soon disappear. Jimmie did not want her to go, he hugged and cuddled Amy frequently.

And the policewoman too, she had also appeared suddenly into his life at three in the morning in Jimmie's bedrooom. So hugs and cuddles and kisses it was.

The bride stones were spectacular, like huge mushrooms made of rock. Amy rested on the stem of one of the stones, it was warm, sunshine warm. She watched Jimmie with his camera and the police­woman wandering around the stones.

There was something very real about Jimmie. He had a real name. He did things, not everything, but what he did do he did right. She had had no name, Jimmie named her Amy. The police­woman had had no name, Jimmie named her police­woman.

What Amy could not understand was everything that was important to her. Jimmie's feelings towards her and her feelings towards him. Likewise for the police­woman. Were they real? Were they love?

Amy came from a time and place without men, men were not needed, men were not good, the last of the men were long gone before Amy came to be. Of course Amy had seen old videos of men, but Jimmie was not like those men, there was nothing macho about Jimmie. Did he love her? Did she love him? She didn't know.

How can I be sure In a world that's constantly changin'? How can I be sure Where I stand with you?

Amy had had many girlfriends, but none were like the police­woman, none at all. The police­woman remained police­woman because she wanted to remain being a police­woman. Did she love her? Did she love her? She didn't know. But what Amy did know was that she would soon leave this time and place, that was certain.

They wandered back to Jimmie's car – hugs and cuddles and kisses – and drove to the Spick and Span pub for a pie and a pint. They sat in the sunshine, held hands and daydreamed. Jimmie thought about the nine girls – what trouble were the girls in now? Amy was thinking about the tin bath tub hanging on the wall in the cottage.

The policewoman was looking at Jimmie, he looked a bit dim when you first met him, but he was clever in his own way. He was the best guy she had ever fallen in love with. It was Jimmie who had arranged the week's holiday on the moors, it was Jimmie who had hired the cottage. It was wonderful to get away for a week. She loved him, so he must love her.

Amy was pretty and bright and very clever, she could make things happen by staring at them. She was the best girl the police­woman had ever fallen in love with, best out of one that is. She loved her, so she must love her.

Why did Amy have to leave? The police­woman did not know. She didn't want Amy to leave. But the police­woman herself could disappear too, she could be ordered to the other end of the country just like that. She had already spent days in Big City because of riots; she had hated it.

Another walk, circular and not so spectacular like the bride stones, but longer with more views and long abandoned stone cottages and mine workings. Keep to the paths, there were dangerous bogs and deep mine shafts.

They returned to the cottage, was it primitive. Cold water from a pump on the big earthenware sink. No electricity. A fireplace, a coal scuttle with coal and old newspapers and candles. Fortunately it was June with long days and warm weather.

Amy cooked dinner on a small propane gas cooker. They discussed how they would bathe together in the tin bath in the morning. Jimmie pointed out that it was not tin-plated, but zinc-coated. The police­woman wanted Jimmie to scrub her back in the morning. They had fun.