the S word

Could she sweep aside the bad memories and finally find sweet love?

Iam sitting in a deckchair on our local beach enjoying the sunshine, listening to the gentle lap of the sea. I smile. As a child I was absolutely certain that all words beginning with “S” meant happiness. Sun and sea were good and so were sausages. As I grew older it was swings and slides, then when a teenager, smile, sex and finally Sam.

How I loved Sam, the boy who came to live next door. He was dark with such twinkling blue eyes and he was saucy – another S. We began dating and I was in seventh heaven, convinced it was because his name was Sam. I hung onto his every word and couldn’t imagine life without him. He called me sugar and spice Sally, even more nice Ss.

But one day he left. Being sugar and spice wasn’t enough for Sam. He yearned for adventure and didn’t want to be tied down to one girl who worked at the local vet’s surgery.

Sam’s main letter had become an A. He emigrated to Australia for adventure.

S never meant so much then. I carried on at the vets’ and decided I would remain single. The word spinster and sorrowful occasionally came to mind and I would stubbornly refuse to think of them.

That is until Mark almost fell into the surgery carrying his golden retriever who had been hit by a car. His hind leg was broken and shattered, and Ken the vet had explained he would try his best, but it was touch and go for the poor dog.

He was taken in for surgery immediately, and I could see the pain and anguish as Mark held his head in his hands. There was blood all over his T-shirt and tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without him, please let him recover.”

Nervously, I touched his arm – such a bronzed, muscle-bound arm – wow! Strange, it seemed to be sizzling. I wondered if he felt it also?

“The vet is operating now. He will do his best, try not to worry too much. Let’s hope he can save the leg.” T he leg was saved. Mark was beside himself with relief and offered to take both myself and Ken out to supper the next evening. Ken couldn’t make it, but of course I was delighted to accompany him. Well he had said supper and not dinner!

We ate a delicious steak and Mark explained that his gran had died, leaving him her dog, which he promised faithfully to keep safe and secure.

I was touched. “How very sensitive of you,” I murmured and nervously touched his arm again – that same bronzed, muscle-bound arm that I had touched the day before and it was still sizzling. I began thinking that perhaps I don’t want to be single any more.

Mark explained he was a tree surgeon and the dog came everywhere with him, enjoying all the open countryside. He lived right beside the beach. I in turn told him about my little cocker spaniel.

“Sukie is adorable. She stays with my mum while I’m at work and keeps her company. She’s golden, like your dog.”

He smiled, such a big, wide, honest smile that showed his lovely white teeth and made the crinkles in his eyes adorable. Even though he is a Mark I found myself falling in love all over again.

That night there were stars in my brown eyes and shimmers of starlight in my stomach. M ark and I often spend time on the beach near home and sit beneath the bright, sunny sky watching our two dogs race around together.

“They can smell the sausage rolls,” I laugh and Mark leans over me holding me in his arms. I turn my face upwards so we can kiss. “Come on, you two,” Mark calls to the dogs.

Sukie romps towards us first, followed by her new best friend, Sid!