The Perfect Fit - A Psychic Romance, Laney's Past Life & Love (4 page)

Having made a great start over the past couple of days I needed a change of scenery and the gentle hustle and bustle around the cafe provides a pleasant backdrop hum that I can easily ignore and it somehow seemed to help my concentration.

I pick up my journal, intending to just move it out of the way, but as I do, it occurs to me that writing about the past life memories had been stirring up all sorts of things in me. And it might be a good idea to write them down, to get them out of the way before I start properly on my novel.

"There you go love."

"Oh great. Thanks Cath." I make room for the Mocha and the homemade flapjack on the table.

Taking a sip of hot coffee and a bite of flapjack, I sit back in my chair, looking at the houses and people across the street and beyond to the horizon. Watching the top of a tree swaying gently, just visible over the clay roof tiles on the house opposite, a random thought pops in that I should draw the scene from the lake.

It has been a while since I've sketched and I'm no accomplished artist but every now and then I like to draw and sometimes they turn out quite good, even if I do reluctantly say so myself. Putting the cup back down on the saucer, propping my feet on the chair across from me, I open my journal and instead of writing I start to draw.

First a rough outline to define the shape of the lake boundary, a couple of inverted V shapes to indicate the top of the tree line and then some light sketchy strokes, picking out the shape of the mountains and the flat plateau shapes. It's actually coming together quite well, every now and then I smudge the pencil strokes, creating a grey haze effect for shadows and contours.

It's a strange skyline, but that is what I saw and it feels good to be drawing it. I'm aware I'm smiling away as if I was looking at photos of a recent holiday and remembering good times only just past.

The sketch is finished about the same time as the coffee and flapjack. Leaning back, I'm pretty pleased with the result. It's a really good likeness to the image that was in my head. It makes me want to write about the place and the feelings it stirs in me and so I start writing alongside the picture, in my journal. It all comes flooding out again, meeting Jeanne Pierre, the first time we made love, how special the place was, how amazing our love was, how good it felt. If nothing else, I figured it would be good practise for me writing about sex and love as it's not something I've done very much before. Certainly creative writing at school never included sexual creativity and other than cheques and accounts, I haven't put much on paper for years.

"Hi, can I take these away for you?"

"Oh yes, thank you. Actually, I might have a top up if that's ok?" It was Mr Gorgeous back again. I'd forgotten to ask Cath about him.

"Sure. Just the Mocha?"

"Yes please, a large one."

As he takes the plate and empty cup he continues.

"Cath said I should come over and say hi. Apparently we have common interests."

I looked completely blank.

"I'm Lawrence, Joe's Brother."

Ah the penny dropped. Back down as in back down stairs, obviously! Suddenly feeling stupid, I struggle for something sensible to say, settling for "Oh, hi, I'm Laney". I'm suddenly aware I'm blushing and feeling nervous or excited, probably both. A whole mixture of thoughts are running riot in my brain. Something along the lines of "Oh great, he's gorgeous. Oh shit.. he's gorgeous. Oh brilliant he's a writer. Oh crap he's a writer and he'll think my stuff is utter rubbish. He can't be single, there's no ring, he's bound to be attached, oh sod it he's gay." Temporarily interrupting the internal hysteria I somehow manage,

"Yeh, Cath mentioned you were a writer and that I should pick your brains when you were down. I didn't realise you were here." Instead of just stopping there I carry on with "Well, no, I knew you were here but I didn't know you were you." He laughs and I blush a deeper shade of strawberry than usual, I can tell by the intense heat in my cheeks. Great, he thinks I'm a total loser now. Surprisingly he didn't try and make a run for it. He calmly said it was ok and that he knew what I meant.

"And I remember serving you the other day. I haven't been to visit Joe and Cath for ages. I like to help out when it's busy". Hesitating he asks" Do you mind if I join you for a coffee, we can chat properly then?"

"No, of course not. That'll be nice."

"Great. Back in a second."

As he turns to go back inside, carrying away my cup and saucer, I hurriedly shove my journal under the chair to my left. Then it strikes me that I must look awful, with no make-up and undoubtedly windswept hair. Checking my reflection in the cafe window, I can see I'm not wrong and attempt to finger comb some order into my hair.

Shifting to sit more upright I smile, thinking it was nice of him to ask to have a coffee, even if he was told to. He genuinely seems a really nice guy. I'm surprised at how he made me feel; this excited anticipation is unusual for me but I feel strangely comfortable with it, with him. It's a relief at least I'm not totally numb to life after all. I am attracted to him. I'm not necessarily thinking that anything will actually happen between us. He will undoubtedly be attached or married but at least I know I can be attracted to someone. Maybe he is just a timely signal sent to show me I'm not a romantic void after all.

Returning with two very full mugs he pulls out the chair opposite me and sits down. Having regained a little composure I thank him for the coffee and ask where he lived normally.

"Rushellbury in Kent."

"Cute name, I've no idea where it is in Kent but it sounds nice. How long are you down for?"

"Not sure to be honest." His eyes and tone drop a little "Until I get fed up I suppose."

Sensing that might not be a wise topic to pursue, I change the subject.

"So, what is it you write?"

His eyes sparkle and his irresistible mouth curves into the most delicious smile, "Words usually."

"Very funny!" I laugh, as that is exactly the same sort of stupid retort I would give and I'm glad the mood has shifted back to feeling light.

"Well I've had a couple of short stories published and the odd poem, nothing spectacular. Cath always bigs me up but I'm not professional or anything. I just like words. And writing helps me get stuff out of my system. Bit of the creative type, you know. How about you?"

He has a gorgeous smile but his eyes look kind of sad. Not wanting to stare I take another quick sip of coffee.

"I'm only just starting, whether it will come to anything or not I don't know. But unless I give it a try I won't know. Now seems to be a good time. I was struggling with it until a few days ago but now I've got the thread of an idea, I'm finding it easier. The hardest part was getting started but now I have, I'm feeling much better about it."

"Ditto. I'm exactly the same. Sometimes it's starting with the actual idea and sometimes it is just physically starting. Some days I don't want to even look at the laptop but once I open it up and start banging away on the keys, it all starts to flow."

We chatted for a few more minutes. Lawrence was funny and attentive. I felt really at ease with him, I figured it was probably because we had similar interests and it was nice to talk to someone who understood. He was genuinely interesting to talk to and I was enjoying myself. I logged another mental note, I can enjoy myself, this is enjoyable.

It was fast approaching lunchtime and the cafe was getting busy, as if reading my mind, Lawrence looked to the cafe entrance "I'm sorry, I ought to give Cath a hand."

"Yeh sure".

"She's got a private function on later, so it'll be a bit manic. Do you fancy a coffee and a walk along the front tomorrow though?"

"Yes, why not ,that'll be lovely. About 10?"

"Sounds great. Shall we meet here?"

"Yep! The weather is supposed to be good for the next few days."

More people are arriving. I get up to leave. I'm eager to move as I am frightened my Cheshire cat smile might soon get to the totally gormless stage. Grabbing my polka dot rucksack I nod to some people waiting for a table.

"This table is free, I'm just leaving" and turning to Lawrence" I smile and say "See you in the morning."

With that I pretty much skipped home. I was feeling relieved as I couldn't remember the last time I felt so animated, maybe my years of numbness were finally coming to an end. It was just coffee and conversation but it felt like something good had happened. Yes, I liked him, yes it would be great if something happened between us but even if it didn't it meant my senses weren't dead and if nothing else I'd found someone I genuinely enjoyed talking with, maybe my hermit days were drawing to a close too. Perhaps the universe
is
listening and responding but it can't really be that simple can it?

I was up bright and early this morning. I'm really looking forward to meeting up with Lawrence again. Plus, spurred on by how I was feeling I started properly on my manuscript yesterday, once I got back. There was so much buzzing around in my head and I wanted to record how welcome the excited jitters were and all the different sensations and emotions I was feeling.

I'd decided that Anna was the main character in the novel and I started acquainting myself with her, obviously putting a lot of myself in but adding extras here and there. I'd attached the tiny keyboard to my Ipad and had found it easier to start typing. My notebook was great for notes and ideas but I didn't want to write the entire thing longhand. Plus it would be easier to print it off and check it periodically this way as sometimes when I frantically scribble I have trouble deciphering my writing as it tends to look distinctly hieroglyphic.

I showered, spending more time in there than usual. Something about Lawrence made me feel attractive and womanly and I liked that. It was nothing he had said or done, it was just something I felt. Bizarre. "You are crazy" I said to myself in the mirror, combing my wet hair. Still I was happy and even more so, because I recognised how good I felt.

It took at least forty five minutes, to get dressed, changed and dressed again. And again. Typically opting for the first outfit. How complicated could jeans and a jumper be? It was going to be covered by a jacket anyway, because despite the sunshine, there was usually a bit of a breeze down by the sea. Even this though, made me smile, I was glad I was that bothered. Give me these kind of jitters over numbness any day.

I still had time to kill. Looking about, trying to think of something to do, I plumped the cushions on the sofa, washed up my mug from my morning cup of tea. I hadn't eaten any breakfast, I wasn't hungry at all. I was impatient to get going but there was a good hour to go yet.

"Come on, get a grip."

I talk to myself more and more these days but I'd always found it quietly reassuring. Ah that's it, I know what to do, I'll write in my journal for a bit, get some of this light headedness out, so I'm not all dithery and acting like a teenage girl when I see Lawrence.

Going out to the hallway and picking up my rucksack with one hand I rummage about inside with the other. Not being able to find it straight away, I move into the sitting room, where there is more light and plonking the bag on the sofa, I start taking everything out.

It's amazing the amount of stuff you accumulate in a bag, it doesn't matter what kind of bag. A rucksack, a carrier bag, a handbag they are all capable of hiding a bizarre collection of treasure and trash.

Healthy seed bar wrappers, pencils, rubber, notebook, ugh black banana skin that's obviously been stuck there for a while. Drink bottle tops minus the drinking bottle, part of a key chain, a couple of pound coins and a dirty twenty pence piece. But no journal. Looking around I try to remember where I must have put it.

"Where did I use it last? What was I writing?" Scanning my brain, I try to think where I must have sat to write in it last, I don't remember writing in it last night, I was on the Ipad. Oh crap!

A stone walloped unceremoniously in the pit of my stomach. Crap! The chair at the cafe. Leaving in a hurry yesterday, I'd picked up my bag but had forgotten the journal. I'd moved it from view before Lawrence had sat down. I hadn't wanted him to think that it was my book in progress nor explain what it really was and how messed up my life was.

Oh God, maybe it'll still be on the chair. Oh no! Of course it won't, I'd told those other people they could sit down. Oh no! What if they've read it? Crap, all my personal stuff, my sad and sorry existence is bleated out in that bloody book. Worse still, what if they handed it in to Cath or passed it round and they all had a bloody good laugh at my expense?

Shit, shit, shit! Do I pretend it's not mine? Do I ask about it? Do I laugh it off? Could I laugh it off? Now I'm not looking forward to the walk at all. What the hell am I going to do? Oh my God and that last entry about making love with all the lusty details! How desperate will they think I am? Then I try to reason that maybe no one has looked inside and that it might have simply been handed in. Is that possible? Can you pick up a book and not open it, especially one you come across when you're not expecting it? Of course you bloody can't.

Totally gutted, I pull on my jacket. I'm really not in the mood for a walk and small talk now. I try to put it out of my mind but I can't. Shutting the door behind me, I head off to the ensuing humiliation that I have no option but to face.

I can see from a distance that Lawrence is sat outside, perched on the low wall to the left of the cafe entrance. He looks effortlessly handsome and despite my churning stomach, I can't help but be pleased to see him sitting there waiting for me.

"Morning, How are you?" He moves to greet me, European style, with an air kiss on both cheeks. He smells lovely but I'm still preoccupied by the thought that my innermost world has been blasted to possibly public scrutiny and ridicule.

"Morning. Good, thanks, well sort of."

"Sort of?" He looked concerned.

"Oh, I think I left my journal here yesterday."