NEIL
I couldn’t really sleep that night, my nerves all over the place. What if I got another stiffy while talking to her, for example? I woke again at about four, and realised I wasn’t going to drop off again. I rolled over in bed to light up my computer, and yes, there was a room in Durham. Before I could chicken out, I booked it. I doubted that the B and B would complain, as they would keep my money for the extra nights, and kept the space to fit in another guest.

The trouble was that I was aroused once more, but I didn’t feel it would be the right thing to do given what she had said.

‘Lovely eyes. Lights up the room’

I knew it could only end in disappointment, almost certainly—No. For me, not for both of us.

The day was productive, as I covered some of the shingle fields beside the nascent South Tyne as well as the sheen of the setts in Alston’s high street after a rain shower passed through. I was always fascinated by the way water changed the reflections from and colour of rocks, as well as how frost worked so much magic.

I stashed the rolls with the others, and headed back to my digs, where the rest of my things were waiting for me. A quick farewell and thank you to my hosts went a little off track.

“Why the rush off, Mr Strachan?”

“A friend, Mrs Milburn. I didn’t realise they would be in Durham while I was here”

“What are you planning?”

“I have a portrait to do, then we’re going to the Wall”

“Ooh! I did a school trip there! Digging up a town: Vindolanda. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please do”

“There’s a place, a little temple. Bit hidden away. Thing is, us here, well, when all the roads close in Winter, we expect it. Poor lads from Rome, well, all new to them, aye? Place is called Brocolitia. It’s a little yemple, and I always imagine it full of lads, all fuggy, doors shut against the weather. To me it’s what the Wall is about. Not bloody Sycamore Gap. Silly bloody film, that”

As I straddled my bike, Mrs Milburn said something I only half heard, but it seemed to be something about ‘her’ having sense. I set off back to Alston for the right hook into Weardale and the long, long descent to Durham City.

It wasn’t a bad ride, although I saw multiple sites that absolutely shouted for another visit. Durham’s traffic was a little difficult, but being on a bike solved most of the problems, and my new hotel had a back yard for the bike. My sleep wasn’t conspicuous by its presence, even though I had to wait into the evening before they confirmed I did have a room, so ended up very tired.

Breakfast was wonderful, though, and I steadily worked my way through porridge, yoghurt, full English…

“Neil!”

She was sitting down as she spoke, waving at the waitress for another pot of tea.

“You didn’t say you’d be here. You should have said”

“I didn’t know if I could get a room till late”

MADDY
He was sitting in the hotel dining room when I managed to drag my sleepless body from its pit. He was on the Full English lardathon, but as that was my own intended naughtiness, . Who cared? I took the seat opposite him and ordered a second pot of tea. He didn’t seem to realise how much his presence had thrown me, but it was so clearly a failing that was a feature, to mangle a meme. It was an act of the same kind as his buying me a new tyre, in that he saw something he thought needed doing, and bang, it got done.

I lowered my voice.

“Remember when we spoke at the show? When you told me about letting you know when you spoke too much”

“Yes”

“Well, this is a bit like that. Some things you need to discuss before you do them. I…”

Wind it in a little bit, Madeleine.

“I am not unhappy you are here, Neil. I am just surprised. If you had texted me, or called, saying you were coming to the same hotel, I wouldn’t have had such a surprise”

Pause once more, then try and lift it.

“It’s not a nasty surprise, though. I am really glad to see you. Why this hotel, though?”

He put down a forkful of black pudding.

“It was the only one I knew of”

“And so?”

“I booked a room but when I got here they said I had to wait till after ten o’clock because my booking hadn’t been done properly but they weren’t sure if another booking had been really cancelled and I had to wait until they were sure I could have the room but I set my alarm so that I didn’t miss breakfast”

“Pause, Neil”

He blinked.

“Sorry, Maddy. I… What you said. Eyes. I haven’t had anything said to me like that before”

To my astonishment, he continued speaking, in as normal a manner as anyone else.

“Usually it’s been abuse, things like ‘Spacker’. I know I get it wrong; it’s an interface problem. I need a filter”

“Could I help?”

Once again, he simply stared at me, but then he smiled, and things were so much better.

“You already are, Maddy”

Relief slapped me hard, just as my own plate of grease arrived.

“Then we need to have a bit of a chat on the way to the appointment, then, as well as, if you still want to, that is: find a helmet, and gloves. Could you please do me a favour in a couple of minutes?”

“What do you need?”

“Over by the toast machine. They’ve got crumpets, and I love crumpets, with butter and blackcurrant jam”

I couldn’t help the laugh that followed, because there I was, looking at his eyes and talking about crumpet, oh my. I found an excuse for the laughter, somehow.

“Neil, I have spent a lot of time in hotels, and when I was just starting, things were really tight, so I used to make sandwiches from the Continental breakfast, usually ham and cheese, and sneak them out wrapped in paper napkins, hidden in my handbag. That would be my lunch”

Count your words, Gibson. Don’t gush. That’s Neil’s job---

The unconscious double meanings just kept coming, and there was another one. Bloody HRT. Neil asked simply “And so?”

“Oh, it was one of the chain hotels, and I had thought I had sneakily sneaked my food, when one of the waitresses called to me as I left the restaurant. She held up a paper bag, asking if I wanted it for my lunch, and did I fancy some fruit as well”

It was Neil’s turn to laugh, which was nice, and I tried to bury my Freudian slips as that part of my mind wondered how he would react if I simply ripped off all of his clothes and…

Panic. That’s what he would do. It was an odd feeling, though, realising how much I did simply, physically, fancy him. It wasn’t just his eyes and smile, but once again that need to be wrapped up, held in strength and warmth, something I had never found, or at least not for long.

No. Do not announce it is ‘crumpet time’.

“Could you please do the trick with the toaster, Neil? Then I need to do my teeth and stuff. Once you’re ready, do you want to knock” NOT ‘me up’ “on my door? I’m in room twenty three”

“Okay”

After I had indulged myself with two crumpets, I left him to head off to his own room while I did my post-breakfast ablutions, wondering whether to change to a lower-cut top before remembering I was going to a church, and my own confusion was ramping up as that bloody cycle hit. Sod it, Gibson. Grow up: go with the flow, and see what comes up, and stop with the internal innuendo.

He knocked twice a quarter of an hour later, and I led him out of the hotel, pointing out where I had set my focus for the dawn shots I had taken, and the sunset contrast images.

“How tall is the tower, Maddy?”

“About two hundred feet, I think”

“We… I have pictures of The Organ Loft, and your photo of the real organ in that church, and they were all taken looking up with a lot of foreshortening. Can we try that?”

“We have the portraits to do”

“We can try the vertical shots on the way in”

“Works for me. Hang on a second”

I stopped walking when we reached the river bank, spotting a vacant wooden bench.

“Time for that chat, my friend”

He looked apprehensive, but settled himself on the bench, a clear distance between us. Don’t touch him, Mads. My traitor mind sniggered a quiet ‘yet’.

“Neil, none of this is going to be threatening, or painful, I hope. I need to clear some things up, for both of us, and I’d rather do it safely. Are you okay with that?”

His eyes were on the twin towers at the front of the Cathedral, but he was still talking.

“I will try, Maddy”

“Okay. You described me as attractive”

“Yes”

“You said you felt other things—no! Please: safe?”

He slumped back down, but he was hunched now, hands trembling slightly. I made sure I kept my hands away from him, despite the urge to reassure him with a pat or a squeeze of shoulder or hand.

“Neil, those things, they aren’t a problem. They’re rather flattering, to be honest, and I don’t get flattered much. I don’t get flattered at all by good-looking men. Not honestly, that is, and I don’t think you are actually able to be dishonest. I have dreams, Neil, and one of those is to do with my height”

“What’s wrong with your height?”

“It’s high, Neil, that’s what. Just once, I would like to feel small, pretty, precious. Sheltered. My height spoils that idea”

“You are pretty”

“Thank you, Neil. I know which of my prints you bought, and there’s a story there. I had set up the camera, lighting and so on. I normally take shots like that is sets of five, just in case, and as I pressed the button, the postman startled me”

His head turned suddenly, and I understood, waving a hand yet again, trying not to laugh.

“No, Neil! Not like that. Just put something heavy through the letter box, and I started, which is why you can see my, well”

I waved at my chest, and his eyes flicked down, but came back to mine almost immediately.

“Neil, yes, I have some. Two of them. There is nothing to be ashamed of if you find them, you know. So buying that print causes me no problems. It actually shows something of a victory in my life”

I turned slightly towards him, making sure I slid a little further away as I did so.

“I wasn’t always pretty, Neil, if that’s what I am”

“You are”

“Thank you once again, and you can keep telling me that all you want, but what you see has taken a lot of work. I have to tell you some important things, and it is best I do so right now. First, you are someone I find very attractive, physically. Well, at first. I mean, I still do find you physically attractive… Start again, woman. You are also kind beyond words, but that filter you mentioned, interface, whatever, I think that has marked you. I have another issue, but it has had something of the same effects. Tell me what you see, Neil. Please”

“A tall, pretty woman”

“Pretty in what way?”

“Um… Eyes that smile, mouth that laughs, long legs, um…”

He was starting to blush, but the next comment burst from his mouth almost of its own volition

“Lovely hips and lovely, um, er”

A word too far, but he did sort of wave at my chest, and I nodded.

“Thank you, Neil. Can you see how I am in no way offended? Could I do the same for you?”

He nodded, that same sharp, single movement.

“Okay. First things I noticed were your eyes, and they are lovely, even more so when you smile”

“Lights up the room, you said”

“Yes, and it does. You are also a big man, and I think you could put your chin on top of my head if we were standing together. Big enough to wrap me up, make me feel small, precious, as I said. But, and this is a big but, and an important but, and a final question before I say this. If we were to try getting close, closer than just friends, would that please you?”