Page 4 of Read Between The Lines

‘Speaking of… Brian’s sent another message.’ I felt my insides glow just seeing his name on the screen. He was always so attentive and thoughtful, even though the nature of his job made it difficult for him to be in touch as often as he said he wanted to be.

‘When? What’s he said? Tell me everything,’ Moira said, bustling over to peek at my screen.

‘Give me a chance to read it myself,’ I chided gently. ‘It was sent an hour ago. I must’ve missed it. You can’t hear anything over that squeaky trolley. Remind me to have a look at it; it was attracting complaints earlier.’ I couldn’t help glancing towards the business section where the chairs were still askew thanks to their earlier occupant.

‘Never mind work. What has the Sexy Soldier got to say for himself?’

‘You’re right.’ Why was I letting the annoying guy with the clumpy boots distract me from Brian?

I quickly swiped the message open, read it, then read it again, just to make sure I hadn’t got the wrong end of the stick.

‘Oh my goodness. Brian’s coming home to Oxford. At last.’

My pulse instantly quickened in anticipation as my imagination ran wild with thoughts about what it would be like to finally see him, smell him, touch him…

‘And?’ pressed Moira, bringing me back to reality.

‘And he wants to take me to The Ivy for dinner as soon as he gets back.’

‘The Ivy? Fancy. The man has good taste. Although we knew that already, because he’s fallen for you.’

‘You flatterer, you. His unit’s being brought home earlier than expected and he’s now due back this Friday.’

‘Better and better.’ Moira began hummingLet’s Get It Onunder her breath.

The butterflies started fluttering in my stomach. The moment I’d been dreaming about for weeks was soon to become reality.

‘What on earth am I going to wear?’

ChapterTwo

Inormally didn’t bother leaving the library during my lunch break, preferring to eat in the back room, in case I was needed. But with the imminent arrival of Brian, I decided to make an exception. The Oxford Community Library would need to manage for an hour without me while I made an emergency foray to the shops. After staring into the abyss, otherwise known as my wardrobe, and coming up with zero inspiration, I’d spent the last few evenings doing some panic internet shopping. My bank account was taking a beating, especially as I’d forked out extra for fast delivery, but none of the clothes I’d purchased had felt right.

Somehow it had got to Friday, and I still hadn’t found the perfect outfit for our first date, hence the last-minute dash to the shops. At least my workplace was handily situated in a side street just behind the Ashmolean Museum and only minutes from a wealth of retail options. After extracting a promise from Moira to summon me back if it all kicked off, I hurried out of the library, crossed the road near the Randolph Hotel and dived into the chaos that was Cornmarket Street. It seemed like half the world and his wife were out and about this lunchtime, making the most of the spring sunshine to enjoy some retail therapy. They all looked much more relaxed than I’m sure I did. The only thing worse than having no date clothes was wearing ones purchased in a panic. The fear was real.

Weaving my way through the crowds, I paused briefly in front of a shoe shop window, before sternly telling myself I shouldn’t get distracted by metallic pink Mary Janes with contrast pearl-effect buckles, especially when I didn’t have an outfit to match them with yet. Of course, I knew that it shouldn’t really matter what I wore to meet Brian for the first time, and that, if our relationship was meant to be– like I assumed it was– I could turn up in sackcloth and ashes and it wouldn’t make a jot of difference. But as a matter of personal pride, I wanted to look my best and, more importantly, I knew a good outfit would give me a much-needed confidence boost. It wasn’t that I was completely wracked with anxiety about our first date, although there was definitely a jangling sensation of nervousness alongside the dreamy anticipation, but it felt like there was a lot riding on it. We’d been exchanging messages back and forth for a while now, sharing confidences, and opening up to each other in a way I’d never experienced before. It felt like we were developing something truly special. Try as I might not to get carried away, the eternally optimistic voice of hope at the back of my mind kept repeating that Brian could very well be The One, and that many years in the future, the pair of us would look back at this momentous first date and reminisce happily about how it had changed our lives forever. I did not want us to look back and remember how I’d turned up looking like the result of an explosion in a fashion factory.

The decision fatigue hit me properly on the third floor of a department store, weighed down by armfuls of clothes, none of which I liked. There were just so many outfits to choose from, and I didn’t have a clue where to pitch my dress level. I didn’t want to look like I’d gone to excessive amounts of effort, but equally I couldn’t exactly turn up at a fancy restaurant in my current work attire of smart(ish) jeans and Converse, could I? They’d probably take one look at me and refuse entry, then I’d have to ask them to summon Brian over to vouch for me. I really didn’t want his first sight of me to be as I was being escorted from the premises by the maître d’.

I wandered aimlessly between the racks of brightly coloured jumpsuits and flouncy dresses, trying, and failing, to picture myself in any of them. The models in the pictures on the walls looked effortlessly chic, the clothing complementing their confident, happy-go-lucky demeanour, whereas I was afraid that these outfits would wear me, rather than the other way round.

‘Can I help you?’ asked an eager assistant, homing in on my general air of agitation.

In normal circumstances, I would have smiled and beat a hasty retreat, but today I reluctantly acknowledged that I needed all the help I could get and nodded in a slightly dazed way.

‘What’s the occasion?’ she asked kindly.

‘It’s a first date. But it’s a different kind of first date because we’ve been talking for two months so we’re potentially a bit further on than the phrase “first date” would suggest. He’s in the military so he’s been out of the country for ages, but now he’s coming back at last, so it’s kind of a big deal. But I don’t want him to think that I think it’s a big deal.’ I spoke so fast that I’m sure some of my words merged into each other. ‘Sorry, I bet you wish you hadn’t asked.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I get where you’re coming from. You want to look cool and in control, gorgeous, but without seeming like you’re trying too hard. In other words, the Holy Grail of fits.’

My heart sank. Was she trying to let me down gently by pointing out that I needed a miracle? Clearly, I was asking too much. But her next words gave me some hope.

‘I got you. I reckon I have the perfect option.’

She bustled around the racks, picking out a sunny yellow tea dress with a delicate white polka dot pattern, and a denim jacket to go with it.

‘You can dress it up with heels, or go for more of a smart-casual look with the Converse you’re already wearing. They’re great, really on trend. Either option, you’re guaranteed to hit the right tone.’

---