28-year-old Darren Beckley was a freelance Landscape Gardener and always walked to and from work, and on the way home he liked to call in at the shop, to see someone special.
Rebecca O'Toole, who was the
Postmistress at Jardine’s General Store/Post Office in Spaniards Creek, her
husband Peter played the role of shop manager, but it was his younger wife who
did all the work, along with a few additional staff.
Rebecca was a year older than
Derren, and he loved her to distraction, unfortunately she was already married.
It all began with some
harmless flirtation, he would flirt outrageously with her and she would flirt
back, but then one day as she handed him his magazine, she let go of it before
he had hold of it properly in his grip and as they both reached to recover it,
their hands touched and he thought it was like a mild electricity passing
between them, and he could tell by her expression that she felt it too.
There were many such
momentary touches, and they were always accompanied by the same tingling
sensation but other than the flirting and brush of fingertip on hand nothing
ever came of it because she was not free.
Also, it was all tacit,
nothing had been said, no feelings had been expressed, and he had wanted to
make it plain to her, and not just flirt and accidentally caress her hand.
So, on one Tuesday before
Christmas when he went to buy the Christmas Radio Times, she was alone in the
shop and there were no prying eyes, and as they were in a CCTV blind spot, he
blatantly held her hand in his and caressed the back of it with the other, he
would have liked to kiss her too, but he knew that was going too far.
“You’re not free, so I can’t
say that I love you” he said
“I know” she gasped
“But it’s true nonetheless”
“I know that too” she replied
quietly
“And I would kiss you if I
could, but I know I can’t, so you will have to imagine me doing it instead,
until I can”
“I do that every day” She
replied and squeezed his hand and would not have relinquished it if another
customer hadn’t entered the shop.
So, their intimate moment had
passed until another day.
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