Cassie Gordon stares through the window at the passing houses. They huddle in the drizzle, doors and curtains closed against the dreary afternoon. She has no idea what rain-soaked town this is and doesn’t care. All she can think about is Harry.
She opens her mobile phone and studies the photograph. Not that she needs to. She has memorised his features. Sandy hair flecked with grey, brown eyes surrounded by a web of fine lines. Caused by laughter or worry? Who cares as long as he’s nice. She smiles at the irony. Her mother always said Cassie should find a nice man, though she’s pretty sure this isn’t what Catherine Gordon meant.
With two fingers on the screen, Cassie zooms in on his face. One corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile. He looks bemused, as if he is surprised to find himself here, on an internet dating site.
According to his bio, Harry enjoys walks on the beach. He would like a woman to chat to while his dog explores their new surroundings. Cassie imagines the woman he would choose. Younger than himself, but not much. Smartly dressed but not flashy. Attractive. Intelligent and articulate.
Once she found Harry, it took all Cassie’s courage to select the ‘contact’ option and send a message. Two days of nail-biting followed while she waited for his reply. She almost cried with relief when his reply arrived. She actually wept with joy when he invited her to spend a weekend with him. “We can walk along the beach,” he wrote. “Enjoy the sea air while we get to know each other.”
Yet again, Cassie imagines that first walk. It will rain, of course. Harry will find a convenient pub offering a wood fire and pub food. He’ll open the door, letting her go ahead into the welcoming warmth. They will remove their jackets, congratulating themselves on finding shelter. She will laugh as Harry shakes raindrops from her jacket and hangs it next to his own. Seated side by side near the fire they might share a bottle of wine while they decide between the roast and the curry. Or perhaps he prefers fish. Cassie loves fish but hates to cook it because the smell hangs around the little flat for days after. Harry won’t order dessert. He’ll be keen to maintain the trim figure displayed on his profile page. In all his photos he appears well presented, unlike so many other men she examined in her search. But of course, Harry will say, if Cassie would like dessert, that’s fine. And she will offer to share the bill, but he will laugh and insist on paying for them both.
Cassie turns off her phone and leans against the window. She wonders for the umpteenth time whether she is doing the right thing. Her mother would have a fit at the idea of Cassie spending a weekend with this man. But her mother has been gone almost a year now. After Catherine’s death, with no family and few friends, Cassie saw her life for what it was. Years spent obeying instructions, taking care of her mother’s needs and wants. Not even living someone else’s dreams, just ignoring her own.
Is that why she is here now? Is this simply a belated rebellion against her mother? She hopes not. It took months to find Harry, hours trawling through dating apps and photographs. Weeks more to find the courage to contact him. And what does she really know about this man, this Harry Jackson? Are the photos real or did he choose them at random from some online photo store? In his profile Harry claims to be unmarried, with no family, finding life lonely since moving to the coast. Cassie wonders if it’s true. Does he really walk on the beach with his dog? Does he even have a dog? Is his ideal evening truly spent at home with a glass of red wine, soft music and a good book? Or does he prefer whisky and action movies, or a cocktail in some dingy club staffed by topless waitresses?
And what will Harry think of her, with her sandy-coloured hair and pale skin? Her deep brown eyes are her best feature. Her blue-eyed mother always said her eyes were all Cassie inherited from her father. If Harry doesn’t like the look of her, will he find an excuse to cancel dinner, abandon her to spend the weekend alone in this dreary town?
Cassie sits up, stretches and glances at her watch. Time to get her act together. She stands, picks up her bag and makes her way off the bus. The rain has stopped and a rainbow lights up the sky. A good omen? She hopes so.
Clutching her bag, Cassie tries to ignore the churning in her stomach. She looks both ways along the street before crossing to the hotel. Inside the foyer she hesitates and runs a trembling hand over her hair before pushing open the door to the lounge.
At first the room appears empty. Perhaps she’s too early. Or he’s late. Or he lost his nerve and decided not to come after all. But as her eyes adjust she sees someone sitting in the centre of the room, facing the door. On a table next to him stands an empty glass. Maybe he downed a quick whisky to bolster his courage. Cassie wishes for a second that she could do the same. With a soft thump, the door closes behind her. Beside the chair, a spaniel raises its head and gives a single wag of its tail before settling back down.
The man stands, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.
Cassie feels relief wash over her. It’s him, Harry. He looks just like his photo.
Harry smiles as he embraces her. His sweater smells of the sea.
“Cassie,” says her father. “At last.”
* * *
She opens her mobile phone and studies the photograph. Not that she needs to. She has memorised his features. Sandy hair flecked with grey, brown eyes surrounded by a web of fine lines. Caused by laughter or worry? Who cares as long as he’s nice. She smiles at the irony. Her mother always said Cassie should find a nice man, though she’s pretty sure this isn’t what Catherine Gordon meant.
With two fingers on the screen, Cassie zooms in on his face. One corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile. He looks bemused, as if he is surprised to find himself here, on an internet dating site.
According to his bio, Harry enjoys walks on the beach. He would like a woman to chat to while his dog explores their new surroundings. Cassie imagines the woman he would choose. Younger than himself, but not much. Smartly dressed but not flashy. Attractive. Intelligent and articulate.
Once she found Harry, it took all Cassie’s courage to select the ‘contact’ option and send a message. Two days of nail-biting followed while she waited for his reply. She almost cried with relief when his reply arrived. She actually wept with joy when he invited her to spend a weekend with him. “We can walk along the beach,” he wrote. “Enjoy the sea air while we get to know each other.”
Yet again, Cassie imagines that first walk. It will rain, of course. Harry will find a convenient pub offering a wood fire and pub food. He’ll open the door, letting her go ahead into the welcoming warmth. They will remove their jackets, congratulating themselves on finding shelter. She will laugh as Harry shakes raindrops from her jacket and hangs it next to his own. Seated side by side near the fire they might share a bottle of wine while they decide between the roast and the curry. Or perhaps he prefers fish. Cassie loves fish but hates to cook it because the smell hangs around the little flat for days after. Harry won’t order dessert. He’ll be keen to maintain the trim figure displayed on his profile page. In all his photos he appears well presented, unlike so many other men she examined in her search. But of course, Harry will say, if Cassie would like dessert, that’s fine. And she will offer to share the bill, but he will laugh and insist on paying for them both.
Cassie turns off her phone and leans against the window. She wonders for the umpteenth time whether she is doing the right thing. Her mother would have a fit at the idea of Cassie spending a weekend with this man. But her mother has been gone almost a year now. After Catherine’s death, with no family and few friends, Cassie saw her life for what it was. Years spent obeying instructions, taking care of her mother’s needs and wants. Not even living someone else’s dreams, just ignoring her own.
Is that why she is here now? Is this simply a belated rebellion against her mother? She hopes not. It took months to find Harry, hours trawling through dating apps and photographs. Weeks more to find the courage to contact him. And what does she really know about this man, this Harry Jackson? Are the photos real or did he choose them at random from some online photo store? In his profile Harry claims to be unmarried, with no family, finding life lonely since moving to the coast. Cassie wonders if it’s true. Does he really walk on the beach with his dog? Does he even have a dog? Is his ideal evening truly spent at home with a glass of red wine, soft music and a good book? Or does he prefer whisky and action movies, or a cocktail in some dingy club staffed by topless waitresses?
And what will Harry think of her, with her sandy-coloured hair and pale skin? Her deep brown eyes are her best feature. Her blue-eyed mother always said her eyes were all Cassie inherited from her father. If Harry doesn’t like the look of her, will he find an excuse to cancel dinner, abandon her to spend the weekend alone in this dreary town?
Cassie sits up, stretches and glances at her watch. Time to get her act together. She stands, picks up her bag and makes her way off the bus. The rain has stopped and a rainbow lights up the sky. A good omen? She hopes so.
Clutching her bag, Cassie tries to ignore the churning in her stomach. She looks both ways along the street before crossing to the hotel. Inside the foyer she hesitates and runs a trembling hand over her hair before pushing open the door to the lounge.
At first the room appears empty. Perhaps she’s too early. Or he’s late. Or he lost his nerve and decided not to come after all. But as her eyes adjust she sees someone sitting in the centre of the room, facing the door. On a table next to him stands an empty glass. Maybe he downed a quick whisky to bolster his courage. Cassie wishes for a second that she could do the same. With a soft thump, the door closes behind her. Beside the chair, a spaniel raises its head and gives a single wag of its tail before settling back down.
The man stands, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.
Cassie feels relief wash over her. It’s him, Harry. He looks just like his photo.
Harry smiles as he embraces her. His sweater smells of the sea.
“Cassie,” says her father. “At last.”
* * *