Rupert had asked me over the phone to meet him outside the corner bakery so that’s where I went – and waited, and waited.
Eventually he turned up. Why on the street outside the bakery I have no idea.
He said he would risk all by saying what he was going to say and blurted out that he loved me and he couldn’t think of anything else other than me and he was besotted and beside himself with infatuation and so on and so forth. Would I be his friend and could we go out?
I told him to jump in the lake. He left, and since I was there I went into the bakery and bought some buns.
It should have been the happiest day of her life – well, perhaps it should have been one of the four happiest days of her life because this was her fourth marriage – but Mary was in a foul mood. Nothing was going right for this wedding. Nothing had gone right during the preparations. And now (she had discovered this only during the wedding rehearsal the night before) she was infatuated by the best man.
He was so handsome, so masculine, so… so unlike the little weedy creature she was meant to get married to in a few hours. Dirk was Rupert’s best man. They had been life time friends. Mary had no idea why. They were so different. They had nothing in common. Rupert spent his free time reading and playing mah-jong on his computer. Dirk was into tennis and fishing and mountain climbing. And he had spent time in the army – not to mention the time he spent in the gym.
Oh! What to do? What to do? Should she call the wedding off? There was a toaster and a few other bits and pieces among the wedding gifts she liked. It would be churlish to call the wedding off.
Suddenly, Mary’s foul mood disappeared. She had a thought! She would go through with the wedding. Of course, the marriage would quickly crumble, but it would be a good way of getting to Dirk.
Every day Bridget hoped for rain even though she wasn’t a gardener or a farmer or something. She was simply a receptionist at a factory down town. Each morning she caught the bus to work. There was no shelter at the bus stop, just a sign that said “Bus Stop” on the side of the road.
At the bus stop each day was this guy – she didn’t know his name – but he was what Bridget would call “fairly hunky” and he was the only other one – usually – at the bus stop and once he said “Hi” but normally he would just nod and smile and then they’d wait a few yards apart and not say anything like they were too nervous to speak or something. And anyway, they caught different buses.
And the time he did say “Hi” Bridget was too excited to say anything and just answered “Yes”, which was a silly thing to say if someone says “Hi”.
And day after day he was there throughout the summer months, and now it was heading towards autumn and it was dark when she went down to the bus stop.
Sometimes there were two or three other people at the bus stop but they weren’t regular like Bridget and the fairly hunky guy. And it still hadn’t rained, and every day Bridget hoped for rain even though she wasn’t a gardener or a farmer or something.
She hoped for rain because the fairly hunky guy always carried an umbrella. And if the truth be known, the fairly hunky guy always carried an umbrella because he hoped for rain.