Aggrieved. Romanced. Closer.
I saw three police officers in Barton earlier. That is unusual.
So, back from the FarNorth, and…
On a long stretch of the journey north, having changed train, Emma and I settled ourselves at facing table seats. Both looking a bit grey, we proceeded to have a thorough going-over-what-we-knew-and-what-we-needed-to-find-out re our imminent ‘assignment’. Indeed, how very MI5/CIA. Anyway, that going-over was proved to be good preparation as we were up-to-speed with our NorthernContacts from the off. The work part of the trip was unambiguously successful: we worked well together, and did what we went to do.
After the formal work-talk en route, we lapsed into lazy talk of personal histories. That included (as accurately recalled as possible)…
Emma: How do you and Siobhan generally get on?
Shane: (thinking ‘oh dear, where is this going?’) We get on well - generally. Though I sometimes take the brunt of her moods. (And after a moment of consideration) I think she gets a bit irritated at how well Catherine and me seem to get on.
Emma: Why?
Shane: Why what?
Emma: Why would that irritate her?
Shane: At the end of our brief whatever-it-was, I’m fairly sure that Siobhan was upset. Although I’m sure she’d disagree, I sometimes get the feeling that she’d still like to think of herself as number one – or something. I don’t know. She’ll be better off when she moves down to London – which should be soon. She’ll forget about me soon enough, I imagine contact will dwindle to nothing – it’s already nothing compared to what it used to be.
Emma: (looking a bit confused) So, have you and Catherine ever- er-
Shane: No. That would be weird. There’s never been that kind of thing. I think we just take turns at being each other’s big sibling. And I’m pretty sure that I’d not be her type anyway.
Emma: What does that mean? She seemed really nice when I met her.
Shane: She is really nice. And she has a nice family too, but, she, er-, well, well she’s a bit shit at choosing men really. I think it’s a product of watching too much MTV when she was younger, and being a bit too ‘style-conscious’. Despite being clever and competent, I think she’d like some unreconstructed brute but with a bit of heart. (And after further consideration) Yeah, I think she’d like someone who’d steam in, and just take control, no questions asked.
Emma: Macho?
Shane: Not the word I'd use, but yeah - something like that.
(Quiet lull, with self feeling not inclined to pursue such talk as it all seemed one-way, then…)
Emma: (leaning forward, deftly not showing any cleavage – but never mind, looking a bit… perturbed, but in a voice of quiet calm) You know, a long time ago now, you upset me. (Self-chastisingly, I think) Oh, I told myself I wasn’t going to have this conversation.
Shane: (thinking ‘it isn’t a conversation yet’) Eh?
Emma: Well, don’t take this the wrong way - I’m not having a go at you –
Shane: (unconvinced, and thinking ‘this is really really bad timing)
Emma: - when we met I thought you treated me especially nicely, I thought that must mean- well, I s’pose I thought that must mean that you liked me a lot.
Shane: Okay-?
Emma: Well then when I saw how you interacted with the others (mutual acquaintances and colleagues) and seemed to be just the same to them, I s’pose that- put things in a different perspective.
Shane: (feeling aggrieved, but glad to have heard this) I did like you a lot - I do like you a lot, but I don’t see why that should be so relevant. In fact, it shouldn’t be relevant.
Emma: What d’ y’ mean?
Shane: You were unusually… vague - about your domestic set-up. How long did it take for you to mention that there was an ‘Ed’ on the scene? Even in everyday chit-chat, I’d have expected to detect something to say who your situation was made-up of.
Emma: (thinking, then suppressing a grin) Fair point. You know how things have been at home. Mm (sigh).
Shane: Anything else I’ve upset you about without realising it?
Emma: (smiling) No. You’re good.
A strangely comfortable period then followed. We later returned to the lazy affable chit-chat of earlier. I was aware that this talk had shifted things. We were now open about (1) the fact that it mattered to her that I “liked” her “a lot”, and (2) the fact that I did like her a lot.
On this trip, for our own benefit, we knew that we had to remain sober for the work assignment. Thus, non-drinkingly, we proceeded to fill our non-working time together with a few touristic things – a bridge, a gallery and some dining out. It felt spectacularly easy. To all others, we probably looked like we were ‘together’. And equally, as we ended Monday evening running from doorway-to-doorway in a bid to avoid brief but heavy snowfall, it did feel romantic. I know we were both happy.
As we rolled into the station mid-evening yesterday, Ms Emma spoke:
Emma: (prodding my forearm) Heh you.
Shane: Yeah?
Emma: It’s been really good.
Shane: Yeah it has.
Emma: And I don’t just mean the work stuff. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.
Shane: Thank you. It’s been good.
We parted company at the station entrance. Emma’s father stepped from the shadows, there to collect her. On driving back to Barton I felt that that had been a useful trip on several fronts.
Have just discovered that our return trip to the FarNorth is to be much sooner than originally planned – we depart next Wednesday (9th February) until late Friday (11th February). I’m guessing that we’ll be more relaxed about the work situ on that trip – that should equate to some confident use of the local eateries, and boozeries.
Should be… fun. Could be... really fun. We'll see.
So, back from the FarNorth, and…
On a long stretch of the journey north, having changed train, Emma and I settled ourselves at facing table seats. Both looking a bit grey, we proceeded to have a thorough going-over-what-we-knew-and-what-we-needed-to-find-out re our imminent ‘assignment’. Indeed, how very MI5/CIA. Anyway, that going-over was proved to be good preparation as we were up-to-speed with our NorthernContacts from the off. The work part of the trip was unambiguously successful: we worked well together, and did what we went to do.
After the formal work-talk en route, we lapsed into lazy talk of personal histories. That included (as accurately recalled as possible)…
Emma: How do you and Siobhan generally get on?
Shane: (thinking ‘oh dear, where is this going?’) We get on well - generally. Though I sometimes take the brunt of her moods. (And after a moment of consideration) I think she gets a bit irritated at how well Catherine and me seem to get on.
Emma: Why?
Shane: Why what?
Emma: Why would that irritate her?
Shane: At the end of our brief whatever-it-was, I’m fairly sure that Siobhan was upset. Although I’m sure she’d disagree, I sometimes get the feeling that she’d still like to think of herself as number one – or something. I don’t know. She’ll be better off when she moves down to London – which should be soon. She’ll forget about me soon enough, I imagine contact will dwindle to nothing – it’s already nothing compared to what it used to be.
Emma: (looking a bit confused) So, have you and Catherine ever- er-
Shane: No. That would be weird. There’s never been that kind of thing. I think we just take turns at being each other’s big sibling. And I’m pretty sure that I’d not be her type anyway.
Emma: What does that mean? She seemed really nice when I met her.
Shane: She is really nice. And she has a nice family too, but, she, er-, well, well she’s a bit shit at choosing men really. I think it’s a product of watching too much MTV when she was younger, and being a bit too ‘style-conscious’. Despite being clever and competent, I think she’d like some unreconstructed brute but with a bit of heart. (And after further consideration) Yeah, I think she’d like someone who’d steam in, and just take control, no questions asked.
Emma: Macho?
Shane: Not the word I'd use, but yeah - something like that.
(Quiet lull, with self feeling not inclined to pursue such talk as it all seemed one-way, then…)
Emma: (leaning forward, deftly not showing any cleavage – but never mind, looking a bit… perturbed, but in a voice of quiet calm) You know, a long time ago now, you upset me. (Self-chastisingly, I think) Oh, I told myself I wasn’t going to have this conversation.
Shane: (thinking ‘it isn’t a conversation yet’) Eh?
Emma: Well, don’t take this the wrong way - I’m not having a go at you –
Shane: (unconvinced, and thinking ‘this is really really bad timing)
Emma: - when we met I thought you treated me especially nicely, I thought that must mean- well, I s’pose I thought that must mean that you liked me a lot.
Shane: Okay-?
Emma: Well then when I saw how you interacted with the others (mutual acquaintances and colleagues) and seemed to be just the same to them, I s’pose that- put things in a different perspective.
Shane: (feeling aggrieved, but glad to have heard this) I did like you a lot - I do like you a lot, but I don’t see why that should be so relevant. In fact, it shouldn’t be relevant.
Emma: What d’ y’ mean?
Shane: You were unusually… vague - about your domestic set-up. How long did it take for you to mention that there was an ‘Ed’ on the scene? Even in everyday chit-chat, I’d have expected to detect something to say who your situation was made-up of.
Emma: (thinking, then suppressing a grin) Fair point. You know how things have been at home. Mm (sigh).
Shane: Anything else I’ve upset you about without realising it?
Emma: (smiling) No. You’re good.
A strangely comfortable period then followed. We later returned to the lazy affable chit-chat of earlier. I was aware that this talk had shifted things. We were now open about (1) the fact that it mattered to her that I “liked” her “a lot”, and (2) the fact that I did like her a lot.
On this trip, for our own benefit, we knew that we had to remain sober for the work assignment. Thus, non-drinkingly, we proceeded to fill our non-working time together with a few touristic things – a bridge, a gallery and some dining out. It felt spectacularly easy. To all others, we probably looked like we were ‘together’. And equally, as we ended Monday evening running from doorway-to-doorway in a bid to avoid brief but heavy snowfall, it did feel romantic. I know we were both happy.
As we rolled into the station mid-evening yesterday, Ms Emma spoke:
Emma: (prodding my forearm) Heh you.
Shane: Yeah?
Emma: It’s been really good.
Shane: Yeah it has.
Emma: And I don’t just mean the work stuff. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.
Shane: Thank you. It’s been good.
We parted company at the station entrance. Emma’s father stepped from the shadows, there to collect her. On driving back to Barton I felt that that had been a useful trip on several fronts.
Have just discovered that our return trip to the FarNorth is to be much sooner than originally planned – we depart next Wednesday (9th February) until late Friday (11th February). I’m guessing that we’ll be more relaxed about the work situ on that trip – that should equate to some confident use of the local eateries, and boozeries.
Should be… fun. Could be... really fun. We'll see.
posted by Shane @ 2:15 pm
<< Home