Do not think ill of me
Sophie had been counting the days until the NewYear break, dreaming of a trip to the Lake District where she could finally learn to carve the snow on a pair of skis. Her daughter, Emily, was in the third year of her university degree, studying on a full scholarship, and Sophie could not help but brag to her colleagues:
My clever girl Emily doesnt even have to pay tuition, she gets a stipend. And I can still afford a little holiday, I told them, grinning.
Nikki, her office friend, replied, Youre right, Sophie. My lad is still a university student, dragging his dads money around, while Im stuck sorting his messes. He only brings home a decent sum.
Sophie was the head of a department in a large firm, earning a respectable salary. She owned a flat in Manchester and drove a modest hatchback. She had divorced James twelve years ago; he had gone back to his parents home in the countryside and never bothered with Emily again. Sophie never pressed the issue. She had raised Emily alone, and now the girl was studying in Edinburgh, likely to stay there.
Sophie was tall, pretty, with chestnut hair cut in a neat bob and steady hazel eyes. After the divorce she had dates, but none that sparked the kind of love that would lead to marriage.
For the twoweek getaway she had prepared obsessively since summer, even buying a pricey winter ski suit that she called a treat for herself. Oh, Nikki, look at this, she laughed, expensive, yes, but I finally get to ski! You and your husband go up the slopes sometimes, and Im still a beginner. If only there were a ski resort nearer us.
Before the holidays the office threw a big NewYear party. They laughed, drank mulled wine, and then scattered to their respective breaks.
Enjoy every moment, Sophie, Nikki said, my husband and I are heading to his parents farm for the holidays. See you after the break. Youll be back a few days later, I hear.
Thanks, Nikki, Sophie replied, Im used to summer vacations, but a winter one feels like a dream.
She boarded a flight to the Lake District. After the break everyone reconvened at work, brighteyed and refreshed, some even wishing the break had lasted longer.
Hey, love, Nikki greeted her on the meeting day, your eyes are glowing, you look like youve been on wings. Must have rested well.
Sophie beamed, It was the best holiday of my life! The Lake District, Windermere, the slopes at Snowdon I learned to ski, I sipped red wine, sampled hearty Cumberland dishes, and I met Arthur.
Nikki chuckled, Ah, thats the secret, then. Whos he?
Sophies voice turned soft, Hes a ski instructor, a snowboarder named Arthur. I fell for him instantly.
Congratulations, dear, Nikki said, finally something serious.
Sophie described the romance: Arthurs gentle attention, his way of brushing away imaginary dust from her shoulders, the way he made her heart flutter like a moth to lantern light.
Is this all serious, or just a holiday fling? Nikki asked, You left him on the mountain; how will you keep this going?
Sophie had thought of that as she prepared to return home. Arthur had urged her not to worry.
Our love sparked like a film scene, the first glance, the kind of love that only the cinema knows. He drove me around the villages, took me to the coziest tea rooms, and one evening on a high ridge restaurant, he whispered that he had been waiting for a woman like me all his life.
Nikki sighed, It sounds like a fairytale.
But the reality is that I dont want to leave my job, and Arthur doesnt want to move either. We talked for hours, and he finally agreed to move to Manchester for me.
Good for him, Nikki cheered.
When the time came for Sophie to fly home, Arthur promised a swift reunion. At the airport he held her hand, eyes shining, and said, I must finish my contract in two months, then Ill come to you.
They called each other daily, sending tender messages that floated like butterflies. Sophie kept Nikki updated, thanking fate for the love she felt.
Arthurs contract was ending; he would buy a ticket within two weeks. Then a message arrived, trembling with urgency:
Sophie, I fell badly during training, broke my leg in two places. The doctors say I need immediate surgery.
Sophie called him straight away.
Darling, Im flying over, taking unpaid leave, Ill be there, she said.
Dont bother, love. Im in hospital. I need £3,000 for the operation and a bit more until I can work again, Arthur replied, his voice thin.
Sophie, I love you so much, he added, please help.
Without hesitation she transferred the money, feeling her heart expand.
Nikki frowned, Sophie, you sent that much so easily? Maybe check the details, call the doctor?
Sophie shot her a look that made Nikkis skin prickle.
The days slipped by; Sophie counted the hours after the surgery, the rehabilitation, and the promised return flight. Arthurs messages kept coming, grateful and pleading:
Thank you, love. Ill repay you as soon as Im back. Just wait for me.
She replied, Focus on healing, dear. Ill wait, no matter what.
When the time to buy the plane ticket came, Arthur wrote that he still needed £300 to cover the fare. If you could send it, Ill be there soon, and Ill give you everything, even more, he wrote, his words heavy with longing.
Sophies eyes dimmed as she read. Nikki noticed.
Whats wrong now, Sophie?
Sophie handed her the message. It read in a plaintive tone, It feels like my life is a string of dark strips, one after another. My love, only your belief in us and the thought of meeting gives me hope. Do not think badly of me.
Nikkis suspicion rose. Sounds like a scam, Sophie. He keeps asking for money.
Sophie defended him, Arthur is sincere, just going through a rough patch. Who else will help if not me? Youre being too wary.
Nikki persisted, Youre not rich enough to keep sending cash to strangers. I think hes a conartist, and you might be the latest to fall for his hook.
Sophie hesitated, then remembered a voice from her husbands old friend, who had told her, Dont trust him, tell him you cant send more. You dont need a whimpering man who lives on your money.
She called Arthur.
Sorry, I cant send you more, Im broke myself, she said.
What a selfish cheat, Arthur snapped, then hung up.
Nikki whispered, See? Hes proved it. Youll find a real man, someone who doesnt drain you.
Sophie woke from the dream with the taste of snow on her tongue, the echo of Arthurs promises fading like distant bells, and the lingering feeling that some lovers are only shadows in a winters night.
