Free Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now by Patricia I. Smith Page A

directly outside the main gates. Izzy was driving. She jumped down, leaving her dog on the passenger seat. As she climbed onto the flat-bed of the lorry to drop down the tail-board, Heinrich appeared from inside the manager’s office. Walter followed him out.
    ‘I’ll give you a hand there, Izzy, just give me a second,’ Walter shouted.
    Heinrich walked towards Izzy and asked for her milk quota papers. She handed them to him.
    ‘Come with me,’ he said, and began to walk back towards the office, but not before he ordered Walter to off-load the lorry.
    Heinrich shut the door to the office and turned to Izzy. 
    ‘Is there something wrong with the papers?’ she asked worried.
    Heinrich turned to put his back to the window to block the view from outside.
    ‘Not even looked at them,’ he smiled. ‘I just wanted to talk to you for a while.’
    ‘Aren’t you going to check them?’
    ‘No,’ he immediately replied. ‘I’m sure they’re fine. So what if your father creams…’ he paused waiting for a response. He didn’t get one so he finished off his sentence, ‘a pint off for himself every now and then,’ he added. Then he frowned. ‘You do not find my joke funny?’
    ‘Not particularly,’ Izzy replied.
    ‘Then I shall have to try harder,’ he said.
    ‘Much harder,’ Izzy retorted. Then she smiled. An open smile, showing her teeth this time.
    ‘You have the most, lovely smile,’ Heinrich said staring at her.
    ‘And you are keeping me from my work.’
    ‘I wanted to tell you I’ve been too busy to come and see you. I didn’t want you to think I was…’ he paused.
    ‘Avoiding me?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I didn’t think you were. I know orders can be changed at the last minute,’ she said.
    ‘You are very understanding,’ Heinrich stated.
    ‘Not really, just being practical.’
    ‘I have some time off this afternoon, may I come and see you?’
    ‘Yes, can I go now, my father will be fretting about his tyres. It’s either his cows or his tyres he’s always hassling me about?’
    Heinrich turned to open the door. He let Izzy out first and she immediately walked to the lorry to help off-load.
    Heinrich walked towards Walter. He gave him the papers.
    ‘Alles inordnung,’ Heinrich said, and was gone.
     
    Heinrich shaved again that afternoon, put on a clean collarless, white shirt and clean underwear then walked to the beach. He knew the cottage was about a mile and a half, westwards, from the spot where they met and as he walked down a compacted dirt track of soil and coal-fire ashes to reach the front door, he stopped for a second. Over the door was a stone lintel, and carved on that lintel was a date, 1843. He’d heard that it was customary when two people married they would have the date of their marriage carved above the door of their first home. The islanders called it a marriage stone. He paused awhile listening to the music he could hear coming from side the cottage. It sounded like a gramophone player and it was belting out Vivaldi. He turned down the collar of his great-coat and knocked on the door. His stomach knotted as Izzy opened it.
    It was about five in the afternoon, and dark. Candle light shone out from inside the room, forming a yellow halo around her head as she stood there. She looked lovely, her hair hung loose and thick, her face shone, and her bright green eyes, surrounded by the thick curling, dark lashes sparkled as she smiled. She had coloured her lips with a smudge of lipstick, and her cheeks were pink, as if she’d exerted herself. And the figure hugging dress she wore accentuated the curves and bumps of her body.
    ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘The electricity’s off again.’
    Heinrich walked in. There was a log fire in the range and a kettle boiling by the side of it. He took off his cap and great-coat. Izzy took them from him to hang them on a peg by the door.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said, as he stood there, feeling quite nervous. ‘How are