The Girl of my Dreams

I am sitting composing a story - what about? That remains to be seen. It could be about love or war but maybe it is about nothing in particular.

As I keep writing, I happen to glance out of the window and I see my neighbour; her hair so golden, her eyes so blue. I hope she is heading my way, but I doubt it very much. Then I see her passing my window without a sigh.

Days later, I am busy again typing when there is a knock at my door, and on opening it, there she stands, leaving me wondering what she is going to ask.

‘Hello,’ I say when I open the door.

‘Oh, hello. I wonder if you can help me?’

‘I’ll try. What’s the matter?’

‘It is my little dog. He has gone missing.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to help you look for him?’

‘Yes, if you wouldn’t mind?’

"Wouldn’t mind!" I can't believe she is saying these words. We live across from each other and this is the first time we have stood close to one another.

She waits till I go and fetch my jacket. I wish I could thank her dog for going missing. He is doing me a favour, but I reckon he doesn’t realise it.

After getting my jacket, we set off along the road that leads to the park. I often go there by myself to think. I usually find a quiet spot and sit with my notebook in hand. Sometimes I feed the ducks, and on the odd occasion, I take pictures of them with my phone’s camera. How I have spent many an afternoon in that park. Sometimes, if there are no children around, I go sit on one of the swings, which makes me feel like a child again.

As we carry on towards the park, I ask her her name. I only know her surname - Watkins - Miss Watkins. I couldn’t keep on calling her that. Anyway, it turns out to be Amy - a sweet name for a sweet person.

Just as we enter the park she says:

‘I hope we find him. I have had him since he was a pup. I wouldn’t know what I would do if I lost him.’

I am trying to think of words to give her comfort, but nothing is coming. Then, before I can say anything, she spots something.

‘Did you see that?’ she asks?’

‘See what?’ I reply.

‘It is Bunty. He has just gone rushing from behind that tree. He’s heading towards the lake.’

I try hard not to laugh - imagine a dog being called Bunty? It sounds so upper class.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

‘I’m positive. Come on, if he gets in the lake, we’ll never get him out.’

Sure enough, when we get to the lake there he is - in the water, chasing a duck. He looks happy as he charges about, drenching a fisherman at the lake’s edge in the process. The man then begins to shake his fist in anger.

As soon as Bunty sees us, he gives up the chase and comes running towards us, with his tail wagging.

‘Bunty, you naughty boy,’ she says to him. ‘You are soaking wet. What are we going to do with you?’

As if the dog is going to give her an answer. He starts to shake himself dry, covering everyone around in splashes of water. To be honest, it is comical, even if I am the one who is getting splashed the most.

After Bunty finishes shaking himself dry. We find a spot to sit by the river, which is busy meandering its way through the park.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she says to me.

‘But I haven’t done anything. It is you that spotted him by the entrance. I didn’t do a thing.’

‘You just being here helps.’

I am hearing things? Days ago I was hoping she would knock on my door - wishful thinking, as I remember at the time. Now here I am sitting next to her. I must be dreaming.

After sitting for a while, I volunteer to go and fetch a couple of ice creams from a van parked nearby.

After finishing the ice creams, we start to head back towards home, and to my surprise, she links her arm with mine. The thoughts that are going through my mind!

Once back on the road we live on, I see a smile come to her face.

‘Oh, there is Robert,’ she cries.

Robert? Who is he? I could not imagine. The times I see her, she is always on her own.

‘Oh,Robert, come and meet the young man who helped me look for Bunty.’

We shake hands, and then she tells me that they are getting married in a few weeks. Such a shock. I begin to wish I could go and have a lie-down.

Weeks later, making my way back from the shops, I see her on the corner of the road. For someone who is newly wed, she doesn’t look too happy.

‘How is Robert?’ I ask, wondering why he isn’t by her side.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ she replies. Two days after the wedding, he walked out on me.’

I didn’t know if to laugh or cry.

‘Oh, I am sorry to hear that.’

‘Don’t be. I was beginning to discover a few things about him. He’s certainly not the person I first met a few years ago when I was on holiday with my friends.

Amy and I start to see each other on a regular basis. And Robert? He is well and truly in the past, especially when I say those immortal words to her - ‘Will you marry me?’

I am still waiting for my answer - but who is in a rush? Not me!