The Yearning of Jeanette

Jeanette hitched up her leggings, expertly hooking a finger to extricate them from between her sweaty arse cheeks before turning back to her shopping. On autopilot, she weaved her way absent-mindedly through the quiet morning traffic in the aisles of Lidl, carving her way through clouds of warm, sweaty humanity with her belligerent trolley. Three of the wheels were compliant, having worked long enough to have the free-spirited attitude that mobility gives ground out of them by their eternal up and down life. One wheel, though, was still young, full of hope and ambition, as it constantly asked Jeanette if she’d like to turn right, in the vain hope that enough right turns and it would eventually make it out of the sliding doors to freedom. Even trolleys can dream, even if that dream is futile.

Six pepperoni pizzas, fifteen tins of beans, 24 bags of crisps and a six-pack of Choconut— is this what her life had become since Kyle had left? It had been 2 years, but not a day went by when the vision of him and Smelly Susan didn’t force its way into her thoughts. All she remembered seeing was the dirty soles of Susan’s feet sticking up into the air and Kyle’s sweaty back, his eagle tattoo glistening in the afternoon sunshine as he pumped away vigorously to the strains of LMFAO, while their kids played on the slip and slide just the other side of the shed. The bastard was as sexy as hot custard and the trouble was — he did know it!

Just as she pushed the uncomfortable memory away, like an extra plate of ribs from the Chinese, Jeanette found herself in the middle of Lidl, momentarily transported into that magical parallel universe where garden tools rub shoulders on the shelves with baby products and bike racks.

A trolley was blocking her way.

Was this fate? Providence? Or just a lazy, selfish bastard?

The owner had his back to her and was rummaging through the assortment of garden implements. Jeanette sighed. No response. She sighed again, loudly. Still no response. While she waited for him to move, she noticed that his snow-bleached jeans hugged his toned butt and his vest, which he had obviously bought a size too small for the purpose of showing off his muscular arms, promised steamy evenings at the Dog and Duck, too many Sambucas and fervent sex on the sofa after chicken chow mein and some sticky crispy beef.

His arms were like bags of baby rats: bulging, hairless and rippling. Each trunk was adorned with gothic sleeve tattoos and the whole ensemble was working its magic on Jeanette. Her heart raced and she felt a flutter in her stomach which couldn’t have been the pulled pork sandwich she’d had for breakfast, even though it was a couple of days out of date.

She was about to tut, a move out of the way please tut, when he turned around and looked straight at her. In his hands, he was holding a reasonably priced pair of extendable garden loppers.

‘Sorry’, he said in his guttural, manly voice that made him sound like an orc from Lord of the Rings. ‘Am I in your way?’

Jeanette blushed. She never blushed. Only when she drank too much Sambuca. ‘N..No’, she stammered like a giggly schoolgirl. ‘It’s ok.’ A silence arose between them. Jeanette couldn’t swallow, her mouth was dry, like, hangover dry. Vodka dry. Before she could collect herself she found herself talking, while gazing into his steak brown eyes. ‘Those are lovely loppers. My neighbour Steve has some. He uses them on my bush sometimes. Are they extendable?’

The mystery man looked at her, intensely, like he was studying a Wetherspoon’s menu, and replied, ‘No, they’re not. Extendable, I mean. He held them out at full stretch, and mimed delicately cutting a lofty branch.’

He looked her square in the eye and said. ‘I don’t need them to extend’, before winking at her, placing them in his trolley and pushing his way up the aisle.

Jeanette immediately regretted wearing white leggings.

Will Jeanette ever find love again?

Will Jeanette ever see jeans man again?

Will she ever see his loppers fully extended?

Will she make it out of the middle of Lidl without buying a catflap, a power saw and a sprinkler system for her non-existent lawn?

Find out in the next instalment of ‘The Yearning of Jeanette’.