My second date with Julie. March 1996. A car journey from Carmarthen to Llansteffan Castle.
On the second date she wasn’t drunk. Her eyes were clear. Green and clear. Her eyes were clear but shy and unsure.
She opened the door. She got in. I got in. We drove.
The sky was grey. Grey and white. There were no leaves on the trees. She didn’t speak. I didn’t speak. She turned her head and looked outside. At the leafless trees and grey and white sky, she looked outside.
The roads were winding, and I continued to drive. I continued to drive until I saw the castle. I mentioned this. She murmured something back. But I didn’t hear. I pretended I heard and kept on driving.
Her hands were moving as she looked outside. Moving and fidgeting as I continued to drive.
I found a place to park. I parked. She turned round. I looked away. I opened the door. She opened the door. I got out. She got out. I looked around. I saw the castle. I saw the beach. I saw the leafless trees and the grey and white sky.
And I saw the wind play at her hair. And I looked at her. At her clear green eyes. And she looked at me. I smiled. And she smiled. And we walked. And as we walked we were beneath the castle, beside the beach and the leafless trees, and under the grey and white sky.
And I smiled. And she smiled.
And we walked.