A Workplace Romance
The alarm woke Simon every morning at six.am, but he never had complaints at getting up and ready for work. He loved his job and had always loved it; but for the past two years working alongside Angelique had taken it to a whole new level. He worshipped the ground she walked on and her affection for him was obvious. She would be moving on again shortly and he was dreading it; but until then he simply enjoyed every moment he could share with her.
She was the first one he greeted on arrival, chatting away to her about nothing in particular. He had gradually got used to choosing specific words with care, but forgot himself when he had nothing of importance to impart.
“You know she only understands French?!” a colleague had reminded him, back on the day he’d first been introduced to Angelique. He’d been jabbering away to her nineteen to the dozen, but pulled himself up then and had very carefully said “pardon, bonjour”, the limit of his French.
Angelique hadn’t minded, she just loved listening to him. But still, to hear a couple of familiar words had felt very reassuring to her on her first day in a strange place and she’d probably loved him from that very moment. To this day, he still said pardon instead of sorry and began every day with a cheery bonjour. He ended each day with it, too, but Angelique was never going to correct him.
For her part, Angelique did not speak. She spoke volumes with her eyes, her expression, her body language, all of which Simon had come to understand fluently; but she had no voice. He’d taken her to the races for the first time and she had been wide-eyed at the fashions, the colour and especially the hats. She had loved the hats and Simon had laughed affectionately at her innocent wonder and joy.
She had had such a wonderful time, she loved nothing better than to go racing with Simon. She would be as excited as a child at Christmas on the day before their outing. Simon could never work out how she knew, whenever he tried to keep it from her as a surprise. She wasn’t always lucky, but it never crushed her enthusiasm. He took her racing often in that last year and when they had returned to Ascot in October he had laughed still more at her bemused search for those glorious hats. He gabbled away to her in explanation and she could pick out nothing of his words, but it didn’t matter and it didn’t spoil the occasion. The smiling faces were still to be appreciated, without the framing of hats.
Theirs was a romance with no fairytale ending. She had only ever been meant to be there for the two years and this was his life, his vocation, not just a job he could give up to follow her. She wasn’t the first he’d lost his heart to and she wouldn’t be the last. But still it hurt.
His bonjour was less cheery that morning, his pardons were more heartfelt, genuinely sorry that on this of all days he’d caused discomfort while gently brushing her hair. She had rested her cheek against his; and had drawn back her head just slightly enough to put her nose to his and breathe in his breath. As he put his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, he felt her soft lips against the back of his neck, her breath warm and moist. They didn’t need to speak.
Reluctantly, he let go and stood back.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, “everyone is going to be so jealous of that coat. You’ll turn heads, Angelique.”
He’d picked the coat she was to travel in himself. She’d got it at Ascot, on one of the days when the women wore extravagant hats but when Angelique had turned heads in her coveted coat. He straightened it for her and ensured she looked at her finest, as he led her out to her awaiting transport.
“You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” he insisted of the girl who had come to collect Angelique.
“Like the queen she is,” the girl assured him. “You’re welcome to visit her anytime, whenever you’re passing.”
He kissed Angelique for the final time, full on the lips, so sweet-smelling and soft and warm. He ruffled her hair and turned away then; unable to watch as the girl led her away up into the horsebox, her Coronation Stakes Winner coat rippling over her muscles as she began her next chapter. No longer a queen of the turf but a broodmare and mother of future champions.
Simon hoped one of her offspring would one day end up in his care. But they would never win the most important prize their mother had claimed – his heart.