Isla's Summer

Whilst I struggled to restrain myself from waving madly at him, he calmly signed greetings to me as he walked around the field's periphery.

"Isla, I hope you have my sandwich ready? I'm starving." He signed with a huge cheeky grin on his face.

"Hi, Gary. Yes, but I'm not sure if it is big enough." I replied, making sure I hid the sandwich box behind me.

He sat closer to me, with a little nervous shuffle, maybe feeling the same nerves as I am.

"Before I give you your small sandwich, can you answer a question first?"

"Okay."

"Your signing is very good. Much better than any novice. How long have you been signing and why did you learn?"

"That's two questions. Do I get two sandwiches?" He grinned a cheeky grin again, making me smile and my heart flutter more.

"Maybe... Answer and there may also be a surprise." I smiled back at him, pleased with being able to keep cool whilst butterflies somersaulted inside me.

"You're a tease." He grinned, but once again his cocky demeanour changed to nerves and his eyes dropped away from mine.

"I started teaching myself signing in the last six months of my USA work visa because I wanted to return home and meet you as an equal. But this is much harder than watching YouTube or online tutorials."

I almost leapt for joy. He had been learning to sign for me. He must have seen my eyes light up, as he cheered up too, but not for the same reason.

"Please, can I have those sandwiches now? I'm starving."

I nodded as I handed him the sandwich box. He laughed silently and grinned when he saw two huge sandwiches inside the box. Opening it, he politely took a bite of the one and then waved one of the pickled onions in the air.

"My surprise for being a good boy?"

I nodded, and he took a bite. He opened the packet of crisps and offered me one.

"No. Thanks. I ate with mum, earlier." At first, I felt rude for refusing his offer, but watching him empty the contents of the lunch box made me realise how hungry he was.

"So what have you learned from YouTube?"

Gary promptly ran through the alphabet... Backwards. I nod being quite impressed. Then he ran through a load of nondescript words that he had memorised. Looking pensive, he began signing, but this time he was more theatrical in his signing, expressing the words emotionally, whilst also speaking them.

"I'm, going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me."

"This all or nothing got a way of driving me crazy."

"I need somebody to heal, somebody to know, somebody, to have, somebody, to hold."

"It's easy to say, but it's never the same."

, I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain."

"Now the day bleeds, into the nightfall and you're not here, to get me through it all."

As he signed, my mind raced. Is this poetry he has written about a lost love or about me?

"Wow G... That is beautiful; I didn't know you wrote poetry?"

"I don't, it's a song."

"You write songs?"

Gary looked shocked, as if I were an alien.

"No, they're from a song by Lewis Capaldi. It's on the radio all the time."

As soon as he said it, he realised the implication, and a wave of shame washed over his face. He quickly signed an apology.

"There's no need to apologise. The words are wonderful, and you signed it so well. I wish I could hear the music. You taught that yourself that song, just from watching YouTube and Google?"

"No... I cheated, in a way. There is a great Facebook page where a woman sings popular songs either on her own or as a group, using sign language. She posts songs on her Facebook page, 'Sign along with us'."

I pulled out my phone and typed in the search. I showed Gary the page that appeared, and he nodded to confirm that I'd found the correct web page.

"She taught her little brother to understand signing, as he has cerebral palsy and a brain injury. She produces loads of videos and I copied her because the words repeat through each song. It has helped me build up a larger vocabulary. I just need more practice."

I looked back at my phone and scanned through the Facebook page. This girl is inspirational, winning awards and TV appearances; I made a mental note to read more later.

"So you've been signing karaoke-style into a mirror for six months?"

"Yes, but with signing, I can't hold a pretend microphone hairbrush." Gary mimicked holding a microphone and then pretended to brush his short hair with it.

Once again, he had me grunting little snorts of laughter with his childish imagery.

"Joking aside G, the way you expressed the emotion as you signed, whilst speaking the words, is very good signing. The practice has been good for you."

Gary smiled, washed the last of the water down, glanced at his watch, then stood and I followed suit to stand with him. "Sorry, time to go. Can I order another Sandwich for tomorrow?"

I nodded so hard I thought my head would fall off. He moved to step forward, as if to kiss me, and I was about to step forward to meet it, but he faltered and checked himself, stepping backwards instead. He smiled and mouthed thanks, turning to walk the long way back to the gate. His head hung low as he walked, as if he regretted missing the moment.

I watched him climb up the gate, then step across to his tractor's stair tread. Standing there, he turned with a wide grin and signed, "Thanks, tomorrow, bye."

He waited until my response of "Ham?" but looking nonplussed; I revised it to, "a surprise sandwich, tomorrow, bye."

His infectious grin appeared, and he ducked through the large door into his cab, waving one last time. His tractor pulled into the lane to bounce once more into the distance. I watch him disappear, elated by my news.

The fact that he'd learned to sign for me made my heart thump in my chest. To have such a handsome hunk make such a gesture was like receiving jewellery on Valentine's Day. None of my previous suitors had made that commitment, at least not until after they thought I was interested in them.

Although now Gary was more than just a pin-up to me. He'd impressed me, made me laugh and made me feel special... Three things no other suitor had achieved in such a short time. I wanted to tell mum everything, but even as I turned to see mum at the gate, with a tray of teapot and cups to join me, I'd already decided that maybe I'll keep this to myself for now.

Over the next few days, my routine changed and for the first time in my working life, I found myself clock watching, willing for lunchtime to arrive. Each afternoon, during our brief time together, Gary's signing improved as he told me about his day and his work on the farm.

I also shared some of my cartoons and doodles with him. He was enthusiastic to learn about my books and my writing. Although I'm not brave enough to share my new children's tractor based storybook ideas with him yet.

However, when Friday lunchtime came, there was an obvious change in his mood, as he seemed to return to his original nervous self when we signed our usual greetings. Causing me to ask, "You okay?" He bit his lip, glancing away, unsure.

In a split second, my mind span, expecting the worse of a myriad of horrors. After this week of scratching his surface, of getting to know him, and raising my hopes for some form of a relationship. Was this all too good to be true?

This happened all the time when younger, no soon as I had a hint of a relationship, the same old story, that 'They only want to be my friend'. I wanted to scream, terrified some awful admission was about to be declared. My heartbeat thumped in my chest, and butterflies stomped around my stomach.

He sat there fidgeting, turning back to face me again, with sweat on his brow. He signed, "I've never been so nervous... Can I take you out to dinner, tonight?"

My lungs burst as I guffawed, one of my grunting laughs in relief to see him smile and blush. I tried desperately to make it look as if I had at least paused to think about it...

But ruined it by immediately signing back, "Yes, please."

"Thank fu..." Gary blurted out, remembering I'm can lip-read him, then signed, "Sorry... I've never been so nervous asking any woman out to dinner before. I'd like to repay you for your sandwiches this week... Is that okay?"

"Yes... Yes... Okay." I signed, then in case I sounded too eager, "Only in exchange for my sandwiches?"

"I also need more signing practice!" Gary signed with a huge grin.

He had improved and now he's speaking whilst exaggerating his expressions, adding greater depth to his signing. He was definitely also doing some homework at night.

My heart continued to thump in my chest, but now with excitement. This week I hadn't dared to even hope for a date! I'd had a few brief flings at university. Since I've been a lonely fish in a dry sea for too long and now Gary has broken that spell.

My excitement burst forth, signing fast. "Where are we going? What time are you picking me up? What do I wear?"

Gary laughed a silent laugh. It looked like a genuine belly laugh coming from deep down. How I wish I could hear him.

He signed, "Where do you want to go?"

I shrugged in defeat. It's been a long time since I've been taken out to dinner. I've had Sunday lunch with mum and dad before now at local pubs and once for the local law society dinner (but I don't think that counts).

Both were two extremes, so I don't know anywhere suitable for a first date. With us being equal distances between Ross-on-Wye and Hereford, there were a whole host of options.

Gary looked as indecisive as I felt, then he signed, "I'll ask my sisters. They will know. Although they will want more answers than I can give them." He looked more worried about his sisters than one would have thought from a strapping young man.

Gary wolfed his sandwiches down and left in a hurry, signing from his cab an apology and showing eight digits. I nodded and signed back. "Eight. For my dinner surprise!" He grinned and bounced off down the lane in his tractor.

Mum joined me in my excitement as I told her over tea that afternoon. Mum has always been my closest friend and confidant. We furiously signed about what I was going to wear, nothing too formal if it was the 'Black Bear' pub in the village, but not too casual if it was the 'La Parisienne' restaurant in Hereford.

I daren't eat a nibble all afternoon. Neither could I focus on my stories nor on sketches. So I answered some fan mail and emailed my best friend Sarah, who immediately text me back.

< So who is this Gary you've been hiding in the bushes by your pond? >

She repaid me for all the years I'd put up with hearing her conquests of suitors at university, as she requested all the details as texts ran between us throughout the afternoon. This all added to the excitement that built until later, once I was in the shower, when it developed into panic.

Poor dad, recently home from work, was sitting downstairs, enjoying a cup of tea with mum. To have me run in, still wrapped in towels, grab mum and pulled her upstairs. Once in my bedroom, I showed her the two dozen dresses and outfits I had spread around, frantically signing for help to choose the best one for my date.

Mum looked shocked at me, then grabbed me and held me in a tight hug. She pulled back and signed, "Oh Isla, you wonderful happy thing. You've hours yet. Calm down. Come and have a cup of tea with your dad and me."

She guided me back downstairs to sit with dad, who remained poker-faced. He knew mum had me covered and pretended to continue reading his newspaper. Mum spirited a mug in front of me, full of tea, and a thin slice of homemade chocolate cake. She sat opposite and signed away.

"Oh honey, you've got yourself all in a twist. I know it's exciting, but he's only a boy!" She smirked and shrugged with a motherly `there's more fish in the sea' look.

"Mother! You know he's not just any boy... He's the most handsome fish I've caught in many years and the only date too."

"You are smitten. I'm happy for you. He is handsome but I hope he's grown up a bit since he left."

"What?"

"He was a wild one and had a reputation in the village. The reason his dad sent him on his travels."

"They sent him away?"

"Yes. Barney had to pick him up from police stations once too often. The local police sergeant warned him to leave before they placed a custodial sentence on him."

"No? He isn't like that, mum. He's been a perfect gentleman. If anything, he's a big softy as he's worked hard on his signing and I'd like to think that it was all for me."

"Oh love, I'm not saying he isn't. It's just I'm worried that he hasn't shrugged off his old habits and I don't want you caught in the middle."

"I'm an adult mum and I need to make my own decision, even if everyone else thinks they are the wrong ones."

"I don't think it's wrong... I don't want you hurt, love, but G, had a reputation."

As mum signed 'G', dad's eyebrows raised and dropping his paper he signed, "Who is G?"

Mum shushed him with a look that said I'll tell you later. But dad drove it home, forcing mum to finger spell out, "G, A, R, Y. Barney's son. He's taking Isla out to dinner tonight."

Dad knew Gary had been meeting me at my pond but now his face showed he disapproved of it going further, glaring at mum but kept his opinion to himself.

"Dad, he's been the perfect gentleman all week." I signed, and dad returned a parental acceptant smile, but his eyes reflected his gross disapproval.

Mum quickly changed the tone and started signing about what to wear. We chatted for ages, using up a second pot of tea before I had to return to the shower to sort out my now dried bird's nest of hair, wetting it again to get my long blond locks under control.

I returned to my bedroom to find mum sat on the end of the bed, wearing a big smile. With my previous selections returned to their wardrobes, leaving just three spread out on the bed. All three were lovely spring dresses, but I knew straight away the one for tonight. Mum agreed and left me alone to dress.

With mum gone I dug into the back of my lingerie drawer and pulled out my 'Lucky date specials' as Sarah called them. This was only the second chance I'd ever had to wear them. A nice low cut white bra and silk slip, with a white thong.

Even though I'd shaved my legs, and even between them, I had no plans for Gary to see anything tonight. It was all more for my benefit, a chance to feel sexy and chic for a change. I slipped my chosen yellow open shoulder dress with floral summer prints over my head and let it drop over me.

The short zip up its low bareback is easy to pull up once the light hoops settled on my shoulders. I tightened the thin belt and admired myself in my full-length mirror. The ruffled over knee skirt hung over my bum with enough material to look flouncy but not enough for a Marilyn Monroe pose, should I stand on a subway grill.

I grabbed a matching yellow bag, which I soon filled with some cash, credit card and phone. I wrapped my smartwatch on my wrist and slipped on a pair of matching yellow heels. Not too high to be pretentious in a pub and neither too flat for a restaurant, whilst allowing me to run if I have to (I once got caught in a rainstorm on a date and only just caught the last bus home).

My smart wristwatch buzzed as I stepped downstairs, displaying the front doorbell. I scampered the last steps down, thankful that neither mum nor dad had moved from the sofa. I waved goodbye and, taking a deep breath, answered the door.

Gary stood there clean-shaven, hair brushed back, a little red-faced and again doing his nervous shuffle from foot to foot. He wore some tight, narrow cut black jeans, black shoes, with a neat blue shirt, open at the collar and a navy blue blazer.

He stood back a little, looking a little gob smacked, to sign, "Hi, sorry I'm early? Your tractor awaits." As he gestured towards the driveway.

'He bloody better not have brought his tractor.' I panicked, looking to the driveway to see a large 'Chelsea tractor'... A Land Rover Discovery parked next to dad's Volvo. I involuntarily let out a piglet laugh, to see him look smug at having obtained the right result.

"Where are we going?"

"It's my sister's surprise."

Gary's signing was getting better and better, as he walked me to the car and opened the passenger door. It was a climb for me into the high car. At least he'd cleaned my seat, as the rear seat had a dirty rug on it, dog chew toys, and the car stank of wet dog.

Seat belts on, I felt the car vibrate as it started. We pulled out onto the main road and turned left, heading to Ross-on-Wye, so that narrowed the choices down. Gary tapped me on the knee but kept his eye on the road and asked, "Can you lip read me side on, as I can't sign and drive?"

I slowly answered, but I think the engine noise almost swamped my voice as Gary leaned over to hear me.

"It's... Hard... But okay." He nodded and smiled.

"I'm sorry, I'm so nervous. My sisters reserved us a table and gave me instructions so I know where to go." He said, whilst signing with his left hand. Thankfully, the car was automatic, so it didn't seem too dangerous.

My mind was pondering the possibilities of destination, as we drove over the motorway, then over the river Wye, which narrowed the choices down. Before entering Ross, we turned left to follow the river and left again to a riverside car park of the pub, 'The Anchor'. The warm late spring evening had encouraged lots of people out walking the river or sat out on the pub's picnic tables outside.

Before I knew it, Gary was opening my door for me and giving me his arm to help me step down. Whilst we didn't hold hands, he did politely hold my arm as we walked across the car park towards the pub.

Whilst excited to be arm in arm with a handsome man, on my first date in a long time, it was disappointing that his sisters had recommended a pub. Although, rather than walking to the pub, he guided me to the building on the left that I'd never really noticed before.

The sign over the door announces an unadventurous name, 'Le Brassiere.' We were greeted at the door by a penguin suited maitre d'hotel that was straight out of a Disney film. Gary confirmed his sister's booking, and we followed him into the converted orangery to our table, between a grand piano and some large French doors overlooking the river.

I sat with my back to the piano, allowing me the view over the river. Gary sat opposite, pulling his chair round closer to me, to avoid obstructing my view. A waitress brought us a choice of still or sparkling water. Whilst handing us menus, Gary took the opportunity to order drinks.

I sat admiring my date and the view, as Gary looked at his menu. I lip-read him say to himself, "I'll fucking kill those two."

Glancing at the menu, I saw the prices. These weren't pub prices, these were sky-high, rocket-fuelled prices. I tapped the table to catch Gary's attention.

"It's okay. We can go halves on the bill, or we can go elsewhere, I don't mind."

In reality, I did mind, as the location made me feel quite special for my first date in ages.

Gary smiled and gave a negative shake of his head to sign, "No, not the prices, look." He nodded, indicating for me to look behind. Over my shoulder, a young smartly dressed woman was sitting down at the piano preparing to play.

My heart dropped at the insinuated insult from his sisters. All my life I've suffered other people's idea of a joke, unable to retort in a quick zinging, cutting reply. The excuses of 'It's only a joke' or 'It's only banter,' wear thin over the years.

"But your sisters know I am deaf... Is this their idea of a joke?" I signed, furious. This was not funny. Gary caught most of what I signed and waved a negative at me.