THE SEA, THE SUN AND ...

It was one of those beautiful spring days. The sun was shining, the birds were twittering and the leaves were that brilliant shade of new green. But for me, it was the opposite. The only thing I had in common with that day was the blue of the sky. Here I was, as unwanted at work as I was by Mary.

Mary and I had been thrown together at work. It was the boom time of the early eighties. The pressure was on. Office politics is always a problem, but we found that we got on so well. The inevitable happened, and we soon moved in together.

Ours had been a warm and happy relationship. Each supported the other. Those little conflicts that always arrive were rare. Things bloomed at work as well. We were good at our jobs. The personal rivalry normally associated with cohabiting households did not happen to us, so we were both promoted in parallel.

Eventually, we climbed so far up that we ran out of parallel options. Mary was promoted to the Board with responsibility for her department as well as mine. And that is when the trouble started. It was just little things at first, which could be smoothed over by pillow talk, but I knew things were coming to an end when Mary turned over one night and went to sleep without even giving me my usual goodnight kiss.

It was over within a week, and I was out of a job. I cannot stay where I'm not wanted.

I had no idea what my next move would be, so I thought I'd have a day out to think. I'd go down to the seaside for the day. Maybe it was the thought of the pier which appealed as well.

Everyone goes to Brighton, so I decided to jump on a train to Hastings. First stop Waterloo, then change for the Hastings train. The first part worked well, but when I got to Waterloo, I found that the Hastings train was just pulling out. Cursing to myself about the unnecessary half-hour wait, I went to find the restaurant.

However, by the time I had got my burnt bun and milkshake the annoyance had worn off. I was not in a hurry anymore. I decided to take a seat by the entrance so that I could see the noticeboard. It was a four-person table, but there was someone else sitting there already with shoulder-length brown hair and a blue sales outfit. I asked if I might sit there and got a warm smile and a nod of the head in return. The name tag proclaimed, "Hi, I'm BONNY, how can I help?"

"I'm sorry. I had a mouth full of bun." The voice was soft and pleasant. There was no trace of the fear of strangers normally associated with those who work in central London.

"You're welcome." I said," It's rare that anyone has the manners these days to even consider it."

"There's no point in being rude to someone you don't even know. Besides, you showed me the courtesy first by asking."

There was a pause. The station announcer mumbled something, and the moment could have vanished. We could both have returned to our own little worlds, passing each other by without another thought. It flashed through my mind that this would be a pity. I had taken a liking to Bonny. I opened my mouth to splutter some inanity, as did Bonny. We both apologised at the same time, both embarrassed that the others had seen a willingness to continue.

"We seem to have a mutual admiration society going here", Bonny commented.

I laughed nervously. "I can't usually relate to strangers, but I have not seen a warm smile like yours for ages." Had I said too much? Come on, it's not my first encounter. What a silly thing to say!

Now it was Bonny's turn to laugh. "We both have problem relationships, then? When does your train leave? It would do us both good to talk about our troubles?"

I assured Bonny that we had plenty of time. Bonny met Ken just over a year ago. They had been dating heavily since then. However, whilst Bonny had assumed it was a deep relationship, Ken had not. The parting came last night when Ken thought it OK to bring his new flame to dinner as well. Bonny had come to work today but decided that concentration was a problem and so had taken a day off and was going to head home.

"I'm off to Hastings," I said. "Do you fancy a day at the sea?" Bonny smiled that smile again. I could even feel my blues turning gold. Maybe it was going to be a good day after all.

Bonny got a ticket and we settled in front of each other on the train when it arrived. We had window seats. Soon, the Kent countryside started to roll past. The green meadows, the trees showing off their new leaves in the warm breeze and the contented cows sunning themselves all added to the restful atmosphere. The conversation had become relaxed and open by the time we reached Hastings an hour or so later.

"Let's go for a stroll along the beach," I suggested.

"I haven't been to the seaside since I was small," Bonny confided. "Let's take off our shoes and splash in the sea."

The residents must have thought we were insane. Here were two adults, shoes and socks off, galloping through the shallows hand in hand and shrieking with delight.

After an hour of chasing about like a nine-year-old, my batteries were starting to run down, so we stopped at a pub and had a seafood meal. Real seafood, not frozen. All washed down with several lovely cool glasses of water.

It was about six o'clock when we emerged and meandered gently back along the beach with our arms around each other. The gentle breeze caused little waves. The dipping sun made them sparkle. I could feel a warm glow inside me.

We stopped by the pier and spent moments looking out to sea. Then Bonny turned to me and smiled. "Would you mind if I kissed you?" he asked.

"I've been waiting all day," I said and melted into him. I could feel his moustache tickle my lips. I didn't care that his last relationship was homosexual if he wanted me. After all, Bonny was the first man I had kissed. "I think I love you, Sally," he whispered.

William Safire's Rules for Writers