James dropped me off at the hotel at about midnight and promised to return about nine this morning. We kissed for a long while before I got out of the car. This morning he entered the dining room just as I was finishing off my coffee. It was another warm sunny day, so I was wearing another summer dress and sandals. I offered James a coffee and he sat down at the table with me.

I had lain awake last night for a while going over yesterday evening. It had been an eventful night and at one stage almost a disastrous one, but thank goodness we had resolved things, and I had also resolved the mystery that had been worrying me regarding James's past. I wondered what his wife had been like – obviously she was much younger than me, probably younger than James. My heart had gone out to him when I heard that she was expecting their child.

The word 'tragedy' is used so casually nowadays, for example when a sports team loses a match. This however was a real tragedy – two people had died – his wife and their child. Perhaps he will want to talk to me about her again and if it helps him that's fine by me, obviously the memories are obviously still raw after six years. I can't help wondering why he hasn't considered marrying again. The pretty blonde who serves the refreshments at the football ground would jump at the chance I know, but he doesn't seem to even notice her. A young woman would mean he could have children and obviously that's not the case with me. Even though he doesn't know about my past he certainly knows I'm far too old to have children. Why am I thinking like this? I should just be pleased that he wants to be with me, but I can't help worrying that the novelty of being with an older woman might wear off. I suppose I'm afraid to give my heart again too, remembering how I felt when I lost John.

“Well,” said James, “What would you like to do today?”

I decided to take the plunge. “Well, it might seem a bit cheeky since you haven't asked me yet, but I'd really like to see where you live.”

He grimaced. “Well, that's fine, so long as you realise that since you didn't give me notice, I haven't had time to tidy up.”

“That doesn't matter. I'd like to see where you live as it normally looks,” I replied.

James lives in a small weatherboard house about ten minutes drive out of town. It looks very neat from the outside and appears to have been recently painted. It sits in the middle of a medium size block which consists mainly of grass, with a few fruit trees, including the inevitable lemon tree. There is a separate wooden one car garage at the end of the short gravel driveway. Like most Queensland houses it has a fairly deep verandah running around the house to keep the sun off the walls.

Inside, it was dim and cool as he had drawn down the blinds, and I had to wait for a minute for my eyes to become accustomed to the light. Walking down the central hallway, to my left was the main bedroom and I was pleased to see he had made the double bed; to my right was the sitting room with a couple of couches and a small television set. Further down the hallway was the bathroom and toilet, and then another bedroom, this time with a single bed. The third bedroom had been converted into a study, and as might be expected for a librarian, the longest wall was completely filled with bookshelves which almost groaned under the weight of the books they carried. A stereo system with a couple of large speakers was spread along another wall.

“Goodness me!: I exclaimed, “How many of those books have you read?”

“Quite a few, as it happens,” James replied, “There's not much on the television most nights, so I prefer to sit down with a good book.”

'There I go again, putting my foot in it,' I said to myself, 'what else might a man do when he spends so many evenings on his own?'

Nearing the rear of the house, we reached the kitchen. His breakfast things had been washed and neatly stacked on a draining stand to dry, and everything else was cleared away. This is a tidy man. I heard a whining sound coming from outside the back door, and James said. “I'm not totally on my own here – do you like dogs?”

“Of course,” I replied, "We've got about a dozen at the Station. Why don't you let him in?”

“It's a 'she' actually,” he said as he opened the door and a Queensland blue heeler came bounding into the room and ran up to James before sitting for a pat. “Lesley, meet Stella,” he said, 'or should that be the other way round?” Stella slowly and cautiously walked over to me for a pat. I don't know if she could smell my own two dogs on my shoes, but she sniffed them and seemed to instantly know that I'm a 'dog person'.

“You may wonder why I have a cattle dog here,” James said, “well actually it's because she's a failed cattle dog, never quite got the hang of it. She belonged to Jean and Jim as it happens, and they were too kind-hearted to dispose of her, so I took her on. I go for a run most mornings and evenings and she loves that of course, so it's all worked out for the best.”

Everything I learn about this man makes my feelings for him grow. He offered to make me a cup of tea while we discussed what we might do for the day.

“Do you mind if we don't rush around today?” I said “Last night was a little tiring and I'd really like a relaxation day.”

“Of course,” he replied, “Would you like to sit out in the garden with one of my many books for a while, and later I can make us some lunch. How about a barbecue?”

“That would be great,” I said. “It's a pity I didn't think of it, I could have brought you some steaks. That's something we're not short of at the Station.”

James set up a recliner chair for me in a shady spot in the back garden and I selected a book from his library. He asked what I would like to drink and I chose some plain mineral water. I noticed that he has a small vegetable garden, growing lettuces, tomatoes and a few herbs, and after a while James came back out of the house and after checking that I like tomatoes, he picked some off the plant. You can't get fresher than that. This was turning into a most delightful day.

A little later James appeared and said that the salad was ready and all he had to do was cook the steak and sausages when we were ready. He fetched another recliner and sat down next to me and and I reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Thank you James. This is so relaxing – just what I need,” I said.

We sat in companionable silence for a while.

“What are you reading?” said James.

“ 'The Diary of Samuel Pepys' ”, I replied. “I've started reading it before and never got very far, so when I saw it on your shelves I thought I'd give it another try. It's really quite fascinating.”

“Did you know that he only kept the diary for about ten years and stopped writing it because he was worried about his deteriorating eyesight when he was only thirty-six? Near the end he did write something about getting a secretary to write it for him, but of course it could never contain all the private material, and in the end it came to nothing. Still the Diary covered the times of the Great Plague and Great Fire of London, and it's probably one of the most important records of the English Restoration period. He was seventy when he died, so you can't help wondering what else he might have written had he continued, but it was not to be.

“I suppose writing by candlelight was not good for the eyes,” I said, “but it's still a pity he couldn't have written it for longer.”

“That could have been the cause I suppose,” said James, “If you don't have a copy of the Diary at home you must let me loan you this one.” Then he looked at his watch. “Are you hungry yet?”

“Yes I am,” I replied.

“Then it's time to fire up the 'barbie' ”, he replied, getting up.

There's something about cooking outdoors, and of course it's a tradition that unlike most other cooking, it's almost exclusively done by men, so I let James get on with it without offering to help in that department. However I did help set up the table in the shade of the large lemon tree.

The meal was most enjoyable. James had a beer to accompany the meat and salads, while I stuck to mineral water since I'll be flying again tomorrow. I feel rather sad about leaving here, I wouldn't mind staying for a while longer, but they are expecting me back at the Station, and anyway, James has to work.

After we had finished eating, we sat for a while mostly in companionable silence again, until, feeling guilty that James had done all the work, I stood up and said that I must do the washing up. I picked up the plates and glasses and walked into the kitchen where I filled the sink with hot water and dish-washing liquid and started washing the dishes and stacking them in the rack. It was then that James came up behind me and putting his arms around my waist nuzzled my neck. I resisted for a few minutes but finally it was too much, and I turned to him and quickly drying my hands put them around his neck and drew his lips down upon mine. No woman could resist his kisses, least of all me, and soon, feeling his body pressed against mine and his obvious desire, when he took my hand and led me into the bedroom, how could I possibly have said 'no'?

How much more should I write? What happened then is forever in my heart and I will never forget it. I will always remember our anticipation as we slowly undressed each other, and the sight of James like a Greek god, or one of those statues of naked athletes at the ancient Olympic Games; and then that magical moment when our bodies became one. The French have a phrase for it “La petite mort” - that transcendental moment when it seems not only our bodies but our minds are fused, and we cry out in an ecstasy greater than any other a human can experience.

Afterwards as we lay together, our hearts pounding, James turned to me and said “I love you Lesley. I never thought I could love again, but now I know that I can.”

In turn I said to him “I love you too, James. Like you I thought there could never be another love for me, but then I met you.”

Later, we made love again, and it is true that making love with someone that you love is as different from 'sex' as the sun is from the moon. If there was one tiny cloud on my horizon, it was that I intended to tell him about my past before we ever became this intimate, and now it was too late.

So the afternoon passed into evening in joyous intimacy. Eventually I said that I supposed I had better go back to the hotel or they might wonder where I was. I didn't really want to go of course, I would much rather spend the night with James.

“I suppose you could tell them that you have to check out early,” he said.

“If I do that, the receptionist will put two and two together and make five,” I laughed.

“I don't care if you don't,” said James, and so that's what we did. He drove me back to the hotel and waited in the car, while I told the receptionist that I was booking out early – no explanation given – and that I realised that I would have to pay for the night's accommodation. In fact she didn't seem particularly concerned or surprised. I suppose working in a hotel, staff see many strange things, and someone leaving early and the possible reason for it doesn't really count among them.

So it was that James and I spent our first night together, and of course we made love again. I feel it is disloyal to my beloved John to make comparisons, but he was older than me, and James is younger and has all the vigour and stamina of a younger man, something that is making me blush even as I write it. Even so, I can't help smiling.

If it was not for the fact that we had to get up early, James going to work, and me to the airfield, who knows what might have happened when dawn broke? As it was, we showered and dressed and had a light breakfast before James dropped me off at the airfield and then headed off to work. I was in a very happy mood, singing to myself as I flew back to the Station. I can hardly wait until I see James again, and next time I won't be staying at the hotel!

To be continued

Image credit: Australian cattle station by Harris Walker reproduced under Creative Commons licence with attribution.