111 / 164
111
chatter swelled and lulled like a restless sea ridden with soft smiles and gentle
laughter. Poor Matthew Taylor was helpless against the developed charms of a
woman like Meredith Villor. Legend says it was her eyes that captured him. One
expected a shade of pale bluey grey in continuation with her otherwise faint
features. But there they were; those eyes, a warm glowing, radiant chestnut; eyes
with fire. Those curious spheres of molten chocolate were crossed with strange
hazel markings that dilated in excitement in the presence of Matthew. Finally she
proclaimed:
‘That one!’ pointing imperiously to a delicate scrap of a thing. The hat was
straw, dyed a soft beige in colour, with fine lace trimming tracing the brim.
‘Would you be a darling and fix it on me?’ Already half in love, Mathew Taylor set
the hat upon her dainty head and wished her a good day, with every intention of
returning in the morning. ‘Come and see me tomorrow,’ she called, her voice
laughing like silver bells, echoing down the drive. Matthew Taylor waved and
smiled back, not quite believing his good fortune.
The following day was the bright joyous type, the kind of day where the sun
seemed delighted to shine, and the trees stretched their limbs with purpose towards
the cloudless dream of a sky. As Matthew Taylor strolled down the lengthy drive
towards The Grange, he lifted his arms up in mirror of the tall pine trees lining
the way. This silent reverie of happiness became a ritual of sorts and every day
following, he lifted his arms in a non-verbal prayer. And, day after day, his prayer
was answered, as Meredith appeared in the doorway, smiling her charming pink
little smile, her eyes meeting his in a show of seduction and intensity. Every
morning she would ask him, ‘And what are we doing today?’ and he would reply,
‘Just adding a little something.’ By this, he was referring to her hat. Day after day,
the two would cavort, adding bits and pieces to the straw structure. A daisy chain
was the first to be added, lovingly woven and fixed by Matthew. Next came a piece
of magenta ribbon, tied in glossy splendour around the brim, layered on the
existing lace like some kind of exotically tiered cake. Most renowned was their trip
to The River to source the water lily. In a moment of childish impulsiveness,
Meredith demanded Matthew take her to the far ends of her property to find the
flower. She skipped jubilantly through the long wet grass, catching water crystals
in her ringlets as her hair flew behind her in tendrils of silken blonde. She turned
around and laughed and laughed, her eyes crinkling gently into warm russet
crescents. She grabbed his hand, pressing their palms together, leading him,
running, to the river. They arrived breathless, collapsing on the damp bank,
stumbling, laughing and embracing by the glittering grey surface.
These adventures continued days, months even, as Matthew Taylor fell deeper
and deeper into his brown concentric circular love of Meredith Villor. Every day
Matthew And
His Companion
11