A Winter Walk

It was late December and I had booked a long weekend in a country pub for Bibi and me. She told me she had never seen snow and the weather forecast was promising. I collected her from the station at lunchtime and we headed out of the city.

I don’t know which Saint I prayed to but I got lucky. We arrived in the village on a Friday afternoon and by three o’clock the snow had begun to fall softly. We checked into the pub and I carried our suitcases to the room as she sat at the window seat watching the snow fall on the cobbled square outside. It settled on the rooves and the trees but the slow traffic was enough to keep the road clear.

We had our evening meal downstairs in the pub. The dining room was quiet and informal, jeans and warm clothes. Nothing fancy. This is the countryside after all. There were people at a few other tables – a retired couple in smart clothes, enjoying a dinner out. A young couple in outdoor clothes with a dog at their feet, clearly finishing a day on the hills. A group of four middle aged friends – laughing and having fun but checking their phones for alerts from the babysitter. In the bar a handful of young farmers drank pints and told rude jokes loudly. It was a moderately busy evening.

Bibi chose a chair against the wall, watching the rest of the room. I faced her, trying to judge her reaction to what she saw. She took everything in. The low beams, the wood burner, the country people. I could not tell what she thought of it. She seemed happy but I couldn't tell if she was enjoying herself or finding it all rather funny.

Even with my back to the room I could tell we were a focus of attention. I say we, I mean Bibi of course. She stood out. It wasn’t her figure. She wore jeans and a warm fleece. Comfortable but not likely to draw the eye, not like a cocktail dress or a miniskirt. Other ladies present had coloured their hair – maybe not the pure blonde of hers. Other ladies had makeup on – maybe not with the skill and care that had been taken with her red lips of smoky eyelids? It was something else, something more. Me? I am biased. I say there is nothing in this world that compares to seeing the sparkle in Mistress Bibi’s eyes when she is enjoying herself and I think that is what the other people in the pub saw that night.

We had a pleasant dinner and shared a bottle of wine. The waitress seemed entranced with my Mistress and chatted makeup tips with her “How do you get your eyelashes to look like that?” or "Is your hair naturally that curly?". It made me chuckle. Bibi wasn’t expecting our server to just start talking to her as an equal. She handled it well and showed no sign of any language difficulty, chatting back like on older sister. I watched it all. It was lovely to see Ms Bibi in my normal world. Our waitress left and Bibi looked me in the eye.

“You are smiling my bitch.”

I choked on my wine and looked around the room fearfully. Who might have heard her comment?

Her lips curled in amusement at my distress. “Do not forget my bitch that I am not here for your amusement.”