Читать книгу Life on the Edge - The true story of the hero who saved the lives of twenty-nine people at Beachy Head - Keith Lane - Страница 7
ОглавлениеI’ll never forget the night I met the woman who was to become the love of my life – especially because, at that point, women were the last thing on my mind. It hadn’t been long since I’d split up with my previous wife, although in the end it turned out to be a good thing that we’d gone our separate ways. Nevertheless, I was still smarting from the pain of it all. In fact, I had a bit of a downer on women at the time. All I was interested in was getting on with my life, without the complications of a relationship.
To take my mind off things, I’d started going out with one of my mates – a guy called Stevie – to play snooker every Thursday night and we’d always stop off at the pub for a few pints on the way home. I looked forward to it eagerly and we always had a good laugh together after our snooker games.
One Thursday, I was standing in the pub, pint in hand, chatting away with my mate when something pretty unremarkable happened – a petite blonde woman walked around the corner of the bar with a smile on her face. It’s what happened next that was out of the ordinary. We locked eyes and – wham! – It was like something from a Mills & Boon story. It was love at first sight. I’d never experienced such an overwhelming feeling of attraction. This woman was like a vision and I could hardly believe she was really standing there. It was even harder to believe was that she was locking eyes with me. It was as if the rest of the room ceased to exist for those few moments. I could use every cliché in the book to describe how it felt to be staring into her eyes, but I won’t. Safe to say, this woman was all I could see.
She was with a group of people in a pub quiz and by coincidence another friend of mine happened to be with them. I had a few words with him and he agreed to introduce us. Great, I thought, this is my chance. The problem was that when it came to saying hello to this stunning creature, I acted like a fumbling idiot. I was nervous and out of practice with women and I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Not only was my tongue tied in a double knot, but my hands were flying in and out of my pockets as I shuffled from foot to foot. I felt like a right prat as I stumbled awkwardly through our conversation. Lord knows what we talked about, but soon enough it came to an abrupt end.
‘Oh, I’ve got to go back to the quiz now,’ she said, looking over her shoulder towards her group of friends. ‘By the way,’ she added, ‘my name is Maggie.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I replied hastily, ‘I’m Keith.’ Damn, I thought, I haven’t even asked her name.
‘Pleased to meet you…’ she said as she wandered off into the other room.
I thought I’d totally blown it. Stevie came up and began digging me in the side, egging me on with a jokey ‘Fill your boots! Fill your boots!’, but he didn’t realise how awkwardly I’d just acted. Suddenly I was no longer in the mood for a pint. Dejected and annoyed, I left soon afterwards and cursed myself all the way home. You idiot, I thought, you bloody idiot. You’ve seen someone you really like and you didn’t even have the nerve to ask for her number. I was pretty down on myself about it and as I got into bed all I could think about was the likelihood that I would never see the lovely Maggie again.
A week passed. Before I knew it, Thursday had come around again and I was back down the snooker club. Stevie and I made our way to the pub after our game as usual, and I was hoping beyond hope that Maggie might be there. All I wanted was another chance – if I got it, I was going to make damn sure I didn’t muck up this time around. And lo and behold, I got my chance.
I walked into the pub and there she was. Much later, Maggie admitted that she’d been desperately hoping that I would be there too – like me, she’d spent the week since our first encounter worried sick that she’d never see me again. She even confided that she didn’t much like anyone from her quiz group and the only reason she’d come back a second time was the thought that I might show up again.
Things were different this time around. Fortune had smiled on me and given me a second crack at the whip, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think I’d get a third. It was now or never and, thanks to my mate prodding me in the back, I got up the nerve to talk to her: I strode up, said hello and asked her what she was doing after the quiz.
‘Nothing in particular,’ she said, beaming.
‘Well,’ I went on, ‘do you fancy joining us for a drink?’
Indeed she did. I was over the moon but still spent the time she was off at the quiz worrying about what I would say now I’d broken the ice. As I mentioned, I’d had my confidence shaken by my recent separation and was completely out of practice at this sort of thing! By the time Maggie sat down next to me with her drink, I was like a nervous teenager. I was talking about the most random stuff, everything and nothing. Although the conversation went fine, I was too nervous to really move on from polite small talk. I wanted to make an impression, but before I was able to try, Stevie did the job for me.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, leaning in to us, and looking at Maggie. ‘My mate here thinks you’re the bee’s knees. He said he’d love to snog you, you know!’
I was instantly mortified, of course. I might not have been doing a Casanova, but I sure didn’t need my buddy to muscle in like we were a pair of schoolboys. However, I needn’t have worried, for Maggie simply smiled and looked at me endearingly. That look told me all I needed to know. She liked me, she wanted to be talking to me and I didn’t have to put on an act. In fact, her smile told me that she probably wanted to snog me too!
The three of us left the pub, and I dropped Stevie home before driving Maggie back to her flat. It was so wonderful being in the car with her: there was that immediate sense of calm and happiness that two people feel when they really get on – not to mention all the butterflies and nervous excitement that come when you begin to fall in love.
We arrived at Maggie’s place and she invited me in for coffee…
Waking up in each other’s arms was incredible. I was in love again. I knew it.
* * *
Both of us had just come out of long relationships. Both of us had been hurt in different ways and both of us were wary of getting involved in anything new. But our feelings for each other meant that it was hard to hold back for long. We got on too well and had too much of a good time to be worrying about the past.
Maggie was fun, bubbly, gorgeous – to me, the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen – and her lust for life and enthusiasm made me feel incredible. I hadn’t felt quite alive for a while but Maggie was bringing out the best in me. People had noticed how miserable I’d been since splitting up with my wife, but now I was alive and kicking again and back to the old happy-go-lucky Keith that everyone used to know. People were shocked but delighted to see me telling jokes and being the life and soul of the party once more. It was great to be feeling myself again.
In the beginning we only saw each other twice a week, but on those nights we were inseparable. They say that ‘love is blind’ and we certainly lived up to the saying, going out on the town and carrying on like a couple of lovesick teenagers. The great thing was that Maggie didn’t give a hoot about what anybody thought.
We were in our bubble and would do the daftest things. I’ll never forget one night early on when we were out for a meal and Maggie politely asked me if I’d like a sip of her wine.
‘Yes,’ I replied graciously. ‘Certainly I would!’
Little did I know precisely how she intended to supply that sip. Instead of passing me her glass, Maggie leaned across the table to kiss me… and poured a good half-glass worth of wine from her mouth into mine! Not the way two fortysomethings should carry on, perhaps, but we couldn’t have cared less. It gave rise to another liberating moment of laughter and we were totally oblivious to the looks of the other diners around us.
We soon began to realise just how close we were becoming. We had the same outlook on life, the same love of adventure and fun and were falling deeply in love. Within a couple of months I was spending six out of seven nights with her. At first, Maggie reserved Thursday night for herself, for a spot of pampering, but she grew bored of being without me and soon I was there seven nights a week. That’s what led to her moving in with me – it seemed ridiculous to have two homes when we only spent time in one.
There was something else ridiculous about the situation: I’d met the woman of my dreams, but I wasn’t yet engaged to her! Within a couple of months of meeting her, I booked us flights to Paris and asked Maggie to marry me. We were at the top of the Eiffel Tower, it was pouring with torrential November rain, but even so I got down on one knee and proposed.
She said ‘yes’ and I felt like I was in heaven. On 21 May, 1999, only seven months after Maggie Lane had walked around the corner of the bar and locked eyes with me, I married her at Eastbourne Town Hall – and nothing could have made me happier.
* * *
The first couple of years of our marriage were bliss. We worked hard, played hard, went on holiday and did all the things that people in love should do. And still we carried on like a pair of 18-year-olds most of the time! Life was better than I’d ever imagined it could be and I felt truly blessed. Nobody could have persuaded me that such complete happiness could soon start fall away, to be replaced by something altogether darker and more destructive.
