I wrote it when we only had the information about the ball, and about Shelagh wearing a silver dress.
No.
"You look amazing." "You're beautiful." "You were brilliant."
Shelagh looked up to see her husband.
"No."
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head.
"I thought if I tried one more time, I would win a kiss."
She sighed, frustrated. Of course she wanted to kiss him, and more, but they were in the middle of a ballroom, a ballroom that she organized. Everyone was around them, she had to stay composed as always, but Patrick simply tortured her by being more handsome than ever and giving her all kinds of compliments since he saw her in her silver dress and new lipstick.
"Shelagh..."
"No."
"The only thing you told me tonight was 'no'. No fried foods, no dancing, no alcohol, no kiss... "
"Because I know your intentions." She heard herself being too hard, but she heard his giggle once more and then the music started to play and Patrick stood up. She stretched out her hand, offering him a truce, but was perplexed when she saw that her husband was walking towards Trixie.
"Patrick!" she demanded.
"What? I thought you were going to give me another one of your 'no'."
She rolled her eyes and took his hand, almost dragging him towards the slow rhythm of the music.
"I guess not even now will you kiss me."
"No. Patrick, there are the children. And the sisters."
"And if I tell you that, at least in public, I never saw you with so little clothes?"
"Patrick!" she separated, looking at him between scandalized and amused.
"I gather that is also a 'no'."
She saw him put on his saddest face and smiled, very reluctantly. Glancing sideways, she gave him a kiss so short that Patrick barely registered.
"That's all? Not one more?"
"No," she leaned on his shoulder, smelling his perfume and taking refuge in the warmth she knew so well.
"We can't leave before either," she heard him affirm.
"No," she sighed, each time with more sadness. "I'm the organizer, I have to stay until the end."
"And take a few minutes for us alone?"
She looked at him.
"We can't disappear like that, we're married."
"And there goes another 'no'. If we were not married, they would also talk about us. "
"It's true."
She hugged him closer, thinking about when it was the last time they had danced. It was a long time ago, and it had included kisses.
Suddenly she made a decision. She pulled away from him, went to their table and took her purse.
"I see you outside."
She knew she had left him in shock and that amused her.
The truth was that her husband was right. Probably months ago they did not have a time for them two alone that did not involve discussing medical issues of other people or their children. It seemed that there were always others in their midst and never only them. And something on this night, which made her remember other nights where she dreamed of dances, beautiful dresses, friends and little glasses of alcohol, gave her the courage she needed.
This time she had her dress, her hair free, and she waited outside her ballroom for her love.
Although she also needed a cigarette. She saw it accompanying her imaginary dances when she was a nun, and now she wanted one, and she had wanted it for days. Of course, Patrick would notice, but she would not let...
"There you are! Fred got in my way and... Are you smoking, Mrs Turner?"
"No, Patrick." Shelagh threw down her cigarette and stepped on it with her shoe. Patrick made a gesture of pain.
"I was just going to ask you one."
"No. Really, Patrick, you can't, and neither can I, but I've wanted one for ages. And I will not tell you where I got it."
"You tortured me all night." Patrick approached her, putting his hands on her waist, "I told you many times tonight that you're beautiful." He kissed her, and moaned at the taste of the cigarette. "You know? We could go to the car right now."
"To what? To talk about ulcers?"
He let out a laugh that she tried to choke by putting her hand over his mouth. He kissed it and then he took her.
"You're cruel! You will always use that to make fun of me."
She shrugged, laughing.
"I'll have to say another 'no' to your invitation."
"I imagined it. Why?"
"Because you parked the under the brighter lamppost of all Poplar."
She laughed when he saw her husband clutching his head in frustration.
"I guess everything I propose tonight will not work out."
"Sorry, Patrick, but that's the way it is," she gave him a small kiss and separated. "Let's go back inside. After all, we are not two teenagers to be here in a hidden corner..."
Patrick kissed her hard, pressing her against the wall. When he released her, she giggled, shaking her head but clinging to his shoulders.
"No."
"I assure you that in a very short time you will be screaming yes!"