"My life with Davedax" Chapter 1
by
I first met Davedax when I was just seventeen, he was forty two and a
taxi driver, I was living with my sister having split from my husband
of just three days!
In England people can marry at sixteen, which in retrospect is
ridiculous, however, he picked me and my sister up after doing our
weekly shopping and I was immediately attracted to his eyes, they
seemed to be smiling all the time, (Irish eyes as I found out later)
It was only a short journey to my sister's house and when we arrived
Dave helped us to take the bags into the house,
I asked him in for a coffee, but he laughed and said that he was
knocking off work and going for a drink,
My sister, Linda was as taken with him as I was and being older than
me, asked him which pub he used,
He told us and grinned saying,
"Now why would you be wanting to know that?"
His Ulster accent made me shiver, not to mention the twinkle in his
eyes, between us me and Linda wormed it out of him and he admitted that
he lived in a small flat two streets away.
We promised to meet him in half an hour at the pub, but when we went,
he wasn't there, we waited for an hour and then went home.
The following morning, I rang the company he sub-contracted for and
asked for his phone number, they refused to give it to me, so I went in
person and saw the manager. I told him that I had accidentally picked
up something belonging to Dave and wanted to give it back to him in
person.
The manager was nobody's fool but he went on the radio and told Dave to
call in at the office as soon as he could. It took almost an hour
before he came in and when he saw me he laughed, (If there's one thing
I'll remember about him, it has to be how readily he laughed)
I'm going to try and cut this story short because to tell you all about
Dave, I'd need to write a book that would be thicker than War and
Peace!
He made a joke out of being single, saying that all he needed to make
his life complete was a Hoover! But there was a sadness in him that I
couldn't fathom and I was determined that this man WAS NOT going to get
away from me, I thought he was beautiful, old and grizzly, sometimes
very bad tempered, but his attitude to life amazed me, he was the first
and only man I've ever met who really didn't give a shit about
anything!
We became lovers after our third date, he was a wonderful lover, kind
and considerate and far more interested in me having an orgasm than
actually having one of his own and I knew that I was falling in love
with him.
After about two weeks of seeing him three or four times, I went round
to his flat and the door was opened by a very pretty teenage girl who
asked me what I wanted, my first instinct was to flatten her, but just
then another slightly younger teenager joined her and asked me if I was
Jackie.
I replied that I was and she said with a smile that that was all too
familiar,
"Dad's in the bath, you've got to come in and have a drink"
I could have cried with relief, but why didn't the bastard tell me
about them?"
I sat on the couch making small talk with his girls, (he always called
them his girls, there were three of them and he'd reared them himself,
but that's another story)
In his living room, there were tights, (pantyhose) knickers, bras, all
sorts of girly things draped over the radiators to dry, I learned later
that they went to their dad's place every week to do their washing, but
somehow I felt as if I was intruding.
I was uncomfortable in their company, but with only the sort of charm
that a true Irishmen can come out with, he gave his girls some cash for
a taxi home and told them to bugger off!
I cried more that night than I'd ever cried when he told me his story,
he was what was known as a full time reservist in the Royal Ulster
Constabulary and was likely to be recalled to Northern Ireland at
little or no notice in the event of what he called, a wee spot of
bother!
It was several months later when I went with him to Ireland to meet his
son and his uncles and aunts that I learned he'd been shot and left for
dead ten years before I met him, he introduced me to a Catholic priest
called Shamus, a lovely little man who'd put his own life on the line
by threatening his parishioners with hell and damnation if they
interfered whilst he gave this badly injured policeman the last rites!
He spent almost eighteen months in hospital after that, but it did
nothing to diminish his love for the people of the land of his birth,
neither will it ever deter me from visiting Belfast again, which I
consider to be the most brilliant, vibrant and friendliest place on
earth!
We were married one August on his birthday and I will never forget how
his mother warned me about marrying him, "He's a lovely man Jackie" she
said, "But he's untamable"
Well I wouldn't like to say that I tamed him, but I would like to say
that being married to him was a mixture, a brilliant mixture of love,
tears and laughter, we had rows and arguments like everyone else, but
he always refused to go to bed or leave me for work until we'd kissed
and made up.
Two of his girls were friendly towards me, but the third would never
accept me and he showed how much he felt for me by telling her that she
was wrong,
"I reared the three of you" he said, "And now it's my turn, I'm
marrying Jackie whether you like it or not"
He was fifty eight when he was killed, but he often used to say that
above the neck, he was seventeen, he loved speed and in the end it was
speed that killed him.
He left a legacy though, apart from the many e.mails I've received from
the site, I think the nicest thing I can say about Dave is that
whenever I think of him, I smile!
I don't think anyone could ask for more!
Thanks for reading this.
Jackie,
...continues in " My life with Davedax (ch.2)" - click here to continue...
[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]
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