SPOOKY by DUSTY SPRINGFIELD. Love story by Lauren Twidle.

On your deck, NSW Australia, January 2024

I had met her at my new job, brain slowing down for a moment when I first saw her amongst the sharp clatter of glasses being stacked by the sink, the hum of voices wavering in the air as guests arrived and left, laughed and appreciated the food.

Later on, after I’d struggled through my first shift, trying to remember the menu and the table numbers and who to ask what, Luke from the bar came up to me as I was stacking chairs, sweating and keen to get home.

“I have some questions for you. The kitchen is wondering if you have any dietary requirements, and the bar wants to know if you’re gay.”

The first I answered with a no, and the second, yes.

He turned back to you – standing in the bar polishing glasses, red blooming over your cheeks but laughing too, not looking away when I met your gaze with my own.

We flirted openly, something new to me.

The second time I went to your house we drank wine on your deck, lying at the opposite ends of your hammock, legs curled all together.

You were telling me about the farm we were one day to own, which felt appropriate somehow even though we’d only known each other for a few weeks.

Your voice was soft and persuasive under the dim light cast upon us by the fairy lights strung about the little deck, which felt like the safest place in the world to me. Here I could lay my head to rest and just enjoy you, enjoy this thing we were creating between us under the soft light.

You lit a cigarette, and sucked it in, the smell of it flowing over me comfortingly, alongside the warbling voice of a singer, an artist I didn’t know.

Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you
 … I’m gonna tell you all the things
 my heart’s been a-dyin to be sayin

You passed me the cigarette, and I took a drag, and you watched, laughing, as I let it all out too quickly, not breathing it in properly, and I just laughed with you.

“I haven’t really smoked many cigarettes before,” I admitted, a buzz of embarrassment slipping away as you showed me how, and it was beautiful here, letting the music wash over me and sinking into something that I realised was exactly myself, feeling like I was finally sinking into my own skin, here with you.

I never thought I’d fall in love in the summer.

Later you told me you’d played Dusty Springfield’s Spooky about five times, trying to tell me you were beginning to love me. You had to spell it out anyway, I’d never been one to dwell upon the lyrics.

But now I listen to Spooky, letting it settle over me, thinking about this woman who had tried so hard to tell me that she was in love, having to tell it to me straight.

I get confused, cause I don’t know where I stand
And then you smile, and hold my hand
Love is kinda crazy with someone spooky like you

Stereo Story 892