He Was a Shivery Kind of Man

Neil was a shivery kind of man. He was dreadfully susceptible to draughts and would find himself, even in polite company, moving endlessly from one chair to the next, round and round the room in search of the warmest spot. Neil’s friends and extended family were familiar with his little complaint. They often teased him. It was considered somewhat womanly to be constantly concerned with catching a chill. They mocked him, though not in a cruel fashion and were secretly quite pleased by Neil’s complaint for they were never at a loss as to what should be purchased for his birthday or Christmas present. Each year Neil received a wide range of heat-generating products. Draught excluders. Hot water bottles. Thermal underpants. Slippers with fleece-lined interiors. On his 40th, for a special treat, a faux leather reclining chair complete with its own thermostat so his backside could be toasty warm whilst watching the telly or reading the paper after work. If nothing else, Neil was a very easy chap to buy for.

Though his parents had hoped he might recover with age, Neil never quite grew out of his shivery phase. He’d been a shivery child and progressed through school shivering in the corridors and by the bus stop each morning. Every Saturday he ran up and down the frozen pitch, visibly shivering with a hockey stick in hand. Eventually Neil became a rather shivery accountant. He spent most of his days huddled inside a tiny city centre office with the heat cranked up and the double glazing tightly sealed, shivering over his clients’ accounts. Neil’s shivering was not seasonal. He was just as cold in the summer as he was at the height of winter. For a while he experimented with sunbeds and holidaying on the Continent and was disappointed to discover that climate had little no impact on his internal body temperature which was always lower than ideal.

Neil was a resilient individual. He was determined not to see his life ruined by the cold. Professionally, he was highly regarded by his colleagues and clients. His friends and family were fond of him. Neil could be great fun altogether so long as he didn’t wander too far from the radiator. However, when it came to relationships Neil struggled. He’d never managed to secure a second date with anyone. He was fine on the phone; even better on the Internet. But in person, hunched around the closest heat source, determined to stay inside at all costs, Neil was not so much of a catch. Women, it turned out, were not attracted to shivery men. And those who did consent to follow him home, to his well-insulated apartment and his bed, with its heated blanket and twenty tog goose down duvet, lost all erotic interest as he painstakingly peeled off six to seven layers of thermal underwear. By the age of forty, Neil had become resigned to being single for the rest of his life. It was easier this way. Less painful. Women could be so very cold.

Understandably, Neil was reluctant to get involved when Daphne, his secretary, offered to set him up with her sister-in-law Kelly. “You’ll like Kelly,” she said, “she’s such a warm girl.” Warm, Neil had to admit, sounded rather appealing, but everyone tended to talk up their own friends. People were rarely as appealing in person. It took some convincing but eventually Neil agreed to meet Kelly for a coffee. Some small part of him was still looking to impress for he purposefully chose to wear his favourite three sweaters and spent ages deliberating in front of the mirror as to which order they should be layered in.

Kelly did not disappoint. Kelly was the warmest person Neil had ever met. She was so hot, she found it almost impossible to bear clothes of any kind and had turned up for their Starbucks date in a tiny, red bikini and a pair of plastic flip flops. Even from the other side of the room, Neil could tell she was roasting. The sweat was clean dripping off her. He hesitated for a moment on the other side of the store watching the steam rise off her forehead in small breathy tendrils as she pressed her iced latte against her face. He lifted a hand to touch his own cheek. It was deathly cold. He was still shivering though there were at least three thermal vests layered under his pullovers and the coffee shop had the central heating going full blast. Neil stared at Kelly. He couldn’t believe how hot she looked. It was all he could do to stop himself from pressing up against her, right there in Starbucks with everyone watching.

Inspired by Agatha Christie’s 1936 novel Cards on the Table