Authors: Summer Jordan
“Nigella Lawson is on at six. I’ll see what she has waiting for me.”
The smell of damp poisoned the air of the tired hotel room. Shouting and screaming reverberated down the corridor as a drunken argument came to a horrific climax. Vladimir, however, seemed to be more concerned with what crawled along the patchwork carpet. Jumping down from the bed, he stamped on a cockroach, and cringed as he scraped the carcass into the carpet. “Look at the fucking state of that.”
Igor remained oblivious as he lay on the bed, watching pornography on the small television. “I think I’ve seen this one before. Sure it ends with her getting face full man milk.”
“That’s how they all end.”
“Shame sex isn’t really like that, most girls won’t let my cock anywhere near their face.”
“I wonder why?”
“Even if I give it a wash first.”
“Listen to us.” Vladimir sighed as he folded his arms. “I need to get back home.”
“What’s the point? The police have gutted it.”
“I know, I haven’t even got bog roll to wipe my arse on.” Vladimir sat on the small stool and gazed aimlessly at the mildew covered ceiling. “That’s not what I meant anyway. I need to go back to Moldova.”
“I thought you told me the only way you would go back would be if you were in a casket.”
“”I also said that you were my best mate
…. I’m prone to telling porkies.”
“Fucker.”
The fighting in the corridor had finished. Now only whimpers of regret slipped from under the main door. Vladimir stared out of the window on a shadowy street littered with rubbish. Groups of hooded youths hung on the pavement like packs of menacing street dogs. “I have to get back, before this mess gets any bigger.”
“You have no passport, you can’t leave.”
Vladimir pressed his forehead against the window pane. “I know, I know, I fucking know.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I’ve been thinking, I got the CD back haven’t I?”
“Yeah but we have no crew. They’re all locked up or on bail.”
Vladimir turned to face Igor. “I can use it to ship myself off.”
Igor laughed as he rubbed his belly. “You’ll fucking die, locked in a container for a week.”
“No I won’t, fucking illegals do it all the time. I’ll pack the crate with all the supplies I need. It will just be like a caravan holiday…. Only fucking better.”
“What about customs?”
“They hardly check what’s going out and you know as well as me, that the customs in Moldova are looser than an old woman’s arse.”
Igor held his hands up. “OK, OK, but what about Serge and Tanya, are you just going to let them get away with it?”
“Serge being the patriotic git his is, he will be back home eventually. I’ll just be waiting for him … with a fucking AK-47 and a shovel.”
Tanya rested her head on Serge’s chest. The silence in the room allowed her ears to pick up the pulse of his beating heart. With a smile permanently etched on her face, she ran her fingers through the small curls of hair on his arms.
Tilting her head upwards, Tanya watched Serge wake, and greeted him with a morning kiss. “Morning, my love.”
“Good morning.”
“You don’t snore in your sleep. Well, most of the time, anyway.”
“You snore like my old dog.”
“Hey.”
Being a Sunday the pair stayed in bed. The sun shone through the pink curtain and slowly the room began to heat. Sitting in bed, Tanya cupped Serge’s hand. “Beatrice said we can redecorate the room.”
“Great, more work.”
“It would be good to make it our own.”
“You’re right though, It’s a bit strange looking at pictures of her daughters when I go to sleep. Find myself dreaming about them.”
“You better not.”
“Don’t worry they’re not always naked.”
“Get lost.” Tanya slapped his chest. Her thoughts returned to the decorating. “We don’t need any furniture, just some paint and a few pictures of our own.”
Tanya could see that Serge had closed his eyes and existed on the thin line between sleep and the real world. Glancing about the room from the bed, Tanya started planning. “I think we should go shopping.”
* * * *
Tanya paced down the aisle of the hardware shop. Her flat shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor as she stopped in front of rows upon rows of tinned paint. From paint tin to paint tin, her eyes analysed each colour. “What do you think, Serge?”
“I like the maroon.”
“No. Reminds me too much of one of Vlad’s porn sets.”
Serge yawned as he rested his elbow on the handle of the trolley. “I’m not sure, then. You pick.”
“You want ivory?”
“Yeah, I’ll roll with that.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for a bedroom?”
“What about baby blue?”
Tanya smiled and giggled at Serge. “I’m saving blue for when we have our little boy.”
“Oh
…. OK.”
At the checkout, Tanya couldn’t help but notice Serge’s silence.
After handing over the money, she hooked Serge’s arm and walked out of the store. “About the boy, you know. I’m in no rush. It was a joke, more than anything.”
“That’s good.”
“But it would be good …. One day, I mean.”
“Yes, one day it would be.
”
Tanya rubbed Serge’s arm. “You seem annoyed.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, I can tell.”
“Look, there are a quite a few things we have to sort out before we can even think about kids, OK?.” Serge opened the door of the Land Rover. “Plus, we’ve only been together five bloody minutes.”
“Hey
, I know.” Tanya climbed into vehicle and placed the bag of shopping at her feet. “I might have gotten a little bit excited before. But it’s just a sign that I’m happy. No need to spit your dummy out. All right? Fucking hell Serge, I’m sure you’re going through menopause.”
“Sorry
…. I just wish things were easier. You know?
“I know that. We’re both going through it together though, aren’t we?”
“Life would be great if things were straight forward.”
Tanya rubbed Serge’s thigh. “Kiss me
.” She smiled as he placed his lips on her cheek.
“I’m sorry. Let’s get back, shall we?”
* * * *
Stuck on a narrow country lane, the Land
Rover barely moved as it followed a farmer herding his sheep. Tanya watched the sheep chewing the hedgerows before being chased by a snapping sheep dog. She still felt she needed some answers from Serge. “One last thing about our little conversation before, Serge.”
“Go on.”
“How long do you think it will be before we can think about settling down?”
Serge dropped the Land Rover into first gear. “I couldn’t really answer that.”
“OK, I’ll rephrase it. How long will it be before we can forget about Vlad?”
“I’m not sure we can forget about him.”
“We can’t let him ruin the rest of our lives.”
Serge rubbed a hand down his face. “We can’t, and we won’t.”
“But don’t you want a place to call our own? One day have a family?”
Serge watched the farmer eventually moving his herd through a gate. “Of course I do. But what’s all this about, Tanya?”
“I’m just happy, Serge. But I don’t want anyone to take that away.” Tanya smiled as Serge placed a hand on her thigh. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You mean the world to me.”
The sun broke through the grey clouds and warmed Beatrice’s back as she knelt on a plastic mat in the vegetable garden. The sound of footsteps caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder while continuing to turn
the soil with her garden fork. “Bruce?”
“Yeah it’s me.”
Bruce opened the small wooden gate and stepped into the vegetable garden.
“Is Serge with you?”
“No, the pair has gone to the village.”
“I wish one of them told me, I would have given him a small shopping list.”
“They seemed in a little rush to get out. I think Tanya is in need of a pregnancy test.”
Beatrice chuckled away as she continued to twist the fork in the black soil. “Shouldn’t be saying such things.”
“What did you want me for?”
“Well, I was thinking.” Beatrice stabbed the fork into the soil and wiped her brow. “He’s forty next week.”
“Aye, daft bugger is really down about it.”
“I know, poor thing. Anyway, after talking to the girls on the computer
….”
“Internet, it’s the internet, Beatrice.”
“Whatever it’s called. Well, I was looking up some deals for a little getaway for Serge and Tanya.”
Bruce stooped down and picked up a potato from the basket. He picked at a black eye with his finger nail. “I turned seventy and all I got was a bloody cake.”
“It’s not a competition, Bruce.”
“I know, I’m much better looking.”
Beatrice dismissed Bruce’s comment with a shake of her head. “I would go away with you, but we can’t leave the farm. Not unless you were willing to pay someone to tend to the livestock while we’re gone.”
“I know , I know.”
“Anyway, what you mean, I only made you a cake?”
“I can’t remember opening any bloody presents.”
Beatrice stabbed the fork into the soil. She turned and waved her mud covered finger at Bruce. “Do you think that bottle of Dalmore just magically appeared? Cheeky sod.”
“Aye, forgot about that.” Bruce put his hands in the pockets of his body warmer. He glanced up at the sky as the clouds covered the sun. “So, what’s the price of this
… getaway?”
“It’s a steal. Ninety nine pounds for two nights.”
“Christ, I’ll put a tent out in the field for a fiver.”
“Come on, Bruce. It’s half price.”
“For my fortieth I think we went for a bed and breakfast in bloody Scarborough. Not even any hot water to have a nice bath.”
“Enough, Bruce.”
“OK. OK.” Bruce gazed towards the barn. “I was going to let him have a half day tomorrow, but I think that muck spreader needs a good cleaning.”
* * * *
The shadowy kitchen flickered in the candlelight. A huge chocolate cake sat in the middle of the kitchen table. Serge sucked air into his lungs and expelled it with all his gusto. The candles fluttered before being totally extinguished by the rushing air. He smiled and laughed as he sat through a chorus of happy birthday. Scratching his head, Serge tried to think back to the last time he sat through such a song.
Tanya stooped down and kissed Serge’s cheek. “Happy eighteenth, Lover boy.”
“I wish, Tanya, I wish.”
Slapping Serge on his back, Bruce stared lovingly at the cake and licked his lips. “Happy Birthday, Son.”
“Thanks, Bruce.”
Beatrice smiled and struggled to contain her excitement as she handed over a card. She clasped her hands together and watched Serge open the letter. “Happy birthday
, Serge.”
“Bloody fantastic.”
“Oh I hope you both have a fantastic time.”
“Of course we will.”
Tanya took the paper from inside the birthday card. She screamed with excitement and jumped up and down. “Oh, I can’t wait for two days of pampering in a hotel.”
Bruce couldn’t wait any longer and began slicing the cake. “I don’t care if the doctor tells me I have to watch my cholesterol, I’m having some of that cake.”
Scaffolding lined the four walls of the drawing room. White sheet
s made ghostly silhouettes of the furniture. Julia stormed along the floorboards as a heel of her red shoe got caught in a protective sheet and sent her crashing to her knees. “Malcolm!” She glared at Malcolm with ferocious eyes.
“Christ, are you OK?”
“This bloody hotel is going to be the death of us both.”
“Don’t say that.”
Julia snapped as Malcolm helped her to her feet. “I will say what I want.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Two things.”
“OK
.”
Julia pushed Malcolm in his chest. “First, the internet has gone down because we haven’t paid them.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“Also, I have just been to see the bank manager, you know, the one you’re scared of.”
Malcolm ran his fingers through his hair. “I told you not to go until the end of the month.”
“That was last month. It’s the fucking third today.”
“Oh.”
Julia held her hand to her face “We’re facing bankruptcy
, Malcolm.” She pushed Malcolm’s hand away as he tried to comfort her. “When will you wake up to the reality of the situation? Your money has gone.”
“We need to get to May, Once the tourists come, we’ll be fine. The bank knows that.”
”The bills just keep coming, Malcolm.” Julia leant against a sheet covered bureau. “The renovation never ends. This place is a fucking money pit.”
“I know it is.”
“We need a miracle.”
“I know.” Malcolm chewed his finger nail as she paced the floor. “Right, I’ll go down to the lobby and sort things out at reception, it’s going to be carnage down there with no net.”