Authors: Debbie Viggiano
Steph looked momentarily blank. Oh God. She and Si were meant to be meeting Flash Harry! ‘So are we June. About seven o’clock?’
‘Perfect! See you later dear.’
Steph hastened toward the bus stop. How opportune. A bus was coming along. Good. Hurst Road was on the bus route. In another twenty minutes or so, she’d have some answers.
Chapter Twenty Four
June watched Steph hurrying off to the bus stop. Her poor neighbour had looked worn out. June straightened up and closed the front door. As she walked down the hallway to the kitchen, June hoped Steph would be all right for the dinner party tonight. Opening the fridge, June stared at the contents. Zilch. Apart from the milk. She tucked the bottle into the side compartment and shut the door. Time to do a big shop.
June picked up a pad and pen. She chewed on the pen top and thought about what to make for dinner tonight. She’d better give Harry a call in a minute to let him know what time to come over. Meanwhile, what could she produce with cheap cuts of meat? Maybe a chilli chicken casserole. Dessert could be kept simple. Tinned fruit and whippy cream. June put the pen down and reached for the phone.
‘Juney darling!’ Harry boomed. ‘I really missed not seeing you yesterday.
‘I missed you too,’ June fibbed. The lie bothered her. She mentally shook her head. She was mad keen on Harry! She couldn’t wait to move into his house and be driven about all the time in the Beamer.
‘I’m so looking forward to tonight,’ Harry was saying. June had a mental picture of Harry rubbing his hands together in anticipation. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘My place,’ said June.
‘Excellent,’ Harry purred, ‘can’t wait. Shall I bring my toothbrush?’ he gave a dirty laugh, ‘Just in case I’m too tired to drive home afterwards?’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine to drive home Harry. Remember you’re meeting Steph and Si tonight – that little dinner party I told you about.’
‘Ah yes.’ Harry sounded disappointed. ‘Is Steph the neighbour that doesn’t appreciate our salsa music?’
‘Steph has nothing against our salsa music so long as it’s before ten o’clock at night.’
‘Gosh, what a bore.’
June experienced a flash of irritation. She loved Steph and Si. It wasn’t for Harry to pass judgement on people he hadn’t yet met.
‘Steph and Si are very nice people. I’m tremendously fond of them.’
‘Of course you are. I’m sure I’ll love them to bits,’ Harry back-peddled.
‘Come over about seven.’
‘Can’t I come over a bit earlier? We could share a bottle of plonk and do some dancing. I have some new moves to try out,’ Harry lowered his voice, ‘and they’re very erotic.’
June clutched the telephone. That was just what she didn’t want.
‘Sounds fun. Unfortunately I’m going to be very busy. Cooking.’ A casserole cooked itself. But Harry wasn’t to know that. Then June fretted Harry might lose interest in her. ‘But maybe next time?’
‘You betcha!’ Harry chortled lecherously. ‘See you later baby doll.’
June put the phone down. The good thing about Steph and Si coming to dinner was they’d be acting inadvertently as chaperones. Consequently Harry wouldn’t be able to grapple June into any tongue-thrusting snogs. Or try and wheedle his way into her bed. Good. She’d much prefer it if they could just stick to watching sunsets together.
Yesterday June had deliberately absented herself from Harry. Unnerved by talk of wanting to spend every sleeping hour with her, June had made excuses about chores. Instead she’d spent a lovely impromptu day with Arnold and Bridget. June assumed they were both an item. She felt faintly ashamed that she’d misunderstood Arnold’s intentions. He hadn’t stalked her around the park at all! June had also appreciated Arnold’s advice regarding the weekend to Brighton. As a result, she determined not to be pressured into anything. She simply wasn’t ready to leap into a four-poster with Harry. Or any other bed for that matter.
Ralph appeared, wagging his tail expectantly.
‘No darling. I must go to the supermarket. I’ll take you out a little later. Once the casserole is in the oven. Maybe we’ll see Milly again. Would you like that?’
Ralph wagged his tail harder. June had to admit the thought of Arnold’s company was appealing too. The idea momentarily gladdened her heart. If she had a tail, she’d probably have wagged it too. But then she remembered that Arnold was Bridget’s chap. So she mustn’t let the thought of his company lift her spirits too much. June shook her head. She was being silly. She had Harry! So what if Arnold had Bridget. She would take Ralph to the park. And if Arnold wasn’t there, she’d swing by the pavement café. If nothing else, she could say hello to Bridget. Perfect. And maybe in time she and Harry could have dinner parties with Bridget and Arnold too. Yes, absolutely!
Satisfied with the contents of her shopping list, June tore the page from her notepad and fetched her wheelie shopping basket. Saying good-bye to Ralph, she picked up her handbag and shut the front door behind her.
June was about to set off down the garden path when a sports car roared into Jessamine Terrace. The soft top was down allowing the occupants to enjoy the new day’s glorious sunshine. June noted the driver was female. A raven-haired beauty with long hair that streamed out behind her. The woman parked up. Was that young Tom sitting in the passenger seat? Good heavens. He seemed to have a different girlfriend every day of the week. June pretended to busy herself fiddling with the zipper on her wheelie shopping basket. The woman’s voice floated over on the warm breeze.
‘We’ve only known each other two minutes, but I think I’ve fallen for you Si.’
Why was the woman calling Tom ‘Si’?
‘I feel exactly the same way Amanda,’ Tom replied.
Tom and Amanda then launched themselves at each other, lips glued together. June could see Amanda’s fingers tangling in Tom’s hair. Sunlight sparked off a gold band on her left hand. June gasped. This woman was married! Whatever was Tom thinking of? The pair of them broke away.
‘When can I see you again Si?’ the woman gasped.
‘I’ll call you,’ Tom promised.
‘No, best not,’ the woman looked anguished, ‘I’ll call
you
darling. I love you Si.’
Tom cupped Amanda’s face in both hands. The two of them began to kiss again. June stopped fiddling with the zipper and instead hastened down the garden path, wheelie trolley bouncing along in her wake. She wanted to get away. Before Tom saw her. No wonder Steph looked peaky. She must be worried sick about young Tom’s tangled love life. And why on earth had that Amanda woman kept calling Tom ‘Si’? Something didn’t stack up.
Chapter Twenty Five
Si swam to the surface of wakefulness. He’d had some very strange dreams. At one point he’d been sitting on a bed massaging Dawn’s foot. But then Dawn had changed into Steph. Si had decided to broach the subject of Barry Hastings.
‘Why?’ he’d beseeched his wife. ‘Why are you planning an affair with Barry Hastings?’
And Steph had apologised. And cried. And then suddenly her arms had been around him. She’d pulled him into bed with a strength he hadn’t known she possessed. And Si had felt an overwhelming sense of relief. All was well again. He wasn’t entirely sure but nonetheless suspected Steph had stripped him down to his boxers. They’d spent the night together like two curved spoons, her arms wrapped around him. It was very comforting.
As Si hovered at the floaty stage between consciousness and oblivion, he was aware of Steph still curled into his back. She wasn’t wearing her nightdress. He could feel her warm breasts against his skin. Nice. Steph’s hand crept around his waist. He caught it and gave it a little squeeze. She squeezed back. He caressed her fingers with his thumb. She shook her hand loose and began stroking his tummy. Light, butterfly strokes. A little lower. And lower still. Si instantly felt himself responding. His boxer shorts began to tent. Thank God everything was okay between them both. He’d been more anxious than he liked to admit over the Barry Hastings business. In another minute, when he was properly awake, he would make love to his wife. Reclaim her. And nothing and no-one would ever come between them again.
Somewhere a bell rang shrilly. The sound drilled into Si’s temples. The noise had barely ceased when it began again. Angry staccato bursts. Steph’s hand continued to tease. Si opened bleary eyes. Daylight peeked around the cracks of undrawn curtains. The room was unfamiliar. Puzzled, Si’s eyes darted from left to right taking in the surroundings. A scrap of lace was on the floor. Si squinted. A nightdress. Suddenly memory whooshed into his brain. Si’s eyes widened with horror. Dawn’s nightdress! He wasn’t at 42 Jessamine Terrace. And the hand edging past his naval didn’t belong to Steph. Si thought he was going to vomit. He rocketed out of bed.
‘Ignore the bell pet. It’ll be the postman. He’ll go away in a minute,’ said Dawn.
Si stared at Dawn in horror. She was totally starkers. His boxers went from mild tenting to church steeple. Only one thing was certain. Si had literally been saved by the bell. This was all bloody Terry’s fault. Si should never have taken Dawn to A&E. Terry was the boss man. He should have done it himself. Stuff any compensation claim. If Steph found out about this, his marriage would be over before you could say Barry Bloody Hastings. Whoever was at the door, they’d now resorted to leaning on the bell. The noise was almost blood curdling.
Si jammed his feet into his trainers. In one movement he’d swept his clothes off the floor. Grabbing his van keys, he shot into the hallway. Never mind getting dressed. He didn’t care who was at the door. Dawn could see to them. So what if she was butt naked and couldn’t walk without her crutches. Not his problem. He just wanted out of here. Si flung the door open. In his haste to put distance between himself and Dawn, he shoved the bell ringer aside.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ screeched a horribly familiar voice.
Si was so frightened he dropped everything. Turning round, he put his hands up in the air. A gesture of surrender.
‘I can explain everything,’ he informed Steph.
His wife’s eyes blazed at him. And then fixed on his underpants. Si followed her gaze. He stared with dismay at the steeple in his boxers.
‘I can explain everything,’ he repeated.
‘I’ll bet you can’t,’ she spat.
‘Please love. I just want to get out of here, let’s go h–’
Si watched in horror as Steph disappeared into Dawn’s house.
‘What are you doing?’ he wailed.
Si stood helplessly on the garden path. In the distance there was an ominous rumbling. He didn’t know if it was World War Three breaking out at 35 Hurst Road, or whether it was simply a large vehicle approaching. A part of Si wanted to make a mad dash to his van and leave rubber tyre marks on the road. Another part wanted to race inside the house to make sure his wife didn’t murder Dawn. A sudden hiss of air-brakes nearly gave Si a coronary.
‘For God’s sake man, put some clothes on,’ said a gruff voice. Si spun round to see a dustman coming through the gate.
‘You BITCH!’ he heard Steph scream.
‘What’s going on in there?’ asked the dustman.
‘Get out of my house!’ Dawn was yelling.
Si’s throat was horribly dry. ‘I’m not too sure.’
The dustman began emptying Dawn’s wheelie bin. One of the bags had split.
‘Don’t worry – I’m going!’ Steph’s voice again. ‘But before I leave I’m warning you now to keep your claws out of my husband. Do you understand? Or you’ll find yourself back in Accident & Emergency with
two
dodgy feet.’
‘Sounds like some sort of domestic,’ said the dustman. He bent down to push detritus back into the split sack. ‘They sound like a right pair of harpies. Do you mind me asking why you’re standing in the front garden with no clothes on?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Si.
Steph erupted out of the house. Two pink spots stained her cheeks.
‘Look out,’ said the dustman.
Dawn was hot on Steph’s heels. She was still naked. All sign of a limp was gone.
‘How dare you threaten me,’ Dawn was shrieking. Her hair was a tangled mess, eyes wild. Her unsupported chest wobbled alarmingly. Its sheer size threatened to inflict grievous bodily harm on anybody who stood in the way. The dustman’s mouth dropped open and the rubbish sack slipped from his grasp.
Steph immediately grabbed it. Not missing a beat, she spun on her heel and lobbed it at Dawn.
‘What a shot!’ murmured the dustman as remnants of curry and rice smacked Dawn in the face.
‘I don’t know what you’re staring at!’ Steph snarled at the dustman. ‘And as for you Simon Garvey. Take this!’
And with that Steph punched Si in the face.
Chapter Twenty Six
Steph was thoroughly upset. In fact she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in such a state. She shoved her way past the gormless dustman. She couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done – she’d punched her beloved Si. She hoped it hadn’t hurt. She loved her husband. And now she hated him too. The two-timing rotten bastard.
Steph yanked Dawn’s gate open. Two more dustmen were standing on the pavement. They were rooted to the spot. Like living statues holding their wheelie bins. Both wore gobsmacked expressions. Steph glanced at the dustcart driver. He had his window down, an elbow leaning casually out. His was looking at the scene before him, his mouth a perfect O.
‘What are you all staring at?’ she snarled. ‘I pay a fortune in Council Tax so get on with your jobs!’
The men immediately began busying themselves, studiously pretending it was just another day on the bins. Steph slammed the gate so hard it nearly came off its hinges. Boy, hadn’t she made their morning! She could just imagine the conversation when they were back at the depot.
‘There was this half-naked geezer in a front garden. And then his missus turned up. All guns blazing. Right old harridan she was.’
‘No!’
‘Yes! And then this life sized Barbie doll came to the front door and had
absolutely nothing on
. Isn’t that right Fred?’ And Fred would touch his cap and say
aye
a lot.