Authors: Debbie Viggiano
‘And then the old harridan flung all the garbage about before punching her old man’s lights out. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’
And they’d all thank their lucky stars that their wives were calm and didn’t beat them up. But then again their wives probably didn’t have philandering husbands to contend with. Or have to deal with mistresses who had strap on inflatable chests.
A bus was coming. Steph darted past the dustmen and sprinted to the bus stop. Her heart was banging like a bongo drum. She charged through the automatic doors, clinging on tightly to the metal poles as the bus lurched off. She tried to steady her breathing. Her heart seemed to have shifted position. It was now pumping away in her throat. Her hands were shaking like an addict going through withdrawal. Her legs were like jelly. She collapsed on to a seat, emotionally spent.
Steph’s eyes filled with tears. She stared out the window, watching the rush hour traffic. All around her people were going about their business. Off to work. Off to the shops. Off to school with the kids. Young mums pushed buggies along the pavement. Their older offspring skipped ahead with carefree abandon. It was just another ordinary day for all these people. All they’d had to deal with was burning the toast. Or making sure they had a clean shirt for the office. Had any of them spent the last hour tracking down their unfaithful spouse? Or flung curry cartons at their spouse’s love interest? She doubted it.
The tears brimmed over. Two fat drops ran down her cheeks. Steph was aghast. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in public. She wiped the tears away angrily. She needed to focus. Think about practical things for the moment. Like work. She found her mobile. Flicking through the contact list, she called Shirley.
Shirley answered almost immediately. ‘Hey Steph. I’ve been looking out for you. Where are you?’
‘I’m on the bus Shirl. I’m going back home.’
‘Oh dear. You sound upset. Is everything okay?’
Steph inhaled shakily. ‘I’m not sure. I feel very strange at the moment.’
‘I’ll let Personnel know. You get yourself to bed. I’m sure you’ll be fine tomorrow.’
‘Thanks Shirl.’ Steph put the phone away. She doubted she’d be fine tomorrow. She doubted she’d be fine ever again. Steph leant her head against the window. She couldn’t think straight. She needed to be rational but all her thoughts kept jumbling over themselves. Should she try and iron things out with Si? Forgive him? Or wave good-bye to her marriage? Twenty-four years of matrimony undone in twenty-four seconds. But maybe Si wouldn’t want to sort things out? One of Steph’s hands fluttered to her mouth in horror. What if – she stifled a sob – what if Si was actually pleased everything was out in the open? Maybe he’d been planning on leaving her all along. Steph’s eyes filled again. She couldn’t stand it. Her Si. Her lovely, safe, sensible Si. He’d discarded her like those unwanted curry cartons. Steph sniffed and blinked rapidly. Foraging in her bag for a tissue, she blew her nose. Jessamine Terrace loomed into view. She stood up and swayed to the exit doors.
Steph could see Tom getting out of a sports car. Goodness. Who did her son know who drove a car like that? Further ahead, Steph could see June going the other way up Jessamine Terrace. Her neighbour was almost sprinting, a shopping trolley bouncing along in her wake. The sports car roared off. Tom turned to wave, his face animated. As Steph approached, Tom looked her way.
‘Hi Mum,’ he smiled. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Don’t speak like that Tom.’
‘Okay, you look like pooh. Is that better?’
Steph shrugged. ‘I feel like pooh.’
‘Me too,’ said Tom opening the front door. ‘In fact, I’m going to bed. Been up all night. Catch you later Mum.’
‘Make the most of being young, free and single Tom.’
Tom laughed. ‘I am. Before I end up like you and Dad. Wedded bliss, mortgage and a terrible teenager.’ He hugged Steph briefly before bounding up the stairs two at a time.
Steph felt like going to bed too. She wanted to draw her curtains on the world. Slide under the duvet. Pull it over her head. And never get up again. Instead she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Her laptop was still on the kitchen table. While the kettle was boiling, Steph fired up the computer. She pulled out a kitchen chair. Sitting down, she logged on to Facebook. Ah yes. The message from Barry Hastings. It seemed like a life time ago. Well one thing was certain. Now she could arrange to meet Barry with a clear conscience.
Clicking on the Messages icon, Steph began to type.
Chapter Twenty Seven
June wheeled her trolley along the pavement. It was quite heavy now. A bottle of cheap wine and several tins of fruit cocktail weighted the base of the trolley. She had all the ingredients for the chilli chicken casserole. Sainsbury’s had been doing a special offer on baking potatoes so she’d bought a bag. She could pad the meal out with a few tasty jackets. June was sure Si, whilst not being a growing lad, would nonetheless be hungry. He worked so hard, the dear boy. And Steph looked like she needed feeding up too. She must be expending huge amounts of calories simply worrying about Tom’s shenanigans.
As June walked along the High Street, she was surprised to see Harry on the opposite side of the road. He was stepping out of the Happy Coach Holidays shop. He looked mighty pleased with himself. June was about to wave, but a bus drew alongside her obscuring him from view. By the time the bus had moved on, Harry had disappeared. June scanned the pavement to no avail. Not to worry. She would ask him about it tonight.
As June rounded the corner to Jessamine Terrace, she saw Si’s van driving in at the other end. By the time Si had inched the van backwards and forwards into a parking space, June was parallel with the driver’s door. She knocked on the window. Si jumped out of his skin and his foot slipped off the clutch. The van promptly stalled and bunny-hopped into the bumper of the car in front. There was a horrible bang. June put her hand to her mouth. Oh dear! She knocked on the window again.
‘I’m so sorry Si. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ Si appeared to be clutching his chest. He wasn’t moving. Oh no. Had he had a heart attack? Had June inadvertently killed him?
The door to Number 50 flew open. June watched with trepidation as Mr Papadopoulos came down his garden path. He was rolling up his sleeves. Was he preparing for a fight?
‘You bleedin’ idiot,’ he bellowed.
June wasn’t keen on Mr Papadopoulos. He never smiled. And his eyes were too close together.
‘Please don’t shout Mr Papadopoulos,’ June quavered. ‘It’s my fault. I made Si jump. I’m worried he’s had a heart attack.’
‘Well if you haven’t killed him, I will. I’ve only just got that car back from the garage after the wife reversed into a lamp post.’ He walked round the back of the car and hunkered down to scrutinise the bumper.
Suddenly the van door creaked opened. Si levered himself out. He was rubbing his neck and had a black eye.
‘Si you’re injured!
‘I’m okay,’ Si assured. June thought he looked anything but. ‘Is the bumper all right Mr Papadopoulos?’
‘It
looks
okay, but I can’t tell for sure. It might have a scratch on it.’ Mr Papadopoulos looked pained.
Si reached into his back pocket for his wallet. ‘Here,’ he said handing Mr Papadopoulos two twenties. ‘I’m sure the garage can touch it in if there’s a problem.’
‘Cheers. You are a good man.’ Mr Papadopoulos palmed the money. ‘Your eyeball, however, doesn’t look so good. I’d get a steak on that if I were you.’ He stuffed the money into his trouser pocket and sauntered back to his house.
‘Beastly man,’ said June staring after Mr Papadopoulos with dislike. She turned back to Si. ‘All I seem to do lately is cause you trouble.’
‘June, don’t worry about it. I manage to get into enough trouble all by myself. Cross words from Mr Papadopoulos are nothing – water off a duck’s back.’
June stared at Si. ‘Why are your trousers on back to front? And your t-shirt is all dirty.’ She flicked a hand across his shoulder. ‘You have rice on it.’
‘It’s a bit of a story love. I’d better get indoors and clean myself up.’
‘Of course dear. I’ll look forward to seeing you and Steph at seven.’ Si looked blank. ‘My little dinner party. Remember? You’re meeting Harry.’
June wasn’t sure, but for a moment she thought Si had looked dismayed. But now he was nodding his head, smiling assuredly. ‘Ah yes, of course, and we’re really looking forward to it love.’
June beamed. ‘Well I’d better be off too. Lots to do. Toodle-oo.’
Once inside her kitchen, June put everything away and then started cooking. She wanted the chicken to be really tender. She studied the recipe for chilli chicken casserole. These recipes had a tendency to be bland. Fortunately she’d bought plenty of fresh chillies to liven it up. Setting the oven temperature to low, June busied herself with the preparation. A little while later she transferred the mammoth casserole pot to the centre of the oven. Minutes later she placed foil-wrapped potatoes around the pot’s edge. She was looking forward to this!
Now that the cooking bit was out of the way, June could take Ralph for his walk. She called the terrier’s name. There was a plopping sound followed by trotting paws.
‘Have you been on my bed again?’ asked June as Ralph appeared in the kitchen. Ralph wagged his tail. ‘I thought so. You won’t be able to do that if we go to Brighton. I don’t think Harry will like it.’ Ralph stopped wagging his tail. June couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t entirely sure where Ralph was going to sleep if she agreed to go, or whether there was enough room for Ralph’s basket in the boot of the BMW. She’d better ask Harry if the hotel was dog friendly. Clipping on the lead, June and Ralph set off for the park.
It was another lovely day. Summer had truly arrived. June hoped the weather would stay good for several weeks and not just a few meagre days. As she turned into the park, June’s heart gladdened. There was Arnold and Milly! Ralph barked in recognition. He strained at the lead, carting June across the short distance.
‘Hello boy!’ Arnold stooped down to pat Ralph. The terrier stretched his front paws up Arnold’s leg, tail wagging so quickly it was a blur.
‘No walking stick!’ June exclaimed.
‘Nope. I woke up this morning and was delighted to find the ankle was as good as new.’
‘So you’ll be able to go on your weekend to the Lakes after all,’ June smiled.
‘Certainly will. Bridget is pleased. Mind you, if push had come to shove, she had Malcolm lined up to take my place.’
June looked shocked. Did Bridget and Arnold have some sort of open relationship?
‘Malcolm is another rambler, but he drives Bridget bonkers. Always insists on being leader and then getting us all lost.’
‘Oh! So, so it’s a
group
thing you’re going on.’
‘Absolutely. Ten of us. All good friends.’
‘So you and Bridget–’ June tailed off.
‘Are walking friends.’ Arnold caught June’s look and his eyes widened. ‘Oh! You thought we were an item?’
June blushed. ‘Well, yes I did rather.’
‘Oh no. Not at all. Bridget isn’t interested in the likes of me. Or anybody else who wears trousers, if you get my drift.’ Now it was June’s eyes that widened. Arnold laughed. ‘Don’t look so shocked June. It’s not just the youngsters of today who have the monopoly on gay love. Oldies have feelings too – no matter whether they’re gay or straight. As your friend knows only too well.’
‘My friend?’
‘Yes,’ Arnold put his head on one side, as if considering. ‘The friend who is worried about going to Brighton and is attending your imminent dinner party.’
‘Ah!’ June nodded. Harry. ‘Yes. Of course. The dinner party is this evening. I’d better hurry up with walking Ralph. There’s still a few things to do.’
‘Do you mind if Milly and I walk with you?’
‘That would be lovely,’ June smiled. June liked Arnold. She liked his twinkling eyes. And his calm voice. He held out an elbow for June. They linked arms. What a gentleman.
‘So. Everybody has plans for summer apart from you June.’
June tried not to look shifty. ‘So it would seem Arnold.’
‘Well what about coming on the rambling weekend with us all? We stay at a marvellous hostel. The lads are in one dorm, the lasses in another. Totally dog friendly too. Plenty of room for you and Ralph. Milly’s going.’
‘Gosh. Well now.’ June tried to think of a reason to decline the invitation. And then she realised that she didn’t want to find an excuse. She wanted to go. Sharing a dorm with women her own age presented no difficulties. Ralph could even sleep on her bed! It wasn’t as if she and Arnold were a couple. So she had nothing to feel guilty about. June took a deep breath, ‘I think that’s a grand idea Arnold!’
Chapter Twenty Eight
Dear Barry, forgive me the delay in replying to you. I’ve had problems to deal with.
Steph paused. She was desperate to offload her marital problems. But who could she confide in? She couldn’t tell Shirley. Much as she loved Shirley, Tesco’s entire staff would end up knowing. Shirley couldn’t keep secrets. Nor could Steph tell June. Dear, sweet, sensitive June would be as devastated as Steph. And she certainly couldn’t tell Tom. He’d written his parents off as impotent dinosaurs long ago. To find out his father not only still had a sexual appetite, but a taste for buxom mistresses would be too embarrassing for words. Apart from anything else, Steph didn’t want Tom thinking badly of Si. For the same reason, she couldn’t tell any of her family either. The last thing Steph wanted was her father making an appearance. He’d clobber Si with his walking stick. And if she confided in her mother-in-law, it would probably be Steph who’d get clobbered. For make no mistake, her mother-in-law would somehow blame Steph for this whole sorry mess. Her son had been Saint Simon from the moment he’d been delivered at Queen Mary’s Hospital. No. Despite her problems, she would have to keep them to herself.
Steph’s fingers rested on the laptop keys. The urge to unburden wouldn’t go away.
I have marital problems Barry.
Ooh, what a relief to type that.
I found Si with another woman. And I confronted her!
Steph half-keeled over the laptop. She felt dizzy expressing the pent-up emotion. It felt so good. Such a release. But there was so much more to divest! And then Steph had a brainwave. She would carry on outpouring but wouldn’t actually send the message. Once she’d vented her spleen, she would hit the delete button. Then she would re-write a polite message to Barry instead. Suggest coffee and a chat about the good old days. Brilliant idea.