Authors: Debbie Viggiano
‘We were teenagers once Tom.’ Si set the steaming mugs down in front of his wife and son. ‘But we were respectful of our parents.’
‘Are you saying I’m disrespectful?’
Si resumed his position against the kitchen sink. ‘Not as such. But if you took the time and trouble to introduce us to people, misunderstandings might not happen.’
‘You were out when I brought Rachel home.’
‘We weren’t out when you were bringing Florrie home,’ Steph countered. ‘Much as Florrie seemed a pleasant enough girl Tom, she was hardly meet-the-parents material. It’s not a great feeling knowing your son is upstairs with a girl who has barely left another man’s bed.’
Si looked across at his wife. Trust her to get straight to the point. Again. He watched as Steph took a sip of her tea. Her elbow caught the edge of the laptop nudging it sideways. Si didn’t leap forward to rescue it. He wasn’t up for getting his wrists slapped a second time. Thankfully the laptop stayed put. The screen was now facing Si.
Tom looked put out. ‘So you think I shouldn’t have befriended Florrie because she was soiled goods?’
Si stared at the laptop screen. If he narrowed his eyes he could read the text.
‘
Befriend
is one thing Tom,’ said Steph in exasperation. ‘
Bonk
is another.’
‘Well it wasn’t her fault she was knocked up!’
Clearly Steph was in the middle of corresponding with somebody. There was a small photograph at the top of the screen. A man. A good looking man.
‘There’s such a thing as precautions,’ Steph fired back.
Dearest Barry. I was blown away by your accepting my friend request.
‘The condom split!’
Steph looked like she wanted to clap her hands over her ears. ‘We don’t want the details Tom.’
If I may be so bold Barry, I’d like to say you are very fit, in every sense of the word.
Si’s eyebrows shot up. Who was Barry? And why was Steph telling this Barry person he was fit?
‘Just because Florrie was up the duff didn’t mean she was a horrible person. I really liked the girl. Thought she was gorgeous too. And neither of us knew she was pregnant when we started dating. Anyway, she always knew our time together was just a fling.’
Hey Steffy! Thanks so much for getting back to me.
..blah blah blah...
I had no idea I meant so much to you at school
... this Barry person knew Steph at school?
I most definitely want to see you. Just you. Not Dominic!
Who the heck was Dominic? What was going on here?
Here’s my mobile number.
Si stretched an arm along the worktop. Casually, he picked up the notepad used for writing shopping lists. He was surprised to see his hand was shaking slightly. Untangling the string on the biro, he copied out the mobile number. Tearing off the paper, he folded it and tucked it inside his pocket.
‘Well it shouldn’t be a fling,’ Steph snapped. ‘What’s wrong with the younger generation these days? They think a quick fling is all that matters.’
Do give me a call. Day or night. I await with bated breath! Loads of love, Barry xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Si was reeling. The only boy he’d known from school days was Barry Hastings. Si screwed his eyes up and examined the profile picture. It
was
Barry Hastings! And judging from this touching exchange, Steph and Barry were planning on meeting. And Steph had just delivered a sermon to their son about flings!
‘There’s a name for girls like Florrie,’ Steph said. Tom’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Si heard two alarm bells ring in his head. The first flagged up that Tom and Steph were about to have a row. The second lot of ringing was more urgent. It warned Si that his wife was ripe for an affair.
‘And what is this name?’ Tom demanded.
Steph’s neck was turning red. She was clearly starting a hot flush. ‘Fuck buddy,’ she hissed, her face now magenta.
Tom leapt up from the kitchen table.
‘Enough!’ Si put up a hand. ‘Let’s just end this subject. Tom, you are welcome to bring a girl home. Frankly I couldn’t care less who she is so long as you introduce us and are discreet and respectful while in this house. Is that understood?’
‘Yes Dad.’ Tom scraped back his chair and stood up. Casting a dark look at his mother, he went upstairs to bed.
‘Well thanks for undermining me,’ Steph glared at Si.
Si glowered back. ‘I think you need to practice what you preach. I’m going to bed.’ He stalked out of the kitchen leaving Steph mouthing like a goldfish.
Upstairs, Si stripped down to his boxers. He rolled his socks into a ball and tossed them into a corner. He knew it would annoy Steph, but he didn’t care. And to think he’d been beating himself up recently for having erotic dreams about Dawn! Well he wouldn’t be feeling guilty any more. Oh no!
Chapter Eighteen
June had woken up alone. Thank God. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. She lay in bed and listened to Ralph snoring in his basket on the landing. June suspected Harry didn’t like Ralph. He never fussed the little dog. Nor did Ralph wag his tail at Harry. If only animals could talk! Then June could ask Ralph what he thought of Harry and whether she should share a bed with him. She had a nagging feeling Ralph would snarl by way of answer. Instead June would have to discuss her dilemma with Steph. Normally June didn’t shy away from confiding in her neighbour. However, if Steph heard secrets that alarmed her, she in turn would confide in Si. And June knew from the nasty business with the wily octogenarian that Si cared enough about her to go to war if necessary. She didn’t want Si going to war with Harry.
The trouble was June no longer knew how she felt about Harry. Initially Harry had been a gift from salsa heaven. A man who remembered all the dance moves and was a natural leader. Harry had also soared in June’s ratings because he had his own teeth, a full head of hair and wore decent aftershave. Finding out he had a detached house and drove a BMW was icing on the cake. June had stalked Harry around the dance floor. In the interval he’d bought her a glass of wine. They’d hit it off almost immediately. And June had enjoyed simpering and batting her eyelids. However, what June hadn’t reckoned on was the momentum this friendship had gathered. Harry had made it as plain as the nose on June’s face that he wanted more. And his proposition to spend a weekend in Brighton was tempting. Beautiful Brighton! A stroll along the pier. Paddling in the sea. The hot sun on their faces. A fish and chip supper overlooking the beach. And then sliding between the sheets of a four poster – a bed fit for a princess. But another part of June knew that no matter how you dressed this weekend up, it was a
dirty weekend
. June sighed. First the dirty dancing. Now the dirty weekend. How apposite.
The biggest thing that bugged June was the way she’d responded to Harry’s kiss. She had so looked forward to that first kiss! In her head she’d watched and re-played so many times how that kiss would unfold. A gentle embrace. Harry inclining his head. Lowering his mouth. June tilting her face. Harry touching her cheek tenderly. A soft brushing of lips. And then again. A little longer this time. Harry’s fingers stroking her hair. Pulling back. Harry looking drunk with love. The reality couldn’t have been more different. She’d found herself in the middle of a grapple, squashed up against her front door. When she’d opened her mouth to protest, Harry’s tongue had landed in her mouth. June had been repelled. It had reminded her of a fat wriggling fish. And when Harry had finally let her come up for air, he appeared not so much drunk with love but lust.
June didn’t want lust. She wanted romance. She loved the idea of Brighton. She was thrilled about the four poster bed. But she preferred the idea of wrapping their arms around each other and going straight to sleep. It had been a good ten years since she’d done anything different. She wondered if Joan Collins had this problem with Percy. Perhaps she should write Joanie a letter:
Dear Ms Collins. Do you still ‘do it’? If so, how do you go about it? I can’t remember! Also, is it permissible to wear face cream and pyjamas in bed, or should I retire in full make up and a frothy nightgown?
Out on the landing Ralph stirred. June heard him yawn and knew the terrier was stretching. Moments later paws trotted across the landing. A wet nose nudged her hand.
‘Good morning Ralph. Would you like a cuddle?’
The little dog jumped on the bed. He snuggled into June’s armpit. If she married Harry, would she still enjoy cuddles in bed with Ralph? She thought not.
‘Come on boy. Time to get up. I fancy a nice long walk.’
Ralph barked in agreement, tail wagging so hard it was almost rotating.
An hour later June and Ralph set off. As June turned to shut the gate after her, she saw Steph coming out of Number 42.
‘Morning dear,’ June called.
‘Hi June.’
Steph smiled but June thought the smile seemed strained. Steph also looked tired. She hoped Harry’s ‘Sexy Salsa Hits’ hadn’t disturbed everybody.
‘Steph dear, I want to make a firm dinner date with you and Si. Are you available tonight? I so want you both to meet Harry.’
‘We’d love to meet Harry. But I’m out tonight with Si. We’re trying to make more time for each other. Things between us have been a bit – well – fraught. What with Tom and everything.’ Steph trailed off.
June immediately felt guilty. She hoped
and everything
didn’t include the inconvenience she’d put her neighbours to by getting locked out and Si being arrested. She’d better refrain from telling Steph all about Harry’s plans for a weekend away. For the moment.
‘Would tomorrow be better instead?’
This time Steph gave a proper smile. One that lit up her face. ‘That would be lovely June. We’ll look forward to it. I’d better hurry. My bus will be along in a minute. Don’t want to be late for work.’
‘Excellent!’ June beamed. ‘And make sure you have a lovely time tonight. You and Si deserve it. The pair of you should go out more often.’
‘That’s what we plan to do from now on. Have a nice walk with Ralph.’
‘Will do. Toodle-oo.’
June set off for the park. She was almost there when she remembered she was avoiding Arnold and his Labrador. June dithered. If she carried on to the park, it would be Sod’s Law that Arnold would be there. June made her decision.
‘Sorry Ralph. Change of plan.’
She took a side road. June hadn’t been down here before. It was a tree-lined avenue and very pleasant. By her reckoning it should link up with the High Street and home again. As June bowled along, she passed a pavement café. How charming. A man was reading a newspaper, enjoying the morning sunshine. A Labrador lay at his feet. June stalled. At exactly that moment the man put his newspaper down.
‘June!’
June stared at Arnold, appalled. ‘Ah! Hello Arnold.’
‘How very fortuitous,’ Arnold beamed with pleasure. ‘Now I won’t take no for an answer. I absolutely insist you join me.’
Chapter Nineteen
Si crawled along in the early morning rush hour. He’d cut short his time in the house to avoid prolonging breakfast conversation. He’d been afraid that too long in Steph’s company would release a torrent of accusations. Si had known Steph was building her friendship network on Facebook, but naively imagined it was limited to the Tesco girls. He’d been astonished to discover his wife had been corresponding with Barry Hastings. Even worse, Steph was planning on meeting the man. Reading their words of mutual admiration had been a downright shock. What was Steph doing calling Barry Hastings ‘fit’? That was the sort of language Tom used to describe a girl. It smacked of sexual attraction. And that was the real bombshell. Discovering this friendship couldn’t be innocent. Why else had Steph failed to mention Barry Hastings to him? They’d all been in the same class for heaven’s sake. ‘You’ll never guess what Si? I’m in touch with Barry Hastings! You must remember him – he was the Golden Balls of Blackfen Primary.’ Si gnashed his teeth. He touched his pocket. The piece of paper with Barry’s mobile number lay within. He didn’t know why he’d noted it down. But he felt more in control being armed with it. Like it was some sort of insurance. Should he ring Barry? Demand to know why the man was telling Steph he was the marrying kind and wanted to see her?
Si accelerated past a milk float. And how incredible was it that Steph carried on as if nothing was happening! Clearly no guilty conscience troubled his wife! She’d put the cereal boxes on the table and made a brew looking like butter wouldn’t melt. She’d even had the audacity to say how much she was looking forward to their ‘date’ tonight at Chapter One. Huh! Perhaps she would prefer to take Barry Hastings instead.
Si drove into the Nut and Squirrel’s car park. Through the windscreen he could see Dawn in the beer garden. She was moving between the tables opening up sun parasols. Si killed the engine and levered open the van door. Dawn turned to greet him.
‘Hello pet.’
Up until now Si had responded curtly. Why? What was he afraid of? There was nothing wrong with being friendly. As his wife had so clearly demonstrated on Facebook with Barry Hastings.
‘Good morning love,’ Si flashed his best smile.
‘Another beautiful day.’ Dawn flicked her tongue over her lip. Si couldn’t decide whether Dawn deliberately did that or whether it was a mannerism of which she was blissfully unaware. Whatever the case, it certainly had a strange effect on Si.
‘Made all the more beautiful by seeing you.’ Si could have smacked himself. Being friendly and polite was one thing. Dishing out compliments was another.
Dawn looked astonished. And not displeased. Her chest, impressive by any standard, visibly swelled. Si tore his eyes away. ‘I’d best be getting on with the job,’ he mumbled.
‘I’ll get you a nice cold drink when I’ve finished doing this,’ Dawn indicated the parasols. ‘You look a bit hot and bothered.’
‘Cheers.’ Si shot off to find Terry. He was indeed feeling hot and bothered. And it had nothing to do with the early morning sunshine. Following the strains of Terry’s portable radio, Si found his colleague in the new rest room.