Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (2 page)

I stare at the large sign above the till which reads,
put your breasts in our hands
. I’ve just spent one hundred and thirty pounds on two new bras after well and truly putting my breasts in their hands, and now Charlie tells me he is gay. He could have told me before I spent all that money. Good heavens, what am I thinking? Does it matter about the bras? Charlie has left me for another man. What will my mother say? What will my friends say? What will the vicar say? What about the wedding and the invitations? How can I tell people that Charlie prefers a man to me? Why couldn’t he have left me for another woman? In fact, why did he have to leave me at all?

‘What, you’re surely not serious?’

Georgie takes the phone and studies the text.

‘You mad bitch, you didn’t read it all
... Here.’

I grab the phone. Oh
thank God.

‘He isn’t leaving me then?’ I ask, relief flooding my body.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly.’

What does
that
mean? She pulls a face and gestures to Justine for some water.

… just until we get things sorted out. I promise there isn’t another woman but I’m not ready to settle with just one, at least not yet. I know I should have told you before. I’m so not ready for marriage. I’m so sorry Alice, please forgive me. This is the worst way to tell you, I know that. Forgive me. I’ll phone you in a few days. Of course you can keep the ring, no question.

The assistant hands me a glass of water and the tears I had been struggling to control burst forth.

‘He said I can keep the ring,’ I sob.

‘Oh well,’ says Georgie sarcastically, ‘that makes everything okay then.’

‘It can be an overwhelming experience when you purchase your first perfect fitted bra,’ smiles Justine while handing me another tissue.

‘Oh do shut up woman,’ snaps Georgie. ‘Your bras aren’t that bloody fantastic. Her fiancé just ditched her.’

Great, thanks a lot Georgie. I grab two more complimentary tissues and hiccup my way out of Hidden Beauty. All I did was buy a bra and now my life has gone tits up.

It has been three days since Charlie sent his bombshell text. The new bras are still in their shiny pink bags, along with the freebie knickers. The flat feels odd. Charlie has removed half of his things, the CD rack is depleted and what is left I can’t play as he has taken the CD player too. There are wide gaps, like missing teeth, between the books on the little bookshelf. There is just a lonely solitary toothbrush in the bathroom and all his shaving stuff has gone. I still can’t believe it. I have had only one other text from him, and that was to tell me he has no intention of paying his half of the rent any more because he can’t see the point. This morning I had checked my bank balance and realised that, while I can pay the rent this month, there is no way I will be able to pay it after that. Not if I expect to eat as well.

‘You’ll be able to find somewhere cheaper,’ says
Mother, pouring a cup of tea and pushing fruit cake in front of me. ‘Chelsea is scandalously overpriced anyway. It’s probably all for the best, that’s what your Aunt Sylvia said.’

Like I could care what Aunt Sylvia said. If I recall, she was the one who told me she would buy her wedding present from Argos, just in case, because they have their sixteen
-day money-back guarantee.

‘What about Battersea?’ suggests Georgie
, lifting her head from her P. D. James novel. ‘That’s cheap isn’t it?’

‘Do you want my daughter to get mugged? Isn’t it enough she’s been jilted?’
snaps Mother.

I wish there was some
vodka I could slosh into this tea.

‘I don’t think the dogs’ home would have me
,’ I say, attempting a joke.

Mother enfolds me within her bosom and I feel the tears threaten. Casper, decidedly embarrassed, pulls at the kitchen towel holder. Casper is my second closest friend, successful record producer, queer as a coot and a hypochondriac to boot. Outrageously camp of
course. He lives on a houseboat on the Thames and is totally obsessed with his appearance.

‘Here you are
dear; it sounds like you’re going down with something. Did you have your flu jab? You should have, being as it’s free in your job and everything. I’ve some spare antibiotics somewhere if you need them.’

I accept the kitchen towel gratefully.

‘Thanks Cas but I’m fine.’

‘His head on a platter is what she needs. What man calls off a wedding this late in the day?’ says
Mum crossly as she snatches the kitchen towel and replaces it with a soft fragranced tissue.

‘Perhaps he is sick,’ suggests Casper.

‘He’s sick in the sodding head all right,’ says Georgie.

‘I’m sure it is just wedding nerves. Charlie wouldn’t deliberately hurt me. He’s just got into a panic I expect.’

‘Your problem is that you are too damn understanding. I swear you’d be able to see the good in Colonel Gaddafi,’ scolds Georgie.

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ I protest.

At that moment my mobile bleeps with a text from Charlie himself. My heart thumps madly. Oh God, has he changed his mind after all? Has he finally realised he really can’t live without me? Oh please God let that be it. Please let me stay in my lovely Chelsea flat
with my ever so gorgeous fiancé and my ever so lovely bohemian neighbours. I promise never to complain about the smell of their wacky baccy or incense sticks again. Please don’t make me move to Battersea or some other godforsaken part of London where my neighbours will be knife-wielding hoody drug dealers.

‘It’s from Charlie,’ I say breathlessly.

There is a sharp intake of breath from my mother.

‘You see, he has probably realised how much he misses you. Men always come to their senses. Isn’t that right Casper?’

‘I wouldn’t know lovely. Anyway, he’s not a man, he’s a wanker.’

‘Why don’t we leave Alice to her text,’ interrupts Georgie
.

I click the message icon and feel my heart sing.

Hi, are you okay? I was wondering if you were free to chat. I tried you at work b
ut they said you were off sick.

He does care for me, thank you God, thank you so much.

‘He wants to phone me,’ I say, my voice trembling.

‘We’ll leave you to it,’ grins Mother, giving me a thumbs up as she pulls Casper and Georgie out of the room.

My finger hovers over the buttons. I don’t want to appear too eager but at the same time I don’t want to play too hard to get. I don’t want him to know that I took the day off because I was too upset to go into work, but at the same time I don’t want him to think that I couldn’t care less about the break up. If I don’t answer soon he will think I am not interested at all.

I’m fine, just a 24 hour bug. Yes, I’m fre
e to chat. It would be nice to.

I study the text for several seconds and then delete the
It would be nice to
. I finally hit the send button and seconds later my phone shrills with an incoming call. I let it ring twice before answering and try to control the tremor in my voice.

‘Hi,’ I say, trying to so
und upbeat but instead sounding like I have just inhaled a lungful of helium.

‘H
ow are things?’

What am I saying? Things are bloody awful. He coughs.

‘Erm, yup things are fine. How are things your end?’

I want to say
Shittity awful as it happens. It seems the hall we hired for the wedding reception won’t refund our deposit. Broken engagements don’t entitle you to a refund. But if one of us dies that is different, so I was thinking of hiring a hit man. Are you okay with that?
But instead I say,

‘Yes fine, well apart from this twenty-four hour bug.’

He coughs again. Maybe he has the twenty-four hour bug too.

‘I erm, managed to get the rings cancelled, so you don’t have to worry about paying for mine. Fortunately they hadn’t started on them. That was a bit of luck.’

My stomach does a churn and I feel sick.

‘Oh,’ is all I manage to say.

There is silence and I’m beginning to wonder if he has hung up when he says very quickly,

‘The landlord has someone interested in the flat. I think we should go for it while we can. You won’t have to worry about the
rent and it will be a weight off my mind. Maybe your parents will let you stay with them until you get sorted?’

So, I’m a heavy weight on his mind now am I?

‘It seems a bit premature to give up the flat. I thought we could wait a bit, see how we feel and …’

W
hat am I saying? I know how I feel. He’s the one having some kind of breakdown. Maybe it’s an early mid-life crisis and he will change his mind and come to his senses after a while.

‘I won’t change my mind Alice, if that’s what you’re hoping.’

‘But I don’t understand Charlie. It isn’t like we’ve had a row.’

Live with my parents? He may as well send me on a suicide mission. I feel my breath catch in my throat and I know if I try to speak I will just start crying. I must have sniffed loudly as he says gently,

‘I’m so sorry Ali, but it’s better now than five years into our marriage. You surely agree. Like I said, I am happy for you to keep the engagement ring and for you to do whatever you think fit with it.’

I can hear Georgie and my mother whispering
the other side of the door. I blow my nose noisily.

‘Thank you so much Charlie
…’

‘No it’s fine, it’s the least I can do
…’ he begins.

I can hear the relief in his voice.

‘What I’d actually like to do with it …’

‘Anything
Ali, you don’t have to run it by me. It’s yours and …’

‘Is ram it up your arse because this is despicable what you’re doing Charlie,’ I say, my voice breaking as I click off the phone.

I’m thirty-two. I will soon be homeless as well as fiancé less. Not in the least respectable and to make matters worse, I’m still not hanging all that well. Soon all I will have left is two very expensive designer bras and a well-hung bosom. I think I deserve more.

‘Shall I pop out and get some Maltesers?’ asks Casper as he peeps around the door.

I nod.

‘She’s on the Maltesers,’ he tells Georgie

‘It looks like we’re on suicide watch then.’

Thank God for friends.

‘I’m not being funny but I could turn around and say to you at the end of the day that I don’t really mean that, do you know what I mean? But I do mean it, like. I’m not being funny, but at the end of the day, it just isn’t right is it? My mum said it was disgraceful as it happens.’

I have not the vaguest idea what Karen is talking about, but I nod encouragingly just the same.

‘I said to my mum I would talk to you, but you know, I’m not being funny but at the end of the day you’re not the real thing are you?’

‘I’m not?’

‘Well like my mum said, talk to the organ player not the monkey.’

‘Organ grinder,’ I correct.

What am I doing correcting her? She’s insulting me and I’m bloody helping her. It’s been a hell of a day. There are only thirty-five minutes left of my lunch break and I had hoped to view some flats with Georgie and Cas.

We are sitting in my office. Well that is, I’m sitting. Karen, in an attempt to intimidate me, is standing and leaning across the desk. I find myself unwillingly looking at her breasts and thinking how Justine would have a field day with her.

‘Well whatever. At the end of the day it isn’t right. Why can’t she get off her arse and buy her own sandwich?’

I fight back a sigh.

‘The GPs are very busy Karen, and if you were going to the shop anyway
…’

‘Yeah, well like my mum says, you’re not the practice manager exactly are you. I’m not being funny, but at the end of the day I’d prefer to talk to her about this but as she’s on holiday, I can’t.’

I’m beginning to wonder if I should ask when the end of the day is, and maybe we can come back and do all this then. At least I will then get to view the property. I’ve got to be out of my flat in two weeks and I still don’t have anywhere to go. Not that I haven’t been looking, it’s more a case of there isn’t much to look at, not in my price range anyway. I rub my eyes, sigh, and attempt to explain that the practice manager doesn’t deal with this type of problem. Oh no, yours truly deals with this kind of crap, when out of the blue Karen says,

‘Are you okay? I’m not being funny but you look like shit if you don’t mind me saying.’