Authors: R J Gould
The only other customers were a middle aged man and woman
sitting at a table with half empty pints of Guinness in front of them, she
gesticulating wildly, he oozing disinterest. As David and Mary were passing,
the woman leapt up. “You ain’t listening, are you?”
“That’s ‘cos I’ve heard it all before.”
“If you supported me I wouldn’t keep goin’ on about it,
would I?”
“I do bloody support you!”
“I’m goin’ home!”
“Suit yerself, I’m finishin’ this.”
She stormed out and the man tipped the remains of the one
glass into the other.
“We can’t be at the right place,” Mary said as they
approached the bar.
“What can I get you?” asked the landlady, buxom and middle
aged, dark roots exposed at the base of her bleach-blond hair.
“We’re here to see Kanjani – the band,” David answered, self-conscious
of his posh voice.
The barmaid nodded towards a door at the far end of the
room. “There.”
“Do you think they’re filming Eastenders here tonight?”
Mary joked.
They were joined by four others from the local authority.
Charlie, Mitch, Dee and Freddie worked on David’s floor – they were the ones
who made up the nicknames for Mary. And seeing him with her now, despite being
coincidental, would no doubt provide scope for malicious office gossip.
The six of them entered a very different world to the
room they had come from. Here there was subdued lighting and the dark walls were
covered with retro rock concert posters. There was a small lit stage in the
corner. They dropped their entrance money into an open tin and walked in – it
was already crowded.
Jabulani approached with another man by his side. “You’ve
made it, wonderful. This is my brother, Farai.” There were handshakes all
round. “Take your coats off, the cloakroom’s over there. We’re playing soon.”
“Come on, let’s get away from this lot,” Mary whispered,
looking across at the four who had arrived with them. “They drive me up the
wall with their immaturity.”
David recognised a few other local authority employees. Judging
by choice of clothes and hairstyles, the rest of the audience could best be
described as ageing hippy.
On reaching the cloakroom, rather a grand name for a small
table with a rail of hangers behind it, Mary took off her North Face Polar
Protection coat. He struggled to avoid a gasp as guiltily he embraced the
pastime of selecting a name based on her attire. Tonight she was Rock Chick and
if he had to be truthful, Divine Rock Chick.
From the floor up, Mary was wearing open-toed high heeled
sandals with each toe painted a different vibrant colour; a pair of tight
fitting jeans with rips across the knees; an equally tight fitting black tee
shirt with a jazz musician playing a trumpet, his head pointing upwards; and a
multi-coloured large bead necklace. He had to have a second take. From top down
she was wearing a multi-coloured large bead necklace; a tight fitting black tee
shirt with a jazz musician playing a trumpet, head pointing upwards; an equally
tight fitting pair of jeans with rips across the knees; and open-toed high
heeled sandals with each toe painted a different vibrant colour!
Of course all this happened in a split second, but when
he looked back up to Mary’s face he sensed that she was well aware of his inspection.
“I think you deserve a drink on me,” she said, utilising her newly acquired
slow, sensuous voice.
Taking hold of his arm she led him to the bar and ordered
a bottle of wine. As she was filling their glasses the band came on stage. There
were seven of them, three women and four men, dressed in matching kaftan tops
and baggy white trousers. The shirts were white with a purple animal with horns
as a motif.
The music started, acoustic guitar and two instruments
Jabulani had told David about – the mbira and the hosho. It was highly rhythmic
with hand clapping, harmony vocals and dancing. The appreciative audience
swayed along. Farai did lots of talking between numbers, explaining the origin
of the instruments and the inspiration for their songs. Briefly he referred to
the political situation in Zimbabwe, too.
“Tatenda, thank you.” he called out after one song. “Now
we’ll put our instruments down and sing Steam Train. These trains were running
in my country long after they had stopped here, so we as children were brought
up with the shushing and the clattering. We would race along the side of the
track waving to the passengers.”
As the hissing harmonies began the audience started to
dance. Mary, having downed her second glass of wine, took hold of David’s hand
and dragged him towards the dance floor with a determination reminiscent of
Bridget at the school reunion. They remained on the dance floor for another
song, this one slow and melodic. Mary put her hands on David’s shoulders and he
responded by laying his hands on her waist. She applied pressure to pull them closer.
He was enjoying the physical contact and offered no more than a minute degree
of unnoticed resistance in deference to loyalty towards Bridget.
“God, I need another drink,” she said, leading him back
to their table. She knocked back her third glass. “We’re getting low, shall I grab
another bottle?”
“Well I’ve had enough, in fact I feel quite
light-headed.”
“It’s the dope.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s so much cannabis around you don’t have to smoke it
to get stoned, just breathe.” She moved closer to him. “You’re quite an
innocent, aren’t you, David.” She moved still closer and their lips met. For an
instant, actually for quite a bit more than an instant, he enjoyed the soft
warmth of the kiss before drawing back.
“No Mary, we can’t.”
“Why not, David? I know you’ve separated from your wife,
I thought maybe we…”
“Oh it’s complicated, Mary. You see…”
Their conversation was terminated by a group of six
policemen and women bursting through the door and ordering the band to stop
playing. The policeman in charge, the very same man who had visited David after
his mugging and then again when he brought Rachel home drunk, announced that everybody
was to be searched for drugs.
It was an efficient operation with the audience divided
into five lines to be interviewed by a designated policeman. The sixth officer,
the policewoman he also knew from the two previous incidents, acknowledged him
with a nod. She had been allocated the task of assembling those passed on by
the interview officers. David assumed they were the ones to be arrested for the
possession and perhaps sale of drugs. Amidst moans and groans, the audience
were told no one could leave until all had been seen. However, once their name
had been recorded and they had been searched they would be allowed to use their
phones. This is when David contacted Rachel.
Finally at 1.30 am departures were permitted except for
the dozen or so who were led into two police vans. Mary followed David out.
He’d hoped to exit alone to avoid any conversation about their pre-raid dance
and kiss. She took hold of his hand. “Sorry if I’ve been pushy or misunderstood
your situation. Hey, it was a fun night though, wasn’t it?”
“No need to apologise, Mary. It certainly was an
interesting evening. I enjoyed it.”
“We’ve done rather a lot of apologising recently, haven’t
we?” she continued as she took hold of his other hand. “My taxi’s here, I’d
better head on. I hope you have a good New Year – I’ll see you back at work.” She
drew him towards her and once again planted her lips on his. David was drawn in
by the arousing contact. This time the duration of the kiss was considerably
longer; he wrapped his arms substantially more firmly around her waist until their
bodies were clamped together; and he provided more than a hint of a noteworthy response
as their tongues met.
He watched Mary as she got in the taxi. Turning, he saw
that Charlie, Mitch, Dee and Freddie were also watching.
There would be no mention of the concert and no need to
say anything about Mary. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d done anything wrong –
all the chasing had come from her. “I’ve missed you,” he said.
“Missed you, too.”
Although responding to the first kiss was just to be
polite, he had been a tiny bit aroused. But that was no more than a man’s
normal physiological reaction. “When do you get back?”
“Late tomorrow evening.”
Yes, Mary had looked great. But there was nothing wrong
in appreciating another woman’s attractiveness. “When can we meet up?”
“Sunday. Come over round tea time. There’s something I
need to tell you.”
That was good news; he would be seeing Bridget before
having to deal with Mary back at work. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Mary,
but he knew how he would act. Polite. Professional. Friendly. Detached.
The second kiss had been very enjoyable; in fact if he
were truthful the whole evening with Mary had been enjoyable. “Great, see you
then.”
“Bye.”
“Bye, Bridget.” But not nearly as enjoyable as being with
Bridget.
~
They sat on a sofa in Bridget’s lounge drinking peppermint
tea. A Sade CD was playing. He edged closer and kissed her. Her response was a
little clipped; he sensed tension which matched his own because he was
considering owning up about Mary.
Bridget pulled away just as Sade sang ‘
I will be your
friend until the end of time, I will be your friend I'm here to make you smile.’
“Will you be my friend until the end of time?” David asked.
“There’s something I need to tell you, David.”
“But will you?”
“Listen please.”
“I am listening,” he said as he stretched across to kiss
her again. A New Year, a new, more assertive approach to cementing their
partnership was his tactic.
“This is important, please stop,” Bridget ordered with a raised
voice.
A surprised David edged away, switching his gaze to her
anxious face. “I am listening,” he repeated solemnly.
“There’s something you have to know. Roland didn’t die in
an accident, I killed him. You’re in the same room as a murderer.”
David expected a smile but she remained serious. She had
a great sense of humour, dark and cynical. The punch line to a joke was about
to follow. He allowed the pause to build up, but nothing ensued. He broke the
silence. “Don’t be silly, Bridget.”
“I’m not. It’s true. I killed him and I was lucky not to
get caught. I can thank my dad for that.”
“You’re telling me you murdered Roland and your father
helped you do it? I don’t believe you.”
“Well my father wasn’t there when I did it, but he made
sure I got off scot free. Let me tell you what happened.”
David nodded, still half anticipating an amusing twist.
“You already know a bit about what Roland was like; not
all the nasty details because there’s no need to. And dad and mum were aware of
how unpleasant Roland had become, they saw it every time I visited. They’d
never liked him in the first place and warned me off marrying him, but who
listens to parents about things like that.
“One day when I went to see them they could tell I’d been
crying, not much detective work needed for that. The night before Roland hadn’t
come home and when I’d asked what was going on, he told me he’d been with one
of his students. He did some part-time teaching at the art college and seducing
students was his favourite pastime. I’d had enough – I told him that was it
between us and he let fly. My mum eked out the sordid details of our relationship
and I admitted that our marriage was a complete joke. They were worried that a
separation would be awful for their grandchildren.
“What I told you the first time round about what she and
dad suggested is true. They volunteered to look after Andy and Kay and to pay
for a holiday to see if there was any chance of sorting things out.
“I had no enthusiasm to go along with their idea because
to my mind we were finished, but they urged me to try one last time and I
relented. I searched the web and came across a lovely cottage in the Scottish
Highlands by the sea. I booked the flights and the car. By then our social
lives were pretty well apart, but it didn’t need much persuading to get Roland
to come along. He was always ready to grab something given to him for free.
“I decided I might as well be positive, to make an effort
to rekindle something. But it was hopeless from the outset. Starting with the
train journey to the airport, he was as unfriendly and deriding as ever, and I
knew being stuck together in a relative wilderness for ten days would be a
nightmare. True to form the first week was hell and I counted down the days to
get back to London. Roland was probably doing the same. There were four days
left.”
~
“My turn to drive, Roland. Let’s head north, the guide
book says there are stunning views a few miles away.”
“I don’t want another fucking walk. I never thought I’d
say this, but can’t we find somewhere with shops or a cinema or even a bowling
alley?”
“Tell you what, let’s make this the last one then head
back to Inverness tomorrow and spend some time there.”
“I don’t fancy this, I’m knackered.”
Bridget grabbed his hand in an act of friendship, but he
pulled away. “Come on,” she urged. “The last walk. Tomorrow we’ll book the
fanciest hotel in Inverness, one with a spa. Then we can lie around relaxing
for a few days.”
In silence they collected their boots, rainwear and the
packed lunches Bridget had prepared. Their phones remained where they had put
them on the first day, on the kitchen table. Since there was no reception there
was no point taking them.