Thursday

by David Ridgway

  “There’s a cup of tea for you,” she said, as David came through the door. “Have you been on a run?”

  “Cheers, Mum,” he replied, thinking that she was stating the bleeding obvious. He flopped onto a kitchen chair.

  The tea was hot and reviving. He held the mug in both hands, watching the steam rise, as his fingers thawed out.

  “I’ve got a meeting this morning with the Save Heathrow Group,” said Sarah. “I suggest you get into the bathroom now, before your Dad gets up.”

  “OK,” David replied. “I’ll go up straightaway. Anyway, I’ve got a ton of revising to do. I thought a run would shift the stiffness from my legs after the match, as well as clearing the brain.”

  He went upstairs, wondering what Jackie was doing.

  Alice was awakened as the sun shone brightly into her bedroom. Her thoughts immediately went to the small room to which Andy had taken her. He had driven her to Battersea, to one of the streets just off the Albert Bridge Road. The flat was at the top of the building, set into the roof, where a skylight with windows on three sides was built into the roof. This made the room seem bigger and it was definitely lighter. It was, in fact, a bedsit that belonged to one of his lady friends, currently working overseas in Bahrain. Andy had been given the keys, basically to keep an eye on the flat and to keep the place clean and tidy.

  After getting out of the cab, Andy had led the way into the building, mentioning that the room was on the top floor and that he was sorry that there wasn’t a lift. He indicated that she should go first, saying that there were four flights of stairs and the door was at the end of the landing. He followed behind, carrying a holdall with his equipment and looking at the fall of her coat and her trousers. He was thinking how much of a shame it was that she wasn’t wearing the skirt and blouse like she had the day before.

  At the top, she turned to her left and stopped. Andy produced the key for a Yale lock and opened the door. Inside, because the room was chilly, Andy turned on the electric fire and both electric heaters. He opened the curtains, lighting up the room. There was only a little sunlight, of course, because the window faced north east and it was already well into the afternoon.

  “If you look out of the window, you can see up the river towards the city,” he remarked.

  She walked across the room to join him and started to pick out the famous landmarks in the distance – Battersea Park and, just beyond, the old power station, the London Eye and away in the distance the Shard. Through the left-hand side, she could see Battersea and Albert Bridges and the Telephone Tower on the northern skyline.

  “The view from here is really fantastic,” she turned to look at him, but Andy was busy in the little kitchenette. He was putting on the kettle to make a drink.

  “I can’t run to real coffee, but I do have Douwe Egberts” he said. “And there’s fresh milk in the fridge.” He thanked his lucky stars that he had stopped by and put a fresh carton of milk in the fridge, before driving to Richmond. “You don’t take sugar, do you?”

  “No, thanks,” she replied. She looked round the room, which was surprisingly spacious. There was a double bed, a small settee with two single armchairs and a table with two chairs. The kitchenette was to the left of the door and set towards the rear of the building. Beyond it, there was another door, which she presumed would lead to a small bathroom.

  “This is a very nice flat” she remarked. “But you told me that you live in Kennington, so how are you able to use it?”

  “It belongs to a friend of mine. She’s working overseas on a six month contract,” he answered. “She asked me to look in from time to time to make sure that everything’s OK. She also lets me use if for my photographic stuff as well.”

  “Do you do a lot of that?” Alice realised she was chatting to put off the moment when Andy would want to start the session.

  “I used to do a lot, but I pick and choose who I want to work with these days.”

  He opened the bag and took out a rolled-up umbrella. He then produced an extension and fitted the umbrella into it. It was now long enough to concentrate the light behind the subject. Next, he brought out four spotlights and plugged them into a 4-gang extension. He placed one spot on the top of the wardrobe and one on the chest of drawers. He then moved the table to one side, leaving just one armchair in place. He placed the third spotlight on the table. There was a screen already in place behind the chair.

  “Can you sit here, please?” he asked.

  She sat, still in her coat, as indicated and, once again, her hands were clasped tightly in her lap with her shoulders slightly hunched with her body leaning forward. She stared at the floor, wondering what was going to happen. Andy produced a lightweight tripod and a digital camera from the bag. He fixed the camera and checked the settings. He looked at the screen, centring on Alice’s image and took a shot. The flash made Alice jump.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

  “That’s OK. I was just setting everything up and wanted to make sure that the light and the angles were right. Here, look. This is the picture.”

  He carried the camera to her and showed her the image. She blinked when she realised how lost and vulnerable she looked.

  “I’m not sure I like that.”

  “Don’t worry. That’ll never be used. It was only a tester. Now, can you sit up a bit straighter, but with your head still bent forward, but with your eyes looking through your lashes at the camera?”

  As he was talking, he placed the camera on the tripod. “That’s good.” He took two more shots. “Now, can you turn slightly to your right, but still keep your head bent forward and still looking into the camera?”

  Slowly, Alice began to relax and as the heaters warmed the room, she also began to feel warm. “Can I take my coat off, please?” Andy looked at her and suggested that before taking it off, she might just open it. He took some more shots as the coat was opened, before she finally straightened her shoulders and allowed the coat to slip down her arms.

  “Ah!” said Andy. “I didn’t realise that you were wearing a cardigan.”

  “Well it was quite cold when I came out to meet you.”

  “Of course it was. I wonder if Jenny has any blouses you could wear. She’s about your size.” He slid open the wardrobe door and, there hanging on a rail, was a selection of blouses. “Go and choose one,” he suggested

  “Are you sure it’ll be OK? I’m not sure that I’d like a stranger taking and wearing my clothes without my knowing.”

  “Oh yeah. It’s fine.” He reassured her. “Because Jenny is aware of what I do, she knows that sometimes I need to borrow some of her stuff. But she’s a classy girl and I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

  Alice looked at the rail of blouses, cotton, silk, rayon, all in bright designs and all very well made. She chose a red, flowered pattern and disappeared towards to bathroom to change. Andy placed the fourth light on the windowsill and adjusted the angle. When she emerged, Alice had tucked the blouse into her jeans and although it fitted well over the shoulders, it was quite loose around her body.

  “This is lovely,” she remarked, as she made her way over to the chair.

  “Can you stand to one side of the chair and put your hands on its back?” She did so.

  “And lean forwards from the waist?” The light behind her now showed her body as a silhouette through the blouse. “Mmm,” he added, “I’m not sure about this. Perhaps you could pull the blouse out of your jeans?”

  The effect was startling. The blouse now hung properly and as Alice lifted up her head, the pose became extraordinarily erotic, as her breasts became more noticeable. But it was more the look of her eyes that seemed to promise the world and the small smile on her lips seemed to indicate that she knew just how to deliver on that promise.

  “The jeans don’t look right. Here, look at this.” Alice went to the camera and looked at the shot. Although she didn’t want to say so, she had to agree. “Did you see any sk
irts when you were rummaging in the wardrobe?”

  “Hang on. I’ll have a look.”

  She checked the rail below the blouses and there was a selection of skirts in wool, cotton, linen. Some were long, some short, some formal and others casual. She selected a plain white, pleated, rayon article, with a side button and a zip. She went to the bathroom to change into it and when she returned, her whole demeanour was different. She walked into the room with a new confidence and poise, head up and looking straight at Andy.

  “That’s a good fit.” He looked approvingly at her. “But I’m not too sure about the blouse. Is there a white one to match?”

  “I think so.” Alice went back to the wardrobe and selected a white crepe blouse. With her back to Andy, she and took off the red flowered blouse, replacing it with the white crepe. As she was doing up the buttons, she turned back and realised that he had been taking photographs of her. She tossed her head to settle her hair, pulled shoulders back and sat down. She now realised where this photo session was leading and, much to her surprise, she felt comfortable with it.

  And now, waking up the next morning, she wondered whether she had been a fool. Not as much of a fool as sleeping with bloody Michael Varley. I’m going to knock all that on the head, she thought to herself as she luxuriated in the memories of the day before.

  Martin realised that Saturday night was going to be cold but when he woke on Sunday morning, he was surprised at the depth of the frost. Mind you, he thought. It’ll be having just the right effect on that ploughing I did yesterday. I wonder if the sun will be strong enough to let me get that top field finished.

  He walked out of the kitchen into the yard and through a gate into the middle paddock. He kicked the ground with his boot and found that the frosty crust wasn’t too deep. Yes. It seems all right. I’ll give it a go after breakfast.

  He went back inside where Jennifer was up making the breakfast, grilling bacon and making toast. She had put on an ancient coffee percolator and the aroma was warm and inviting.

  “Do you want any eggs?” she asked.

  “Two please,” he replied.

  Milton Jackson worked shifts and Sunday was the last of his three days off. His shift pattern was three days on earlys, three days on lates, followed by three days off. As it was Sunday, he felt that he should meet with his family. Milton, just a few months off 50 years old, lived on his own after his wife, Joan, had left him, taking their three children with her. Joan was already in a new relationship with another man and planning to marry him. The three children were not overly happy with this change to their lives and they missed their dad. Milton knew this and was aware that they would be pleased to see him, even if it was inconvenient to Joan.

  Working as a train driver on the London Underground was well paid and, although he had to find the money for the mortgage each month, now that Joan and the kids had left the marital home, he was just beginning to understand and appreciate the financial freedom this presented. The major downside in his life was that he missed his kids and that he often felt lonely.

  I must get a girlfriend, he thought. I wonder how Pamela would get on with the kids.

  He stretched in his bed, got up and went to the bathroom, before going downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  Pamela was a colleague on the Underground who had flirted with him, but they had never pursued anything. She was blond, in her mid to late thirties and getting just a little thickened around the waist.

  But she is pretty and I know she lives on her own. Mind you, she might not want to get involved with a West Indian. Perhaps I’ll give her a call and leave the kids to next weekend.

  Outside, he noticed that although there was frost on the ground. The cherry tree just beyond his kitchen window was already dripping as the frost melted in the early sunshine, indicating that the day was warming up.

  It’ll be good to go to the park and just wander around, he thought. Yeah. I’ll phone Pamela.

  He checked his watch and decided to shave and shower first.

  In Yorkshire, the overnight frost had been more severe and there was a freezing fog that Sunday morning. Christine snuggled closer to Robert, who was already awake, but pretending still to be asleep. Finally, he threw back the duvet and stood up.

  “Do you want a cuppa?” he asked.

  “Yes and a digestive please,” Christine replied.

  Robert walked over to the window and looked through the curtains.

  “It’s foggy this morning and cold.” After putting on his slippers and dressing gown, he went downstairs. As he passed the front door at the bottom of the stairs, he could feel cold air coming through a gap at the bottom of the door, reminding him that it was well overdue for being fixed. He knew Christine wouldn’t be happy until it was done. They did have a draught excluder, but it wasn’t very efficient and, really, they needed a new door.

  He boiled the kettle, made the tea and put milk into the mugs, before pouring the tea. He took a couple of digestive biscuits out of the tin and put them in his pocket. Back upstairs, he put his own mug into the bathroom and took Christine’s into the bedroom, taking the biscuits out of his pocket as he went through the door.

  “Didn’t you get a plate?” she grumbled

  “Only creates more washing up,” he replied, logically. “I’m going to shave.”

  A normal Sunday in Huddersfield was starting and the fog wouldn’t stop the gentle chuntering between them.

  By nightfall, however, the fog had gone and there was a distinct lift in the temperature, with a gentle westerly breeze blowing away the last of the mist and frost.

  The same westerly breeze had arrived over west London around midday. Alice had arranged to meet Andy in the afternoon at the apartment in Battersea. She decided to dress rather more suitably in a knee length, flowing black skirt, which set off her long, shapely legs, with a white silk blouse and a thick Arran jumper. Just for devilment, she had also put on hold up stockings instead of tights and her prettiest underwear. Over the top, she wore her coat with a scarf. She had also brought a few extra clothes in a small holdall.

  Arriving at the house, there was no sign of Andy’s cab, so to kill some time, she walked round the corner and on to Battersea Bridge. She stood in the middle, looking down at the river Thames below. The tide was in and the river seemed very full. All the houseboats, moored on the far bank, were floating high and Alice couldn’t remember when she had last seen the river so high. The gentle breeze moved her coat around her legs, reminding her that she was only wearing stockings. She decided to walk back and as she turned the corner, she saw the cab and Andy taking out some equipment.

  “Hi!” she greeted him.

  He jumped. “I didn’t expect you to come from there,” he replied. “Come on. I’ve already got the heaters on, to warm the place up.”

  He picked up the box and opened the front door for her. She went up the stairs first, giving him an opportunity to see her calves and the stockings. It was cool in the house, but the room was very warm, when Andy opened the door. Alice realised that the heaters had been on for a little while and she quickly slipped off her coat.

  “Do you want to see the pictures I took yesterday?”

  “Oh yes!”

  “I’ve prepared a bit of a portfolio on this laptop.” The computer was on the table and Alice sat down to look at the photos. “I haven’t put them all on. Only the best.” He explained.

  “That’s all right,” she replied. “Hey! These look OK to me.”

  And indeed they did. Even though Andy had had no training, he obviously had a natural talent. He had caught her nervousness at the beginning, her caution and her shyness. He realised that Alice would now be much more comfortable with the camera and he looked forward, with a growing anticipation, to the rest of the afternoon.

  Alice was delighted with the pictures, realising that she had grown in confidence during the session. As she had changed from one blouse to another and from one dress to another, she c
ould detect the change in her demeanour. Her shoulders had relaxed, her head had come up and her back had straightened. She now knew what she wanted to do and how she wanted to capture it on film.

  “Can you send these pictures to me?” she asked.

  “Well, they are of you, but you must understand that, as the photographer, the copyright actually belongs to me.” Andy explained briefly the peculiarities of the Law of Copyright before remarking that he didn’t think it would do any harm to send her the file. “Shall we make a start?”

  “OK.”

  “Perhaps you could slip off your jumper and sit in the armchair.”

  The chair was quite deep and as Alice sank into its comfortable seat, she felt her skirt riding up her thighs. Glancing down, she saw that the tops of her black stockings were just beginning to show. As she sunk further into the chair, she arched her back, pulling her shoulders back and pushing out her chest. Andy could see the pattern of her bra through the flimsy silk and remarked, from behind the camera “Really, you know, you don’t need to wear a bra, do you?”

  “Well I don’t always.” Alice replied. “And when I’m wearing a figure-hugging dress, I’ll not wear knickers either!” She laughed quietly.

  “Blimey! I’d never have thought that.”

  “Well, a girl has to look her best and a knicker line is so unattractive!”

  Slowly the session continued with Andy asking Alice to undo this button, lift that hem, and show the stockings and so on. The bra came off quite early and, soon after, the whole ensemble was replaced with a mid-thigh tight dress from the bag that Alice had brought.

  “Do you see what I mean about knicker line,” she said, bending over and sticking out her bottom.

  “Yes, I do. Perhaps you can wear the dress as you would want.” He suggested. She turned away from him, bent over, reached up under her dress and hooked her thumbs into the legs of the knickers, before pulling them down. Behind the camera, Andy recorded each move deliberately. Daintily, she stepped out of one leg and then the other, before placing the garment in her holdall.