Limp Dicks & Saggy Tits

by Tracie Podger

  I sighed. For the first time, I saw the grime and the greyness of unkempt houses and cars that needed a wash. I saw what was once bohemian, simply masking run down. I wasn’t sure when it all happened. Yesterday, I was in love with the area.

  The taxi pulled over outside my address, and I sat and looked up at the Victorian building. Although at the nicer end of the street, it was still a terraced house, albeit double width, among a hundred similar properties with no real character.

  “Are you getting out?” I heard. The taxi driver, who gave me a kind smile, brought me out of my thoughts.

  “I'm sorry. I was just thinking how miserable everything looks today when it hadn’t yesterday.”

  I rifled around my purse for the fare, and I placed it on the little tray built into the partition separating me from the driver. I thought it a stupid place to have to leave the fare; the poor guy was going to need a chiropractor after reaching behind to retrieve it.

  “Doesn’t look too bad, gotta have a fair bit of money to afford one of these places nowadays. My sister just moved out into Kent, got a house three times the size for the same she would have paid for two-up two-down here,” he said.

  I smiled in return and reached for the door. I stood on the pavement for a moment while he drove away. I looked up at what was once a grand house, now four flats, or apartments as Joe insisted I call them.

  I’d never taken the time to get to know the neighbours who lived on the ground floor. I knew them both to be elderly, but that was it. I decided that I’d at least knock and see if they wanted to join me one day for a cup of tea. I didn’t get that chance, though.

  “Lizzie?” Ronan’s usual smooth tone of voice seemed slightly broken with grief. I turned to face him. He continued, “I’m so sorry not to have called. I lost my phone. My mum died that day and…” He looked very different to when I’d last seen him. Dark circles framed his eyes, emphasising how pale his skin was, and I wondered when he’d last had a decent night’s sleep. The whites of his eyes were tinged with red and unshed tears.

  I smiled sadly at him. “Rich told Joe. I’m so sorry to hear that, Ronan. I did send a text of condolence, but I guess you didn’t see it.”

  “I left my phone in the taxi, I think. I got to the airport to grab a flight to Scotland and then realised it was missing. I didn’t have time to go back home and check. I had to buy a new one. Leaving it in the taxi is all I can think I did. Stupidly, I didn’t save your number.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked.

  “That would be nice.” He shrugged his shoulders as if feeling awkward. “I wanted to see you, to apologise—”

  I held up my hand to cut him off. “There’s no need to apologise, Ronan. Your mum died.”

  “I could have gotten your number if I’d tried, I didn’t. I got caught up in arrangements.” I noticed the lack of eye contact.

  I opened the door into the building, and we slowly climbed the stairs to my floor. Ronan rushed past me to open the landing door, and I stopped and looked up at him. The sparkle of mischief that I’d noticed before in his eyes was missing and deep lines fanned out either side.

  “You look tired,” I said quietly, placing my hand on his arm.

  He nodded. “I am. I hired a car and drove back late last night.”

  As we walked to my apartment, I heard him sigh. I opened the door and let him walk in first and through to the kitchen. He lifted the kettle to test its weight before deciding it needed a little more water then he opened a cupboard and retrieved two mugs. As he placed them on the counter, he turned to me, and his smile, although sad, was genuine.

  “I’m sorry. I’m taking over, and this is your house, not mine,” he said, and then laughed.

  I replied with a smirk, “The last time you were here we had Patgate, and you had to make the tea.”

  His eyes brightened. “Patgate! Oh, Lizzie. I don’t think I’d laughed as much in years as I did that day. I still chuckle when I think about it. What did your neighbour say when he returned?”

  I continued to make the tea while Ronan sat on a stool at the counter. “He hasn’t mentioned it at all, which I find not only strange but a little scary as well. He texted me, but I don’t recall giving him my number. He came home with some real tart the other night. He was drunk, I imagine, and then dismissed my complaint about their noise the following morning. I don’t know…something isn’t right with him at all.”

  “I can’t say that having you feed a stuffed cat was the best prank to play on a neighbour you’ve only just met. The litter tray was seriously odd, though.”

  “I know. Who goes to all that trouble just for a laugh? I don’t get it, but I’m damned if I’m going to ask him about it.”

  I made the teas and slid one mug towards him. I watched as he cupped both hands around the ceramic as if to warm himself.

  “When do you need to travel back to Scotland?” I asked.

  “Today, unfortunately. I came back to pick up some clean clothes, check on work, and to see you. I didn’t want to ask Rich to pass on a message. I can’t trust that bastard to get anything right,” he said, and I noticed the bitterness in his voice.

  “It’s all up to you, is it?” I asked, gently.

  Ronan nodded. “Rich fell out with my mum a long time ago. He’ll want his share of the inheritance, I imagine, but he won’t want to help sort it all out.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can help you with, please just ask.” It was a statement we all make, one that we don’t ever expect to be taken up on.

  “Come back with me,” he said.

  Chapter Six

  I blinked a few times before I raised the mug to my lips, then squealed as I gulped a mouthful of scalding hot tea.

  Ronan continued, “Seriously, come back with me. I mean, I still have to sort out my mum’s affairs, of course, but, it’s a stunning part of the country.”

  “I’d be in the way, I’d…” I tried to think of every reason why heading to Scotland to sort out a dead woman’s house, with a man I’d met for less than a couple of hours in total, was a terrible idea. “Okay,” I said.

  “Okay?” I couldn’t tell if the edge to his voice was shock, joy, or a combination of the two.

  I still couldn’t quite believe it myself. “Yes, okay. I can be of use, Ronan. I can help pack your mum’s house. I’m only sitting here getting bored anyway. I need to find somewhere permanent to live, and I can do that from anywhere.”

  I had totally surprised myself. It was about the most random thing I’d ever done—but, what the fuck, why not?

  “I thought this was your home,” he said.

  “No, this actually belongs to Joe. My divorce is finalised, done, dusted—just waiting on the money to be transferred. I’d just come back from my solicitors when I saw you. I want to buy myself a little cottage somewhere, maybe in Kent or Surrey. Somewhere outside of London. I’m hankering for some quiet countryside.”

  Ronan took a step towards me. He took the cup from my hand and placed it on the countertop and then pulled me into an embrace. “Then I’m glad you’re coming with me. The first weeks, months, are the strangest. I felt in limbo, not knowing what to do or how to start again.” He stepped back and smiled at me.

  I hadn’t realised he’d been through divorce. We hadn’t gotten that far in our conversations.

  “Thank you. I felt odd earlier today but, well, maybe we can share our stories on the journey up.”

  I picked up my tea and continued to sip. Doubt started to creep in my mind. Did I have enough layers for the trip?

  “How long do you think we’ll be in Scotland?” I asked, mentally calculating how many days the corset could go before it needed a wash. No one was getting past that.

  “A week, I guess, longer if you want to. I have to pack up mum’s things. There’s a lot to sort out,” he replied. “You can help as much as you like or sightsee, I really don’t mind. Just come, it’s a big old house, and I’d enjoy the company. I kno
w we don’t actually know each other; in fact, we haven’t shared surnames even, but so what? It’s time for an adventure, for both of us.”

  I placed my mug on the countertop. “I guess I better go pack,” I said. “What’s the weather like in Scotland at the moment?”

  “Cold, and wet, and muddy. The house is in the middle of nowhere,” Ronan said, as I walked towards my bedroom.

  I pulled a small case from the top of one wardrobe and filled it with clothes I thought suitable. I packed shoes, underwear, and toiletries. I grabbed my Kindle, a paperback I was keen to start, and a coat. As an afterthought, I grabbed a scarf.

  “Do I need wellies? I don’t know where they would be,” I said, dragging the case to the kitchen.

  “I’m sure there’ll be wellies at the house that will fit. The boot room is full of them.”

  Boot room. I was liking the sound of this house.

  “This is about the most spontaneous thing I’ve ever done but…I need the address to give to Joe. You know, just in case you murder me, or something,” I said.

  Ronan laughed as I slid a pad and pen towards him. He wrote down an address, an email, and a landline number. He tapped the pen against his teeth as he thought, then wrote a series of numbers.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to them.

  “Coordinates. He can give those to the SAS so they can organise a midnight raid to release you from my dungeon.”

  I laughed, although I was more than aware, and I suspected he was as well, of the hitch that had been caused by nerves. It was completely reckless, but a bubble of excitement burst in my stomach.

  “Lizzie, they aren’t really coordinates, that was a joke,” he said. I was mildly disappointed that he didn’t know them. “I also had to get a new mobile number because the service from my provider in Scotland was shit. I don’t know it off the top of my head and the phone is in the car. You can text him that later.”

  I picked up the pad and my mobile and texted Joe:

  I am doing something completely mad. I’m going to Scotland with Ronan to help him pack up his mum’s house. This is the address, just in case he kills me, or puts me in his dungeon.

  I added the address and pressed send. I chuckled as, seconds later, my phone vibrated in my hand. I pondered for a second on whether to answer or not but did.

  “Don’t you think you should get to know him a little first?” Joe said before I’d even greeted him.

  “Maybe, but how exciting is this?”

  “It’s a…oh, fuck it. Yes, it’s exciting. Do you know how large that house is? Rich was telling me…”

  “Joe, I don’t want to know any more. We’re leaving shortly, and I'll call you when we arrive. I’ll check in regularly,” I added.

  I wasn’t interested in what Rich had to say after the comment Ronan had made. I said my goodbye to Joe and gathered my handbag.

  “How are we getting there?” I asked.

  “Driving. It’s about an eleven-hour drive but a nice one once we get off the motorways.”

  “I guess that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other then,” I said.

  Ronan collected my luggage, and I picked up my coat and handbag. I took one look around the apartment, not entirely sure what I was looking for, but it was one of those things I’d always done. I switched off the lights and then stepped into the hall. As I double locked the front door, the one opposite opened.

  “Oh, Lizzie, I forgot to thank you for feeding Pat. He was super happy to have you take care of him. Seemed to have doubled in weight,” Danny said. There was not a smirk or wrinkle on his face to suggest he was joking or thought himself funny.

  “That’s okay, mate. We had some fun in your apartment if you know what I mean,” Ronan said, giving Danny a wink while my cheeks flamed.

  I had to hold back the smile when I saw Danny blanch a little.

  As we walked away, Ronan turned to me. “You did change the sheets, didn’t you?”

  “No, I thought you had,” I replied. We pushed through the fire door into the stairwell, not knowing if there was a response or not.

  I chuckled as we descended the stairs; the bouncing suitcase on the wood masking any of those chuckles reaching Danny.

  Ronan walked towards a Range Rover, pressed for the boot to open and loaded my bags. I placed my coat over the top and walked to the passenger door. I was about to open it when a hand reached to grab the handle before I could.

  “Allow me,” he said, as he swung the door wide.

  “Why, thank you, kind sir,” I replied with a laugh.

  Once Ronan was settled in the driver’s seat, and we had pulled out into the traffic, I felt my shoulders start to relax. “I thought you said you hired a car?” I asked, looking around the plush interior.

  “I did. I hired this one. I’m not doing that journey in a beat up ex-Uber,” he said. “I wonder what Danny thought about our comment?”

  “I find it very odd that he hasn’t mentioned the cat until now. I’ve seen him a couple of times since. I half expected him to keep the joke going by leaving me a bottle of wine or chocolates as a thank you,” I said.

  “It is strange, for sure. Very odd.”

  I watched Ronan as he negotiated the city traffic. He was a confident driver, way more than I was a confident passenger. I closed my eyes as we nearly sideswiped a black taxi. He cursed under his breath, and it was only then that I noticed the accent.

  “I haven’t noticed your Scottish accent before,” I said.

  “I haven’t lived there for so many years. I guess I slip back into it every now and again.”

  “Were you born there?”

  “Yes, so was Rich, obviously. My parents separated when we were small and to be honest we were shipped back and forth between Mum and Dad for a few years. It’s amazing we don’t have a mix of American, English, and Scottish.”

  “Your dad was American?”

  “He was…is. He’s still alive. Haven’t seen him in years though. He’s remarried with a new family as far as I’m aware.”

  “And you’ve never been curious to get to know them?” I wondered if my line of questioning was a little too prying considering we barely knew each other.

  “No, to be honest, I haven’t. Imagine their surprise if I turned up, and he hadn’t mentioned me before. He might write or send a card, rarely, but he'll only sign it from himself as if he wants complete separation. That suits me, if I’m honest.”

  Ronan stopped chatting to concentrate on joining the motorway. For a little while, we drove in silence, and it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. He hummed along to a song on the radio, and I let my seat back just a little and closed my eyes. I was notorious for ‘car mode’. As soon as I hit a motorway or any smooth travel, I could close my eyes and drift off. My mum used to say that when I was a kid and wouldn’t stop crying, she’d load me into the old car she had and drive around the block, within minutes, I’d be asleep. I guessed my ‘car mode’ came from there.

  I felt a nudge to my arm, and I jolted awake. Ronan was smiling and, strangely, holding out a tissue. He fluttered it at me, towards my face. It took me a moment until I embarrassingly realised he meant for me to wipe the drool from the side of my mouth.

  “You super snore when you sleep in that position,” he said, with a laugh.

  “I do not! Do I? Oh, God, do I? I’m so sorry,” I stammered.

  “It’s okay. Super snore is probably an exaggeration. You snuffle. It’s quite endearing.”

  I wasn’t sure, at fifty-years-old, I wanted to snuffle or be endearing. I wiped my mouth, checked myself in the mirror and then realised we’d pulled into the motorway services.

  “I thought we could grab a drink, toilet break if you need one. Are you hungry?” he asked.

  As if on cue, my stomach grumbled. I raised my eyebrows and laughed.

  “Let’s grab a dirty burger or some other junk food,” he said, and he unclipped his seat belt.

  We walked into the serv
ice station, and while Ronan queued at a burger outlet, I headed for the loos. I didn’t need to pee but sat and tried to squeeze one out anyway. My fifty-year-old bladder had decided, lately, it would play games with me. I sat and…nothing. Not a drip. I stood and flushed, and then the bastard bladder decided to leak. As quick as I could pull my knickers back down, I was nearly at full flow.

  I muttered under my breath as I wiped, dabbed at the crotch of my knickers and rifled around in my bag wondering if I’d put a clean pair in. I thanked my foresight not to trust my bladder and changed, depositing the worn ones in the bin.

  After washing my hands and checking my makeup and hair, I joined Ronan at a table with fixed, very uncomfortable plastic seats. He slid my burger and fries and my diet Coke over to me, and I chuckled at the irony. I wondered how many calories and fat I was about to consume and whether that small saving in the diet Coke really was worth the effort.

  “Mmm, you know, there is nothing like a little junk food every now and again,” Ronan said.

  “I think my hips might disagree with you on that one.”

  “Your hips are damn fine,” he replied, mimicking an American accent.

  “You do that accent well,” I said, taking a bite of my burger.

  I was conscious of sauce dripping down my chin or settling at the corner of my lips. It took forever to eat as I wiped my mouth after every bite. When we’d finished, and I’d visited the bathroom again to wash my hands and double check I didn’t have a slab of gherkin on my cheek, we headed back to the car.

  “Do you want me to drive for a while?” I asked.

  “You won’t be insured, I don’t think, but I can get you added once we get to the house if you like.”

  “As I spoke, I was trying to think of the last time I actually drove a car.”

  “I guess there’s no need since you live in London. Do you like it?”

  “I did, and then for some reason, I got an urge to move away. I think it was a taxi driver that planted the idea. I need to buy a house or rent somewhere, and I was thinking about Kent.”