When Archie Met Rosie

by Lynda Renham

  ‘I was sorry to hear about Mr Foster,’ Mr Singh says, as though reading my mind.

  I bet he isn’t sorry really. Frank used to call him Nappy Head. How insulting was that? He would say it to his face too. He was insensitive was Frank.

  ‘He’s probably taken my job,’ Frank used to say.

  ‘Which one?’ I’d argue. ‘You’ve had that many.’

  How ridiculous. Frank couldn’t hold a job down for five minutes. The only job he kept longer than three months was the one down at the dog stadium and most of those earnings went back into the dogs, so to speak. When you hear people say, ‘It’s all gone to the dogs,’ that was us. It really did all go to the dogs in more ways than one. I like Mr Singh. I always have. He’s been a good neighbour. I can’t say that about the rest of them in our block. I’m glad to be getting out. After all I’m sixty now. A pensioner by all accounts and it won’t be long before one of the buggers around here tries to steal my pension. It will be no good telling them that the government haven’t given it to me yet.

  ‘Yes, it was unfortunate.’

  ‘I heard he was knocked down by the Indian takeaway, Deliveroo,’ says Mr Singh.

  He probably thinks that was fitting for Frank. I feel bad telling him it wasn’t the Indian takeaway that killed him.

  ‘Actually it was a Domino’s Pizza van,’ I say.

  ‘Oh,’ he smiles. ‘I knew it was something to do with fast food.’

  I sigh and look back into the flat. It’s sad saying goodbye isn’t it? Even if you hate the place, it’s still hard. Still, it will be lovely walking out of my own front door without having to face six flights of stairs. I can’t wait for Christmas. It’ll be lovely in the new house. I wonder if I should ask Archie over for Christmas. Not Christmas Day, obviously. He’ll be spending that at Moira’s. I could invite him over for Boxing Day. I’ll see what Sam thinks.

  ‘Grab the end of that couch, Mr Singh?’ says Archie.

  ‘You can’t carry that down six flights,’ I argue.

  I don’t want Archie having a stroke before I’ve even moved in. Moira has enough on her plate without that. Although why I’m thinking of Moira, I’ll never know.

  ‘I’ll be alright,’ says Archie stubbornly.

  ‘I’m really not happy …’

  ‘Don’t fuss.’

  ‘I’ll go backwards,’ says Mr Singh.

  ‘I’ll be helping Archie,’ smiles Sam.

  ‘We’ve come to help out,’ calls a voice.

  ‘It’s Doris,’ I say.

  I hear her panting up the stairs.

  ‘I won’t be sorry to see the back of these,’ she sighs on reaching us.

  ‘Bert got the afternoon off. I tell you, those stairs are a killer. It’s a good job you’re moving out, Rosie. They’ll be the death of you.’

  ‘You see, everything works out,’ says Archie, winking at me.

  Doris looks at him and raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Hello,’ she says. ‘We haven’t met, have we?’

  ‘This is Archie,’ I say.

  The lift opens, and Crabbers steps out. He’s laden down with pillow shams and bedcovers.

  ‘Oh,’ I say on seeing him.

  ‘Crabbers offered to help. He’s got the van so he can take a few bits. He’s brought you some lovely things.’

  ‘I couldn’t do them stairs,’ he says handing me a pile of sheets.

  ‘There are pillow shams, duvet covers, sheets and some towels there,’ he smiles. ‘House warming.’

  ‘Isn’t that nice,’ gushes Doris.

  I’m recently widowed. What’s wrong with her and Shirl, trying to palm me off onto Crabbers?

  ‘This is Archie,’ I say.

  I suppose I should say that I clean for him. I suppose I also should say that it’s his house I’m moving into but instead I say, ‘Archie’s my friend.’

  Three little words but they convey so much don’t they? Doris is silent for a moment and not much silences Doris. Crabbers nods before saying.

  ‘Hello Archie.’

  ‘Alright Johnnie,’ says Archie, remembering Crabber’s name.

  ‘Yeah, not bad, you?’

  ‘Right,’ says Sam. ‘Shall we get this couch down the stairs?’

  Bert came at that moment and thankfully Archie didn’t have to lift anything. I may have had a toad for a husband, but I’ve got good friends.

  ‘Can’t wait to see the house,’ says Doris nudging me. ‘He’s lovely, Archie, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s just a friend,’ I whisper following the men downstairs.

  Moira would never allow us to be anything else, let’s be honest.

  *

  It’s almost eight by the time everyone leaves. I’ve enjoyed showing them the new house. Sam went and got everyone fish and chips. I couldn’t eat anything I was that excited.

  ‘How about we go out for a meal,’ Archie suggests after everyone has left.

  ‘That would be nice,’ I say. ‘But I insist on paying my half.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that,’ says Archie. ‘You’d insult me. Anyway, I’m starving and I miss going out for dinner so let me pay, it’ll give me pleasure.’

  I couldn’t really say no. Archie has done so much for me.

  I lock my new front door and sit in Archie’s car looking at it for a few minutes before we set off. It feels lovely knowing I won’t be going back to the Tradmore Estate.

  The restaurant is in Gidea Park. I don’t go to restaurants, so I don’t know it, but Archie insists it is a good one. We park the car and Archie offers me his arm. I can’t believe any of this. I feel like I must be dreaming. We turn the corner and walk straight into Matt Fisher and his sidekick Puny and suddenly my dream turns into a nightmare.

  ‘Well, look who it is,’ he says, his eyes narrowing.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Harry

  Harry watched Steph as she pushed her arms into her jumper. Her pert nipples disappeared inside. He felt less stressed now. Being with Steph had eased the strain. There’s nothing like a good sex session to release the tension, he thought.

  He checked the time on his watch. He ought to get back to the office. He’d had far too long a lunch break.

  ‘I’ll see you tonight then,’ said Steph reaching on tiptoe to kiss him.

  ‘Yep, the last rehearsal.’

  ‘You’ll come back to mine after, won’t you?’

  ‘I can’t Steph. I’ve got all this business with Holly. I need to be with Moira. I’ve been with you this afternoon.’

  ‘Not for long,’ she said, pulling out of his arms.

  ‘It’s our lunch break and we’ve been gone far too long,’ said Harry.

  ‘I think it’s time you decided who you want to be with, Harry. You can’t have two women on the go forever.’

  He sighed.

  ‘It’s a difficult time, that’s all.’

  She turned away and pulled on her leggings. He didn’t really have time to argue with her. Not now. He’d talk to her after the rehearsal.

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ he said.

  ‘I know we will,’ she said softly but something in her tone unnerved him.

  *

  Moira

  Holly forced down the toast that Moira had placed in front of her.

  ‘I don’t have clients today,’ said Moira. ‘Do you want to do something special as you’re off school? Shall we do some Christmas shopping and then go somewhere nice for lunch.’

  Holly nodded.

  ‘Can we go to Grandad’s first? He might like to come for lunch.’

  Moira nodded.

  ‘Okay, we’ll see if he wants us to pick him up after shopping.’

  Moira waited for Holly to finish the last of the toast. At least she wasn’t as pale as yesterday. Moira had phoned the school. She’d told them Holly had had a little procedure to help her periods. She rationalised that it wasn’t quite a lie. Soon it would be Christmas and they’d have a lovely family time and in the Ne
w Year this would all be behind them. She’d agreed to go with Holly to the doctor and have her put on the pill; although Holly said she never ever wanted to do that with a boy again. Moira knew that would change and she couldn’t bear this to happen again. Moira felt that she had let Holly down. Perhaps if she had been a better Christian mother then Holly would have stronger Christian morals. She still felt disappointed with Harry too. Maybe she’d have a word with Alf. She felt sure he would understand her wanting Harry to go and see the boy’s father. Maybe he could make Harry understand.

  ‘I don’t see the point,’ Harry had said when she’d broached the subject. ‘It’s a bit late to be making a fuss now isn’t it?’

  Harry had been quite upset that Moira had agreed to an abortion.

  ‘It’s not right,’ he’d said.

  But Moira could see Alf’s point. It would be awful to ruin Holly’s life. She had her whole future ahead of her.

  Snow had been forecast so it was a good idea to get the final Christmas shopping done. Moira hated driving in bad weather. She’d check what Alfred wanted to do for Christmas. Hopefully he’d come to them. She couldn’t very well leave him in that huge house all alone over the whole of Christmas. What would people say?

  ‘Okay,’ she asked Holly.

  Holly wrapped a thick scarf around her neck and nodded.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it. I feel lots better.’

  ‘Good,’ said Moira.

  They’d managed to avoid the word abortion and baby. Much better that way, thought Moira.

  Holly huddled in the front seat until the car heater had warmed up.

  ‘We’ll have a cup of tea at Grandad’s,’ Moira said.

  ‘Do you think he’ll come shopping with us?’ asked Holly.

  ‘I doubt it. But we’ll pick him up afterwards and take him for lunch.’

  They reached Alf’s and Moira parked across Alf’s car.

  ‘He’s home anyway,’ she said.

  They climbed out and walked to the front door. Holly rang the bell and waited.

  ‘Try the knocker,’ said Moira. ‘He doesn’t always hear the doorbell.’

  Holly rapped hard on the knocker. They waited for a while but still Alf didn’t answer the door.

  ‘Perhaps he’s popped out for a newspaper.’

  ‘Don’t you think we should check in case,’ said Holly, looking worried.

  ‘I don’t know Holly. You know how funny he gets when we use the key.’

  ‘But if he’s fallen over or had a stroke or …’

  ‘Okay,’ said Moira, fumbling in her bag for Alfred’s key.

  ‘Let’s knock again though. He could be in the loo.’

  ‘All this time?’ replied Holly.

  ‘Well yes, when people get older …’

  Holly peeked through the letterbox and called to Alf. They waited patiently.

  ‘Right,’ said Moira pushing the key into the lock.

  She hoped very much they wouldn’t find Alfred on the floor. It would be too much.

  ‘Dad,’ she called. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’ll check upstairs,’ said Holly.

  Moira walked into the living room but there was no sign of him. The house was tidy and smelt of polish. At least the house was clean these days.

  ‘He’s not upstairs,’ said Holly. ‘His bed’s made.’

  ‘He’s probably popped to the corner shop.’

  All the same, thought Moira. It was odd there was no sign of his breakfast.

  ‘Let’s go. We’ll pop back later and get him for lunch.’

  *

  Doris

  ‘She must have gone out,’ said Shirl.

  ‘She’s not at work,’ said Doris. ‘She took today off. Where would she go?’

  ‘She’s probably got tons of things to get for the house.’

  Doris looked thoughtful and scrambled around in her bag.

  ‘I did text to say we were coming.’

  She finally found the phone and after rubbing some spilt blusher from it she studied her messages.

  ‘It’s been delivered. So she must have read it.’

  ‘Shall we wait?’ asked Shirl.

  ‘I’ll give her a bell,’ said Doris tapping into her phone.

  They waited as Doris listened to the ringing tone. Finally it clicked into Rosie’s voicemail.

  ‘Huh,’ said Doris. ‘She’s obviously out with that Archie and doesn’t want to be disturbed.’

  ‘I’m pleased for her,’ said Shirl.

  ‘Yes,’ said Doris but she felt uneasy. It wasn’t like Rosie not to respond to messages. Maybe they’ll come back later just to be on the safe side.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Moira and Harry

  ‘I can’t work with him,’ cried Louise, holding her hands up. ‘He’s impossible. He emphasises all the wrong words at all the wrong times. It’s ridiculous.’

  Steph sighed. She’d be glad when this play was over.

  ‘Let’s try again,’ said Harry.

  It was so close to opening night. The last thing he needed was for Louise, the leading lady, to walk out.

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong,’ said Eric, perplexed.

  ‘Everything. You’re doing every-bloody-thing wrong,’ Louise snapped.

  Harry looked at his watch. He was knackered and just wanted to get home.

  ‘I’ve got to get home soon,’ said Michael. ‘I’m taking Rita out for her birthday.’

  ‘It’s the last rehearsal before our dress rehearsal,’ said Harry. ‘We want to be sure everything is right.’

  ‘I’ve reached a stage where I don’t care,’ said Louise, checking her phone.

  ‘And it’s so cold in here,’ complained Marsha. ‘My hands are like ice.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ muttered Steph. ‘Don’t they ever stop complaining?’

  Louise threw her phone into her bag and turned to Harry.

  ‘If you want the truth,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘I think you’re a lousy director. If you two stopped eyeing each other up, we might get something done.’

  Steph gasped.

  ‘A bit below the belt,’ said Michael.

  ‘Right, tea break,’ said Harry.

  ‘We’ve just had one,’ said Steph.

  ‘I’ve got to go soon,’ said Eric.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, is anyone apart from me serious about this play?’ complained Harry.

  ‘It is Christmas,’ said Michael. ‘We’ve all got families.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be doing this then,’ said Harry angrily.

  There was silence. Finally Louise said, ‘I’ll stay for another half an hour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Harry.

  It was all getting too much for him, what with Holly. What a worry that was. Supposing people found out? What would everyone here think? Surely they hadn’t realised about him and Steph. That’s all he needed. He ought to bring it to an end before it got out of hand.

  ‘Harry,’ said Steph, nudging him. ‘Everyone’s waiting.’

  Harry shook his head and said ‘Right, let’s go from the top.’

  *

  Moira pulled up outside Alf’s. His car was there. But that had been there when they’d popped in at lunchtime. It was a quarter to six now. They’d had a good day shopping, but it had been tiring and now all Moira wanted was to collect Alf and get home. She’d left a lamb stew cooking in the slow cooker. Harry had texted to say he would be home about seven. Maybe she’d decorate the tree tonight. She’d also make sure that she and Harry had a good talk. They need to sort out the food for the opening night party.

  ‘Give Grandad a knock,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  Holly climbed wearily from the car. The shopping expedition had taken it out of her too. She’d be her old self soon. In a week, they’d said at the hospital.

  ‘It’s more an emotional thing,’ the nurse had told them.

  Moira checked her reflection in t
he car mirror. She looked tired. Things were getting on top of her, that’s what it was. She looked up at Alf’s house and again thought how selfish he was to hang onto such a huge house just for himself. He didn’t need all those bedrooms. It really was ridiculous. She looked to Holly who shrugged her shoulders and walked back to the car.

  ‘He’s still not there,’ she said.

  Moira checked the time.

  ‘Where can he be then?’

  Rosie’s, thought Moira. That’s most likely where he is.

  ‘You do think he’s okay, don’t you?’ asked Holly.

  Moira glanced at the house and felt a small pang of anxiety. Where could he be? He didn’t like being out in the evenings much. It was getting very cold too.

  ‘I’ll phone his mobile,’ said Moira.

  The mobile rang for ages and eventually cut off.

  ‘I wish he’d set his voicemail,’ said Moira irritably.

  ‘I’m worried,’ said Holly. ‘Grandad is nearly always home. I think we should try Rosie’s.’

  ‘I’m not going to the Tradmore Estate,’ said Moira firmly.

  ‘We need to find Grandad though.’

  ‘He’s not a child,’ said Moira starting the engine.

  ‘Oh alright, I’ll get the bus,’ said Holly haughtily, getting out of the car.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Moira. ‘You’ve not been well.’

  ‘I’m not an invalid.’

  ‘Alright, we’ll drive there but then I need to get home to check on dinner.’

  She put the car into gear and drove reluctantly to the Tradmore Estate.

  ‘If we get mugged you can tell your father this was all your idea.’

  *

  ‘You can drive in, you know,’ said Holly as they got close to the Tradmore Estate. Moira had parked the car in the road outside the high-rise flats. A ball bounced against her window. Moira jumped.

  ‘Sorry,’ yelled a boy, grabbing the ball.