by Gill Mather
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a poser my dad,” said Luke and laughed.
At his house, he used the remote to open the garage door, cruised in and closed it behind them also using the remote. The garage was integral and they were able to walk straight into the house from a side door. It wasn't that huge or imposing a house. In fact it was an estate house, but it was a nice estate with just a few biggish properties. The interior was very smart, all new furniture, and it appeared to have just been newly decorated. But there was quite a lot of stuff about. In fact it looked as though someone had emptied the linen bin in the middle of the lounge floor. Luke laughed and implied he’d done it on purpose.
“It drives my dad insensible. I’ve made a start on the kitchen too!” he said. “Come and see!”
Emma followed him through.
“Would you like a coffee?” Luke asked. “Or something else. In fact, there’s probably just about any form of alcohol you might want here.”
“Actually, I think I’ll just have a glass of water if that’s OK.” Emma was starting to feel rather odd. She’d been on her feet since twelve and actually she’d had almost nothing to eat. Then she’d sunk all that coffee. She started to sway. “Luke. I don't feel very well. Could I go and lie down?”
He was incredibly concerned. It was sweet. If she’d thought about it, she might have realised that he was worried what would happen if a girl, Emma especially, was taken ill in his house. He led her upstairs to his room. It was in a terrible mess. She wondered if his bed would have about it the smell of unwashed youth. She’d been in such beds before. It was vastly off-putting and she thought she might even be sick if it was like that. But Luke’s bed smelled as though the sheets had been freshly laundered. He helped her undress and she sank into it and fell asleep instantly.
THE MORNING HAD been different though. Emma had awoken totally refreshed to find Luke, elbow on his pillow, leaning on one hand smiling at her.
“Beautiful Emma,” he said. It was quite enough.
Lovemaking first thing in the morning Emma later decided had to top any other form. Nothing else surely could be so exquisite. After she had climaxed and Luke apparently hadn't, he had kissed her and said:
“Do you want to do it again, beautiful Emma?” And he had carried on saying “beautiful Emma” as he kissed and bit lightly at her neck, her ears, her lips.
“Oh, yes. Yes!” She couldn't have imagined how divine it would be.
“IT’S A PITY,” LUKE said later, “that I can't give you a few more of my mum’s things to take back with you. I’m amazed he let her come back the other week to get some stuff. Perhaps he thought it would soften her up enough to come back and live here.”
“That’d be a bit of a tall order wouldn't it? After what he’s done. I mean,” she said quickly, “being so domineering.” Oh dear, she wasn't very good at this lying business!
“Whatever,” he said, thankfully not noticing. “Anyway I suppose we’d better think about getting you home. That’s going to be a bit tricky. I’d better drop you off at the bus stop and hope your dad doesn't drive past. I’ll go and make us some coffee and toast.”
As they had their breakfast, Emma looked around the kitchen and peered into the sitting room.
“It’s not all my mess,” said Luke. “He makes quite a mess himself and then expects me to do housework because I’m at home all day. Pity he’s coming back Saturday night otherwise I could ask you over on Sunday. And I’m out tonight and Friday.”
Emma asked where.
“Tonight is rugby training - we have to keep in practice even in the summer - and then drinking afterwards. Tomorrow - just drinking. Er….I suppose I could go easy tonight though and then come and get you after work again.”
“I don't think so Luke. I don't think I could stay out two nights running. Well I could but it would require some explanation.”
“Well you could say your usual lift isn't available and you’re staying with someone who lives near the restaurant.”
“I don't think so. I’m really tired every night from working in the kitchen now. You saw what I was like last night. And my dad would think it was a bit suspicious.”
“OK then. If you’ve got a bike you could cycle over here tomorrow morning. Nice healthy exercise!”
“Well I have got one but it would probably need a complete overhaul before going on the road again. You know tyres pumped up, probably punctures mending.”
“Right,” Luke sighed. And later as he dropped her off: “I’ll text you then.”
BACK AT HOME IN her little room, Emma plugged her laptop in and went on the internet. She was checking out sites to do with sex and how to enhance the experience now that she suddenly had cause to be more interested in the subject. For all she knew, perhaps she could be having even more fun in that department. She vaguely knew about pelvic floor exercises but had not previously seen how they could make much difference. She wasn't after all incontinent! However the research she was doing suggested that the sexual experience could be heightened by doing these exercises regularly. Maybe had she known this before, it wouldn't have taken her so long to get to grips with things so to speak!
The screen was covered in graphic diagrams of a woman’s lower internal structure and she didn't hear her father coming along the passage in his carpet slippers. However he did knock her half open door before putting his head round. Guiltily she lowered the screen and looked up.
“Glad to see you home safe. Did you have a good time?” he said.
“Yes. Great.” She hoped he wouldn't ask where exactly she’d been. She hadn't thought anything up yet. Or who she was supposed to have been with.
But he said: “Anything interesting?” nodding at her laptop. This wasn't really like him, thought Emma. He normally didn't pry at all.
“Oh, no, no. Just….thinking of downloading some stuff to do during the holidays for my course.”
“Good. Good. Would you like a cup of tea and some toast or something?”
“Thanks. Tea would be nice. I’ll skip the toast though if you don't mind.”
“Right, I’ll be back in a tick.” And his head disappeared.
Phew, thought Emma. She wondered idly if his IT skills might allow him to check her laptop later and see what were the last few things she’d done on the internet like you could with, say, Word documents. She had the laptop passworded of course but maybe he could bypass that. She decided to hide the laptop before she went out to work.
BY THE END OF Thursday, she was dog tired. Same on Friday and Saturday. When Luke had wanted to meet and go somewhere on the Sunday, she'd had to say no. She just wanted to spend the day resting. Luke was disappointed but she couldn't help it. And it was only going to be a drink somewhere anyway. She couldn't have taken him back to the house as she had no reason to think her dad and Grace would be out apart from an hour or so at church. And she really couldn't be bothered to walk all the way to the pub just for a couple of ciders and a walk back. Luke had tried to persuade her but she was adamant.
010 The Unpleasant Shock
DON WAS GRAPPLING with the Solicitors’ website. Though Martin himself had appeared pretty reasonable, the firm as a whole were not and Martin turned out to be absent from the office a great deal or otherwise engaged on cases. It was quite a large firm with about eight partners, many other fee earners not to mention support staff, various different services on offer and several smaller branch offices. They wanted quite a lot of inter-activity, as much SEO as possible, links to Facebook pages, they wanted to know about tweets and blogs. They thought he would arrange the photos and go to their offices and interview staff and find out for himself what was needed for the site.
After receiving the initial information from Martin, Don had tried several times to get hold of him but wasn't able to therefore he was still dealing with the corporate partner Ken, a self-important aggressive little man who made light of any issues Don raised and was dismissive when Don asked for information saying he should
speak to Ken’s secretary or assistant!
They’d already fixed the price by now and Don was glad that he’d made clear in advance in writing what he would do within that price because it didn't seem to have sunk in with the Solicitors. They also assumed he would, for the price being charged, make regular future updates to the site and deal with any problems they had without paying a maintenance fee.
When he’d rung Ken back the day after his and Grace’s trip to Cambridge, Ken had said that they’d now accept and pay the price he’d wanted. Four and a half thousand wasn't it? This was such a cheap trick that Don had nearly put the telephone down there and then but he’d taken a deep breath and said as patiently as he could that no it wasn't. It was five thousand pounds.
“Oh!” Ken, had seemed surprised. Don had shaken his head and rolled his eyes at the other end of the line. Maybe Ken thought that his ace negotiating tactic of staying out of touch for several days would have been bound to have worn Don down. Don took another deep breath.
“Oh yes, sorry. I was looking at the wrong note,” said Ken. Really! Don had muttered under this breath.
It was now the middle of following week and Don was constructing the site and testing various search engine optimisation phrases. This took ages. It didn't improve his mood when Ken had called that morning and asked wasn't the site ready yet. Don was also glad that he’d included a time estimate in his information to the Solicitors but they were seriously undermining that by being so unco-operative and making everything so difficult.
However Grace was due home soon and this always cheered him up. In fact he heard her car drawing up now and went to the window. She didn't get out however. She was having a conversation with someone on her mobile. He went and got some wine out of the fridge and two glasses. Heaven knew he needed one himself.
Grace had done some shopping and she was angling herself through the kitchen door with bags in both hands trying not to knock the paintwork as she came through. Don hurried to take the bags from her.
“Sit down and have a drink,” he said.
“OK but you might need a drink too!”
“Oh. Why would that be?” he said affably.
“I’ve just had Greg on the telephone. He’s chucked Luke out. Apparently Greg was away again last week and he said the house was in an appalling mess when he got back.”
“Surely it couldn't have been that bad.”
“Well, boys can be pretty messy you know. He said filthy dishes and food wrappers left out everywhere, half-eaten plates of food, bins overflowing, furniture re-arranged, seat cushions on the floor, dirty washing and towels in the bathroom and utility room, lights on all over the house, tide marks round the bath. And one of the toilets was blocked. Very smelly. And he still can't find the TV remote.”
“Yes I think I get the picture.”
“He said he let Luke have the car so he could give Greg a lift to Stansted and collect him and that was a mess too. Though at least the car was OK. Oh, and he thinks Luke had a girl to stay while he was away without telling him. Anyway they had a blazing row just now. He took Luke’s keys, threw his stuff out in the garden and locked the doors and Luke stormed off.”
“Oh dear.” Don couldn't help feeling pleased at the troubles now being visited on the over-confident glorified salesman who had been here a few weeks before and nearly wrecked his relationship with Grace.
“Yes but when I looked, a text had come through from Luke saying he was on his way here.”
“What?” said Don looking up sharply.
“He’s asked to come and stay here for a bit.”
Don felt weak. He thought of the photos he’d seen of the tall, well-built dark younger of the two brothers. To have another male staying here! He’d only mainly and certainly in adult life lived in households with females. Even during his childhood, the household could have been described as matriarchal. His father had been away a lot working and a rather shadowy figure when he was at home, retiring to his study to mount butterflies and generally study entomology his great hobby in which Don had been totally disinterested. So it had largely been him, his mother and two sisters. Even at uni, he’d shared houses with mostly girls though how or why this had come about, he wasn't now sure.
Another male here! He could imagine the air humming with pheromones, the smell of alien male body odour, the loud deep male voice, the build up of testosterone and consequent aggressive behaviour. Other impressions also bombarded him from the description Grace had given him of the turmoil Luke could apparently produce in a house after just a few days on his own.
“Oh well,” he said weakly. Perhaps Greg was exaggerating he told himself. “I’m sure we’ll manage OK.”
“Oh, good. You don't mind then?” said Grace relieved.
Side-stepping, he said: “Where’ll we put him?”
Grace had laughed at this. “What had you in mind? The coal shed? Greenhouse? The old outside privy or chicken coop perhaps?”
Don had laughed then too. He was of course being too fussy. If the young man was a little untidy, well that probably wasn't at all abnormal. But thinking about it, where would they put him? It would have to be one of the bedrooms upstairs as Emma had moved into the only suitable room downstairs. In fact it would probably have to be Emma’s old room, separated by just a bathroom from their own bedroom. Another male, a young male, just a room away, there every night snoring and….no doubt farting and….doing things to himself! Oh God no!
“I suppose for tonight it’ll have to be Emma’s old room. But,” he said pleadingly, “do you think we could find another room for him after that?”
Grace had come over and pulled a chair up right next to him and put her arms around his neck. She smiled.
“`Course we can.”
AS HE PLODDED ALONG with his festival rucksack on his back packed mainly with his precious art equipment, his laptop and a few toiletries, with his clothes and shoes hanging over or tied to the outside and his tent and sleeping bag bungeed on the back of it, Luke had tried calling Emma to tell her he was coming to stay but she didn't pick up so he sent a text.
He was quite pleased really at the turn of events. Living in her house would make things easier in one direction he hoped. Since she’d spent the night at his home with him, he hadn't seen her again. He’d suggested they meet at the pub on the Sunday and then he thought maybe they could take a walk together, somewhere quiet and out of the way as it was still blisteringly hot, since neither his house nor hers were expected to be reliably free of parents that day. But Emma hadn't been keen.
He’d been very disappointed and as a result probably distinctly grouchy at home and in the end he’d picked a row with his dad the night before, telling him that if he hadn't been such an arsehole, his mother would never have left. This of course got up his father’s nose no end and the row had escalated and they’d almost come to blows. His father had said that night that Luke wouldn't be welcome here any longer unless he cleared up the mess he’d made while he, Greg, had been away. He expected that by the time he got home from work the following day that Luke would have dealt with it. Otherwise he’d be out on his ear.
“Wanker!” Luke had said at which his father had come at him.
“Just you try it,” Luke had said towering above his father. Greg had had to back down which hadn't improved his temper and he’d stormed off upstairs yelling:
“You get this fucking mess cleaned up or you’re out and that’s final. You can go crawling to your mother and that pansy she’s gone off with!”
Luke had got a beer out of the fridge and sat thinking about his options. He decided he’d better have a go at tidying up the next day and went to bed. But somehow when it came to it, he kept putting it off. At about four the following afternoon he finally worked up the initiative to make a start but after ten minutes, his father had arrived home early. Luke, still in his boxers and a T shirt, had sat down for five minutes so of course his father thought he hadn't done anything and wasn't going to a
nd the scene had started again.
Greg had jangled a set of keys in front of Luke’s face. “These are yours sunshine and you’re not getting them back.” Then he’d raced upstairs and Luke had heard a load of crashing and banging and watched fascinated as his rucksack, tent and sleeping bag followed by what looked like at least half his clothes flew past the sitting room window. He charged upstairs himself then to save his laptop and other breakables from the same fate not to mention some at least of his precious painting equipment.
“You’re a bloody lunatic,” he yelled at Greg who was at the window still hurling things down to the front garden. He started to gather up his things.
“Yes. A bloody lunatic who owns this house. If you don't leave I’m calling the police.”
“You’re out of your mind!” Luke had reverted to his posh public school voice which he knew always needled his father who had a Brummie accent himself and hated it that his son might be superior in any way to himself.
“You little twat! Get out! And for your information, I don't have to have you here. You’re twenty, you’re an adult. I don't have any fucking responsibility for you.”
“Don't worry! I don't want anything from you, you cunt. Why should I? I have reason to believe you’re not my father anyway!”
Greg turned back towards the room. “What? What did you say? You ungrateful little toerag!” And with a roar Greg had heaved himself from the window sill and was launching himself at Luke. Luke knew he’d gone too far and that his superior size was probably no match for his father’s temper. He grabbed his laptop etc and raced downstairs three at a time and out of the front door. He threw his things into his rucksack and what wouldn't go in he hung from the outside of it. His father stood watching at the front door panting and swearing loudly.