by Nicola May
Colin swore under his breath. ‘Shame there’s not a new f’ing bitch-eradicator gel on the market too.’
Joan laughed, suddenly feeling closer to her husband than she had in a while. ‘Take her with a pinch of salt, my love – we all do.’
Alana carried Eliska, who was tired and now very emotional. She half-smiled at Dana as she passed her, dreading just what the pretty Czech would be thinking now.
Mark and Dana swung arms with Tommy in the middle of them and headed off into town for a pizza. Inga went down the path to warm the car up as Gordon made his way to the back classroom to collect the twins. He suddenly heard a familiar Mancunian accent behind him.
‘No wife again tonight then?’
Gordon turned around and recognised Robbie, Alana’s temp childminder.
‘No, not tonight.’ He couldn’t face a long explanation.
‘Shit, do you know what? I’m a nosy bastard – sorry,’ Robbie added, picking up on Gordon’s sadness.
‘What are you doing here tonight anyway?’ Gordon was pleased to change the subject.
‘Helping out with the set and lighting. Will…’ Robbie paused. ‘Mr Chambers to you, is a mate of mine. He helps me out with the Youth Centre Christmas gig and I return the favour.’
‘Oh right.’ Gordon noticed Robbie’s deep-set dark eyes. He was ten years younger than him, and a good foot shorter – in fact, just his type.
‘Actually, it’s the Youth Centre do tomorrow night if you fancy coming?’
‘Will it suit the kids?’ Gordon enquired, beaming as a now bare-faced Lily and Lola came charging over to him.
‘No, it’s for the sixteen to eighteens; we’ve got a really good live band coming and will provide refreshments. I could use some help and it’s a laugh normally.’
‘If Inga can babysit then I’d love to help out, thanks.’ Gordon looked down at his beloved charges. ‘Right then, you gorgeous girls, let’s get you home.’
‘Starts at eight, we’re next to the MOT place in town,’ Robbie shouted after them.
‘Great, hopefully see you there,’ Gordon replied back as Lily and Lola started to fight about who had been wearing the best outfit.
Dana put some gold tinsel around her blonde crop and applied a silvery glitter eye-shadow. Tying her apron, she looked at herself in the mirror. She felt a sudden guilt that she might be trying to make herself look just a little bit too sexy, so wiped off her bronze lipstick and replaced it with a clear gloss.
Bruno wolf-whistled as she came out into the café. Lights were flashing on the little Christmas tree on the counter.
‘Look at you, Signorina Christmas Cracker!’
‘Well I thought I’d better make the effort to get festive.’
‘You look gorgeous,’ Tony said quietly, and then on seeing who was coming through the door, quickly gestured for Bruno to go out the back.
Ffion’s eyes darted around the café. ‘A medium skinny latte and a large fat mocha, please,’ the Welsh girl requested politely.
‘No problemo, signora. Take-away?’ Tony asked with his usual flirtatious banter.
‘Yes, please.’ This was Ffion’s chance. ‘So, did you take on a new waitress then?’
Dana frowned; she didn’t realise they had already started recruiting her temp replacement.
‘Why? Were you thinking of applying?’ A fully briefed Tony turned it around.
‘Oh, erm no.’ Ffion wasn’t sure what to say next.
Tony helped her out. ‘Bruno is on constant look-out for good staff. He tries out anyone who shows an interest in the post.’
Ffion grabbed her coffees and marched furiously out of the café.
‘Tony!’ Dana said. ‘That poor girl!’
‘What do you mean? I thought that would make her feel better.’
‘Men!’ was all Dana could say as she headed off to serve the four builders who had sat themselves down in the window seat.
Whilst they were having their short customary ‘lull’ break, Dana questioned Tony.
‘So, now you have to give me the gossip. It’s obvious that the pretty young Welsh girl has been seeing Bruno, right?’
‘Right so far. But Bruno translates the word “seeing” into “shagging” – you know that?’
Dana shook her head and smiled. ‘Like brother, like brother, is it?’
‘Now, now Mrs Knight, I would hate you to tar me with the same broom.’
‘Brush, you mean.’ Dana laughed out loud. She herself was only just getting used to the funny British expressions herself.
‘Whatever,’ Tony went on. ‘Anyway, I shouldn’t really divulge my brother’s antics, but as it’s you...’ The young Italian drained his espresso. ‘We were just closing up last Thursday and this blonde woman came in, very attractive, must have been at least forty. In fact, old enough to be my mother! Shit, that’s funny.’ Tony laughed at his sudden realisation of this. ‘Anyway, Bruno fancied her. She was very drunk, he got her drunker and then...’ He stopped.
‘Go on,’ Dana urged.
‘Well, he you-know-what-ed her,’
‘In here!’ Dana’s eyes widened.
‘Well, yes. Over the ice-cream counter, apparently.’
‘Thursday night, you say?’
‘Yes,’ Tony said, suddenly feeling worried that he might have dropped his brother into something he shouldn’t have.
‘What was she wearing, this woman?’
‘Erm.’ Tony now felt as if he was standing in the dock. ‘I only saw her briefly.’
‘Go on – try and remember,’ Dana urged.
‘Black and white – yes, a crisp white shirt. I remember thinking we should get similar waitress uniforms for our staff.’
‘Oh my God, I think it might have been the mum of one of Tommy’s friends.’
‘Oh no! And now you are going to tell me she has a big burly husband and we are going to have to hide Bruno out the back for ever.’
Dana laughed. ‘I’ve never known her to have a man actually. Rumour at the school gates is that she got pregnant from a one-night stand. The lesbian theory can be dropped now though.’
‘Well, the good news is she won’t be pregnant this time round. What is it that Bruno says? Ah – I remember. That he will never ride bareback with a stranger. Not after a bad experience he had in Crete anyway.’
‘What is your brother like!’ Dana tutted disapprovingly.
‘Well, at least she wasn’t a married woman. Mind you, that never usually stops him either.’
At that moment, Dana’s tinsel fell from her hair and they both reached to get it. Tony kept hold of her arm as they stood up.
‘It usually stops me…’ He paused. ‘Until I met you, that is.’ As he leaned forward to kiss Dana on the lips, she quickly turned her head so that he planted it on her ear.
‘Tony!’
‘Oh, I am so sorry. I… it just…I just. You are…I am.’
Dana swiftly kissed him on the cheek.
‘It’s OK. You are a very beautiful person, Tony, but I am married and I intend to stay that way with a clear conscience.’ She disappeared out through the staff-room door to regain her composure.
Locking the toilet door behind her, Dana took a deep breath and put her hand to her ear. She could never ever admit it to anyone, but at that precise moment she had wanted nothing more than to kiss the handsome Italian back. Properly.
– Chapter Eleven –
‘He’s taking a whole month off you say, just like that?’ Alana demanded.
‘Yes, that’s what I said. He’ll be back at work in February.’
‘But he must be online surely, Sandra?’
‘No. He will be back working next year. Now, if there is anything I can help you with directly?’
‘No – no, thank you.’ Alana’s voice trailed off. Knowing how private Stephen was, she doubted that even his PA knew where he was.
Surely, the fact that he had found out Eliska was his, would make him happy? Where was he?
He was like her – he always worked!
She tried his mobile again. It was switched off. She logged on and sent him an email. His out-of-office message came back, confirming that he would not be checking voicemails or emails until 4 February, and instructing her to contact Sandra, who would re-direct any queries appropriately.
Alana experienced that empty feeling again. Stephen was always at the end of a computer or phone and his absence suddenly overwhelmed her.
‘Mummy?’ Eliska pushed the door open to her mother’s home office.
‘Yes, darling?’ Alana took in her daughter’s curly red hair and shiny green eyes and saw Stephen so clearly that it made her want to cry.
‘Can you help me write a list to Father Christmas today, please?’
Alana swept her up in her arms.
‘Do you know what, pumpkin? Mummy can do better than that. Me,’ she brushed the tip of her daughter’s nose with her index finger, ‘and you, are going on a little holiday.’
Gordon suddenly felt old. His ears were ringing from the thumping music that had been blaring in the Youth Centre and he was glad to get outside, to the peace of the freezing cold night. Robbie had tasked him to stand behind the makeshift bar and serve Coke, crisps and chocolate to the melee of teenagers who were jumping around to the live music. And apart from Robbie coming over once to check if he was OK, he hadn’t even really spoken to him. Although being a martyr for the great and good of the Youth Centre was obviously satisfying, and seeing eighteen-year-old cute boys ducking and diving in front of him was quite arousing, Gordon was actually quite peeved that he had wasted his evening in this way.
In fact, he was relieved when ten o’clock came so that he could escape the noise and go back to all of his girls. He had tried to find Robbie but in the mass of bodies couldn’t see him.
A couple of lads having a cigarette out the front moved aside as he pushed the big black church hall door open, their dragon-like plumes of smoke enveloping him as he walked through. As he was about to get into his car, Robbie came running up to him.
‘Sorry – I didn’t realise it would be quite so hectic. You’re not going home yet, are you?’
‘Well yes, I thought my work was done for the night,’ Gordon replied.
‘Your work may be done, Gordon Summers, but definitely not your play.’ Robbie grinned. ‘Let me grab my coat. Will Chambers can lock up.’
The Featherstone Arms was heaving with Christmas revellers, creating even more of a racket than in the Youth Centre.
‘’Tis the season to be jolly – well, it would be if I had a bloody drink in tow,’ Robbie stated as they stood three-deep at the bar just as the Last Orders bell was rung.
Gordon felt a little odd being in such close proximity to someone other than Chris. He still missed him terribly but he knew he had to move on for his own sanity – and Robbie was really hot.
They managed to get a drink and within what seemed like minutes they were being asked to leave.
Robbie lit a cigarette as soon as they got outside and put his other hand deep into his coat pocket. He began jogging from one leg to the other to try and keep warm.
‘It’ll stunt your growth,’ Gordon joked, and they both laughed.
‘Got to die of something,’ Robbie shrugged, but he dropped the cigarette, put his foot on the butt and stubbed it out. ‘Right, where to now? I’m guessing not to yours. I mean, your wife might not take too kindly to a raving homo appearing in the midnight hour.’
Gordon laughed. ‘No wife – just beautiful children who are used to following the Yellow Brick Road with me. But I wouldn’t want them to wake and see you, not until I’ve properly introduced you anyway,’ he carried on cautiously.
‘That’s understandable,’ Robbie replied. ‘My flatmate’s having a quiet one with a new girlfriend so I said I’d stay out as late as I could, so mine’s out of bounds too.’
‘Well, I guess that’s it then. Do you want a lift?’ Gordon clicked his key fob and the orange lights of the Mini glowed almost eerily in the thick cold air.
‘No, no. I’m happy to walk. I can have another ciggie en route. I’m not far from here.’
‘OK, well erm, here’s my number,’ Gordon said, nervously handing over a scruffy piece of paper.
‘Cool, ta. Will buzz you.’ Robbie lit another cigarette and started walking away.
Robbie could hear the TV blaring when he pushed open his front door. His flatmate was lying asleep on the sofa, a couple of crushed beer cans by his feet. Robbie kissed his lips and woke him.
‘Hey you?’ John slurred sleepily. ‘Good night?’
‘Yep, and it’s made me feel hungry,’ Robbie said huskily, undoing his skinny jeans. ‘Hungry, for a hard cock.’
‘No chance of some three-way fun then?’
‘More chance of the Pope giving out free condoms from his buggy, I reckon. Cute though. One for the wank bank at least. Now come here, you.’
The charity-shop whippet recognised Mo and Ffion from the doctors’ surgery as they walked past the counter. She prayed they hadn’t looked at her notes recently. It wasn’t big or clever to have contracted an STD at her age, but she felt quite comforted by the recent article in Woman’s World that said it was now common for post-menopausal divorcees to get caught out. The fact that it was the local vicar who had given it to her was more of a distressing factor.
Mrs Glancy, the vicar in question’s wife, was at the back of the shop loudly singing along to ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’.
‘Can I help you, dears?’ she asked in her plummy deep voice when she noticed her new customers.
‘Yes, we’re just stocking up on Christmas decorations for the surgery. Dr Anderson seemed to think you had some new ones in.’
‘Oh Dr Anderson,’ Veronica Glancy put her hand on her heart dramatically. ‘Shame he didn’t come in himself. Just the thought of him touching me with his stethoscope makes me the right side of moist, I can tell you.’
Ffion couldn’t contain her laughter as the irreverent vicar’s wife bellowed: ‘Right, decorations! For the surgery, you say. Here, follow me.’ She piled up baubles and tinsel and stuffed them into a bag.
‘We must surely give you some money for the charity?’ Mo asked, now completely bemused.
‘No, just go.’ Veronica Glancy shooed them with her hands. ‘The Sally Army’s outside later, they’ll boost us no end. But please do make sure Dr Anderson is aware of the gift. Who knows, he may pay me in kind.’ Her large bosom rocked as she let out an unsavoury guffaw.
The whippet raised her eyebrows and thanked her, as Mo put a crisp ten-pound note in the charity box on the counter.
‘By the way, how’s the Mo Collins’ Freedom Fund going?’ Ffion enquired as they walked down the High Street, side-stepping the Salvation Army band that was currently singing ‘Away in a Manger’ outside the chemist.
‘Very well actually. I’m hoping that by Easter, Rosie and I will be going it alone.’
‘I’m really chuffed for you, matey. Right, let’s get some lunch. Dr Delish will never know we’ve spent his change on it.’
Fishers was queuing out of the door.
‘Must be Christmas order collections,’ Mo noted. ‘Now, how about we go in to Rosco’s, you sit down with your back to the counter, and I’ll do the talking?’
‘Oh, all right then,’ Ffion said huffily, her hangover taking charge of her hunger. ‘And no, we are not using Dr Anderson’s money to pay. The vicar’s wife may be bent, but I’m certainly not.’
Bruno saw Ffion as soon as the two women sat down, and he rushed over to their table, a red rose in his hands.
‘Signore, you are both looking as beautiful as this rose – now how can I pleasure you? I mean, what can I get for you lovely ladies?’ His handsome face lit up and melted Ffion’s stubborn heart.
‘A ham and cheese toastie, please,’ she replied, pushing the rose to the side of the table.
‘Make that two, as it’s Christmas,’ Mo piped up, feel
ing the momentary guilt that ordering cheese brought her.
Bruno continued his patter.
‘And ladies, for drinks, can I interest you in my most recent love potion? A Ravishing Rosco’s spicy Christmas milkshake.’
Ffion laughed. ‘You’re not funny.’
‘And I’m not giving in.’ Bruno ripped a page from his order pad, put it down next to his Welsh lover and sauntered back to the bar, eyeing up a tall brunette who walked in as he did so.
Ffion pushed the piece of paper over to Mo.
DINNER AT 7, meet me here. Love B xx
‘You’re not going to go, are you?’ Mo asked with concern.
‘Oh, Mo, I know full well that I shouldn’t, but as much as I say I don’t want to settle down, I really do like Bruno.’
‘But what if he was in here doing things with that blonde you saw the other night?’
‘I’ve got no proof and as long as I’m careful, what’s the harm?’
‘The harm is, young lady, that he is using you and you may get hurt. A little bit of self-respect goes a long way, you know and...’
Mo stopped mid-sentence, took a sharp intake of breath and jumped up out of her seat. She ran towards the door, arms outstretched.
‘Charlie! My darling! You’re early!’
Ffion whipped a mirror out of her bag and applied some lipstick, as in the blink of an eye, the Denbury Dish Total had most definitely just gone up to twelve.
When Charlie Collins sat down at the corner table, Ffion for the first time in her life was speechless. The twenty-four year old in front of her had high cheekbones and full lips of which a trout would be proud. He had a trace of stubble and his floppy fringe just covered one of his puppy-dog hazel eyes. The young Welsh girl screwed up her dinner invite and threw it in her bag.
‘I’m Charlie,’ Number 12 said, as Mo went off to the counter, making FFion blush for no other reason than noticing his flat stomach and lack of hips.
‘Are you stoned?’ Ffion came out with, alerted by the fact that his puppy-dog eyes had enlarged pupils.
‘How presumptuous,’ Charlie laughed, and then put his fingers to those beautiful lips to shush her as his mum approached with a tray laden with goodies.