After telling Steph about Harry, June had felt faintly ridiculous. And embarrassed. After all, the last man she’d invited into her home had pulled a fast one and refused to leave. Nobody knew better than Steph how that romance had ended. Although Steph probably wouldn’t have termed the relationship ‘romance’. More friendship. With lots of hand holding. After all, the only thing Walter had been able to raise was his walking stick. But Harry was different. He was sixteen years younger than Walter. And very agile. June wondered nervously exactly how agile Harry might be. The other thing she liked about Harry was that he appeared to be very well off, so he wasn’t after her meagre savings. Harry drove a BMW. It was ten years old but in excellent condition. It had real leather seats! And although she hadn’t been to Harry’s house, she knew from conversations with him that it was detached. She couldn’t imagine living in a property where neighbours weren’t heard. Mrs Waite – another widow – lived to the left of June’s terraced house. She was as deaf as a post and always had her television blaring. To the right were Steph and Si. Occasionally June would catch the angry rumbles of Si and Tom followed by door banging. Although there weren’t a great many doors to bang in houses this size.
June decided that she would put a candle on the table after all. She went upstairs to the bathroom and selected one of her many aromatherapy candles. She was just checking her hair in the bathroom mirror when the doorbell rang. June nearly dropped the candle. My goodness. Harry was early. Her heart did a few skippy beats. She hurried back down the stairs, deposited the candle on the table and hastened to the front door.
‘June!’ Harry beamed.
‘Harry!’ June smiled back. If her hair had been longer she’d have twiddled some around one finger. She really couldn’t help it. She was mustard keen on Harry. Her head might be seventy, but her heart was still seventeen.
Chapter Four
Steph cleared away the dinner things. The steak had been delectable. The wine perfect. Steph wasn’t a big drinker. Her share of the wine ensured she was now glowing more pinkly than June’s roses. Upon putting her knife and fork together, she had felt faintly giggly and not a little daring.
‘Tom’s out you know,’ she’d said coyly, looking up at Si under her eyelashes.
‘Excellent. In that case I’ll grab the telly before he does. Chelsea’s playing Liverpool in a minute.’
And before she could even protest, Si had beetled off to the living room singing, ‘Blue is the colour, football is the game, we’re altogether and winning is our aim.’
So much for instigating some va-va-voom into her love life. Steph had a feeling that Si would be more thrilled if she donned a Chelsea football kit and snuggled up on the sofa with him. What could she do to get his attention? Wait until Chelsea scored and then streak around the living room by way of celebration? She wasn’t even sure Si would notice any lack of clothing.
Steph swished the dinner plates around in the soapy washing up bowl. She didn’t have a dishwasher. The kitchen wasn’t big enough to accommodate such a contraption. Anyway, three people didn’t generate a lot of washing up. She could hear Si in the lounge calling John Terry some choice names. The evening stretched ahead. She would spend the time on her laptop. She finished drying up, poured the last of the wine into a glass and settled down at the kitchen table. Si called the laptop her toy. In a way it was. It kept her amused. Especially lately. Shirley, a great chum of Steph’s and fellow worker at Tesco’s, had encouraged Steph to go on Facebook.
‘Isn’t that for teenagers?’ Steph had asked.
‘It’s for everybody,’ Shirley had replied. ‘You must check it out Steph. I now have forty-five friends!’ she’d boasted. ‘Get yourself on it. I’ll be your first friend.’
‘So what do you actually do once you’re friends with people?’
‘Chat of course! Most of my friends are people I haven’t seen for years. I’ve hooked up with my bridesmaids who scattered to all four corners of the earth. It’s great fun seeing what they’re up to now, how many kids they’ve had, checking out their photographs. I didn’t recognise Maisie. Boy has she banged some weight on. But then again, haven’t we all!’ Shirley had patted her tummy which, along with her ample bosom, strained against the seams of her Tesco uniform.
Steph took a sip of wine and logged on. She had ten friends now, all fellow Tesco girlies. And she saw them nearly every day to chat to. So what was the point of talking to them again on Facebook? She scrolled through the Home Page, clicked on Find Your Friends and then spotted Find Friends from Secondary School. She tapped out Blackfen Comprehensive and entered her year of leaving. The laptop digested the details. Moments later it produced a stream of profile pictures and names. Some Steph recognised. Others she didn’t. And of those she did recognise, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to befriend them again. Take Judy Payne for example. Payne being an appropriate name considering the pain she’d caused Steph. The merciless teasing, prodding and pushing. Not to mention the memorable Foot Sticking Out ploy. For weeks Judy Payne had thought it hilarious to try and trip Steph up. And one day she’d succeeded. Steph had been running along the corridor. Okay, Mrs Marsden had repeatedly told pupils not to run inside the school, but Steph had been late for English. She’d failed to make the English class at all on this occasion. Judy Payne’s foot had appeared around the corridor corner sending Steph flying. She’d crashed down hard on the floor, breaking a wrist. Steph had a momentary urge to send Judy a message. Hi there! Remember me? I’m the girl you used to bully. How about meeting up for coffee? I’d love to tip it over your head. Steph irritably tossed some wine down her neck.
‘HA HAAAA!’ Si bellowed in delight. Steph could hear the sofa groan alarmingly as her husband shot out of its squashy depths. Now he was doing the usual war dance around the living room celebrating a goal. Seconds later Si appeared in the kitchen doorway, face flushed, smiling broadly. ‘They scored love! Gerrard got this close but then a long-range free kick was delivered by Ivanovic with Lampard zooming behind, then he stuck out a toe, prodded it towards the goalposts and BAM!’
Steph looked up from her laptop. ‘Good on Frank.’
‘He’s the man!’ Si punched the air. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’
Steph glanced at her empty wine glass. ‘Sure.’
‘I’ll have mine without sugar,’ Si patted his mid-riff. ‘Need to watch the waistline. Whenever you’re ready with the tea love.’ He disappeared back into the lounge.
Steph stared after the empty space. If she were to disappear right now in a puff of smoke, how long would it be before Si noticed? When he slumped into bed? He’d probably think she was in the bath. Tomorrow morning when no cooked breakfast was put on the table? More likely Si would think she’d started work early. Tomorrow evening then, when no dinner was set before him? Even that might not unduly trouble her husband. He’d probably assume she’d gone out with Shirley or popped round to see June. At exactly what point would Si pick up the phone to the police to report her as a missing person? Probably when the laundry bin was overflowing and he’d run out of socks and underpants.
Irked, Steph stood up. She filled the kettle, pulled a couple of mugs from the cupboard and found the teabags. The laptop’s screen glowed steadily. The kettle began its lengthy heating process. She sat back down, hit the backspace key and tapped out Blackfen Primary.
Well fancy that! Amanda Carpenter hadn’t changed a bit. Andrew Barton still looked like a cheeky chappie. Annie Hunt looked a bit haggard. Steph scrolled through the alphabetically listed names, clicking now and again on Friend Request. The kettle reached a crescendo and the red button popped out. Steph ignored it, slowly tapping out brief messages of greeting. Would these people be surprised to hear from her? Probably not in this day and age of technology. You couldn’t guarantee disappearing off the face of the earth without a satellite finding you. Steph continued to scroll through the list of names. Suddenly she stopped, inhaling sharply. Barry Hastings. She stared at the profile picture intently.
He’d been the school’s golden boy. The pupil who’d shone in every subject, both in and out of the classroom. All the girls at Blackfen Primary had fancied Barry Hastings. And Steph had been no exception. She clicked on his profile picture and enlarged it. His hair was still dark gold. Not even thinning. The eyes – oh those eyes! – melting-chocolate brown. The smile wide and confident. The shoulders broad. Her tummy contracted, as if nervous. She felt the beginning of a flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t sure if the flush was menopausal or the effect Barry Hastings’ profile picture was having on her.
Her first crush. Everybody had one. A person you secretly fell for but who barely noticed your existence. Occasionally Barry Hastings and his mates had played kiss chase with the girls. She could still remember running across the playground shrieking her head off as Barry Hastings thundered after her. When he’d caught up, he’d spun her around and laughingly pressed his lips against her cheek. She’d squealed in mock outrage, rubbing her hand back and forth as if to wipe the kiss away. But secretly she’d been thrilled to bits.
‘How’s the tea coming along love?’ Si called from the living room.
‘Be right there,’ Steph called back.
Her finger hovered over the mouse. She hesitated. Why ever not? What harm could it do? She gazed at the picture of Barry Hastings and clicked Friend Request.
Chapter Five
Si started the van up. Monday morning. He felt shattered before the week had even started. What a terrible night’s sleep. And what had been the matter with Steph?
Yesterday evening had started so well. A juicy steak followed by the sweetest victory from his boys in blue. Then Tom had called to say he wouldn’t be home. How much better could things get! Si had walked into the bedroom to find Steph already under the duvet, her back to him. Her whole body had been rigid, like she had the hump or something. Which had been a bit of a nuisance. He’d assumed earlier on that things would get fruity at bedtime. But apparently not. Usually Steph proffered her cheek for a goodnight kiss. All he’d encountered last night was her hair. And before he could ask Steph if something was wrong, there’d been a deafening roll of bongo drums, a squealing trumpet and then an explosion of salsa music had ripped through the house. What the hell had June been up to next door? Evidently Cuba had landed in her front room. Deflated, in every sense of the word, Si had chucked the pillow over his head and attempted sleep. Perhaps Steph’s hormones were playing up again. She had looked very pink over dinner.
Si turned the van into Preston Road and parked up. He was installing a new shower today – cash in hand too. That would keep the wolf from the door for a little while. Cheering up slightly, he grabbed his tools and rang the doorbell of Number 30.
‘Morning Mrs Johnson,’ Si greeted the retired school teacher.
‘Hello dear. Come in.’ Mrs Johnson ushered Si into the hall. ‘You know where to go. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘That would be grand.’
Si wiped his feet and headed up the stairs. Spreading out protective sheets, he settled down to the job. Four hours later, he was just strapping the pipe and making sure that nothing leaked into the wall when he heard footsteps. A shadow fell across him. Si’s head swivelled round.
‘I wondered if that was your van outside!’ said a gruff voice.
‘Terry!’ Si wiped his hands on a bit of rag. The two men gave each other an awkward hug with lots of back clapping. ‘Are you doing the tiling? I didn’t think small jobs like this were your sort of thing.’
Terry grinned. ‘In the current economic climate I say no to nothing! I just popped in to see what’s required for this job. I’ll knock it out later this afternoon. You look like you’re nearly done. Fancy waiting five minutes and we’ll go and have a bit of pub grub together? I’ll tell you about a juicy contract I have all lined up. I need another plumber. You up for it?’
‘Try and stop me!’ Si straightened to attention.
Half an hour later both men were seated at a knotty pine table in the corner of The Nut and Squirrel. Si peered myopically at the chalk board menu. The steak and kidney pie sounded tempting. Terry was eking out half a lager. Si wasn’t taking any chances and had ordered a pint of orange juice. He picked up the glass and glugged thirstily. One of the barmaids slid out behind the counter and strolled over.
‘What do you fancy?’ she asked the men.
Si looked up and nearly spat out his orange. Where had she come from? She hadn’t been behind the bar when they’d bought their drinks.
‘That depends what’s on offer today,’ Terry leered.
The barmaid ignored Terry. Her eyes were on Si. She flicked the tip of a very pink tongue against her upper lip. ‘Have you seen anything you like?’ she murmured.
Bloody hell! Was she flirting with him? Some of Si’s orange went down the wrong way and he began to choke. How embarrassing. Si could feel himself getting redder by the moment as he struggled for both breath and composure. He was now the colour of boiled beetroot. A mental picture of Steph having one of her hot flushes floated through his brain. He vowed never again to be unsympathetic.
The woman leant over Si to pat his back. As her warm hand made contact, he felt as if he’d been belted by a million volts of electricity. Every nerve ending in Si’s body was screaming to move away from the woman, but there was nowhere to go. His chair was jammed into the corner and up against the wall. Si was hemmed in by flock wallpaper and two of the biggest bosoms he’d ever seen. A badge was pinned to the left one. It said Dawn.
Terry grinned lasciviously. ‘You seem to have had a devastating effect on my mate.’
Dawn straightened up and eyed Terry coolly. She whipped out a notepad and pen from her apron. ‘Are you ready to order?’
‘I’ll have the cod in beer batter and mushy peas,’ said Terry, batting his eyelids in an exaggeratedly coy manner. Dawn didn’t bat back. She turned to Si.
‘What would you like pet?’
‘I’ll have,’ Si squeaked, larynx struggling for normality, ‘the steak and kidney pudding please.’
‘Anything else?’ Dawn did something with her eyebrows and smiled encouragingly.
Si shook his head. Best to stick to head movements for the moment.
Dawn sauntered back to the bar and disappeared through a swing door.
‘Think you just scored there mate,’ Terry took another sip of his lager.
‘Don’t be daft,’ Si whispered, vocal chords still husky. ‘The orange simply went down the wrong way. Talk about feeling an idiot. Never mind. At least I don’t have to come here again.’
‘You will if you work on my contract,’ said Terry.
‘Eh?’
‘This pub has built an extension around the back. It’s going to be a function room for weddings and such like. It needs rest rooms to go with it. Once they’re up and running, the next project is to revamp the old rest rooms. And when that little lot is complete, we move on to the next pub. The brewery has a whole chain to be done.’
Si stared at Terry, gobsmacked. A mixture of emotions ran through him. The first was a sensation of relief. He would have guaranteed work for a very long run with excellent money. The second feeling was dread. He didn’t want to see that woman – Dawn – again. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even want to think why.
‘Ooh look. Dinner’s coming.’ Terry nodded in the direction of the bar.
Si looked up to see Dawn walking towards them, plates aloft. She was a buxom female. She reminded Si of Jessica Rabbit. But blonde. And middle-aged. She had the most unusual walk.
Terry picked up his knife and fork, holding them vertically like a schoolboy. ‘Yum, yum,’ he grinned up at Dawn. ‘Can I get stuck in?’
Dawn banged Terry’s plate down. Then she turned to Si and carefully set the steak and kidney before him. Another flash of pink tongue. ‘Enjoy,’ she whispered.
‘Bloody hell mate,’ Terry spluttered. ‘What’s your secret?’
‘My secret is–,’ he stared after D
awn as she undulated her way back to the bar. What was the word to describe the way she walked? ‘My secret is I’m a happily married man.’ He stared after Dawn. The word Si was looking for was sexy.
Chapter Six
June hummed as she strolled through the park with Ralph. Bending down, she unclipped the terrier’s leash and watched as he sprang away, nose down tail up. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smells of a new summer. The scent of sweet grass cuttings filled her nostrils. She exhaled and smiled. It had been a while since she’d felt this chipper.
‘Good morning!’ she trilled at an elderly gentleman walking an ancient Labrador.
The elderly gentleman doffed his hat to her and creaked past. June sat down on a park bench. And to think, not so very long ago the likes of that particular pensioner might have been on her list of stalked protégées! June smiled and leant back against the hard wooden slats. She now had the interest of someone far more desirable.
‘Harry.’ She said his name out loud. ‘Harry,’ she repeated, closing her eyes. What a lovely name. ‘Oh Harry.’ She let the name roll around on her tongue, savouring it like a fine wine. ‘Harry. Oh Harr-eeee.’
‘Isn’t your dog called Ralph?’
June’s eyes snapped open. The elderly gentleman had done a U-turn and was now sitting at the other end of the bench.
‘Yes. He is. I was...I was just thinking about my last dog. He was called Harry.’
‘Trying to commune with him were you?’
‘Er, something like that.’
‘Don’t let me stop you. I know what it’s like to lose a beloved pet. Here, I’ll help you. We can concentrate together.’ The elderly gentleman closed his eyes. ‘Harry. Harry. Oh Harr-eeee.’
Flings and Arrows Page 2