‘Hello pet.’
Up until now Si had responded curtly. Why? What was he afraid of? There was nothing wrong with being friendly. As his wife had so clearly demonstrated on Facebook with Barry Hastings.
‘Good morning love,’ Si flashed his best smile.
‘Another beautiful day.’ Dawn flicked her tongue over her lip. Si couldn’t decide whether Dawn deliberately did that or whether it was a mannerism of which she was blissfully unaware. Whatever the case, it certainly had a strange effect on Si.
‘Made all the more beautiful by seeing you.’ Si could have smacked himself. Being friendly and polite was one thing. Dishing out compliments was another.
Dawn looked astonished. And not displeased. Her chest, impressive by any standard, visibly swelled. Si tore his eyes away. ‘I’d best be getting on with the job,’ he mumbled.
‘I’ll get you a nice cold drink when I’ve finished doing this,’ Dawn indicated the parasols. ‘You look a bit hot and bothered.’
‘Cheers.’ Si shot off to find Terry. He was indeed feeling hot and bothered. And it had nothing to do with the early morning sunshine. Following the strains of Terry’s portable radio, Si found his colleague in the new rest room.
‘Morning matey,’ Terry said. ‘You look knackered. Steph being a naughty girl eh?’
Si grimaced. ‘You could say that.’
‘Attaboy,’ Terry gave a dirty laugh. ‘Let’s crack on then. Start early, knock off early.’
Si couldn’t argue with that. He wanted to be out of here by five o’clock. That would give him time to have a nice soak in the bath and maybe even catch some footie highlights. While he worked, Si thought long and hard about his marriage. He was glad he’d not rushed into a heated exchange with Steph over the cornflakes. That would have led to an instant denial about Barry Hastings on her part and probably a huge row. No. The subject needed tackling. But with care. Dawn came and went with cool drinks for everybody. She smiled at Si. Si smiled back, his mind elsewhere. He would chat about ‘things’ with Steph in Chapter One. There would be fine wine, good food and an ambient atmosphere. He’d casually ask how many Facebook chums she had accumulated. Then he’d ask if she’d thought about connecting to old friends. Childhood friends. And Steph would say, ‘Good heavens, I completely forgot to tell you! I’m in touch with Barry Hastings. We’re planning a meet up. You must come too!’ And Si would laugh and say, ‘Gosh, how amazing. Good old Baz. Yes, set up a date for a pint and curry.’ Or something like that.
Si knelt down to wrestle with an awkward bit of pipe. A cloud of perfume filled his senses. A hand touched his shoulder. Lingered a fraction of a second too long.
‘The boys are tucking into sandwiches Si,’ said Dawn. ‘You don’t want to miss out.’ ‘Thanks love.’ Si got up.
‘I’ve made sausage and mustard.’
‘Great. I like a bit of sausage.’
‘Don’t we all pet!’ Dawn flashed Si a cheeky grin and winked.
‘A girl after my own heart,’ he replied. Now why had he gone and said that?
‘Although I’m choosy about where my sausages come from,’ Dawn informed him with wide eyes, ‘and how big they are. Know what I mean?’
‘Well I have no worries about the size of my sausage,’ Si bantered back. Oh God. He wished his mouth would shut up. It seemed to have disconnected from his brain.
‘I’ll bet your sausage is just perfect,’ Dawn murmured before swaying off.
Terry buttonholed him over the plate of sandwiches. ‘Is there something going on between you two?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Si snorted.
‘She’s ripe for the taking that one.’
‘Well not by me she isn’t.’
Si returned to work and knuckled down. With every passing hour his fears about Steph and Barry Hastings receded. By five o’clock he’d convinced himself everything was fine. He was going to go out with his wife and have a wonderful evening.
Si hunkered down under a row of washbasins, made a minor adjustment and then rocked back on his heels. Yep, that all seemed good. Without looking, he tossed the wrench into his tool box. And all hell broke loose. An ear-piercing screech rent the air.
‘My foot! My foot!’ Dawn was hopping about on one stiletto.
Si jumped to his feet. ‘What happened?’
‘Your tool hit my foot. I’m in agony.’
Terry rushed over. ‘Are you all right Dawn?’
‘I think my foot’s broken.’
‘Take her to hospital,’ Terry said.
Si felt dreadful. Together he and Terry helped Dawn limp to the van. As soon as Dawn was in the passenger seat, Si shut the door and turned to Terry. ‘I’m out with Steph tonight. I can take Dawn to A & E but I can’t stay with her.’
Terry looked grim. ‘You will stay with her mate. Unless you want to risk a compensation claim being slapped on you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Si was aghast.
‘You of all people should have known better. Health and Safety. Chucking tools about is a no-no. If you want my advice you’ll get hold of Steph, postpone your romantic rendezvous and sort Dawn out. From start to finish. Tuck her up in bed if necessary. I do not want this or any subsequent jobs jeopardised. Understand?’
‘Yes Terry. See you in the morning.
Si walked round to the driver’s side. Bugger. This wasn’t going to please Steph at all. He started the engine up and glanced across at Dawn. ‘Is there anyone you want to phone – someone who can be with you?’
Dawn shook her head. ‘There’s only my daughter. But she’s in Blackpool with friends.’
Si drove out the car park. Terrific. He’d have to call Steph. Reaching for the hands-free, Si rang home. Engaged. He then tried Steph’s mobile. Switched off. In desperation Si rang Tom’s mobile. Engaged. Maybe Steph was talking to Tom? Si came to a decision.
‘Look love,’ he said to Dawn, ‘I’m meant to be taking the missus out tonight. Do you mind if I briefly detour home and let her know I can’t make it?’ A part of Si desperately hoped Dawn would insist he go out – that she would volunteer to take a cab to the hospital and wait for a doctor on her own. But Dawn did no such thing.
‘Okay pet, but hurry up. My foot’s killing me.’
Chapter Twenty
Steph put the phone down. She’d been talking to Tom. She’d had to remind him that she and Si were out tonight. But it had transpired Tom was out too. Clearly the parental lecture had paid off. He was now visiting a girl, rather than the other way around. Good. Let the girl’s parents be the ones to lecture for a change. Steph was relieved to have patched up her differences with Tom. Now all she needed to do was patch up her marriage.
What on earth had gotten into Si last night? His normally steady temperament had been like a see-saw lately. One moment he’d been thoughtfully suggesting fish and chip suppers and making her cups of tea, the next he’d flung angry words at her and stomped off to bed. Perhaps she’d be able to get to the bottom of his moodiness over dinner at Chapter One.
Steph went upstairs to her bedroom. She’d already had a bath and put on party make-up. Tonight she was pulling out all the glamour stops. She riffled through her wardrobe and extracted her favourite item – the Little Black Dress. Everybody had one of these. Tonight she would wear hers with killer heels and lots of glittery costume jewellery. She unwrapped a brand new packet of hold-ups. Not tights. Tights were for matronly mums. Tonight she would be a middle-aged siren. She was going to woo her husband into lusting after her the way Flash Harry had lusted after June. After all, why should pensioners have the monopoly on doorstep passion?
Steph gazed into space, her mind planning. Once home from Chapter One but whilst still in the van, she would initiate kissing Si. Then, just when he was getting into a lather, she’d pull away. Give him a smouldering come-hither look. Then she would slither out of the van and wiggle up to their front door. Next, she would unlock the front door, all the while throwing her husband hot looks. Th
en she would grab his tie (mental note: make sure Si wore a tie this evening) and, like something out of a Hollywood movie, yank him over the threshold. Si would be enthralled with this new bold Steph. Transferring the tie to her teeth, she’d pull him up the stairs pausing half way to administer another fervent kiss. At the top of the landing she’d stop again, this time to sensuously peel off her dress. It would drop to the floor in a heap of rustling silk. Well, polyester in her case.
Steph frowned. She needed decent underwear. She rummaged through her drawer and pulled out a rather ancient black bra and matching pair of knickers. The latter were a bit saggy but they’d have to do. Hopefully Si would be dazzled by all the sparkly bracelets against her milky white skin. By this point Steph would be a sultry dominatrix. Men liked that didn’t they? She’d order him into the bedroom. Demand he strip. She might even spank his bottom and say rude things. ‘Naughty Si! Bad Si! You must make love to me immediately!’ Spank, spank, spank. By which point Si would be beside himself, begging to do just that.
Minutes later she assessed her reflection. My goodness. What a transformation. The dress clung in all the right places. What with the fabulous new hair colour, she really did look like a middle-aged siren. She paused. Was that Si’s van she could hear? Excited, Steph jammed her feet into the killer heels and raced downstairs to greet him. She flung the door open, a big smile on her face.
Si was coming through the garden gate. He was scowling. Steph’s smile faded. And then she noticed the woman in Si’s van. Who was she? Good heavens. Surely it wasn’t normal to have a chest that size. Steph suddenly felt ill at ease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But something was wrong. She looked at Si advancing up the path and then glanced back at the woman. She was very glamorous. In an overdone Dolly Parton kind of way. The woman was staring at Steph. Like she was sizing her up. Assessing the competition. And then an expression flickered across the woman’s face. She’d weighed Steph up and dismissed her. No contest.
‘Si?’ Steph’s mouth was dry. ‘What’s going on?’
Si stopped short of the steps. He wasn’t coming in! Instead he raked a hand through his hair.
‘There was an accident at work. I flung my wrench down without looking. It hit Dawn’s foot. Terry is pretty cross with me. He’s worried about a compensation claim. I’ve been ordered to take Dawn to the hospital and stay with her.’
‘What about our night out?’ Steph felt sorry for the woman but accidents happened. She shouldn’t have been in the way!
‘We’ll have to do a rain check.’
‘Couldn’t Terry have taken her?’
‘He said I was the cause of the accident, therefore I have to take her. Look love, he’s currently my boss. And I’m not going to argue with him. This job and the ones to follow add up to a tidy sum of money.’
Steph felt like bursting into tears. ‘Well perhaps we can go a bit later. I’ll ring the restaurant.’
‘No. Terry has told me I must stay with her.’
‘What time will you be home?’
‘I really don’t know. We’re talking about Accident and Emergency. I could be there for hours. I’d better go love. The sooner I get there, the sooner I’m home.’
Si turned on his heel. Steph stared after him. He hadn’t bothered to kiss her good-bye. Or even noticed the way she looked. Si climbed in the van. The engine turned over and he began to pull out. He didn’t glance back. The woman did though. Steph stared after the van as it set off. Dawn turned her head, then smiled and waved. Steph felt something inside her curdle. She didn’t like that woman’s smile. She didn’t smile back. Or wave.
Steph closed the front door. She walked straight down the hallway to the kitchen. She knew exactly what she was going to do now. Pulling out the cutlery drawer, her fingers stretched to the back of the utensil holder. Grabbing the packet of Silk Cut and matches, she went out to the garden. Her brain was whirring. Little cogs were turning. Putting the pieces together. Steph lit up and sucked angrily on the cigarette. She was cross with Si. But what had enraged her more than anything was that woman. Dawn. Steph narrowed her eyes. She’d looked at Steph like a grinning Cheshire cat. A cat that had taken the cream.
Chapter Twenty One
June had spent nearly all day with Arnold. It hadn’t been planned. But so far it had been most enjoyable.
Bumping into Arnold and his Labrador hadn’t been on her Wish List. However, June had been surprised to find herself enjoying Arnold’s company. He’d introduced her to Bridget, the grey-haired apple-cheeked proprietor of the pavement café. Bridget’s freshly ground coffee and cinnamon buns made for delectable elevenses. And before she’d known it, half the afternoon had gone and Bridget was insisting they all have sandwiches and a pot of tea. It struck June that she’d made two new friends. Even Ralph had a new friend. June smiled at the little terrier laying with Milly. Bridget was a doggy person too. She’d given both Ralph and Milly a big bowl of water and several Bonios.
June had learned a little more about Arnold. Like her, he was seventy and widowed. Now they were discussing their mutual passion for gardening. Arnold had even turned half his lawn into an allotment. June’s eyes fell on Arnold’s walking stick. She wondered how he managed to dig potatoes and rake dead leaves. Arnold followed her gaze.
‘I’ll be burning that horrible cane soon.’
June looked surprised. ‘Is that a good idea?’
‘I’m not a complete old dodderer yet June. I’m just using it until my ankle is better.’
‘Why? What happened to your ankle?’
‘I fell out of a tree.’
‘You fell out of a tree?’ June repeated.
‘I was trimming some branches. Bloody branch I was standing on broke.’ Arnold gave a wheezy laugh. ‘That’ll teach me for thinking I’m still as agile as Tarzan.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘The foot will soon be as good as new. Certainly hope so because Bridget has organised a walking weekend in the Lake District.’
‘That’s nice,’ said June. A small part of her felt disappointed. So Arnold and Bridget were an item. Why should that matter a jot to her? She batted the thought away. She had her own weekend to look forward to with Harry!
‘Have you got any plans for summer June?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ June smiled, but then faltered. Hell. If she started talking about her pending trip to Brighton, she’d have to mention Harry. And Arnold might be reminded of their last encounter when she’d been sitting on a park bench moaning Harry’s name aloud. ‘Um, no. Not yet. I’ve got a friend who is planning a weekend away. But she’s in a bit of a quandary about it. I’ve been trying to give her advice actually.’
‘Oh yes? What’s her dilemma? Maybe I can help.’
June paused to think. ‘Well. My friend is still very active. Same age as me. Likes her garden. Loves to dance. Has a dog.’
‘You must be great friends with this lady being that you have so many things in common.’
‘Er, quite,’ June nodded. ‘Anyway. My friend met this man at her dance class recently. He’s a bit younger than her. But they hit it off and things have escalated. He’s asked her to go to Brighton for the weekend.’
‘Lovely place Brighton,’ Arnold nodded. ‘So what’s your friend’s problem?’
June hesitated. How to phrase this? ‘Well, although my friend is very active, she’s not active if you see what I mean.’
Arnold contemplated his cup. ‘Ah. Yes. So your friend is worried that when she arrives in Brighton this fella will expect her to be active?’
‘Yes!’ June was relieved Arnold understood.
‘So,’ Arnold furrowed his brow, ‘I’m presuming your friend doesn’t want to get active.’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Does your friend feel under pressure about this?’
‘Very much so.’
‘And how long has your friend known this gentleman?’
‘Not long. Not long at all.’
Arnold tutted. ‘Whateve
r happened to old-fashioned extended courtships?’
‘My friend’s boyfriend believes that if you’re drawing a pension, time is of the essence. You could be here today, but gone tomorrow. He thinks you should grab what you want with both hands before the Grim Reaper grabs you.’
Arnold chuckled. ‘Well that’s all well and good so long as two people are like-minded and want the same thing.’ He gave June a level look. ‘But I don’t think your friend’s chap is much of a gentleman. Because if he were, he would be more sensitive to her feelings. Not just his own.’
June opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it again. She had a sudden flashback. Being jammed against her letterbox. Harry’s mouth on hers. In front of the street and certainly in front of Tom and his friend. Had that been gentlemanly? Harry insisting on playing loud salsa music when June had told him to think of her neighbours. Was that gentlemanly? Harry trying to rush her into sharing his bed. Did a real gentleman only consider his own lusty goals in life? The answers were no, no and no. June felt misery wash over her. She so wanted Harry to be The One.
‘Well, he’s got a lot of good points. Apparently.’
‘And they are?’
‘He has a big house. And a posh car. And he took her out for a lovely meal. They watched the sun set while drinking champagne.’
‘Big houses and posh cars aren’t everything June. It’s the company that’s important. Not the trappings. Who drank the most champagne?’
‘My friend did. Her boyfriend had to drive.’
‘Ah. One could argue that he plied your friend with champagne. Did they become – er – active after consuming the fizz?’
‘A little active. And then my friend sobered up and asked him to go home.’
‘Well I’d probably be inclined to tell your friend to take things at a slower pace. If this chap is genuine, he’ll be happy to wait. For ever if necessary.’ Arnold reached down and patted Milly. Ralph immediately head butted Arnold’s hand for attention too. Arnold laughed. ‘There you are boy. There’s plenty of fuss to go round.’
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