"Thank you, I think I will. It's very busy here this afternoon." He took a seat next to her and glancing at his watch he said, "I'm expecting my wife to meet me here, but not for thirty minutes or so."
"Congratulations, Grant. How long have you been married?"
"Oh, let's see; it will be three years next spring."
The waitress delivered a pot of tea and a plate of delicious looking cakes. Joyce said, "Can we have another cup and saucer, please?" Turning to Grant she said, "Where are you living now; I heard that soon after the family moved to Leeds you lost both your parents? That was such a terrible blow for you, and they were so young, too."
The mention of his parents brought back the memory of his headmaster at Manchester Grammar School telling him that his parents had been killed in a car accident, and how hard be fought to keep back the tears, when his Aunt Violet and Uncle Ronald came to collect him.
He took his time sipping on the cup of tea that she had poured him and then looked up at her and said, "Yes, that's right, Mrs. Worthington, I went to live with relatives for a year, but as soon as I was 20-years old, I left them to live alone. They were nice enough, but didn't really want the problems or work of a young man, not having children of their own, so it was an amicable parting. Gosh, that was nine-years ago!"
"Yes, time does fly," she said, reaching over and placing a hand over his, "But, Grant, please call me Joyce, you've know me since you learned to walk and Mrs. Worthington is far too formal. In fact, now I think about it, you used often used to call me Joyce, so don't change now."
He blushed as the memory of their previous meetings gushed through his head, but he smiled at her, and patted her hand with his other hand, saying, "Okay, Joyce, but we really ought to let go hands, or my wife may get the wrong idea, if she arrives early!"
They chuckled, and he was disturbed to feel her give his hand a squeeze before letting go. In an effort to ease the moment, he said, "And how is your husband these days, Joyce, is he still with the Inland Revenue?"
"Yes, Cyril is doing very well and since 1961 he is the manager of a new department dealing with business tax returns. It is growing rapidly, and while his responsibilities grow daily, it is not reflected in his annual income. That's the problem with the Civil Service, or one of them, anyway. Cyril is always going on about them, and sometimes I wonder why he ever started there."
Listening to her prattle on, he remembered how she never seemed to stop talking, and how his mother used to fume about it, when she came home from a shopping trip with her. He finished off his second cake and said, "My work is somewhat similar in that I'm in a new department with Granite Insurance, introducing company pension schemes. They're becoming very popular and you'd be surprised how many companies don't have one."
"And how's it working out, Grant?" said Joyce, who was looking bored by the topic.
Grant decided to change the subject so he said, "Oh not bad at all, April is busy looking for a house for us to rent in Stockport, but she's not having much luck."
"That's a lovely name—April. And I expect she's your little angel, too. I'm not at all surprised she's finding it hard, there are not many people willing to lease their home, and when one does become available, they can be pretty expensive. I will look around for you, and let you know if I find one. There was a lovely small cottage for rent in King's Road, which is just around the corner from our place in Gorsey Road, but I rather think that is was snapped up, but I can check for you. They are all so popular now, I'm afraid."
"That would be great, with you living in the town for so long and knowing it well." He took out his wallet, and found a business card to give her. "This has my office number in Leeds, but on the back is my home number. Well, actually it's April's mother's home, and we're living there until we can find a place of our own."
His knee knocked against her leg as he leaned over to give her the card, but she did not pull it away and he saw no reaction on her face as she said, "Thank you for the card, I will certainly call you if I hear of anything."
Grant could feel the warmth of her leg against his, and he looked more closely at her as she sipped her tea. It was difficult to judge her age, but he guessed she was about mid-forties, and dressed extremely well. He could see the curls of her hair below her hat were tight to her head and neck and guessed they were the result of a recent perm, but they looked fresh and bouncy.
Her makeup was immaculate, the lipstick on her wide mouth hardly damaged from her tea and cakes. He looked at her gleaming white cotton blouse, buttoned to the neck beneath her open jacket, and through a gap between two buttons he saw the top of her large bosom rise and lower with each breath.
He dropped his hands to see if he could adjust his trousers beneath his napkin as they were now bulging with an untimely erection, but before he could sort the problem he heard his wife say in a polite but accusing tone, "There you are, I couldn't find you."
Grant jumped to his feet, keeping the napkin before the offending presence of his aroused nether regions, and said, "Hello love, how are you? April, this is Joyce Worthington, a long-time friend and close neighbour of my mother some years ago." Turning to Joyce he said, "Joyce, this is my beautiful wife, April."
"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," said April, who looked anything but pleased. She kept pushing her long blonde hair back over her shoulders, then tossing her head and bringing it forward once more.
"Hello April, I'm so pleased to meet you. Grant has been telling me how happy he is to be married. And just look at you, a real little angel with that beautiful long hair. Come and sit down here beside me, and I'll order some more tea," said Joyce, patting the chair to her right that was opposite Grant's chair.
April put her shopping bags on the vacant chair, and sat down with obvious reluctance, but Joyce gave no sign that she noticed. Smiling at April, she said, "Did you have any luck finding a place today?"
"No, not a thing, and I've been travelling on buses and trains, and now I'm quite worn out, so a cup of tea will be most welcome."
Grant said, "Joyce has lived in Stockport for many years, and she's going to let us know if she hears of a nice place."
April gave her a little smile and said, "Thank you that would be great."
"Well, I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best for you. It sounds like you are keen to move away from Leeds."
"You've no idea how much," said April, with a long look across at her husband, "I have been trying to get away from home for almost two years."
"Aren't you happy there? It must be rotten, if you're unhappy, even living with your family. I know I couldn't wait to leave home myself, and married Cyril when I was only nineteen years old."
"It's not so much that I'm unhappy living with my mum, it's just that I've lived there all my life, and it is time for a move before I go mad."
Grant poured another cup of tea, and let the ladies take over the conversation while he watched them both. He tried to keep his eyes off Joyce's heaving bosom, which seemed larger by the minute, because he knew his wife's eagle eyes didn't miss a trick. She'd give him hell on the way home, if she thought he paid too much attention to another woman—even if it was on a woman more than twice her own age.
Finally, he looked at his watch and nodded to his wife. Turning to Joyce as he stood up, he said, "Thank you for the tea and cakes, it will be our turn next time. I have to rush, because I've an appointment with a company in Oldham, who are keen to start a pension."
Joyce didn't rise, but shook his hand, and then after shaking hands with April, she held on to her hand and said, "I'll do my best to find you a place, my dear, and I'll let you know the minute once comes on the market. I will also talk to Cyril about it, because he knows everybody in Stockport, and if there's a property on the market, he'll be the first to know."
"Thank you," said April, encouraged by the news and enthused by her positive attitude. "It has been a pleasure to meet you. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," said Joyce, waving to them as th
ey left the café.
"Well, she seems very nice," said April as they went down in the lift.
"She's okay. My mother really liked her, I think."
"I hope she can find a place, because I'm at my wits end."
"Never mind, love, by tonight, I may have my first company pension scheme in my briefcase!"
She'd heard this too many times to be excited about it, but she summoned up an enthusiastic smile and held his arm as they walked to the car through the many shoppers wending their way home.
CHAPTER 5
Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. They arrived home very late, and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Edna Harrison had gone to bed, leaving a note on the kitchen table explaining their dinner was in the oven, and most likely spoiled.
The meeting in Oldham had dragged on for almost two hours, and April was fuming by the time he returned. She would not listen to a word about the meeting and simply said, "Grant, I'm very tired, bored, and cold, so take me home without talking, or it will just start a row, with the mood I'm in..."
He drove home as fast as he could in his old car, and was disappointed with her attitude. He'd suggested she come into the offices and wait in the reception area for the meeting to finish, but she did not like meeting new people, especially at the end of the day when she was worn out and disappointed.
The sat at the kitchen table eating warm shepherd's pie, which was quite dry and hard around the edges, but nevertheless it was tasty and filled their empty stomachs. There was no conversation during the meal, and when she was finished, April stood up and said, "I'm going on up to bed. How long will you be?"
"I want to write out my report on the meeting, so I can take it to the office in the morning, and then I'll be right up."
"I didn't ask what you'll be doing, I asked, when will you be coming upstairs," she snapped with a tired stare.
"Sorry love, I wasn't thinking. I will be about thirty minutes, that's all."
With a sniff and a toss of her shoulder length blond hair set with bouncy waves and curls, she left the room.
Grant stared at the closed door, wondering how much longer he could put up with her moody attitude and harsh manner. She really was a living doll to look at, with her perfectly proportioned petite figure, and the porcelain features of her heart-shaped face with the cupid bow lips that she kept glossy red.
The problem was her increasing tendency for shrewish comments, and her constant nagging at him when he failed to produce the sales and income he promised. She was very ambitious and when she first met Grant, he was a newly appointed manager with the insurance company and their future success seemed assured.
As the months dragged on into years, she became more demanding and less happy with everything, and Grant knew that unless he could turn their finances around in the next few months, their relationship was doomed to turn into a nightmare.
He had been facing her cold back in bed for almost six months now, while she denied him his conjugal rights, because of the immodest attention she said he was paying towards her mother. As he sat at the table, looking at his blank report while sucking on his pen, he thought how her attitude, especially in bed, was only making things worse. This was because the colder April became towards him, the warmer and more eager and attentive her mother, Edna seemed.
Edna was a buxom, 42-year old working class Yorkshire woman, who didn't hesitate in calling a spade a spade. When she came into the kitchen one evening a few months ago, he was having a row with April about her stopping their sexual activities, and she understood at once what was going on and jumped right in by saying, "You better shape up, young girl, because you've got a handsome young man as your husband, and if you carry on like that it can only end up in tears."
"Oh shut up, mother, you just don't understand," April had snapped.
"I understand alright, and if you don't want him in your bed, there are plenty of women who'll welcome him into theirs."
"Starting with you, I suppose," snapped April, putting her hand up to her mouth in shock the moment her words were out, and wishing she could recall them.
"I'd have him in split-second, but we both know that's not going to happen, so stop your stupid rambling. You don't know what you're saying, or the damage your words can cause."
Instead of apologising to her mother, April rushed out the room, saying over her shoulder, "You can have him, then, I don't want him."
Grant followed her upstairs with just a shrug towards Edna; and it was a long cold night with no reprieve, because April kept her back to him and refused to speak at all. Since that day, Edna seemed to go out of her way to annoy April and lead her on by paying too much attention to him. She would give him the best portions at meal times; sit on the sofa next to him during the evenings, even holding his hand on occasion.
Then she started with the morning kisses, which Grant thought were just to annoy April. And maybe they were at first. But this last week or two, she'd become more amorous than before; even to the extent of pressing her scantily clad body into his during the clinches.
It was becoming embarrassing, because with the lack of sexual activity his early morning erections were harder than he'd known and lasted much longer. Edna seemed to be aware of this, and used every opportunity to take advantage of his condition.
He was most hopeful of getting the order from the company in Oldham, and perhaps this would turn everything in his favour. If they could also find a nice place to live and move away from Leeds, that would be the icing on the cake. He picked up his pen once again, and set about completing his report.
When he climbed into bed some twenty minutes later, he could tell from her breathing that April was asleep, so he lay on his back thinking…
CHAPTER 6
The next morning Joyce was up early as usual, cooking a large breakfast for Cyril, who insisted on going to work with a full stomach. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the morning newspaper and had very little to say.
She slipped a plate filled with sausage, eggs and bacon before him and pushed the laden toast rack closer, before pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting down opposite him. Sipping on the tea, she watched him eat his meal with the occasional nod and grunt of appreciation, and she couldn't help smiling.
Life was good for them, apart from the occasional upset caused by her nemesis, Beryl Bainbridge, and she didn't want things to change. Despite his moaning, Cyril earned a good salary with excellent annual bonuses, and neither of them was extravagant with money, so she was sure there was a good little nest egg in his bank account.
She wasn't sure how much, because he was old fashioned about domestic finances, but he gave her an excellent monthly allowance, which she never managed to completely spend.
If only she could find some way to stop his wandering hands at the office.
Once he'd left for work, giving her the standard perfunctory peck on the cheek, she slipped on her coat and walked down the avenue. It was only a short walk around the block to the cottage that was to let, and she was pleased to note the sign was still in place. After making a note of the Estate Agency name and phone number, she went home.
An hour later she called the agents and learned that it was still available, so without wasting another second, she called Grant's home number.
"Hello, Grant. I'm sorry to call you so early, but I wanted to let you and April know the cottage near my home is still available."
"Oh, that is good news, thanks for letting me know."
"What I suggest is that you and April come by for lunch this morning, and I can arrange an early afternoon viewing for you. What do you think?"
"That is most helpful, Joyce. Remind me of your address again…"
"Now then, Grant, how many times did you visit as a teenager? You know where I live, you've been here often enough."
"Yes, of course. Alright then, we'll see you about 12:30 today. Is that okay?"
"That's fine. I look forward to meeting you again. Bye!"
-o-
Grant sat back in his chair, drinking his coffee after enjoying an excellent light lunch. Across the dining room table he watched Joyce and April chatting away like old friends, with his wife checking the time on her watch every five or ten minutes, to make sure they weren't late for their viewing appointment.
April was some ten-inches shorter than Joyce and less than half her age, but these differences didn't seem to concern either woman. He was pleased to see them so comfortable with each other, because it kept the pressure off him, but knowing Joyce he was not so sure of her motives. "Perhaps she's just being kind and helpful for old time's sake; after all, she was quite a good friend to my mother…"
His thoughts drifted about, until at last Joyce stood up and said, "Come along, then, let's go and look at this cottage."
April was out of her chair like a racing greyhound and into the hall, slipping on her coat before Grant could move. He smiled and hoped the house was going to be suitable.
He walked behind the two women, walking arm in arm like mother and daughter, and setting a good pace. In a few minutes they were at the cottage. It was a pre-war bungalow set in large grounds, with the front lawn freshly cut and the flower beds newly dug. When he approached the building, however, he could see the woodwork was shabby with peeling paint and bare wood showing in places.
The agent was a portly middle-aged man who gushed over them as he bade them enter, and the first thing to strike him was the strong musty smell of an unoccupied house.
"How long has the cottage been vacant?" he asked.
"About two years now, since the old man passed away," said the agent, leading them along the narrow hall, "Let's take a look in the sitting room first." He led them through the open door to the left into a cosy looking room with shabby, well worn furniture and threadbare carpet and curtains. The windows were open, but the old, musty smell prevailed.
Each room had the same odour, and the old-fashioned kitchen had excellent views of the overgrown rear garden, with many fruit trees down one side and a massive horse-chestnut at the far end. It had a lot of potential, but required a huge amount of work before anybody could live there.
In The Name Of Love Page 3