by David Carter
‘This is Glenda,’ he called, ‘though she likes to be called Glen.’
‘Come on in, Glen,’ said his mother, grabbing her by the forearm, while stepping over the purring cat. Mrs Greene dragged the pretty girl into the sitting room where a log fire crackled and spat out its welcome.
‘Lovely cottage, Mrs Greene.’
‘Do you like it? And you must call me Gayle. Are you hungry, Glen, you must be starving?’
‘We are a bit; we didn’t have time to stop.’
‘That’s typical of Kevin, when he gets on the road he never stops for anybody, or anything, he doesn’t seem to realise his passengers sometimes have certain needs.’
They laughed together at that, by then in the kitchen.
‘We’ve done a fish and chip supper, nothing grand, I hope you like it.’
Glen already knew there were fish and chips on the go, it couldn’t be hidden in a cottage like this, not in a million years, and perhaps that explained why the cat seemed hyper excited.
‘I love fish and chips,’ said Glen genuinely, the thought of salt and vinegar on fresh chips making her suck her teeth, and after that the two women hit it off as if they had known each other for years.
Outside in the hallway Gringo had been shocked at the sight of his father. It had only been a short time since he’d seen his parents last, but this time his dad looked truly dreadful. He’d lost yet more weight, and he didn’t have weight to spare, though it didn’t seem to bother the old man unduly, as he admired their visitor.
‘She’s mighty pretty.’
‘She is that.’
‘And is she the one?’
‘I don’t know, dad.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know? Either she is, or she isn’t! You must know for God’s sake, it’s here in the guts,’ and his old father thumped his own chest and it echoed like an empty drum.
‘It isn’t as straight forward as that.’
‘Yes it is! You either love her or you don’t!’
‘There are other men in her life.’
‘Ah, bunk! Bugger the others! What do you expect with a woman like that? Of course there will be others hanging around like starving dogs, horseflies round shit, a bloody queue right round the county, I shouldn’t wonder. With a woman like that you must expect to fight off the blighters. Get yourself a gun! Faint heart never won a fair maiden, Kevin, boy. Strike while the cooking fat is smokin’. Have you asked her to marry you?’
‘Dad!’
‘Well have you?’
‘No! Not that it’s of any of your business.’
‘It is our business! We won’t be here forever, you know.’
‘I know that dad.’
‘Well bloody well get on with it!’
‘Dad, I’m trying my best.’
‘Don’t bloody well try, just do it! Stop pissing about; ask her, and do it this weekend, and if you can’t do that, get her in the family way!’
‘Dad!’
Glen came back into the hall and immediately noticed the heavy atmosphere between the men.
‘I’m not disturbing anything, am I?’
‘No, course not,’ said Gringo.
The father smiled at the girl through his tired eyes and slipped his pipe back into his mouth.
‘Gayle says supper’s ready now, if you want to come on through.’
Gringo smiled at her and almost imperceptibly nodded her away. Glen bobbed her head and retreated to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
‘Come on dad, I’m starving,’ said Gringo, slipping his muscular arm around his father’s shoulders. He was surprised and concerned to find so little there, just two thick old jumpers hiding a collection of crooked and creaking bones. Where was his father disappearing to?
Over supper they laughed and joked, even dad joining in the revelry, dispensing both a bottle of red and white wine that they dispatched in equal measure, but afterwards, none of them stayed up late, for they all wanted to be up reasonably early in the morning to make the most of a full day together.
Gayle introduced Glen to the spare room. She’d changed the bedding, introduced the flowers that were now taken away, and had cleaned and dusted and polished all day until it was just so.
‘It’s lovely, Mrs Greene.’
‘Now, now, it’s Gayle.’
‘Gayle,’ said Glen, smiling.
‘Have a lovely night,’ said Gayle, and she bent forward and the women happily mwah-mwahed on both cheeks, before Gringo’s mother left the room, passing the man himself on the way in. She winked at him, rather naughtily he thought, and then she said, ‘Have fun, son,’ and with that, she hurried away to their room at the far end of the landing.
Gringo entered the bedroom to find Glen already tucked up in bed; lying on her back, the duvet snugly under her chin, watching him hawk-like, closing the door, while smiling up through those happy green eyes.
‘I love your mum.’
‘Funny that, so do I.’
‘She’s a ball of fun, isn’t she? I’ll bet she was a fantastic woman when she was younger,’ and then she said, as if feeling the need to balance things, ‘I like your dad too. Much better than my dad.’
That at least was one thing they could agree on. Gringo nodded and scratched the back of his head and began undressing.
‘Need the bathroom?’ he said, out of something to say.
‘Already been.’
‘Me too,’ and he began rifling in his overnight bag.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘Pyjamas, but it looks like I’ve left them at home.’
‘That’s convenient,’ she said, smirking again.
‘Turn the light off,’ he said, nodding at her bedside lamp.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to get undressed.’
‘Shy are we?’ she said, milking the moment.
‘Yes, maybe, just like you are when you come to my room.’
‘All right, all right,’ she said, dragging out the words as she reached over and pressed the switch.
Instant darkness and silence, no wind, no traffic, no street lights, just an occasional wild creature calling out, to remind the human beings they were now living in occupied territory.
Gringo lifted the duvet and slipped in beside her. She instantly moved closer and snuggled into his arm. Her skin was warm and soft to the touch, like some precious material way beyond silk.
‘Thanks for bringing me, Gringo,’ she whispered.
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘I love the cottage.’
‘So do I.’
‘Where are we going tomorrow?’
‘I think they’re planning to show us the sights of Shropshire.’
‘Are there any?’
‘You might be surprised.’
‘Tell me a story, Gringo,’ she said, settling her head on his chest and closing her eyes.
‘What about?’
‘That’s for you to decide.’
So he began telling her the story of the younger man and older woman, meeting by chance, dining together, spending an entire weekend alone in a romantic cottage down by the river, a little love nest where they did nothing but massage one another’s bodies, and make love, and slip away for meals when they grew hungry, before scurrying back to their secret place.
He told her that the guy was one of Paul’s pals who had bragged to the boys all about it, but Glen figured that it was the mysterious Sarah he as talking about. So she’d been wrong all along about a young blonde bimbo, but that didn’t matter. Fancy Gringo going for a middle-aged lady, but because Glen knew the story was absolutely true, it was all the more exciting, and held more meaning, and it must have done the same for him, because quite suddenly, he grew excited.
It touched her on the thigh.
‘What the hell’s that?’ she said, perhaps slightly louder than she intended.
‘What do you think it is?’
‘I know what it is, but why is it like that?’
‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Because of you, of course.’
‘No Gringo, naughty! Down boy, down!’ and she giggled loudly.
At that moment his dad had been caught short and had been creeping along the landing on the way to the bathroom. On hearing excited voices he had paused at the door and listened. No Gringo, naughty! Down boy, down! And all accompanied by truly wicked laughter. That’s my boy, he thought, and oddly his need for the bathroom vanished. He turned and hurried back to the warmth and comfort of his dear wife where he quickly snuggled in beside her.
‘They are at it,’ he whispered cuddling into her. ‘Grandchildren on the way, methinks. Not long now.’
‘I wish I had a pound for every time you’ve said that, and anyway, how do you know?’
‘I heard them!’
‘You didn’t listen at the door?’
‘No, not listened exactly, I just happened to overhear something.’
‘Overhear what?’
‘You know, love talk.’
He took her hand and set it down on him.
‘Good God! What has got into you?’ she said.
‘What do you think?’
‘You don’t want to do it, do you?’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Do you think you can manage?’
‘Don’t be so bloody cheeky!’
‘Well, if you’re sure, but don’t hurt yourself for God’s sake.’
Back in the guest room Glen whispered: ‘So what happened to the younger man and the older woman?’
‘Her old flame reappeared and spirited her away to the desert.’
‘That’s romantic.’
‘If you say so, though I never really understood the desire to get sand in the underpants, and every other goddamn place, and camel turds on the boots.’
Gringo thought he’d hid his involvement in the story pretty well, whereas Glen felt she could detect a slight sense of longing in his voice, perhaps a little disappointment too. Perhaps he really was missing this Sarah woman, and all those kisses she dished out. They lay in silence for a wee while, and then out of the blue she said: ‘Do you want me to give you a hand-job?’
That surprised him, and brought any storytelling to a crashing halt.
‘No, why?’
‘Just asking,’ she said, and then she added, ‘most men would have jumped at the chance.’
‘I am not most men.’
‘No Gringo, you are not, are you.’
She let him kiss her goodnight full on the lips, one dry, loving kiss, a nighty-night kiss she would think practically nothing of, one she would barely remember in the morning, a throwaway kiss from her brother, was how she saw it, if only she had one. Perhaps that’s how she truly thought of GG, her phantom brother.
For him, it was the finest kiss of his entire life and he would remember it forever.
Forty-Six
In the morning everyone was up and dressed by nine, and though none of them usually ate bacon and eggs for breakfast, they all did that day, even dad, though he was forced to chase the single slice of back bacon around his plate for twenty minutes before it finally disappeared.
‘Wild night wasn’t it?’ said the old man, smirking at his wife and anyone else who cared to look his way.
‘Was it?’ asked Gringo, ‘I didn’t hear a thing.’
‘Take no notice of him,’ said Gayle, ‘he’s only making mischief.’
Glen observed the conversation with a smile on her phizog as she switched her vision from face to face, eager to make out what they were really talking about, guessing it was mildly risqué, but unable to pin down precisely the gist of it.
‘So where are we going today?’ asked Gringo, seemingly oblivious to any hidden meanings flying about.
‘You can take us down to Church Stretton,’ father said, ‘and Ludlow after that, if you don’t mind.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Gringo.
‘What does Glen think?’ said Gayle.
Glen grinned and shook her head. ‘I’m easy.’
‘No you’re not,’ said Gringo.
‘Shut up you,’ said Glen, playfully.
It took half an hour to motor to Church Stretton, somewhat optimistically called Little Switzerland by some of the town fathers from years before, probably when there was snow on the surprisingly impressive hills that surround the little town. No doubt it was an effort to boost the tourist industry, and most of the local guesthouses were still booked solid with hill walkers and hikers, many of whom piled off the trains that frequented the town centre railway station.
The Greenes plus one did what tourists do. They paired off and linked arms and promenaded up and down the high street, pausing to peer in the windows of the antique shops and jewellers that have been there for longer than anyone’s father could remember. Gringo was chuffed she’d linked his arm, as he proudly led her up the main thoroughfare, not missing the admiring glances that came their way, to be more precise, Glenda’s way, from many of the men, young and old alike.
His parents held back, content in seeing them happy and so obviously well matched.
‘I think we’ve struck gold with her,’ whispered Ray.
‘Let’s just see how it pans out,’ said Gayle, ever eager not to let things run away with themselves.
‘Don’t you like her?’
‘I think she’s fabulous.’
‘There you are then. They are so obviously in love.’
‘He might love her, but does she love him?’
‘He’ll make her love him, in time, you’ll see. They are so alike, don’t you think? They could almost be brother and sister.’
‘Perhaps you’ve hit the nail on the head, Ray; they are like brother and sister, in more ways than one.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Have you ever seen him kiss her?’
Ray thought about that for a second.
‘Well no, maybe not, but perhaps she doesn’t like kissing in public. Not everyone does.’
‘My instinct tells me that if Miss Glenda Martin wanted to kiss someone in public, the whole of the Taliban legions would not stop her.’
Ray harrumphed. ‘Bah! They were at it last night.’
‘So you said, but I suspect the only people who were at it, as you so romantically describe, were you and I. What on earth got into you?’
Predictably he said: ‘There’s life in the old dog yet,’ and then he smirked at her as if to say: There’s lots more of that to come, when they both knew it would not happen again this side of the Christmas presents.
They took an early afternoon tea, it was more of a late lunch, and afterwards, they hit the road south again, closing in on Ludlow.
It was a bigger place than Church Stretton with perhaps more to offer, what with the castle and pretty tree-clad river. It was busy too, Saturday afternoon, as hundreds of shoppers bustled about the quaint half-timbered buildings. Glen adored the place, particularly the individual shops that you just don’t see in the precincts of every nondescript town and city up and down the kingdom.
The party linked arms again, but had swapped partners, Glen with Gringo’s dad, while mother and son joined happily together.
‘So,’ said Ray, eager to get to the point, and to prove his line of thinking. ‘What do you think of my son?’
‘I like Gringo a lot.’
‘His name’s not Gringo, we hate that nickname, his name is Kevin.’
‘Sorry, Mister Greene, Kevin.’
‘No matter. He loves you; you know that, don’t you?’
‘Does he?’
‘Course he does.’
‘He’s never told me.’
‘Sometimes we don’t have to be told certain things, Glen. Can’t you see it in his eyes, the way he looks at you?’
She thought about that for a second. It was true, he did occasionally look at her in a longing way, lustful even, but men always looked at her lik
e that, they had done so since she was fourteen, and long may it continue. She adored being lusted after. Which honest woman would not? The more the merrier so far as she was concerned, for amongst all the creeps, one or two diamonds would always emerge.
How was she supposed to be able to tell the difference between lust and love? And anyway, it wasn’t so important what the men thought or felt about her. To Glen, it only mattered what the woman felt, indeed what she felt, and she didn’t feel she loved Gringo Greene in any way, certainly not, how could she, when she loved Harry Wildenstein so completely and utterly. Of course she didn’t tell Ray Greene all about the reckless American, contenting herself with: ‘Let’s just see how things turn out.’
Soon after that they came to the castle.
‘Ah, now here is a romantic story,’ he said, his eyes suddenly ablaze, and they hadn’t been that way since she’d arrived.
‘Tell me more.’
‘Katherine of Aragon of course, she loved Henry the Eighth body and soul, but his eyes had strayed to the younger, and some say prettier, Anne Boleyn. Flighty she was, Anne Boleyn. Katherine, for her non existent crimes was banished to the castle, this castle, locked away, out of sight, out of mind.’
‘Mmm, typical man thing reaction if you ask me. He couldn’t have what he wanted, so he flew into a rage and exercised his power to the full.’
‘Does Kevin fly into a rage?’ Ray asked, surprised at his own question.
Glen fixed her green eyes on him. ‘No Mister Greene, not Gringo… Kevin, sorry, never, he’s a perfect gentleman, always.’
Perhaps he is too much of a gentleman, thought Ray, but didn’t mention it, and then he said: ‘Well who, then?’
‘Will you excuse me, I need the loo,’ and she turned and broke free and caught Gayle’s attention and pointed to the Ladies sign that beckoned from high up on the grey stone work. Gayle smiled back and parted from Kevin and took Glen’s forearm and the pair of them disappeared into the wall.