by Limey Lady
He couldn’t help wondering if she’d spent as long in the toilets, washing and combing, as he had.
‘Leaving already?’ she said, addressing them as one.
‘Jamie’s got a sudden thirst,’ Nat said. Then, as a thought struck her: ‘That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?’
Jamie nearly fell through the floor. He couldn’t believe how easily they’d been caught. More to the point, he couldn’t begin to guess how Jayne would reply.
‘I did give him that kiss,’ she said, a slow smile spreading over her face, ‘seeing as you’d given me the green light.’
‘It would have been rude not to,’ Nat agreed. ‘Although I hope you stopped short of copulation.’
Jamie could only stare at her. He hadn’t heard her say “copulation” before. Didn’t even know it was in her vocabulary.
‘Oh he’s far too loyal for copulation,’ Jayne said. Then, stepping out of their way: ‘Have a nice drink.’
‘See you later,’ Nat said, passing her and heading for the cloakroom.
‘Yeah,’ Jamie added. ‘See you.’
Jayne winked at him. ‘Have sweet dreams,’ she said. ‘I know I will.’
*****
To Pat’s amazement Heather didn't immediately want to fuck. Sitting impaled, she casually hooked her ankles together behind his back and reached for the Pinot.
‘Let's share a civilized drink.’
‘This is civilized?’
‘It’s very civilized.’ She laughed. ‘And we’ve two days ahead of us, haven’t we?’
Pat took the glass from her and sipped chilled wine. Sean claimed Heather was a sex maniac, but he hadn't expected this. That gleam in her eyes was pure lust.
And she was a lezzie too, wasn’t she? He knew that from her own countless, unsubtle innuendos and Sean’s gossip, backed by Andy, who reckoned she had a long-running thing with one of the big players at WYB; that adult pantomime with some frigid, man-hating beauty known as the Ice Queen.
Snow White and the frigging Ice Queen . . .
Rolling magic buttons on each other’s tongues . . .
‘So what are we going to do?’ she said, breaking into his thoughts.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I mean about your situation with DeeDee. I'll help cover your tracks if you like. But you'll have to be nice to me.’
‘I am being nice to you.’
‘I know. I just don't want any slacking. Men tend to collapse when a girl needs them most.’
‘I'll keep my end up.’
‘I can keep your end up for you, as I just proved.’ Heather had another carefree laugh. ‘You just need to concentrate on staying awake and doing the odd stint on top.’
‘How did you do that anyway, black magic?’
‘I’m a witch, so it is probably something like that. But don't underrate your own abilities. You’ve been arousing me ever since that day at the rugby.’
‘That's why you swanned off with Jonjo, is it?’
‘Now who's being jealous?’ Heather took back the glass. ‘You chickened then. We could have had a foursome.’
‘I thought your mate didn't do foursomes.’
"I'd have wangled it somehow. I’m very resourceful. A wife-swapping routine would’ve probably done the trick. All change every hour and using separate rooms. She'd have bought that.’
‘I see. It's the audience that puts her off.’
‘That and girls. She doesn't normally do girls . . . unfortunately.’
Pat had another check of her eyes. ‘You fancy her, then?’
‘Of course I do. I'm not put off by her being a little older. In fact I'm astounded you were such a wimp.’
‘She's twice my age.’
‘No, McGuire, she's eleven years older than you. And you are twelve years older than me. So watch your step.’
‘McGuire now, is it? I don't even get “Mister”?’
‘Not until you stop being a wimp. And don’t even think about jilting her a second time.’
‘Don’t worry; you’ve got a big enough hold on me.’
‘I know I have. And I’ll be monitoring you very closely, so beware.’
The Pinot was gone already. Heather deftly deposited the empty glass and retrieved the Shiraz.
‘Now, where were we?’
Pat squeezed her bum, making her squirm deliciously. ‘We were talking about the next two days.’
‘No we weren’t. You’re trying to change the subject away from Joanna.’
They both laughed at that and passed the Shiraz back and forth, maintaining eye contact.
‘Track covering,’ she resumed.
‘Track covering,’ he agreed.
‘I assume that this has to be our little secret. To make sure nothing gets back to DeeDee.’
‘I’ll be honest. If Sean finds out he’ll tell her in no time. He knows it’ll upset her. Particularly . . . well, you know.’
‘Taking it up your bum?’ Heather chuckled. ‘Don’t say you’re ashamed. It takes a manly man to let a girl do that to him.’
‘I’m not ashamed.’ Pat sipped wine and tried not to blush. ‘It’s just . . . well, the more details he has, the worse he’ll make it seem.’
‘Would my kind and charming Sean do that?’
‘Too right he would.’
‘In that case I'll send a text. Tell him I've only just left the bank.’
‘Won’t he be suspicious at this time of night?’
‘He'll be engrossed with those dancing girls. He won't notice the time until tomorrow, if even then. And he won't have missed me, either. I could tell him anything and get away with it.’
‘Are you sure?’
She grinned back at him. ‘I’m as sure as I’m ever likely to be. I quite often let him down at the last minute. It’s a tactic I use to keep him on his toes.’
‘He doesn't deserve you. You know that, don't you?’
‘Don't go clingy on me, McGuire. I'm not just a witch, I’m a heartless witch.’
‘You seem all right to me.’
‘Trust me, I'm not. I'd probably be shagging Angel or Andy by now if it wasn't your birthday . . . quite possibly psyching myself up for Moggs.’
‘You're joking.’
‘No I'm not. Once I get the taste I can't stop.’ She took the glass off him, swigged it empty and got rid. ‘Right then, enough civilized chitchat. How are those sperm factories of yours doing?’
*****
Nat prattled on about Roger’s dragon of a mother while they walked downhill through the school grounds, onto the main road. Jamie kept quiet and pretended to listen, trying to seem cool as they passed that much quieter pathway.
Feeling relief that Jayne had limited what she had to say, for now, at least.
And by God, were there really two years of fretting ahead? Two years where Jayne could at any moment let something slip, accidentally or on purpose . . . or accidentally on purpose.
Not to mention two years of knowing the sort of things Jayne wanted to do with him.
‘Are you listening to me?’
Nat was giving him one of her curious glances.
‘Yes,’ he said automatically.
‘What was I saying then?’
‘Something about Roger’s mum. Doesn’t she make toast by breathing on bread?’
‘Jamie Rodgers, you are such a rotten fibber.’
‘Sorry Nat.’ He flushed a bit, hoping she’d put it down to the cold wind and not that terrible, terrible guilt. Thinking how good a fibber he’d have to be from now on.
‘I was saying I hope there aren’t too many Christmas songs on in the White Horse.’
‘Bound to be,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of ‘em about.’
‘Just as long as they don’t have Santa Baby; I can’t get it out of my head.’
‘That’s two in one.’
‘What?’
‘That’s two Kylie songs in one.’
‘No it isn’t.’ She pu
nched his shoulder playfully. ‘It’s Can’t Get You Out of My Head. Not “it”, “you”.’
‘I stand corrected.’
‘And so you should.’ She paused a second. ‘Did I tell you I’m not working tomorrow?’
‘No. Why aren’t you?’
‘I booked it off to go shopping. But I’ve done all my shopping already. So . . .’
‘So?’
‘So I can spend the afternoon with you. Seeing as your match isn’t until Sunday. And seeing as Penny will be hospital visiting . . . and I’m going to be away for over two weeks.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘the cruise.’
‘We can make up for lost ground,’ she said. ‘In advance, I mean. So we don’t have too much catching up to do when I get back.’
To Jamie’s horror he felt none of the usual buzz. Opportunities to have a Saturday afternoon together were very limited. Nat had obviously been saving this as a surprise. He should have been thrilled . . . but for the first time ever, he was not.
‘That’ll be good,’ he lied, ‘although I am supposed to be supporting the First Team.’
‘We can go out for an early lunch then.’ Nat chuckled. ‘We can be at the match for the second half.’
‘You mean you’re coming to the rugby too?’
‘Of course I am. I want to spend the whole afternoon with you, not just an hour or two.’
‘Okay. As long as you realize there’ll be a lot of drinking to do after the final whistle.’
‘Rugby and beer,’ she sighed, ‘that’s my idea of paradise! What more could a girl ask for?’
Any irony was wasted on Jamie. ‘We’d better make the most of being alone together,’ he said. ‘My dad’s coming home on Wednesday.’
‘That’s great news. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’
‘I didn’t say anything because he’s been supposed to be coming home ten times before. I wasn’t too convinced about it this time, until I got home after school.’
‘What’s happened to convince you?’
‘Our lounge has been turned into a hospital ward. You won’t believe it until you see for yourself. It has got an adjustable bed, a hoist and a ton of other stuff.’
‘It will be good to have him back after so long.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘You don’t sound so sure.’
‘Oh I’m sure. It’s everyone else that’s casting doubts.’
‘I don’t understand. Who’s “everybody”?’
‘I mean the rest of my entire family.’
‘What doubts are they casting?’
‘They think the NHS has washed its hands of him. And that this is the way things will be forever.’
‘Surely . . . God forgive . . . but surely it’s better to have him home if he’s not going to fully recover. Besides, what’s the alternative?’
‘A refuge for basket cases,’ Jamie snorted. ‘Penny’s ruled that out as a non-starter. She says she’s going to do everything herself. But the scale of it . . .’
He broke off and they trudged along a little farther, passing the old cattle market, nowadays only used for car boot sales.
‘They won’t leave it to her on her lonesome,’ he resumed. ‘She’s had a dozen inspections: health and safety; risk assessments; that sort of crap. Worst of all, she’s been given a timetable of regular visits.’
‘What’s so bad about that?’
‘There’s so many of them. Care workers four times a day. District nurses three times a day. And something called “Community Intervention” first thing in the morning, last at night. I said they’d all be falling over each other like the Keystone Kops; Penny didn’t seem to think it was funny.’
‘It’s her home, Jamie. It’s hard for a woman to have strangers coming and going all the time.’
‘That’s what my sisters say. They aren’t up for it at all. Anyone would think they wished he’d just died, so he wasn’t a problem anymore.’
‘Jamie! Wash your mouth out! Sandy and Becky love your dad more than anything.’
‘Not from where I’m standing they don’t. For two pins I’d disown them.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Okay, I wouldn’t disown them. But they’re being completely unreasonable. They don’t even live at home anymore, but they’re on at Penny all the time. Telling her it won’t work. Saying she should sue the hospital so they have to keep him.’
‘And what do you think about it?’
‘Me? I’m like Uncle Rick. I wouldn’t leave a dead mate behind, never mind a wounded one. We set out together; we come home together. It’s as simple as that.’
‘It’s not really like that though, is it?’
‘Yes it is.’
They took the turn onto Old Main Street in silence. Jamie was beginning to think he’d overdone it on the injured/indignant front, when someone hissed at them out of the shadows.
‘You two want to score?’
Uncle Rick had contributed significantly to Jamie’s pre-Army training, mostly in an advisory capacity. Keeping a cool head under provocation was vital. Jamie had been told that a million times. Normally he had the skill cracked. Right then he was struggling.
‘Are you talking to me?’ he said, letting go of Nat and clenching his fists.
The hiss had come from an older guy sitting on the wall, underneath an out-of-order streetlight. As Jamie turned on him, he hopped down from his perch onto the cobbled road surface.
‘Chill, sonny,’ he said, ‘you’re not impressing anyone. Not even your cute little girlfriend.’
The guy was somewhere in his early twenties. He looked fit and tough but never even saw the punch coming.
‘Jamie!’ Nat cried. ‘For Goodness’ sake, what are you doing?’
‘Impressing that pillock,’ he said.
And he’d certainly impressed some sort of message on him. The tough-looking guy was sprawled on the road, arms and legs flailing as though he was doing a weird version of backstroke.
‘You can’t just go around thumping people.’
‘He’s not a person. He’s a dealer. It was probably him who sold Roger that poisonous crap earlier.’
‘You’re only assuming that. And even so . . .’
Jamie shrugged and added ruefulness to today’s list of emotions. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go get that beer.’
‘We can’t just leave him. What if he’s badly hurt?’
‘He’ll be fine.’
Jamie was going to check anyway, but the dealer was recovering under his own steam. He got into a sitting position then bum-shuffled backwards, until he was up against the unlit lamppost and wall.
‘You twat,’ he grunted, using the lamppost to heave himself up onto his feet.
‘Fancy another?’ Jamie countered.
‘Touch me again and you’re dead. You’re already in deep shit as it is. I’m with Cassidy.’
‘Come on,’ Nat urged, tugging Jamie’s sleeve. ‘Don’t make it any worse.’
Jamie shrugged again. The dealer wasn’t showing any signs of fight and he certainly didn’t want to hang around talking to the so-and-so.
‘Who’s Cassidy?’ Nat wondered as they rounded the corner, swapping the sight of the dealer for the much more attractive one of the brightly illuminated pub.
‘I dunno, beats me. Some local scumbag, I suppose.’
‘What if he puts you on his hit list?’
‘If he’s as tough as that guy I won’t have any worries. He’s more likely to have a laundry list than a hit list.’
Nat shook her head. ‘You are a lost cause, Jamie Rodgers. I honestly don’t know what I see in you.’
At that moment neither did he. Still, perseverance was another of those vital qualities . . . and one he had in heaps.
‘Because it’s my round,’ he said, grinning. ‘And because I won’t put Kylie on the jukebox to annoy you. I’m sure there are other reasons too . . . plenty of them.’