Bedtime Stories for Grown-Ups

by Ben Holden

  Selina had been a quick-witted student – by Grunty Fen standards – and had been one of the few children at the village school bright and determined enough to go to teacher training college. At seventeen she had packed her suitcase and had gone to Reading to learn how to be a teacher; to spread discipline and information.

  At seventeen she had thought that she would never return to Grunty Fen again, but inevitably she went home during her vacations to visit her parents and wrote long, emotional letters to her boyfriend Tom, who had tried to stop her going to college in the first place by asking her to marry him.

  After three years at college Selina had returned to Grunty Fen, ‘Just until I decide where I really want to go.’ Eventually she had married Tom and had started teaching at the village primary school.

  She disliked children and didn’t want any of her own. Tom liked children – probably because he wasn’t forced into a classroom with thirty of them every day – but he realized that if he wanted to hang on to Selina (she was one of the intellectual élite) then he would have to bow to her better judgement.

  Time rolled by. Selina’s life was as flat as the fens and just about as interesting. Nothing much happened at all.

  Joanna, Selina’s best friend, had lived a very similar sort of life except that she had enjoyed little success at school and had never attended teacher training college. She had got married at sixteen to John Burger whose family owned a large farm to the north of Grunty Fen, and had borne him two children before she reached twenty. She had always been wild and mischievous, but in a quiet way, a way that pretended that nothing serious was ever going on, or at least nothing seriously bad. Joanna was the bale of hay in Selina’s field. She made Selina’s landscape moderately more entertaining.

  Joanna didn’t really know the meaning of hard work. Most country women throw in their lot with their husbands and work like automatons on the farm. But Joanna had more sense than that. She preferred to stay at home ‘creating a friendly home environment’ and cultivating her good looks.

  At the age of thirty-nine she aspired to the Dallas lifestyle. She spent many hours growing and painting her nails, making silk-feel shirts and dresses on her automatic sewing machine and throwing or attending Tupperware parties.

  Joanna was Grunty Fen’s only hedonist, but hedonism wasn’t just her way of life, it was her religion, and she tried to spread it like a spoonful of honey on buttery toast.

  They were in a café in Ely, a stone’s throw from the cathedral, eating a couple of cream eclairs with coffee. Selina was making fun of Joanna but Joanna didn’t seem to mind. She pulled the chocolate away from the choux pastry with her cake fork as Selina said laughingly, ‘I still can’t think of that birthday without smiling. My fortieth, and I thought it would be some sort of great landmark. I was so depressed. I opened Tom’s present and it was a home first aid kit. Of course I said how lovely it was. Then, trying to hide my disappointment, I opened your present, firmly believing that it would contain something frivolous and feminine. But inside the parcel there were only ten odd pieces of foam, all neatly and pointlessly sewed up around the edges. Neither of us knew what the hell they were. I thought they might be miniature cushions without covers. Tom thought they were for protecting your knees during cricket games, a sort of knee guard. I even thought they might be falsies.’

  Joanna smiled. ‘This must be one of the only places in the world where a woman of forty doesn’t understand the basics of sophisticated dressing. I thought you could sew the shoulder pads into all your good shirts and dresses. It’s a fashionable look, Selina, honestly.’

  Selina shrugged her non-padded shoulders. ‘I will sew them in eventually, I promise.’

  Joanna grinned to herself. She looked rather cheery. Usually before, during and after the consumption of a cream cake Joanna panicked about its calorie content and moaned about its probable effect on her midriff.

  As Selina waited for the inevitable outburst she said, ‘If we didn’t come to Ely every few weeks for a chat and a break I’m sure I’d go mad. Ely. Imagine! This small, insignificant town has come to symbolize freedom and independence to me. It’s rather sad; it’s like the Americans symbolizing freedom with a sparrow instead of a bald eagle.’

  She looked into Joanna’s face. Joanna was smiling. It was as if she was listening to a song that no one else could hear. Selina stared at her in silence for a minute or so and then said, ‘What is it, Joanna? I’m sure you’re up to something.’

  Joanna’s eyes were vaguely glassy. Selina frowned. ‘You’ve not been taking those tranquillizers again, have you?’

  Joanna laughed. It was a sort of throaty, gutsy laugh. ‘Oh Selina, if only you knew. If only! What’s Tom like in bed at the moment? Has it improved since our last little chat?’

  Selina shrugged and her cheeks reddened. ‘Nothing much has happened in that department. Are you enjoying that cake?’

  She had finished hers several minutes before, but Joanna was still (uncharacteristically) pushing her cake around her plate. Selina added quickly – to distract Joanna from intimate territory – ‘School’s been awful. Felicity has been sitting in on classes. It’s to do with the new assessment rules from the education authority. The classroom is no longer my kingdom. It’s been taken over by men in little grey suits. Of course Felicity loves it all. She even had the cheek to offer me a few tips on my teaching technique the other day. I’m surprised she was capable of taking any of the lesson in. Most of it she spent fiddling with her hearing aid. Anyway, everyone knows that Heads are incapable of controlling classes and that’s why they become Heads in the first place. Maybe I’m just bitter, but the thought of that old crone deigning to tell me how to handle a class! She said something like, ‘Be freer, Selina, be more adventurous, take risks!’ I tried to tell her that the syllabus had destroyed all elements of spontaneity in the classroom. If the kids want to cope with the workload nowadays it’s all blackboard, chalk and copying.’

  As Selina finished speaking Joanna shuddered slightly. Selina smiled. ‘Ghost walk over your grave?’

  Joanna shook her head and then giggled furtively. ‘Look Selina, it’s not that I’m not interested in what you are saying about school – God knows, my two did well enough under your tuition and they thought you were a great teacher – it isn’t that I’m not interested, but I just must change the subject for a moment.’

  As Joanna spoke, she leaned toward Selina conspiratorially and her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘Selina, I’m wearing Dual Balls.’

  Selina frowned. ‘What do you mean? Is it a girdle of some kind, or some sort of skin ointment?’

  Joanna never ceased to amaze her with her violent enthusiasms and frivolity. She pushed a slightly greying brown curl behind her ear and thought abstractedly, ‘I must have my hair cut, it’s almost touching my shoulders now.’

  Joanna’s chair scraped along the floor as she pulled it up closer to Selina. Selina could smell her perfume – something heady like Opium – which flushed through the air like bleach through water. Joanna whispered again, ‘I’ve got Dual Balls, Selina. I’ve had them in since I left the house. It’s incredible.’

  Selina shrugged. ‘You’re going to have to explain this to me, Joanna. I don’t know what Dual Balls are.’

  Joanna bit her lip and stared at Selina through her heavily mascaraed lashes for a moment, then she said, ‘I got them from an underwear catalogue. I ordered them and they came in the post. John doesn’t know anything about them.’

  Selina cleared her throat nervously, ‘Are they something rude, Joanna?’ Joanna winked saucily. ‘I should say so. They’re like two small round vibrating grapes. Battery operated.’

  Selina took a sip of her coffee to try and deflate the tension, then said, ‘Have you got them in your bag?’

  Joanna snorted loudly and several people at other tables turned and stared at them both for a moment. Selina felt slightly embarrassed. Joanna soon recovered from her fit of hilarity and whispered, ‘They’
re not in my bag, stupid. I’ve got them in my fanny.’

  Selina was not initially so much shocked by the idea of Joanna’s little vibrating grapes as by her casual use of the word ‘fanny’. It was an old-fashioned word. She had once had a great-aunt called Fanny, a gregarious, light-hearted aunt who had always seemed very old to her as a child; old, frail but charming.

  She didn’t really know how to reply to Joanna, how to disguise her intense unease and embarrassment. Luckily Joanna had other things on her mind. After a few seconds since she squeezed Selina’s arm and said, ‘I’m going to nip into the toilets and take them out, then you can have a proper look at them.’

  Selina’s expression was querulous. Joanna noticed as she stood up, and grinned. ‘Don’t worry, Selina, I’ll give them a good wash before you have to have any contact with them.’

  Selina sighed. ‘Joanna, please be discreet. This is only Ely after all, not San Francisco.’

  Joanna didn’t reply.

  Once she’d gone Selina relaxed and drank a large mouthful of her coffee. She stared out of the window at the cathedral. She thought, ‘God, I feel old. Maybe it’s teaching. It just beats all the enthusiasm out of you. I’m sure I never used to feel this way. The kids are no better or no worse than they were twenty years ago. It must be me that’s changed.’ She sighed and waited for Joanna’s return.

  After about five minutes Joanna merged from the toilets looking furtive but self-satisfied, like a large tom cat on the prowl, about to spray an unsuspecting territory with his rank odour. Selina thought, ‘This room belongs to Joanna. She doesn’t give a damn about anything.’

  Joanna sat down next to her again and Selina said straight away, ‘I don’t know where you get these ideas from – or your nerve for that matter – look at you, as bold as brass!’

  Joanna smiled and patted her chestnut perm with one of her bright-pink-fingernailed hands. ‘Don’t look at this hand, look at the other one under the table.’

  Selina moved backwards slightly and stared down at Joanna’s other hand which held the Dual Balls like a couple of freshly laid eggs. Selina said, ‘They’re bigger than I thought they’d be and attached to each other. I imagined that they’d be a sort of flesh colour, not that strange off-white.’

  Joanna raised her eyebrows, ‘Flesh is off-white, Selina. Are Tom’s balls a very different colour to these?’

  She smiled provocatively. Selina shook her head disapprovingly. ‘Tom’s . . .’ – she couldn’t use the word – ‘Tom’s aren’t anything unusual, Joanna, and I certainly don’t make a habit of trying to use them like you’ve just used those. Also, his don’t use batteries and they aren’t attached by a small piece of cord.’

  Joanna smirked. ‘You wish Tom’s balls were like these. They’re very effective, and so discreet. I think the thrill of using them is trebled by the fact of wearing them out. It’s so arousing.’

  Selina grimaced. ‘Walking can’t be easy with them in. Why don’t they just drop out?’

  As Selina spoke Joanna switched the balls on. She waited for Selina to finish talking and then said, ‘Why don’t you try them and see?’ The balls vibrated vigorously in her hand. They sounded like a quieter version of an electric razor. Selina was sure that everyone could hear. She whispered frantically, ‘For God’s sake, Joanna, switch them off.’ Joanna frowned. ‘I worry about you, Selina. You’re becoming very old-maidish, very schoolmarmish. You don’t have any spirit of adventure any more.’

  Selina didn’t rise to the bait. ‘I’ve never had any spirit of adventure and you know it.’

  Joanna nodded. ‘I suppose that’s true. No backbone, no spontaneity. No interest in what’s state of the art . . .’

  Selina raised an eyebrow. ‘Where did you come across that little phrase? Something on television, something American, I suppose?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have the nerve to wear these out, no way,’ Joanna interrupted.

  Selina smiled. ‘I’d have enough nerve, Joanna, just too much sense. I don’t need something like those. I think they’re horrible. Now switch them off.’

  Joanna turned and stared out of the window at people passing by. An old lady staggered past pulling her shopping trolley. Joanna pointed at the woman, ‘I bet she’d wear them out. I bet she’s got more spunk in her little finger than you’ve got in your entire body.’

  Selina almost smiled at this but then stopped herself. ‘Possibly. Look, the waitress is coming over with the bill. Please turn them off.’

  Joanna didn’t turn them off, but started instead to lift up the hand containing the vibrating balls until they were almost at a level with the surface of the table. Selina was excruciatingly embarrassed. ‘Joanna, switch them off and put them away. You’re embarrassing me.’

  Joanna was staring at the Dual Balls rather thoughtfully. After a moment she said, ‘I dare you to wear these when you’re teaching one of your classes. Just for one lesson. I dare you!’

  Joanna loved dares. This was principally because she always thought of them and didn’t therefore usually do them herself. ‘Go on Selina, I dare you!’

  Selina laughed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Those horrible little things are having no contact with my intimate body whatsoever.’

  Joanna lifted the balls slightly higher than the table and said, ‘If you don’t accept the dare I swear I’m going to put these into your coffee cup when the waitress comes to clear the table. That should be in about twenty seconds.’

  Selina saw a couple of people at the nearest table to them discussing something and laughing. She was sure that they had noticed. She said, ‘Joanna, put them down, please.’

  Joanna held them even higher. The waitress started to walk towards them. When she was about five steps from the table Selina said, ‘OK, I promise to wear them, I promise, all right?’

  Joanna switched the balls off immediately. It seemed very quiet without their buzzing.

  On her way home Joanna passed John in the tractor. He stopped so that she could overtake him then waved his arm so that she would pause for a moment. She wound down her window. ‘Yes?’

  He shouted from his high seat, not bothering to switch off the tractor’s roaring engine, ‘Did she take them?’

  Joanna nodded emphatically. ‘Yes. It worked like a dream. She was really shocked when she thought that I was wearing them. It was a real effort not to laugh.’

  He smiled. ‘You must be a great actress then.’

  She shrugged. ‘I did all right.’

  She crossed her fingers down by the steering wheel. He frowned – although he couldn’t see her hands – ‘Joanna, you were just acting?’ Joanna guffawed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’d probably have crashed the car if I’d worn them driving . . . Of course I wouldn’t dream of wearing them anyway, why should I?’

  She winked. He smiled. He obviously believed her. She uncrossed her fingers, waved at him and then drove on.

  She negotiated the turn into their driveway with special care; she’d almost driven off the road there on the trip out.

  One of the favourite pastimes in Grunty Fen is Chinese Whispers. People gossip like it’s going out of season. They also discuss what’s happened in all of the major soaps and mini-series on television. Mostly though they prefer to gossip because it’s a tiny place and everyone knows everyone else’s business.

  John got pissed in the local pub on Saturday night and told several of his cronies about Joanna’s dare. The men all laughed loudly at the notion of someone as staid and strait-laced as Selina experimenting with sexual gadgets. They knew she wouldn’t do it, but they enjoyed thinking about it just the same. A couple of them went home in their cups and told their wives. The women were shocked, interested and surprised on the whole; a small proportion were slightly jealous.

  After Sunday lunch Selina was doing the washing up in the kitchen and Tom was sitting at the dining table in the next room doing the Sunday Telegraph crossword. Occasionally he read out loud to Selina any of the clues that had com
pletely eluded him.

  Selina washed the soapsuds from the final plate and placed it with the others on the drying rack. Tom seemed busy and preoccupied so she took this opportunity to clean out the sink and refill it with very hot water and a squirt of bleach. She went and found her handbag and took out the Dual Balls which she had placed inside, wrapped up in a tissue. She opened the tissue and removed the Dual Balls then placed them in the hot water and bleach, still wearing her rubber gloves. As she rubbed the balls with her hands she felt like a fetishist.

  At the sound of Tom’s voice from the next room she jumped guiltily and her heart lurched; then in a split second she had grabbed the washing-up cloth and had dropped it over the balls, covering them completely. Tom was saying, ‘Thirty-one across. Vulgar Cockney squeezes ends of these into tube. Six letters. I think it’s an anagram. Any ideas, Selina?’

  At this exact moment, a mile or so away, Joanna and John were still eating their lunch of beef and roast potatoes. John had a slight hangover. Joanna had prepared a meal for four but neither of the children had bothered hanging around for it. This made John even more ill-tempered and grouchy. He kept saying, ‘It’s such a waste of good food. Those two don’t know what it’s like to do without. You spoil them.’

  Joanna ignored him. She was thinking about Selina and the Dual Balls. She wondered whether she would use them or not. Selina rarely broke her word, if ever.

  She cut into a potato and watched the steam rise from its hot centre. She speared a bit of it on to her fork and prepared to put it into her mouth. Before she had done so, however, John said, ‘I told a couple of the fellas about your joke with Selina last night.’

  Joanna stared at him, dumbstruck. ‘You did what?’

  Her voice was sharp and strident. He shrugged. ‘I know I promised not to but it sort of slipped out.’

  She put down her fork. ‘I don’t know why I tell you anything. You’re totally unreliable. I’m sick of you spreading my business about and sticking your nose into everything. This was none of your affair in the first place.’