Rhys entered the bathroom and bolted the door before dropping his tracksuit bottoms and sitting on the toilet. He was excited to be seeing her again after such a long time and keen to know how things were going. Paddy had knocked on his door a few days earlier to say there was a girl asking for him on the pay phone in the hallway downstairs. Other than his mother, this was the first time anyone else had ever called him. When leaving his old flat, in a moment of desperation, he had left the phone number of the bedsits on the sofa in the living room, hoping Vicki might keep it though fearing she would more likely throw it in the bin. When Paddy knocked and relayed the news, his heart leapt higher than Dick Fosbury and he froze on the spot in disbelief. Quickly gathering himself together, he rushed down the stairs and grabbed the dangling receiver.
‘Hello,’ Rhys mumbled nervously and expectantly, his voice barely audible.
‘Hi, Rhys. It’s Karen.’
‘Hi, Rhys. Long time no see.’
On hearing Karen’s voice behind him, Rhys turned round and stood up from the bar stool. With a beaming smile, he gave her a big hug and a peck on the cheek. Karen’s face was pink and brow sweaty. She looked a little flustered.
‘Sorry I’m late but I still can’t get my head around this transport system. I thought I could get a direct train from London Bridge but I had to go to Waterloo instead,’ Karen declared, putting a holdall down by her feet and unwrapping her scarf. ‘Don’t know why I’m wearing this, it’s so warm today.’
‘Jesus, you’ve grown since I saw you last,’ Rhys commented, his eyes twinkling, as he looked down at Karen’s knee-length bright-white boots with six-inch platforms.
Karen followed his eyes and laughed. ‘The things we do for fashion. These are an absolute nightmare; I’ve nearly broken my ankle God knows how many times as it is. I tell you, Gary Glitter’s got a lot to answer for.’
‘They might be a nightmare but they look great on you, I must say,’ Rhys replied with charm, leaning back a little to get an even better look at them, ‘and you’re right about the transport system. That’s a nightmare, too. If you’re in town, the best stations for Clapham Junction are Waterloo and Victoria,’ Rhys advised like a true Londoner. ‘Anyway, you’re here now. What would you like?’
‘Just a coke, thanks. I’ve drunk far too much this weekend already,’ Karen replied, pulling up another bar stool. ‘You weren’t waiting long, I hope?’ she continued, noticing that Rhys’s pint was almost empty.
‘Ten minutes, that’s all. I was just flicking through the News of the World on the counter here.’
‘Anything interesting?’
‘Nah, not really. There’s a grainy picture of Keith Moon stoned out of his head in some club somewhere and Woody from the Bay City Rollers has got a new bit of stuff, apparently. Oh, and Cardiff City lost again.’
‘Some things never change then.’
They both laughed.
‘He should be careful, Keith Moon. The way he’s going, they’ll find him dead one day,’ Rhys opined with concern. ‘So, how are things with you then?’ he carried on, attracting the barman’s attention and requesting a coke and pint of Young’s.
‘Oh, same as usual. Nothing changes much in Wales. I’m still working in East Glam; I like it there. The other nurses are really friendly and now Labour is back in power they’re spending a bit of money around the place.’
‘Good old Harold,’ Rhys approved with a nod, handing a pound note to the barman and taking two glasses in return.
‘Don’t know if you’ve heard but Jen’s packed Don in?’
‘Really. I didn’t know. I haven’t been in touch much with the boys this past year.’
‘Well, he was always messing her about and seeing his ex behind her back.’
‘Is Jen alright about it?’
‘God, yeah. She’s already got a new man; some bodybuilder from Merthyr. I’ve not met him yet but he’s a real hunk, apparently.’
‘That’ll piss Don off for sure,’ Rhys replied with a snigger. ‘He might be a lot of things, Don, but a bodybuilder he ain’t. Anyone special in your life then, Karen?’
Karen lowered her eyes and her cheeks blushed, making Rhys regret asking the question. It was a bit personal after all.
‘Nah. Haven’t got time for men,’ Karen lied. ‘Too busy at work, I am,’ she added weakly with a hint of embarrassment. ‘They’re all a bunch of shysters, the lot of them, if you ask me. Can’t trust them an inch, any of them, present company excepted, of course.’
Rhys smiled. ‘I’m glad you added that last bit. I’d like to think I’m not like that.’
‘No, you’re not, actually. Vicki still speaks fondly of you.’
There it was. Her name had been mentioned. Rhys’s body juddered as if he was sitting in an electric chair. He went quiet and sipped nervously from his pint, unable to look Karen in the eye, before putting it back down on the counter and staring into it like a fortune-teller might a crystal ball. Karen observed the effect Vicki’s name had on him and took a couple of swigs of her coke.
Rhys was eager to learn more about Vicki and here was his chance, the comment that she was still fond of him increasing his confidence. But his innate lack of selfishness surged to the surface and he knew it wouldn’t be right to bang on about Vicki all afternoon. It was rude, more than anything. Karen had gone out of her way to come and see him and would be leaving afterwards to catch the train to Cardiff. He had to know what was going on in Vicki’s life, that was for certain, and Karen had just spent the weekend with her, but he would ask her later. The spectre of Vicki disorientated him, however, and he struggled to pick up the thread of the conversation. It took Karen to break the silence.
‘So, Rhys, how you been doing?’
The area by the bar counter was filling up with lunchtime drinkers and they began to feel crowded out. When one such drinker accidentally nudged Rhys’s arm, spilling a little of his beer, he suggested to Karen that they move to the only free table available, which happened to have a view of Arding and Hobbs, the imposing department store, which stood opposite The Falcon on the corner across the road.
It was a beautiful April day and the sun was shining brilliantly and warmly through the windows. It was a day to lift the spirits. Karen readily agreed to Rhys’s suggestion and, grabbing her holdall, she tottered behind Rhys, who, having pocketed his change, walked over to the square brown table, which was covered in enough beer stains, scratches and ink marks to have intrigued a connoisseur of abstract art. They sat down on the hard, round wooden chairs, the same colour as the table, and shifted their bums to make themselves comfortable. The customers sitting either side of them were enjoying a smoke as well as a drink and a whirly mist of grey-whiteness floated up to the ceiling, mixing with the millions of dust particles made visible by the streaming sunlight.
‘That’s better,’ Rhys commented. Before finally answering Karen’s question, he took a swig of his beer. ‘I’m doing okay, thanks,’ though his instinctive look down at the table suggested otherwise. Sitting directly opposite him, Karen could see more clearly the haggard features of his face and inherent sadness in his eyes. ‘I’m living just up the road in a bedsit, which is alright, I suppose, if you don’t mind putting up with an out-of-his-head Rasta and shifty Irishman, cockroaches and soaking wet walls,’ he chuckled ironically, ‘and no hot water.’ Karen smiled sadly. ‘But my work is going really well,’ he continued, his face brightening.
Karen was uncertain whether he was being ironic again and so asked in a neutral tone, ‘You still at that Greek-Cypriot café then?’
‘Yeah, the Supreme, just up the hill there, close to the last flat. What, I’ve been there fifteen months or so now and I think the owners, Christos and his wife, are happy with me. I do pretty much everything for them, you know. I serve the customers, clear up, sort out the stock, run errands, sweep and wash the floors, anything they want me to do in fact. Not so long ago, when Eleni, that’s Christos’s wife, wasn’t too well, I even e
nded up in the kitchen and did the cooking.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I’m a real dab hand, you know. They don’t serve anything fancy so all I had to do was grill a few sausages and chops and fry some potatoes and eggs. I even made moussaka, the only Greek dish they actually offer.’
‘Yeah? How d’you make that? Sounds a bit exotic to me.’
‘Oh, it’s easy. You just pull the tin foil off and stick it in the microwave.’
They both laughed and Karen could see that he clearly did enjoy his work.
‘Microwave? Aren’t they these new cooking contraptions or something I’ve heard about recently?’ Karen asked unsurely.
‘Yeah. They’re amazing. God knows how they work but all you have to do is put some food inside and it’s cooked in like two seconds flat. Christos swears blind by it but I think the food comes out a bit soggy for my liking, you know, pies and sausage rolls, stuff like that.’
‘You’ve turned out to be a right old gourmet then?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. It’s not like I’m Fanny Craddock or anything, but I do enjoy it, and Christos hasn’t ruled me out doing even more if I have to. With me being in the kitchen and running round for him as well, I’m gonna be even more knackered at the end of the day.’
Karen grinned. ‘Well, if not Fanny Craddock, then more like that Galloping Gourmet bloke who was on the telly it sounds like to me?’
Rhys laughed. ‘You’re not wrong there! I really like Christos and, although the pay’s not fantastic, he’s very fair. With the way inflation is, he keeps raising my money without me even asking and throws in a free meal for me every day as well. When I come to think of it, my cooking’s pretty good because of all the meals I used to make when I was with Vicki. With her working, I’d always have her tea ready when she came home in the evenings and she never left much on her plate.’
The mention of Vicki served to soften his voice and, with his eyes misting over, he stared down at his pint in deep reflection of the best days of his life. Karen observed him and smiled sadly. She felt drawn to stroke his hand to signal she understood his pain but held back, thinking it probably unwise.
‘Yeah, she survived, so your cooking couldn’t have been all that bad,’ Karen replied after a short delay. ‘In fact, she put on a few pounds when she was living with you, though I didn’t dare mention it to her,’ Karen added with a whisper as if Vicki was standing behind her.
Rhys dabbed at his eyes with a tissue. ‘Great days they were. Happy days … the best.’
Karen thought Rhys might burst into tears at any moment but he soon regained his composure and, taking a huge gulp, finished his beer in one long swallow. With his eyes still pouring misery, Rhys stood up sharply and asked a little croakily, ‘Same again?’
‘I’ll get them. It’s my turn.’
‘Thanks for offering, Karen, but I haven’t seen you in ages and you’ve put yourself out to come and see me, so I don’t mind.’
‘Well, that’s kind of you. I’ll have a bottle of champagne then.’
They both chuckled.
‘I’m a bit peckish so I’m gonna get myself a cheese and pickle roll as well. Fancy something to eat? Besides that, I think they’ve got cheese and onion, ham and cheese and ham and tomato. Or you might prefer a pork pie or scotch egg?’
‘A ham and cheese roll would be great, thanks.’
Rhys went up to the bar and stood with his back to Karen. As he tried to attract the barman’s attention, he ran his hand through his hair a number of times which only made it stand up on end in an unruly mess.
Resting her elbows on the table, with her hands supporting her face, Karen looked him carefully up and down and noted the rather tatty clothes he was wearing. His jeans, in particular, were so bald in patches that it was not difficult to work out the colour of his underpants underneath. What was more, Rhys’s jeans were drainpipe in style though the fashion of the day was for huge bell-bottoms, only confirming to Karen that they had to be many years old. On his back, the maroon Harrington jacket was washed out with seams abraded white and his pale yellow shirt beneath it was badly creased with a markedly frayed collar.
Despite his evident enjoyment at work, Karen could not fail to conclude that Rhys was on a downward spiral. He had aged noticeably and was plainly not looking after himself and, as he was already on his third pint, it was impossible not to miss the tell-tale signs that he was drinking too heavily. It was also clear that he was missing Vicki madly and Karen felt wretched for him. He might not have a lot going for him materially, she thought, but he was kind, considerate, gentle and warm-hearted. At the end of the day, she mused, weren’t these the most important qualities of all?
‘Here you are; one coke and one ham and cheese roll.’ Rhys turned back to the counter to retrieve his pint and roll before sitting down. ‘Just like being back at the Supreme, this, you know, serving food and drink, like,’ he commented as they unwrapped the cellophane.
As Rhys bit into his roll, some tiny shiny-brown chunks of pickle dribbling out over his hand, he looked around the pub which was now heaving. Sucking on his hand, he compared it to the Supreme. ‘Busy in here, innit, Kar? Just like the caff. I tell you, Christos must be doing a bomb for it’s always full.’ Rhys acknowledged someone at the counter who was a regular in the Supreme. ‘But, then again, they do get good grub and great service there, don’t they?’ he added with a grin.
‘Oh, when’s that? On your day off?’
‘Very funny.’
They both smiled and bit into their rolls. As Rhys wiped his mouth with a white paper serviette which seemed to smear the pickle rather than absorb it, he could resist it no longer and so asked the question he had wanted to ask for over a year. He felt on edge and the words came out in such a low trembling voice that Karen could barely hear him. ‘So, you’ve been to see Vicki then. How’s she doing?’
Karen knew the question would be coming at some stage and so, before answering, she wiped her mouth and sipped her coke to gather her thoughts. ‘Oh, she’s fine.’
Karen took another bite from her roll and chewed slowly. Rhys wondered whether this was all she was going to say for she seemed to take an age doing so and swallowing, and when she had finished that, she took a slow sip of her coke. Rhys was so impatient to know more, he even tried to evaluate the tone of Karen’s voice. Was it enthusiastic or was there a sense of resignation, boredom, even, in the way Vicki was feeling? Mercifully for Rhys, Karen had not swallowed her tongue along with the roll and picked up the conversation, though going slightly off the point. ‘I stayed over on Friday and yesterday with her. Last night, we met up with her sister and Jeremy, and Giles and Sophie.’
‘Was Tommy Slater with you?’
‘No, he wasn’t. He was playing away at Arsenal, apparently, so couldn’t join us.’ Rhys took another bite from his roll, wondering why Slater had not been able to join them as Arsenal was a London club. ‘We went to this ultra-posh restaurant on the Strand. Simpson’s, it’s called. I nearly died when we turned up; it was so plush. I knew I’d be in trouble when Vicki dressed herself up to the nines, just like Fiona, and I saw the two boys all suited up. I only brought a scruffy denim skirt and blouse with me and was really worried they wouldn’t let me in. They must have thought I was some cowgirl from The High Chaparral or something. Anyway, when I looked at the menu, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. The prices were astronomical but, luckily, Giles volunteered to pick up the whole tab. Apparently, he and Jeremy take turns to pay.’
‘So Giles must be doing well? Wasn’t he in some international bank or other?’
‘No! He got the sack, so Vicki told me, though Sophie maintains he left of his own accord because they weren’t ambitious enough for him. She’s such a pillock, is Sophie. She just sits there fawning, not saying a word. She’s become so dull ’cos she doesn’t do anything. She just hangs around their penthouse, apparently, waiting to get pregnant, but they’ve had no luck there so far. I recko
n it’s because of all the drugs Giles is taking.’
‘Drugs!’ Rhys exclaimed, his features creasing in astonishment.
‘Oh, yeah. Giles has got it bad. He was constantly shooting off to the toilets last night and his nose was as red as a robin’s breast each time he returned. It was so embarrassing. Cocaine, he was taking. His eyes were all glassy and he was saying stupid things that made no sense at all, though Sophie laughed along, the stupid cow. That’s why he lost his job, so Vicki told me. Apparently, he’s putting so much coke up his nose it’s a wonder his head doesn’t explode.’
‘He’s loaded, anyway; he doesn’t need to work. Perhaps it suits him to stay at home trying to get Sophie preggers?’
‘I tell you, Rhys, he’s got it so bad, he either can’t get it up or the drugs have messed up his sperm count. They’ve got problems those two.’
‘Wow. That’s a turn-up for the books.’ Rhys took another gulp of his beer. ‘And how’s Fiona?’
‘There’s another one for you!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she’s living with Jeremy now and working as a trainee in some poncy estate agency. Vicki tells me she’s screwing some guy at work to get her own back on Jeremy, who’s still putting it about big time, apparently. I think Fiona’s finally coming round and realising that what everyone’s been saying is true. The tension between them was terrible last night; they could barely bring themselves to look at each other. But she’s driven by money and thinks everything will work out well in the end. She’ll learn the hard way one day, that one.’
‘What does Vicki think about it? And her parents?’
‘Vicki’s washed her hands of her. She’s fed up of telling Fiona to leave him. It’s the same with their parents. They can see that Fiona’s making a fool of herself and that she’s going to get badly hurt at some stage. They’d prefer it if she met someone loving and caring rather than some rich shyster.’
Decade Page 16