‘You chose well, though it does seem odd not seeing you in your corkscrew.’ The comment reminded Rhys of something and he changed the subject. ‘Wasn’t it terrible what happened to Marc Bolan, dying so young like that?’
Vicki’s face turned sad. ‘Oh, it was just awful that crash he had in Barnes. He was so talented, such a waste of life. There’s a shrine by the tree he hit, I hear; I intend going one day. Just terrible it was.’
‘Yeah, a terrible year all round for pop stars if you include Elvis,’ Rhys agreed. ‘You were right about Marc Bolan, he really did make it big. I remember you telling me about him all those years ago before he was famous, though it wasn’t just his music you liked if I recall,’ Rhys responded with a mischievous grin.
Vicki smiled. ‘Yeah, sex on legs, he was. You know all about that, don’t you?’
Rhys took a large swig from his glass, feeling a slight erection coming on. ‘Yes, I do!’ They both laughed. ‘Anyway, Vick, finish that. It’s too nice to stay indoors.’
Vicki gulped down her pop and rinsed out the glass, doing the same to his. Rhys placed the bottle in the picnic basket, picked it and the blanket up, and left the kitchen, Vicki following close behind. He grabbed his wallet and Emerson Fittipaldi sunglasses from a narrow table in the hallway, opened the front door, and they both exited into the bright sunlight.
‘I must get my sunglasses from the car,’ Vicki stated and they strode the short distance to where she had parked it. Once there, Rhys patted its bonnet lightly as Vicki rummaged in the glove compartment.
‘Long time no see,’ Rhys declared. ‘She’s still a real beauty.’
‘Yeah, I love her. It was a shame she was locked up for so long at home. I never drove her in London; it’s a waste of time.’
‘You don’t have to tell me. I’ve been thinking about getting a car myself but I’m not convinced.’
Putting on her sunglasses, which were modelled on those worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and covered almost half her face, Vicki locked her car and they crossed over Lavender Hill to take the short walk up to Clapham Common. The temperature was rising rapidly and when they reached the Common, where the sun stretched its golden swathes across the grass from a crystal-clear azure sky, blemished only by a couple of whispery-white vapour trails from jets arrowing off to distant lands, they were both perspiring.
‘Phew, it’s a real scorcher today,’ Rhys commented. ‘Wish I’d put my shorts on now.’
‘You’re right there. It’s definitely shorts weather, though I do like your trousers, by the way. I think I only ever saw you in jeans.’
‘Thanks. They’re nice and light and cool, though I’m a bit sceptical whether they’re wrinkle-free as they claim to be,’ Rhys replied, wiping a sweaty palm along the side of his khakis to flatten a crease. ‘There’s a nice spot over there under the tree.’
They followed a narrow concrete path that ran across the Common until they reached a giant oak tree on the south edge. Walking and chatting side by side, they occasionally brushed into each other and smiled broadly when Rhys pointed out an excitable spaniel hurtling across the grass in pursuit of an imaginary tennis ball which its owner had feigned to throw. It crossed Rhys’s mind whether he should hold Vicki’s hand as he had always done in the past but he resisted the temptation. Though they were getting on easily, as if they had never been apart in fact, it felt premature. Vicki, for her part, longed for him to do so.
Entering the shade under the overhanging branches, Rhys put down the basket and laid out the blue-, red- and white-checked blanket on the firm terrain. Vicki unstrapped the straw-coloured ties of her espadrille wedge sandals and slipped them off before opening the basket and removing two paper plates and some white plastic cutlery. Rhys helped her take out the sandwiches and baguettes and placed them on some other plates. Vicki grabbed the bottle of pop and poured out two beakers. She put them down for a moment so that she could sit down comfortably, hitching up her white linen trousers in the process. Picking the beakers back up, she handed one over to Rhys who sat down beside her. His legs were folded under him while Vicki’s were stretched out in front.
‘Your good health,’ Rhys toasted in his best Eton accent.
‘Yeah, cheers, mate,’ Vicki replied in her best Cockney.
They both smiled, touched glasses and took a gulp.
‘This is so nice,’ Rhys resumed, holding his face up to receive the rays of the sun that streamed through a gap in the branches. ‘Reminds me of the park in Pontypridd. Remember that, New Year’s Day, 1970. First day of the decade. That was a lovely sunny day as well.’
‘Yeah, I remember it well. I’ll never forget it. It was a bit colder than this, though.’
‘Too right. Freezing it was, but still a beautiful day.’
Looking away from the sun, Rhys grabbed a pork pie and rummaged in the basket for the mustard. Vicki took a bite from a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich and gazed at two handsome, bare-chested teenage boys in shorts kicking a light brown, leather rugby ball to each other, their T-shirts lying next to a plastic orange football and two cans of Coca-Cola.
‘Who was that rugby player you always went on about at the time? John Barry?’ she asked teasingly.
‘Ha ha, very funny. He’s the one who writes the James Bond music, isn’t he? Barry John, it is. Please get it right. He’s only the best rugby player there’s ever been.’
‘Didn’t he retire early or something?’
‘Yeah, he did. Shame that. His replacements haven’t been bad but no one will ever be as good as the King.’
‘What, did Elvis play rugby as well?’
‘Ha ha, you’re in a witty mood today, aren’t you? Barry John was known as the King, too.’
Vicki grinned and took another bite of her sandwich. Looking to her right, she saw two teenage girls throwing a frisbee to each other and moving nearer to the two boys. She smiled and wished them luck for the boys were real hunks.
‘God, this mustard’s hot!’ Rhys fanned his mouth and emitted some short, sharp pants.
‘I prefer Dijon to English, it’s not so fiery.’
‘We’ve got both in the caff and I must have grabbed this one by mistake ’cos I prefer Dijon too.’
‘You must be so chuffed, Rhys, about the Supreme?’
‘Yeah, I am. It’s doing really well, touch wood, and the customers seem pretty happy. I know it’s early days but I can see myself opening another one some time soon.’
‘Yeah, that would be amazing.’
‘What’s important is to have good staff. I’m very lucky to have Mario and Mandy.’
‘Mandy been with you long then?’ Vicki asked nonchalantly, probing.
‘Since I became owner, pretty much. The customers love her.’
Vicki finished her sandwich and broke off a piece of baguette, saying nothing. She unwrapped the Stilton and cut off a piece. There was a brief period of silence as they munched on their food and gazed straight ahead, observing two boys racing each other on their Chopper bicycles. It dawned on Rhys that buying a bicycle might be a good way of getting around London and keeping in shape at the same time. He locked the thought away for further consideration later.
Noticing how quiet Vicki had gone, Rhys suspected she was musing about Mandy, that suspicion being reinforced when Vicki asked, seemingly without a care in the world, ‘Why do they love her?’ Vicki took a sip of her pop, inwardly cringing, for she had not been able to hide a hint of jealousy.
Rhys took a sip of his pop, too. He could read Vicki like a book and thought he would play along with her a little. ‘Well, she’s really efficient and always serves them with a lovely smile. I suppose it helps that she’s got legs up to her armpits and tits like Dolly Parton. I think the male customers come in to lust over her rather than to actually eat anything.’ He giggled.
Vicki wasn’t giggling, though. She took another sip of her drink, and then another, her expression po-faced. She brushed an imaginary fleck of dust off
her trousers.
‘Yeah, Mandy’s really good,’ Rhys continued, pausing a few seconds for effect before finally revealing, ‘but her fiancé’s keen for them to go travelling before they get married so I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep hold of her.’
Vicki turned sharply towards him, her body relaxing. Trying to show maturity, Vicki expressed, ‘That’s a shame if she’s so good.’
Rhys turned to face her and replied with a grin, ‘Yeah, it is, but that’s life, I suppose.’
Vicki grinned back and they read each other’s minds. ‘Piss off,’ she responded, thumping him playfully on the arm, unable to stop herself from breaking into an embarrassed smile. Rhys burst out laughing. Vicki broke off another piece of baguette and sliced into the Stilton, knowing her cheeks were flushed and knowing Rhys knew, too. ‘Fancy a bit? The Stilton’s delicious.’ She was tempted to stab the sod just to wipe the smile off his face.
‘Yeah, wouldn’t mind. It looks it.’
Cutting off a piece and handing it to Rhys, Vicki took a bite of hers and closed her eyes as the sunshine now beamed through a gap in the branches that led directly to her face. ‘Mmm, this is so nice,’ she remarked, happily closing the episode of Mandy and her long legs and big tits. But, mischievously, Rhys had one final question to ask.
‘So, you interested to know about Mario as well then?’
Vicki looked across and thumped him again, this time almost carrying out her threat to stab him with the plastic knife, before they both began to laugh. In truth, Rhys hated playing these games; he always believed it better to air matters in the open. How people reacted afterwards was their concern; at least they would know his position. ‘No, Mandy’s nice but I’m not seeing anyone.’
The statement was short and, in itself, mundane but it electrified Vicki. She looked at him and placed her hand over his. He did not retract it. A few seconds later, she took hers away, but they had made their points and relaxed as a consequence.
The strong sunshine was now filtering through a number of gaps in the branches and they both raised their faces to experience the delectable warmth. This, combined with a full stomach, made Rhys feel a little sleepy but the shout of ‘Howzat’ shook him from his slumber. For her part, the warmth of the sun reflected what Vicki felt inside. Without their realising, a group of boys had set up some stumps and started a game of cricket on the open expanse in front of them. Rhys observed the disgruntled expression of the batsman, in reaction to the umpire’s raised finger, and handing of the bat to the incoming boy. The first three balls he faced he played with perfectly correct forward defensive strokes. He’s been watching too much of Geoff Boycott, Rhys thought with a smirk. The sun was now discomfiting Vicki and she shifted her position to escape it, her cheeks and forehead glowing.
‘Phew, that was hot,’ she commented, observing the cricketers herself. She poured herself another beaker of dandelion and burdock pop and drank half of it in one go. ‘Any good?’
‘He’s a bit slow, this one.’
‘Cricket’s really popular these days.’
‘Well, England just beat Australia for the Ashes, so everyone’s happy.’
‘Yeah, my dad’s been following it. He sits in front of the telly all day apparently, so my mum says, much to her annoyance. He got invited to Lord’s for the Test Match. He absolutely loved it.’
‘I can believe it. Lord’s is superb.’
‘Fancy some Bakewell tart? If you want cream, we’d better eat it now, as the heat’s gonna make it go off in a minute.’
‘Yeah, you can’t beat a nice tart,’ Rhys rasped lecherously.
‘Men!’ Vicki replied, shaking her head with a frown as she cut off a triangle and placed it on a plate. She sliced another triangle for herself and Rhys poured some cream over both. ‘Mmm, this is heaven,’ Vicki enthused as she tasted her first mouthful.
‘Mmm, I agree. Delicious.’
As they savoured the tart and cream, they continued to gaze at the cricket match. A new batsman was entertaining them with thrilling bludgeons, one of which sent the ball flying high over their heads into the tree.
‘He’s some batsman, this boy, a bit like this new England player, Ian Botham. My dad says he smacks the ball around all over the place.’
‘He’s a great bowler, too,’ Rhys replied admiringly. ‘Let’s hope he’s not a flash in the pan ’cos I reckon he could have a big future.’
Vicki didn’t reply and savoured another mouthful of tart, wishing with all her heart that they could have a big future as well.
It was as if they had never been apart. The whole idyllic afternoon passed off like a scene from Dante’s Paradiso, a journey through Heaven. Neither of them thought it could have gone any better as they conversed about everything and anything, recalled old times, family and friends, joked, laughed and teased each other mercilessly. They also argued good-naturedly, particularly when Vicki opined that Margaret Thatcher had a good chance of becoming Prime Minister now that she was the leader of the Conservative Party. Rhys thought the sun had gone to her head at such a preposterous opinion. Though his beloved Harold Wilson had surprisingly retired mid-term, the country remained in the equally good socialist hands of Jim Callaghan, Rhys argued back with conviction.
After their picnic, they had strolled over to The Windmill pub for a couple of shandies, lying on the grass and enjoying the sun with other thirsty drinkers. After that, they had wandered back across the Common in the direction they had come from. Vicki remained barefoot throughout, loving the feel of the grass beneath her toes. They had stopped for a while at the Long Pond to observe the youngsters playing with their model boats under the watchful eyes of their parents. The sight of these young families, the parents the same age as them, enjoying the day out together, their children so excited and full of enthusiasm, was a delight. As they left the pond and strolled slowly towards the bandstand, Vicki carrying the blanket under her armpit and espadrilles in her right hand and Rhys carrying the basket in his left, a toddler bumped into them from behind on his orange Space Hopper. His parents apologised profusely, though there was no need to as there was no damage done, and Vicki and Rhys just smiled back warmly. The toddler quickly bounced off, shouting boisterously, followed by his mother and father who so obviously loved him as much as they loved each other. The young couple walked hand in hand ahead of Rhys and Vicki, the mother’s head on her husband’s shoulder, keeping an eye on their little terror. It was while observing this that Rhys slipped his free hand into Vicki’s which she accepted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
At the bandstand, Vicki sat in the shade, waiting for Rhys to return from the ice cream van with a Ninety-Nine for him and a Mivvi for her. She saw in the distance the two rugby-playing boys and the two frisbee-throwing girls sitting together in their tight little group of four. Lucky them, she thought, breaking out into a knowing smile.
The sun was getting lower, reflecting the time of day and, after finishing their ice creams and chatting for a while longer, they gathered their belongings and wandered back towards Lavender Hill. Rhys took a slight diversion towards the north side of the Common to observe the magnificent, five-story Victorian town houses that ran alongside and which overlooked them.
‘Aren’t they fabulous, Vick? Look at the views they’ve got over the Common, just wonderful,’ Rhys sighed.
‘You can say that again. God knows how much they cost, though? Property prices are going through the roof here, I gather.’
Looking away in a resigned fashion, Rhys nodded.
Turning to their left, they headed back along the Common until the grass came to an end and met up with the main road. Vicki sat on a rusty railing and put on her espadrilles. They crossed the road and ambled down Lavender Sweep, a pleasant curve of a road which led to Lavender Hill. Vicki was noticeably quiet and pensive which Rhys picked up on. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’
Halfway down the Sweep, Vicki stopped and turned to face Rhys. They were still hol
ding hands. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened, Rhys. I know how hard it must have been for you.’
It was the elephant in the room, the subject they had avoided. Rhys looked down evasively at the pavement and hesitated, stretching for the appropriate words. ‘It was a tough time but there’s no need to apologise. I know I made mistakes and I don’t blame you for what happened.’
They smiled and hugged each other, blocking the pavement and necessitating a family of four, with grins on their faces, to walk on the road to get past them. They released each other and resumed their slow walk towards Lavender Hill. Now that Vicki had mentioned it, Rhys chose this moment to bring his inner feelings out into the open. ‘You know me, Vick, I don’t like to hide anything. I think it’s important you know what’s going on in my head. You’re everything to me, you always have been.’ It was his turn to stop now and look her in the eye. ‘But I can’t go through again what I’ve been through. The pain is too much. Today has been one of the best days of my life and nothing would make me happier than to have so many more of them with you. But only if you truly wanted to be with me. I couldn’t face it if we started up something again only for you to break it off quickly afterwards. I can’t predict the future, so it’s unfair of me to expect you to, either, but all I do ask is that if you want to give it a go again, be true to yourself and fair to me that it’s what you really want.’
Before Vicki could reply, Rhys turned and resumed walking towards Lavender Hill, leading her by the hand. She stared down at the pavement, wracking her brain for an appropriate response. She decided to be led by her heart. ‘I can honestly say that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we split up. I dunno, looking back, I think I was all messed up in the head, not knowing what the hell I wanted.’
Rhys interrupted her. ‘Maybe, but I know I didn’t make it easy for you. Being out of work, with no money, no prospects, I just lost confidence in myself and shrivelled up. I couldn’t face your friends or family or anyone, to be honest, ’cos I felt so ashamed about my situation. I should have realised how unhappy you were. It’s like I said, I don’t blame you for what you did.’
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