An Autumn Crush

by Milly Johnson

  It was a crap lie, but the till operator kindly played along.

  ‘I once had one of those,’ she said, standing to help Floz pack. ‘Made my eyes look like pissholes in the snow. And it wasn’t a cheap one either.’

  Floz chuckled, grateful to her. There were some lovely people on this planet, making life run a little more smoothly with just a gentle word or two.

  In the car park, Floz noticed a man fiddling underneath the bonnet of his car.

  ‘Turn the engine, Gron,’ he was calling to someone in the driver’s seat. The voice was instantly familiar.

  ‘Mr Miller? Are you all right?’

  Perry Miller straightened up.

  ‘Oh hello, dear Floz.’ He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Spot of car trouble. Can’t work out what’s wrong with it at all. It’s just had a damned service.’

  Grainne emerged from the car and waved. ‘Hello, Floz,’ she said brightly. ‘We’re having some car trouble. It’s just had a service . . .’

  ‘I’ve told her, Gron,’ cut in Perry with a rare snap in his voice. Floz noticed that he looked weary. He was a seventy-year-old man, still under the impression that he had the energy levels of a twenty-year-old. He was used to doing the rescuing in his family; the role of ‘rescuee’ obviously jarred with his pride.

  ‘Look, why don’t I run you both home?’ suggested Floz.

  ‘No, no, we can get a taxi,’ said Perry. ‘You’re a busy girl.’

  ‘I didn’t hear that,’ said Floz. ‘Let me put my shopping away and I’ll bring my car round.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ smiled Grainne, who looked relieved. ‘My ice cream must be nearly defrosted.’

  A few minutes later and Floz was driving towards them. Just for a moment, she imagined it was her own parents she was helping because they needed her. They would never be in that position, though. She had no doubt that when anything happened to one of them, the other would follow soon after. They would never want anyone but each other – it had always been that way, and always would be. She coughed away the emotion rising within her again. She would never grow out of the feeling of being surplus to her own mother and father’s requirements.

  ‘I’ve told the customer service desk that you’ve broken down and they gave me this to put in your windscreen,’ said Floz, handing Perry a piece of card saying Authorized vehicle parking. Then you won’t get fined for being here over two hours.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very kind of you, dear Floz,’ gushed Grainne.

  They loaded the Millers’ shopping into her boot and then Floz set off for Maltstone.

  ‘Sorry to put you to all this trouble,’ said Grainne, all snug in the back.

  ‘Really, it isn’t any trouble at all,’ replied Floz and meant it.

  ‘I can’t understand what’s wrong with it.’ Perry was still mulling over the problem.

  ‘Perry has always been very good with cars,’ Grainne said. ‘It must be an odd one if he can’t work it out. Never mind. Guy and Steve will sort it for us later. And if they can’t, they’ll know a man who can. One of their wrestling friends will be a mechanic, I’m sure of it.’

  When they got to the house, Perry was insistent on giving Floz a fiver for her petrol. Floz was equally insistent on not taking it.

  ‘Floz, I don’t want you to be out of pocket,’ Perry said sternly.

  ‘Perry, I am not taking that money,’ Floz told him, as she carried in the shopping for them. ‘And there’s an end to it.’ Then she drove off before the pair of them held her at ransom until she had put the money into her purse.

  ‘What a sweet girl,’ smiled Grainne, waving until Floz’s car was out of sight.

  ‘Isn’t she just?’ nodded Perry.

  ‘I wonder what’s troubling her, though. She looked so awfully sad in her eyes. Did you notice how red they were?’

  ‘I thought the very same,’ agreed Perry, taking his pipe out of his pocket. ‘Lovely girl, but sad.’

  ‘How could you not want to see a daughter like that very often?’ Grainne’s smile dropped. ‘Some woman is either very stupid or very selfish.’

  ‘I stopped judging others by my own standards many years ago, my darling,’ said Perry, putting his arm around his wife and leading her inside. ‘There are a lot of people in this world who can’t love, and I’m just glad that we aren’t them.’

  Juliet flew into the flat that evening and strode right over to Floz looking murderous.

  ‘Thanks to you and your damned kindness to my parents, we’ve been invited for Sunday lunch,’ she bellowed. ‘And the worst of it is, my mother’s doing the cooking. Thanks a lot, Floz. Next time, leave them in the bloody car park.’

  Floz burst into laughter.

  ‘You think it’s funny, Floz Cherrydale,’ said Juliet. ‘Just you wait until you’re in A and E getting unpoisoned.’

  Chapter 39

  Despite Juliet’s exaggerated and pretend dread of the Sunday dinner to come, Floz was really looking forward to it. It would take her mind away from Nick and how he was. Eleven days since his last email. But her daydreams had been full of him and so easy to slip into. In them they lived together in a log cabin at the side of a lake. She was tapping on a laptop, he was fishing and they would eat the catch on a table outside on a porch on nights lit by a large bone-white moon. She thought about him pulling her onto the bed and kissing her till her nerve-endings were on fire. And he would say, ‘I love you,’ and she would feel that he meant it. His constant ‘if only’, as he was hers.

  Juliet crossed herself with her right hand before she pushed open the front door to 1, Rosehip Gardens.

  ‘If I die because of my mother’s cooking, Floz, I’ll come back and haunt you,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ laughed Floz, as she followed Juliet inside. A pleasant smell of a roast dinner in progress greeted them.

  ‘Hellooo,’ said Perry, greeting them both with a kiss. ‘You’re the first here. I’ve just seen Steve’s car pass, so he’ll have gone for Guy.’

  Floz’s heart jumped in her chest. So Guy was coming too then? What was it about that man that did funny things to the rhythm of her heartbeat?

  ‘What was up with the car in the end, Dad?’ asked Juliet.

  ‘Alternator,’ replied Perry. ‘Guy and Steve got it sorted for me.’

  ‘Does your mum know about you and Steve?’ whispered Floz.

  ‘What, that we’re not in a relationship but just having wild sex? Er, no, Floz,’ Juliet whispered back with an Elvis lip.

  ‘Ah, fair point,’ said Floz, who wanted to add, ‘Just sex, my eye.’ There was genuine affection between Steve and Juliet. Any idiot could see that.

  ‘That chicken smells very respectable,’ Juliet said. ‘Have you bought an oven-ready one from Morrisons and are just browning it off?’

  ‘No, I have not. And it’s turkey,’ said Grainne, turning to Floz. ‘Honestly, to listen to my family you’d think I’d burn water. I could always make a very respectable Sunday lunch.’

  The front door opened and Guy and Steve came in.

  ‘Hi, girls,’ waved Steve, trying to act cool and unboyfriend-like. Guy nodded at them. Floz nodded back, but smiled at Steve.

  ‘Floz, are you losing weight?’ said Steve, noticing that her cheeks seemed a little more hollowed than usual. ‘Doesn’t she look as if she’s lost weight, Guy?’ He set that up for his friend. Women always liked to be given a compliment like that.

  Guy felt that, despite Steve’s well-meant remark, Floz might be uncomfortable with everyone assessing her figure, and wanted to help her out. And his instinct told him that the best way to do that would be to say, ‘Hadn’t really noticed.’

  ‘Charming.’ Juliet clicked her tongue. ‘You always did have the gift of the gab, Guy.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that she hadn’t,’ Guy jumped in defensively. ‘I just meant that I hadn’t been looking at her . . . at all . . . in that way . . . in any way, actually . . .’

  Stev
e groaned. A picture of a man digging himself further into an enormous hole flashed into his brain. He saw Floz’s cheeks growing pink and heading towards scarlet so he stepped in, clapped his hands and started to open the bottle of rosé fizzy wine which he’d bought for the girls.

  ‘I thought you might have brought Raymond along,’ said Grainne.

  ‘He’s away at some perfume convention this weekend,’ returned Juliet. ‘Good timing on his part, that’s what I say.’

  ‘I can’t get this damned thing open,’ Steve snarled, then yelped as he cut his finger on the wire clutching the cork.

  ‘Give it here,’ said Guy. He took the bottle, twisted the cork and it shot out like a bullet, narrowly missing Floz. Guy slammed his hand on top of the bottle as froth raced up the neck, with the result that it jetted out sideways and all over Floz’s top half.

  ‘Goodness me!’ said Grainne, running off for a towel. ‘Your lovely white shirt as well.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Floz, wanting to throw herself through the picture window, leap over the garden fence and run as far away from Guy Miller as possible.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Guy, holding fingertips of despair to his forehead.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Floz, wiping herself down with the back of her hand until the towel arrived and realizing with horror that her shirt was now see-through and one lacy bra-cup with a pink trim could clearly be seen. Rosé wine dripped off her fringe. She didn’t have enough hands to try and blot the wet patches, dry off her hair and cover her boob.

  ‘It’s probably because it’s not chilled and has been rolling about in the car,’ explained Steve. ‘Sorry, I should have bought it last night and kept it in the fridge.’

  ‘It’s all part of the general parcel of doom,’ sighed Juliet. ‘Doomed, we’re all doomed.’

  The timer on the cooker went off.

  ‘Ooh, everyone to the table, please!’ Grainne clapped her hands excitedly. Steve dived onto the seat that Guy was heading for and so forced him to sit opposite Floz. He tried to look anywhere but at her bra through her shirt, and failed for the split second when she caught him. She had a good mind to point upwards and say in a tight voice, ‘This way to my eyes.’

  ‘Wine, anyone?’ asked Guy, picking up what was left in the first bottle of rosé. He nearly dropped it because it was wet and slipped through his fingers.

  ‘I’ll do it, shall I?’ said Steve. He poured three expert flutes of it for the ladies, then some white for himself, Perry and Guy.

  Grainne ferried in plates loaded with slices of turkey breast, sprouts, colcannon potatoes, uniform-looking Yorkshire puddings, roasted parsnips and crushed carrot and swede.

  ‘Mum, these are Aunt Bessie’s Puddings, aren’t they? You cheat,’ said Juliet, although it had to be said she was impressed with how normal the meal looked.

  ‘I could never do the puddings,’ said Grainne. ‘And thanks to Aunt Bessie I don’t have to struggle with them.’

  ‘This looks grand,’ nodded Perry.

  Steve tucked in. He’d always loved eating at this table with the Miller family. Grainne could make a mess of beans on toast, but it was never the food that was the most important factor of the enjoyment for him. He couldn’t remember eating with his mother at a table and there was never any of the chat and the laughter that he found here in Rosehip Gardens.

  ‘So, how’s the wrestling going, Steven?’ asked Perry, pouring some gravy on his potatoes then attempting to fish out all the lumps. It had the texture of frogspawn.

  ‘Limping along,’ said Steve. ‘It’s nice to get together with the lads, but one by one they’re all packing it in.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Grainne. ‘I suppose it’s only the American stuff that the kids are interested in.’

  ‘More or less,’ sighed Steve. ‘That’s where all the action is. Plus the British stuff isn’t on the telly any more.’

  ‘Can you not get a job over there with them, Steven?’ Perry was now squashing the lumps with the back of his fork.

  ‘I wish,’ said Steve, taking the tip from Perry and turning his own fork over to flatten the gravy.

  ‘Who’s the man in charge over there? I’ll have a word with him for you,’ smiled Grainne.

  ‘His name is Will Milburn,’ said Steve, taking an emergency swig of wine. How much salt had Grainne put in the carrot and swede?

  ‘Is he a big wrestler himself?’ asked Perry.

  Guy stepped in to answer for Steve, who was coughing hard.

  ‘No, he’s a short little midget.’ Whoops. He turned quickly to Floz. ‘No offence, Floz.’

  WHOOPS.

  ‘None taken, I’m sure,’ huffed Floz.

  ‘How tall are you, Floz?’ asked Perry. ‘I’d say five foot one.’

  ‘Five foot two,’ replied Floz, waiting to hear what Guy would come out with next.

  ‘And what do you weigh?’

  ‘Dad.’ Juliet was the first to raise her hands up in frustration.

  ‘She’s only wee,’ said Perry. ‘I’m sorry if that embarrassed you, Floz. I only meant that you’re a little . . . what’re those fairy-things called?’

  ‘Gnome?’ said Guy. Shit. ‘NYMPH. I meant nymph!’

  ‘Yes, a wee nymph,’ said Perry.

  ‘Not a nymphomaniac then?’ Steve roared with laughter.

  ‘You see what I mean?’ Juliet turned to Floz. ‘Next time call the RAC out for them and hide behind the nearest bush. Never let them owe you a favour again.’

  Thankfully the conversation around the table turned to Perry’s plans for his garden and sog-wet-through, shortarse, gnome-like Floz was allowed to sit back in the shadows away from confidence-stripping spotlights.

  Grainne presented a rather dodgy-looking Black Forest gâteau for dessert.

  ‘You’re supposed to take the stones out of the cherries, Mum,’ said Juliet, nearly breaking her back tooth.

  ‘Did I just taste pistachio nuts?’ mused Perry.

  ‘Yes, I had some left over. I thought it would add a bit of interest.’

  ‘I think in future we’ll leave the party food to Guy,’ Perry said, winking at his son.

  ‘Mum made a better lunch than I did last time I cooked here,’ Guy said, pulling a cherry stone out of his mouth. ‘I had a real blip that day.’ At last, the chance to hammer the point home to Floz, in case she thought that was his usual standard of cuisine.

  ‘You were doing fine, Grainne, until the cake,’ Perry said, rising from his seat to replenish everyone’s glass with wine.

  ‘I’ve done some home-made mints to have with the coffee,’ announced Grainne proudly. She wondered why that was greeted with a heavy silence and not a resounding cheer.

  There was no getting away from the goodbye kiss after the coffee and the home-made fondant mints – with raisins soaked in crème de menthe – had been attempted. The Millers were an affectionately demonstrative family. Floz found herself getting a bit nervous that Guy would stab her eye with his nose or nut her again. She hid behind Juliet, hoping that she could get away with just waving at him.

  ‘Have you said goodbye to Floz, now Guy?’ Perry Miller pushed his son forwards.

  God, thought Guy.

  God, thought Floz.

  Floz raised her head expecting concussion to follow shortly. Guy bent his head, expecting his body to do something random and mortally injure her. He made his finest effort to kiss her squarely on the cheek, Floz made her finest effort to squarely present her cheek to him. Guy moved in too soon, Floz moved too late with the result that Guy’s lips landed with perfect precision onto her own.

  The kiss seemed both fleeting and everlasting at the same time. Guy noticed how soft her lips were and again detected the faint hint of strawberries on her skin. Floz noticed how firm his lips were, the hint of coffee and whisky on his breath and, as he drew away, she caught the last notes of Guy’s aftershave: the scent of cedar and fresh air. He smelled like an autumn walk in a wood, after the rain.

&n
bsp; For a split second there was just the two of them in the room and no thoughts of anything else but the sensation of lips upon lips. No Nick, no Lacey, no past, no future, just that moment existed.

  Both of them would secretly replay that kiss – Floz almost as many times as Guy, despite all her inner protestations that he was a man to be avoided at all costs.

  Chapter 40

  ‘I’m worried about Floz,’ said Juliet that evening. She was cuddled up to Steve on the sofa and Floz was having yet another early night.

  ‘Have you ever considered that she might be tired and that’s why she’s having early nights?’ said Steve, weaving a hank of her black hair around his fingers.

  ‘Well, considering she’s having so many early nights, she looks shit for them. Her eyes tell me she isn’t sleeping well. And you’re right – she’s losing weight.’

  And that wasn’t all. Juliet didn’t say it aloud because it would have felt the wrong side of gossipy to say that Floz no longer waited to have her first glass of wine with Juliet in the evening. She had usually had one – or maybe two – by the time Juliet got in.

  ‘Have you asked her if anything’s wrong?’

  ‘Course I have. She said there isn’t, but there quite obviously is.’

  ‘She’s just much more of a private person than you,’ said Steve, taking a chocolate and putting it between Juliet’s lips because he knew it was her favourite flavour. ‘Not everyone wants to talk if something is wrong.’

  ‘Something is wrong – I know it and I will get to the bottom of it,’ said Juliet. ‘One way or another. Anyway, are we having sex tonight?’

  ‘If you like,’ said Steve.

  ‘Don’t be too enthusiastic, will you?’ tutted Juliet, pulling away from him, but his arm looped around her and reeled her towards him.

  ‘I’d love to have sex with you. But I’m equally as happy lying here like this,’ he clarified.

  ‘Good, that’s settled. We’ll lie here for a bit and then have sex. Then we’ll both be happy.’

  It was an added bonus to be having sex that night because Juliet’s regular-as-clockwork period hadn’t happened today as it should have. She wasn’t that worried – it was only a day late. So far.