by Suzie Twine
“No, you didn’t mention that. I thought we’d be having one last night of romance on the blow up mattress.”
“Don’t worry, we can still do that, you smooth talker you! I won’t be out long, literally just popping to the village pub for a pint with Adam and Richard. We’re going at seven, so I’m sure we’ll be back by nine.”
“Oh, go on then. But don’t you go leading these country folk astray!” mimicked Lois in her best west-country accent.
A moment later there was a knock at the door. Tom made his way downstairs and opened it to find Richard and Adam waiting for him.
“You’re a bit early aren’t you?”
“Well we thought, as we were all home, best to pop out now, be back earlier?” suggested Adam, grinning at Lois who was propping herself up against Tom.
“Tom, do you want to grab a sandwich before you go?” asked Lois.
“No thanks,” Tom took a shiny new front door key for the replacement lock that Dean had fitted. “I’ll probably grab a bite there. Thanks love.” He gave Lois a peck on the cheek and the three men walked off on their mission.
Lois went to the kitchen to concoct a meal for herself. She felt a bit flat. She’d been looking forward to Tom coming home. Having been on her own in the cottage for the last three evenings, she had envisaged them having a nice romantic evening together. “Still,” she thought aloud, “nice for him to get to know some of the neighbours better.”
Just as Lois sat herself down on the rug by the wall with a plate of pitta, hummus and salad, there was a knock at the door. She hauled herself up to standing, the baby seemed to have increased in size a lot this week…or was it the mini chocolate rolls and flapjacks on a BOGOF at M&S that were making bending movements feel so much more cumbersome?
Lois opened the door to find Debbie, dressed top to toe in Lycra, red faced and sweaty, standing on the doorstep.
“Since the men folk are out boozing for the night, I wondered if you fancy coming round to me for a little something?”
“Out boozing for the night? Tom said they were popping to the pub for a pint.”
“Mmmm, well, if Richard and Adam’s ‘popping to the pub for a pint’s’ of the past are anything to go by, we won’t see them this side of midnight.”
Debbie saw a brief look of disappointment in Lois’s eyes, before she said, “Yep, that would be great Debbie. I’ll just eat my supper. See you in about fifteen minutes?”
“Great, see you then!” and Debbie jogged away up the lane.
Lois finished her meal, refreshed her make-up and wrote a note for Tom to let him know where she was, in the apparently unlikely event that he was home before her. She changed into her ‘holiday’ cotton trousers with handy expandable drawstring waist and a clean vest top. The evening was hot and humid, hotter now than it had been earlier in the day. Lois wondered whether there was a storm brewing. She made her way up to Debbie’s, feeling a slight pang of guilt walking past Bert and Betty’s. She hadn’t been back to see them since her first visit. She made a mental note to visit them in the early part of the following week.
Debbie answered the door with hair still wet from the shower. She’d made a non-alcoholic fruit cocktail, a glass of which the two of them took out onto the patio. They settled themselves onto sun loungers with a bowl of Bombay mix on the table between them. Although Debbie was only four years older than Lois, having so much experience of both childbirth and bringing up children, Lois felt somewhat in awe of her.
As they chatted, Debbie became more and more relaxed and Lois noticed, when she followed Debbie to the kitchen to top up their drinks, that Debbie was adding a generous shot of gin to hers. “Do you want a spot? It won’t hurt, mine were all introduced to gin early and it never did them any harm. I do mean in moderation of course!”
“Oh, go on then. Just a drop!”
Lois felt less self-conscious as the gin warmed it’s way through her body. She asked Debbie how her deliveries had been.
“Gosh, you’re brave. Let me give you one piece of advice Lois. Never ask people how their deliveries were. Fortunately I don’t have a horror story to tell you, which is probably why I’ve got four children. But plenty of people will tell you something awful that you really don’t want to hear and they will heighten your anxiety to such a point that the possibility of you being able to have a natural birth will be doomed!”
“Oh,” Lois felt somewhat belittled. She took another slug of her cocktail and said, “so, yours were all right then?”
“Yes, they were, well, not too bad. Have you had a chance to read the Mamatoto book yet?”
“No. Too busy organising the house. We pack up the flat tomorrow and move in on Friday.”
“Fantastic! Well, as soon as you’ve got time to, if I were you, I’d read that book. It gave me confidence in making my birthing decisions. Of course being married to Richard helped. He had done a six-month stint in obstetrics as part of his GP training and reassured me that I was very capable of having a natural birth. He encouraged me to get really fit.” Debbie giggled, “He used to say I needed to prepare for the biggest marathon of my life, and he was right.”
“So I ought to be going running?” Lois had never ‘been running’ in her life and the thought of starting now was at the very least, un-nerving.
“Not necessarily running, no, but getting fit, yes. Use whatever form of exercise suits you. Walking, swimming? There’s an antenatal aqua-aerobics class at the sports centre, that’s a bit of a laugh. I nearly gave birth to Lisa in it actually.” Debbie started to giggle at the thought. “Fortunately Richard’s practice was not far away and he came and picked me up. Just got home in time and had her on the living room floor.” Lois raised her hand to her mouth in amazement. “The midwife arrived ten minutes after the event, by which time Lisa was dressed and so was I. Oh no, that’s a lie,” Lois noticed that Debbie was starting to slur her words a little, “I wasn’t dressed because I was having a bit of trouble delivering the placenta, bloody thing just wouldn’t come out!”
“MUM!” Shouted a voice from an upstairs window. Debbie and Lois both glanced up, shielding their eyes from the sun reflected on the open window. “Would you please stop talking about my placenta, it’s embarrassing! You do it all the time!”
Debbie put her hand to her mouth and started to giggle quietly. “Bless her! She’s very sensitive that one. And by the way, I don’t do it all the time!”
“So, I need to get fit and read Mamatoto. Anything else?”
“Well, when you’ve read the book, try and decide on the sort of birth you want to aim for. You’re welcome to come round anytime and we’ll chat about it some more.”
Lois and Debbie continued talking, with Debbie going into the house to shout the occasional instruction to one or other of the children. By nine o’clock the sky beyond Debbie’s garden started to darken and they could hear some rumblings of thunder.
“That’s what we need, a good storm to clear the air, I’m sweating like nobody’s business here,” said Debbie. Just then, they saw the first flash of lightning, followed by another, then another. As they sat, mesmerised, they witnessed the most incredible lightning display either of them had ever seen. The clouds slowly moved towards them, the thunder grew louder and the time between lightning and thunder grew shorter. Lois and Debbie were picking up their glasses to go inside, when they felt the first drops of rain. By the time they had reached the back door the heavens had opened.
“Mm looks like the boys might get a bit wet then,” smirked Debbie.
“So, will they be very drunk when they get back?” asked Lois.
“I think the expression is ‘completely arseholed!’ unless Tom is going to be such a good and persuasive influence on them as to make them change their ways. What do you think?”
“Um,” Lois paused, “no. No, I think I can safely say, if they plan to drink heavily he will be joining in.”
“Ah well, the walk home in the rain should sober them up a bit. Ri
chard will probably invite Tom back here for a bite to eat, there’s the remains of a fish pie in the oven, so he’ll probably sober up a bit here, unless they get the whisky out, that has been known.”
“I don’t think Tom will come here, he’ll be exhausted after the pub and the walk back, he’s still not a hundred percent after his accident, but thanks for warning me, I was expecting him home by nine. We’re supposed to be at the flat by ten tomorrow morning to meet the packers.”
“Well that’ll be fun! Richard’s got his first private patient coming to the house tomorrow morning, that’ll be interesting too!”
Lois noticed the time on the kitchen clock to be just before ten and with the realisation that she was probably going to be doing most of the organisation at the flat tomorrow, thought she had better go home and get some sleep. She thanked Debbie for her hospitality, borrowed a waterproof coat and made her way home.
The thunder and lightning had stopped, but the rain continued to hammer down. The road was so dark that Lois walked straight through a number of puddles between Debbie’s house and her own. Another disadvantage, she realised, to living on an unmade road. She could just make out the sound of Doreen, calling to Ellie, through the noise of the rain.
By the time Lois reached the cottage, her cream trousers were splashed to the knee with clay coloured dirt and her pumps ruined. She struggled to get the key into the lock because of the lack of an outside light, (one of many oversights in the renovation, no doubt). Once inside, she looked for somewhere to hang Debbie’s coat to dry, only to find no coat hooks, (another oversight), so she hung it over the kitchen door, to drip onto the floor tiles.
Lois took her trousers off and put them, along with her shoes into the kitchen sink in hot water and washing up liquid. She then found a scrap of paper and a pen to start a list, the RO (renovation oversight) list and wrote down, outside lights and coat hooks. Then her heart sank as she thought through washing her trousers in the machine on Friday. They hadn’t even considered plumbing for the washing machine and venting for the dryer. She sat for several minutes, on the floor wondering what else she’d forgotten. Then she shrugged and added washing machine etc to her list. The renovation had gone remarkably well, so far anyway and Dean did say he would come back and do any extras for her next week.
Lois had a shower and made her way to bed. She lay, wondering what kind of a state Tom would come home in. Generally he wasn’t a big drinker, two or three pints was usually enough for him. It seemed unlikely he’d be too bad when he got home.
Having fallen asleep within a few minutes of lying down, Lois was woken by a bang which, in her sleepy state she was unable to identify. Then she heard the front door close. She glanced at her phone to see that it was twelve thirty, felt relieved that Tom was safely home and rolled over to go back to sleep.
A couple of minutes later, Lois thought she heard the front door open and shut again. This struck her as a bit odd, but she stayed in bed and listened for the sound of Tom coming up the stairs.
When after ten minutes or so there was neither sight nor sound of Tom, she got up and pulled on some leggings and a T-shirt, to go and investigate. Opening the bedroom door, she was hit by a foul smell, which she couldn’t quite identify, but which made her retch. There was absolutely no sign of Tom downstairs. Well actually that was not strictly true. There were muddy footprints leading from the front porch, over the brand new fawn coloured carpet into the kitchen and back again. And the stench downstairs was horrific! He had clearly been sick somewhere. Lois followed the footprints to the kitchen sink, where she nearly vomited herself. The sink, where her trousers and shoes were soaking, was now topped up with the most disgusting-smelling puke!
Lois felt her hackles rising. She had never lost her temper with Tom, but she was tired, they had a couple of busy days coming up and how could he do this to her! Anyway, where the hell was he, he wasn’t in the house. Lois opened the front door and peered out into the blackness. She couldn’t see a thing, but above the sound of the driving rain, she thought she could hear somebody giggling. She grabbed Debbie’s raincoat, put it on and ventured outside in the direction of the laughter, the door, assisted by a strong breeze through the open windows, slammed itself shut behind her.
“Oh no!” said Lois, realizing she was now of the house. “Tom, where are you?”
“I’m here my precioush!” Tom slurred. “Ow that hurt! You jusht kicked my head!”
“It’s lucky I didn’t fall over you! What are you doing lying on the grass? It’s pouring out here, you must be completely drenched.”
“I was shick my special, oh….” And Lois had the pleasure of hearing Tom being sick again, and then he laughed! How could he find it funny? He was lying in the front garden, in pitch dark and pouring rain, puking up something that smelled like it had died and rotted inside him and yet he was finding it hysterically funny.
“God, it smells terrible Tom! What the hell have you been drinking?”
“Beer my pet, lovely beer. But I think the problem might have been the fisch pie, and the, oh, what’shit called, the shtuff the Pope drinksh? You know, Billy Connelly, green?”
“Creme de menthe, oh my God, not a pint, please tell me it wasn’t a pint!” The thought was enough to set him off again. Lois held her nose with one hand and half-heartedly rubbed his shoulder with the other until he’d finished and had once again started chuckling to himself.
“Only a half my pet,” he laughed again, “only a half. Richard had a pint though, jusht like Billy Connelly!”
Lois realised there was absolutely no point being cross with him, the impact would be lost. She helped him into a sitting position, then onto his knees, then his feet. Then she remembered about the door. “Oh my God, I think I might have locked us out!” said Lois, feeling something close to despair.
“Don’t you worry my little angel,” slurred Tom, “I’ve got a key right….” he floundered around trying to find the opening to his front trouser pocket.
“Let me,” said Lois, feeling for the pocket, then slipping her hand inside.
“Oooooh, cheeky!” said Tom, “we should probably wait till we get upshtairs, my little shex pod!”
“Oh p-lease!” said Lois in disgust, as she removed the key from his pocket and waved it in front of his face. She supported Tom to the front door, opened it, let him in as far as the doormat, where she made him stop and he leant on her back as she removed his shoes. She then removed his soaking, vomity clothes as Tom made suggestive comments, which made Lois feel quite sick. She left him naked, shivering and giggly on the mat, under strict instructions not to move, while she hurried to get a bin liner. She bundled his clothes and shoes into it and threw it out of the front door.
Tom registered the footprints on the carpet from earlier. “Who did that?” he demanded in a gruff, serious voice.
“Who do you think?”
“Oh my precioush, I’m shooooo shorry! I’ll get a cloth and wipe them up.” Tom raised a wavering finger in the air as he contemplated his next move and started chuckling to himself again.
“No, you won’t. You’ll go to the bathroom, clean yourself up and if you promise not to be sick anymore you can get into bed, otherwise, may I suggest you sleep in the bath?”
“Goodjidea. The barf. Yesh, shleep, inna barf. I might barf in the barf!” Tom chuckled, as he made his way up the spiral staircase, hanging onto the banister and heaving himself up by it, as if the staircase was was almost vertical. Lois followed, but not directly behind. If he was to fall she didn’t want him to take her out too.
Once upstairs, Lois got Tom to sit down in the shower. He was so cold and wet already that he barely noticed that the water started off cold, which, Lois admitted to herself, was a touch disappointing. She squirted some shower gel into his hands and ordered him to wash, which he duly did, humming to himself. Lois showered him off, ordered him out, helped him to dry and loaded a toothbrush with which he scrubbed at his teeth. Lois allowed Tom to settle on t
he blow-up mattress and then went back downstairs. She took one look at her trousers and shoes in the sink and decided they were probably ruined anyway, even before the vomit. She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, let the plug out and, while looking the other way, breathing heavily and deliberately through her mouth, she wrung them out, double bagged them and threw them out of the back door. The footprints, she decided, could wait until tomorrow.
19
The next day Lois’s alarm went off at seven, she reflexly hit the snooze button, three times. At half past she dragged herself out of bed, grumbling as she went. She never coped very well with lack of sleep. The house smelt disgusting which didn’t help matters. She just managed to refrain from kicking Tom’s feet, which were poking out of the end of the blow-up mattress, as she passed. She got dressed into her leggings and T-shirt that she had brought to use for that day and realised that she had worn them the previous night to find Tom. The top stank; it had a smear of vomit on the shoulder. With no other clean clothes to wear, she swore quietly and started rummaging about in the bin liner in which she’d put her dirty clothes for the week. This widened her options to smelly, scrunched-up top which she’d been gardening in, smelly scrunched-up top she’d been cleaning in or non scrunched-up T-shirt with vomit stain and smell. ‘Mm tricky decision.’ she thought, feeling furious with Tom. Lois opted for scrubbing off the vomit, with Tom’s damp flannel, which she deliberately didn’t rinse out.
After bleaching the kitchen sink to try and get rid of the smell, Lois made herself a cup of tea and some cereal. Having eaten, she examined Tom’s footprints and decided they were best left until they were completely dry, then hopefully the hoover would suck them up. She organised the things they needed to take to the flat and put them by the front door and was just about to take Tom a cup of tea in an attempt to prize him out of bed, when there was a hard knocking at the door. Lois opened it to find Adam looking very out of sorts. Lois was about to make a witty quip related to last nights drinking episode, when she realised that Adam was upset about something.