She turned and smiled. ‘Just,’ she said. ‘What about you?’
Ed stepped closer and hooked his fingers through the fence. ‘Well, I am at the moment, but if you keep on bending down like that I think I might lose my concentration.’
Behind him, the car dealer shouted, ‘Four–three, then.’
Ed winked at Carol, then turned to see his opponent jumping up and down; ready to serve, man-boobs jiggling. Ed raised his racket to signal that he was ready, then bent his knees and tried to focus. He decided that, whatever else happened, he was going to call the next shot that was remotely close to the line ‘out’, and that not only was her arse in lovely nick but Carol had very decent tits as well.
Sue Dunning slowly turned the pages of the Daily Express she had found in the clubhouse. With one ear on the mindless chatter from two women a couple of tables away, she cast an uninterested eye across the pictures and the headlines, taking in little as she sat waiting like a good wife, and hoped that her husband was winning his match.
From where she was sitting, the body language of the two players suggested that things were looking good.
That was a relief …
She knew that an evening she was already dreading would be a damn sight harder if Ed lost. That the bad mood which inevitably followed when he came off worse at tennis, or poker … or anything, come to that, could last for hours. She could not bear the thought of what already promised to be a hellish drive to Crawley being made grimmer by his childish, sulky grunting, though the alternative – as he relived the highlights of his triumph – was only marginally preferable.
‘I was striking the ball so well, Suze. Volleys, ground strokes, you name it. It’s like I was really … seeing it, you know what I mean?’
He was certainly seeing that old slapper on the next court, Sue could tell that much. Not that she cared a great deal any more. It was funny really, and so predictable, and she would quite enjoy waiting for just the right opportunity to say something. Maybe she would have a quiet word with the woman’s husband at the summer barbecue; let him know just what his wife had been up to at the quiz night the previous month, on her knees behind the clubhouse. She could always have a chat with the captain’s wife, of course. Or she might just volunteer to help out with the drinks and spit in the old slag’s punch.
There was all manner of fun to be had.
A woman on the nearby table laughed loudly at something her companion said. Sue looked over and smiled when she caught the woman’s eye. ‘Isn’t this weather great?’ she said.
‘Fabulous,’ the woman replied.
Sue looked back towards the tennis courts. Ed watched a ball drop near the line and called it out. On the court behind him, the woman in the grey tracksuit squealed as a lob lifted the ball a few inches over her outstretched racket.
‘Fingers crossed for a good summer,’ Sue said.
Twenty-five years together – since the sixth form, for heaven’s sake – and married for twenty-two, Sue understood by now that Ed needed to do these things. He defined himself in terms of his pulling prowess and she wasn’t so naive as to believe that in twenty-odd years he’d never done anything about it. She knew that he craved the occasional adventure and she was content to let him get on with it, because over the years she had come to believe that they actually made their marriage better. In fact, Sue wondered what life would be like for them both the day Ed woke up and stopped believing he was attractive to women. Actually, she was not giving him his due, because she knew that in most instances he was attractive to women. She knew that Angie fancied him for a start. Silly cow couldn’t stop blushing and laughing at the silly jokes and voices. She wasn’t sure about Marina, that one was a little harder to work out, but she would not have been surprised.
Ed certainly thought Marina was sexy. He and Sue had talked about it when they’d been on holiday of course, and several times since, once they’d received that bloody dinner invitation.
Not that she’d even known about that until it was too late.
It had been perfectly fine in Florida, fun and games for the best part of a fortnight, but Sue had certainly not harboured any desire to see any of them again. You said those things because it was impolite not to, because you were tight-arsed and British, for God’s sake, but people never really meant it.
We should definitely stay in touch … same time next year … it really feels like we’ve become friends.
She and Ed had had a minor bust-up when she found out that he’d intercepted Angie’s email. That he had actually replied to say they were going.
‘These things are always a nightmare,’ she had said.
‘We’ve never done anything like this before.’
‘There’s a good reason for that.’
‘Come on, the six of us got on all right, didn’t we?’
‘We don’t want people … latching on.’
‘Who’s latching on? It’s just dinner.’
‘You’re thrown together on a beach or around a pool or whatever, and you’re best friends for a few days, but that’s supposed to be it. It doesn’t mean you want to do it again. It won’t be the same if you try to do it again. It’s like a one-night stand …’
That last comment had made Ed smile and he had made a grab for her, and the argument had run out of steam fairly quickly afterwards.
Not that Sue would have known, of course. What a one-night stand felt like, or two nights or three. In those twenty-five years together – ‘since we were passing soppy love notes in that playground in Birmingham, for heaven’s sake’ – the opportunity had never presented itself. Or if it had, she had not recognised it for what it was.
She closed the newspaper and asked herself if that was truly the case. Had she simply been afraid to transgress? Had she known deep down that while she was willing to tolerate Ed’s flings and flirtations, he would never have been as understanding?
That in spite of everything, she was far stronger than he was.
She looked across and saw that the two men were walking towards the net. Ed got there first, jogged the last few yards, and stood with his hand outstretched.
Thank God …
She stood up as the players gathered their things and watched them walk towards the gate. Ed raised his racket and she waved back. She would need to wait around a little while yet, as etiquette dictated that he buy his opponent a drink and spend another half an hour gloating.
The women at the nearby table turned as the two men approached.
‘Your husband?’ one of them asked.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Which one is he?’
Sue smiled. You mean, is it the fat, balding one? Or is it the tall good-looking one you wish you were sharing a bed with?
‘The one who won,’ she said.
FOUR
Before anyone has so much as picked up a menu, Ed volunteers to order for them all. If anybody has a better idea, they keep it to themselves. They kick things off with pints of local Landshark lager for the men and a jug of frozen margaritas. Then a few minutes later, the waitress – who tells them her name is Traci, and scribbles it on the paper tablecloth in case they forget, dotting her ‘i’ with a heart – delivers an enormous platter of mixed appetisers. A dozen buffalo wings and a mountain of nachos covered in salsa and melted cheese; battered oysters, clam strips and popcorn shrimp.
‘The portions are always so enormous,’ Marina says.
‘That’s why it’s best to wait,’ Ed says. ‘Just order your starters.’
Barry helps himself to a chicken wing and says, ‘Well, you’re the expert.’
They’re seated at a large table on the balcony, near the bar. The bar itself is decorated with dollar bills – hundreds of them, each with a message scrawled on it in marker pen by satisfied customers: Best margarita in town! Love Bob and Marsha; Thanx for the warm welcome and the awesome fish tacos xx. It’s no more than a degree or two cooler than it was at midday, and the few fans scattered about are
n’t helping much. In the far corner, a guitarist – white, with dreadlocks – sits on a stool, swapping banter with the customers closest to him and playing an inoffensive selection of songs rather well: Paul Simon, Bob Marley, the Beatles. It’s loud, so they all need to lean in close to one another and raise their voices to make themselves heard.
‘You ask me, the trick is to take it that bit easier before the holiday starts,’ Ed says. He slaps his belly through a salmon-pink, short-sleeved shirt. ‘Go on a diet for a week or two, then make sure you get some exercise while you’re out here. Play a bit of golf or tennis or something.’
‘I try and swim every day,’ Sue says.
‘Me too,’ Dave says.
Ed leans towards him. ‘You a swimmer then? See you in the pool.’
‘I prefer the sea,’ Dave says. ‘But yeah …’
‘You don’t need to lose any weight,’ Angie says to Sue. ‘There’s nothing of you.’
Sue is wearing a plain white halter-neck which accentuates her slender figure and shows off nicely tanned shoulders. Her long brown hair is held up with a clip. She tucks a loose strand behind her ear and smiles. ‘I just like swimming,’ she says.
They all clap politely as the guitarist finishes a song and announces that he’s taking a short break. Marina insists she likes the music, but says it’s good that they don’t have to shout any more. Barry has finished his beer, so Ed signals to Traci as she passes and orders him another.
‘Right.’ Ed drums his palms on the edge of the table and looks from one face to another. ‘Where did everyone meet? That’s always a good way to kick things off.’
Angie looks at Barry, who is sitting at the other end of the table. ‘No point in couples sitting together,’ Ed had said when they’d been sorting out the seats.
‘It’s a good story,’ Barry says.
‘We met when I was having some work done on my house.’ Angie reaches for the jug and tops up her glass. ‘Ten years ago, was it?’ She looks at Barry again and he shrugs, unsure. ‘Barry was my builder.’
The others at the table make suitable noises of surprise and interest.
‘She was looking for a quotation, so you gave her one.’ Ed laughs at his innuendo and winks at Barry. ‘Right?’
‘We just started seeing a lot more of each other as the job went on,’ Angie says. She stares into her drink, stirring it with a straw. ‘We’d both been through bad break-ups, both had kids, what have you. We both needed shoulders to cry on, I think.’ She looks up. ‘So, anyway.’
‘At the end of the day, I got a second wife …’ Barry leaves it hanging and looks towards Angie, having set up a punchline that has obviously been trotted out many times.
Angie picks up her cue. ‘And I got fifty per cent off my extension.’
Everyone laughs. Marina says, ‘Fifty, is that all?’ then everyone laughs some more.
Dave and Marina are holding hands across the table. He signals to her and when she passes him her handbag he reaches inside and pulls out a blue inhaler. Ed watches him shaking it and says, ‘You an asthmatic or something?’
Dave nods and takes a puff.
‘That like a steroid?’ Barry asks.
‘Sort of …’
‘They shrink your balls, don’t they?’ Ed says. ‘You end up with bollocks like Maltesers.’
‘Can’t say I’ve noticed,’ Marina says, and all the girls laugh.
‘So, what about you?’ Angie says to her. ‘How long have you two been married?’
‘We’re not married,’ Dave says, quickly. ‘We are planning to, when we get ourselves a bit more organised.’ He leans towards Marina and blows a kiss. ‘Right, babe?’
Marina nods and smiles, then turns back to Angie. ‘Boring really,’ she says. ‘We met at a party. God, when was that, Dave?’
‘It was almost exactly two and a half years ago,’ Dave says. He smiles at Marina, tugging at his scruffy goatee. ‘October.’
‘I’m impressed,’ Angie says, pulling a face at Barry.
Sue leans across the table and pokes Ed’s arm. ‘Can you remember what month we met?’
‘I know it was your lucky day,’ Ed says.
‘Well, I suppose it was a long time ago.’
‘I think Sue and I have got you all beaten,’ Ed says. He takes a mouthful of beer and smacks his lips. ‘We’ve been together twenty-five years.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Marina says.
‘Married for twenty-two.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Barry says.
Ed sits back and folds his arms. ‘Now, if that’s not worthy of some kind of long-service medal, I don’t know what is.’
Sue looks at Angie and shakes her head. Says, ‘Cheeky sod.’
‘You must have been kids,’ Angie says.
‘We were both in the sixth form.’ Sue puffs out her cheeks. ‘Long time ago.’ She picks up a nacho, carefully bites it in half. ‘He’d already gone out with most of my mates.’
‘Only because she was playing hard to get,’ Ed says.
‘Where were you at school?’ Marina asks.
‘Birmingham,’ Sue says, then pops the rest of the nacho into her mouth.
‘Oh, I thought I could just make out the accent.’
Ed leans forward and raises his voice. ‘Yow alroight, our kid?’ Angie laughs and he leans across her for the last chicken wing. ‘This grub’s bostin’ ay’ it?’
‘We moved to London twelve years ago,’ Sue says. ‘Ed got a job with a company down there.’
‘What do you do, Ed?’ Dave asks.
Ed licks sauce from his fingers. ‘Publishing.’
‘Sounds interesting.’
‘I’ve just got one of those Kindle things,’ Angie says. ‘They’re fantastic. Do you do those?’
Ed does not appear to hear the question above the chatter from adjacent tables and the clink of glasses. He nods back at Dave. ‘So, what game are you in, then?’
‘Computers,’ Dave says. He snores and chuckles. ‘Very dull.’
‘Not dull at all.’ Marina turns to Angie. ‘Your kids play computer games?’
‘Can’t get them off the bloody things,’ Angie says.
‘I bet Dave helped design some of them.’
‘Wow,’ Angie says.
‘What about you?’ Ed nods across at Barry. ‘Still in the building trade?’
‘It’s his own company,’ Angie says. ‘A family business, you know?’
‘Do you work?’ Sue asks her.
Angie shakes her head. ‘Well, only if you count running around after two kids.’ She laughs, reaching for the jug again, and pours what little is left of the margarita into her glass. ‘I’m a kept woman.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Sue says.
‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Ed mutters, looking to Barry and Dave for a reaction.
‘You?’ Angie asks.
‘I teach,’ Sue says.
‘Infants or juniors?’
‘Well, it’s a private school, so it’s years four to eight. Nine- to thirteen-year-olds.’
‘Sounds like hard work.’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Nice long holidays, though,’ Angie says. ‘Right?’
Sue just nods and turns to look at Marina. It takes a few seconds before Marina realises that she is being invited to say her piece.
‘Oh … I’m sort of looking around a bit at the moment,’ Marina says. ‘I’m working part-time as a dental receptionist, but it’s not exactly my life’s ambition.’
‘Marina writes and acts,’ Dave says. ‘That’s what she should be doing.’
‘Shut up,’ Marina says. She pushes him playfully in the shoulder, but looks happy enough to talk about it. ‘I take some acting classes, that’s all, and I’ve written a few short stories, which nobody’s ever seen.’
‘I’ve seen them and they’re great,’ Dave says.
‘You’re biased though, because we have sex.’
Angie and Sue laugh and Angie points to Ed. �
��Well, now you’ve met a publisher,’ she says. ‘You never know, you might end up being the next J.K. Rowling or whatever.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Marina says.
‘What kind of stuff do you write?’ Ed leans towards her. ‘Obviously, I can’t make any promises, but I might be able to point you in the right direction. Get it in front of a few people …’
Traci arrives at the table and asks if everyone is enjoying themselves. Ed says that everything is great, as always. Traci says that’s awesome and cheerily asks if she can clear some of the empties. When she moves away again, dirty plates and bowls stacked on one arm, a young girl is standing next to the table.
She is wearing shorts and training shoes and a glittery pink top that doesn’t quite cover her belly. Her dark hair is tied back with a glittery pink scrunchie. She stares at them and tugs at her ear.
‘Hi,’ Marina says.
Angie says, ‘Hello,’ recognising the girl they had seen earlier, in the pool at the Pelican Palms.
‘Everything all right?’ Sue asks. She looks around and eventually sees the girl’s mother down below them on the pavement. The woman is talking to a dark-haired man whose back is to the restaurant. He looks well built and Sue can just make out tattoos creeping beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. The woman gesticulates lazily – an unlit cigarette between her fingers – while the other hand is casually laid first on the man’s arm, then across on to his chest. Sue nudges Marina, cocks her head towards the street and quietly says, ‘There …’
‘Where you from?’ the girl asks. Her voice is high-pitched and nasal.
‘We’re from England,’ Angie says. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m from America,’ the girl says, frowning. ‘I’m not from England.’
‘OK …’
The girl steps forward and holds on to the edge of the table. ‘I saw England on the TV though.’ She nods slowly, eyes down, and when she looks up again, her face breaks into a beaming smile. ‘When the prince and the princess got married in the church that had the trees growing inside and all the kings and queens from everywhere in the world came there to watch.’ She looks towards the group, but as she speaks, her eyes are fixed on a spot six inches or so above the head of Dave, who is sitting at the furthest end of the table from her. ‘That was my favourite show of all time, and we have it on the DVR, so I can watch it whenever I want.’
Rush of Blood Page 3