‘Not camomile tea though, is it? I’m sorry to break this to you but that stuff is absolutely minging!’ admitted Kelly shamefacedly.
‘No! Don’t worry. I hate the stuff.’
‘Why do you always have it in the house then? You’ve always got these weird teas.’
‘Well, all the celebs seem to drink them and they swear by them for weight loss and emotional contentment. I just thought there was something wrong with me that I’d much rather have tea with lots of sugar and milk! I mean, it’s a bit retro isn’t it? And I’ll let you into a well-guarded secret … I like Earl Grey with milk and sugar too. See how much I trust you as a friend? I couldn’t admit this to anyone else. And I also love gold top milk. That skimmed stuff is awful, but I thought that if I practised drinking it for long enough, I’d finally become civilised and even progress to nettle tea and grass juice.’
‘It’s just as well we are that close, Mel. Otherwise we’d never cope with the state of our husbands. It was bad enough when Rob started breaking my tights and underwear, trying them on … but this? I mean, have you seen the state of their noses? What has he been doing to it?’ she peered gingerly at Rob’s nose. ‘Do you think he’s got some sort of horrible virus?’ asked Kelly, naively.
‘It’s cocaine, Kelly,’ stated Mel carefully.
‘No! No! It can’t be! Rob’s always been totally against the stuff! You should have heard him when I came back from our day out in Brighton. He didn’t stop lecturing and gloating for a week! What on Earth is happening?’ Kelly was close to tears.
‘Just put it down to the wonders of the free market and global capitalism!’ Mel raised her fist in the air in mock salute.
Amy and Michael then came piling down the stairs, stopping short as they reached the door of the dining room. Their faces folded.
‘Mummy! Who are those people sleeping on the floor? Did they break in?’ asked Amy.
Mel wondered whether it was wise to inform them that one of these tramp-like beings was her father. She actually wondered whether it would cause less trauma if they believed that someone had broken in like some hideous Goldilocks and fallen asleep on the floor. She was considering the explanation options, when Matilda and Ivan came out from the living room. It was enough of a distraction to tempt Amy and Michael away from the scene and they went off happily to play together.
Just then, the two tramps began to stir. Groaning, burping and farting, they started writhing on the carpet and trying to open their swollen eyes. As they lifted their faces from the ground, they left patches of drool and unspeakable exudate from their mouths and noses, strung between the fibres of the carpet and their faces. ‘Ugg!’ they grunted in unison.
‘What are we going to do?’ whispered Kelly.
‘Well, we’ve got to do something drastic.’ They winced at the bloodshot eyes of their spouses. Their ‘Lords of the Universe’ looked more like the ‘Goblins of the Black Swamp’ this morning. If this is what the world of commerce and finance did to people these days, then they needed to get out of it, if only for a short time. Gone were the days when sober, black-suited, bowler-hatted, sensible family men worked in the City. Now it was people who, regardless of gender no doubt, yearned to be known as ‘Big Swinging Dick’ and judged their worth by how big their bonuses were, how big a gamble they could take and how big a lie they could sell. And to do this day in and day out and be successful in it, these City workers had to fry and pickle their brains.
‘Hey,’ grunted Alan. ‘Have you been away yet?’
‘Pardon?’
‘You told me you were going to your parents’. Are you going … or have you been?’
Alan seemed genuinely not to have noticed his wife and children’s seven-day absence.
‘I’ve been, Alan. I don’t think you’ve been here either!’
‘Yes I have. I’ve been here all the time.’
‘You may have been here in body but spiritwise, I’m not sure which celestial body you’ve been inhabiting,’ said Mel drily.
At that, Alan looked at Rob and Rob looked at Alan and they both started giggling like raving lunatics.
‘I’m sure I remember a few celestial bodies! Don’t you Rob?’ Alan nudged Rob … and they collapsed laughing. Mel stared at Kelly, enraged.
‘This really is too much. Genuinely Alan, has our absence from this house truly gone unnoticed? We’ve been away for an entire week!’ Mel fervently hoped that Alan was teasing her.
She sat down at the table with Kelly. ‘Cup of tea, or do you want something stronger?’ she suggested.
‘It’s still a bit early for anything stronger, Mel. We don’t want to end up like these two with shit for brains, do we? Someone’s got to be responsible.’ The situation was obviously desperate if Kelly had to be cast in the responsible role.
46
‘What have you been doing all week, Alan?’ ventured Mel, uncertain that she was strong enough to bear the answer.
‘Well, it all merges into one. I’ll be able to remember later, I think. I could sleep for a week. I feel as if I’ve been up for one very long day! Have you really been away and come back?’
‘Yes, Alan.’ Mel sighed deeply. ‘We’ve been thinking … what about we get this trip sorted? I think we should take a teepee with us to Madagascar. We had booked a bit of a rough hotel, but I think we need to get right down to the basics. You’ve completely lost the plot, Alan. I’ve got to rescue you from yourself!’
Kelly nodded in agreement and looked at Rob.
‘The boss has invited us over to Sardinia for a week. I thought it might be fun to do that instead.’
‘No way, Alan. I don’t want to spend any more time with inane people who have so much time and money on their hands that they can become obsessed with the aesthetics of their nether regions. I mean … I was talking with one woman (at least I believe it was a woman) whose skin was stretched like a hyper-inflated balloon. She was informing me, with the aid of ebullient detail and an intricate sketch, the geography of her genitalia as observed by the narrator herself with some sort of periscope and mirror contraption. She progressed to a full description, with diagrams, of the ambitions she and her surgeon shared in a bid to improve the area. You can’t honestly expect me to spend any more time with beings like that and retain my sanity, surely?’
‘I think you are too judgemental. You’re becoming so prissy these days, Mel. I don’t remember you being so prissy when we met.’ Alan pulled a face. ‘I actually enjoyed those people’s company. Aha … I remember now … a lot of those people have been partying here. Not just in the house, but all over. Brent came over in his helicopter and flew some friends in with him. Landed in the field over there. Brought lots of fun friends with all manner of special talents with him. Very gifted individuals, certainly not “inane”!’ Alan sniggered annoyingly and Rob joined in.
‘Right. I can see that you’re more in need of a reality check than I realised in my worst nightmares! You actually thought these – people – for want of a better word … were good company?’
‘Er … yes,’ concluded Alan.
‘Briony, Zeus and Dad have been telling me that they have information about banking, and your bank’s dealings in particular. They’ve strongly suggested that we go away somewhere isolated before “Armageddon” strikes. Their words, not mine, Alan. Armageddon! I thought it had already hit when I got home. I cannot imagine what you’ve been doing here, but I’ve got some inkling. Mrs Gulliver, from next door, came over here telling me all about your exploits with glee. God knows what the neighbourhood thinks of us now. She said that you, Rob and Brent, to name but a few, have been running around practically naked. It doesn’t go down well in Surrey.’ Kelly was now sitting at the table sucking her thumb. The stress and shock had obviously been too much. Just then, the phone rang. It was Poppy.
‘Oh hi! Melly! What a brilliant week we’ve had. So many interesting people! Wow! You’re so lucky! Tarkers and I were just talking about it. Alan has done so mu
ch for us. We really have to give you something in return. We were thinking … how about we whizz you over to Rome? Five-star hotel … Spa … Shopping. All the best restaurants and we’ll even have Amy and Michael to stay with us whilst you two gallivant around enjoying yourselves. This weekend! How about it!? Please say yes!’
‘Who is it?’ enquired Alan. ‘Is it Poppydoodle?’
‘“Poppydoodle?”’ Oh my God … that is sickening!
‘Yes it is Poppy … if that’s who you mean.’ Mel grimaced.
‘Oh … when are they coming over?’ asked Alan excitedly. Things were much worse than she thought. Alan was obviously very close to the Addams Family now. What on Earth was the attraction? And what was all this with the stupid nicknames? Alan and Mel had always regarded with disdain the Valentine messages in the local paper where lovers called each other Furrybumkins and Squirrelwhiskers. It was evident that he had completely lost the plot. She had a sinking feeling about the treat Poppy was offering and was just wondering whether to mention it to Alan at all when Poppy said.
‘Oh, is that Alan!? I need to talk to him! Business, you know.’ Mel could hardly say that he wasn’t there, because she’d obviously heard him, so there was no choice but to hand over the phone.
‘Of course! We’d absolutely love to go! Yes … yes … this weekend! How absolutely fabulous!’ enthused Alan. Mel tried to give him warning glares, stretching her eyebrows halfway up her forehead and widening her eyes, but these subtleties were completely lost on Alan. He came off the phone and playfully tapped Mel on the bottom.
‘How about that?! What a treat! Why are you looking at me like that? Anyone would think you didn’t like the darling girl!’
‘Darling girl?! Poppy? What has got into you? No I don’t particularly like her, if you must know. She’s still the same dreadful person that she was when her son was bullying Michael. Can’t you see, she’s manipulating you? When did you lose your instincts? What or who did this to you?’
‘Well, I thought I was the paranoid one, but you really take the biscuit, Mel! If you don’t want to take up their kind offer then I’ll find someone else to come with me. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth!’ said Alan.
And once again, Mel found herself questioning her own motives. Poppy had been nothing but pleasant for ages. In fact, she’d never been horrible, just rather superficial and sycophantic. And Algy wasn’t bullying Michael any more.
In fact, far from it … they had a shared interest in Airport Barbie dolls and Sylvanian Families these days. Michael had even adopted some of Algy’s interests and had started making paper aeroplanes and paper guns. It had actually been a relief, though it pained her to admit it. She had always prided herself on allowing her children to express themselves as they wanted. She’d tried very hard not to push the children into gender stereotypical holes. But she had been a little anxious really that Michael enjoyed playing with dolls so much. It wasn’t so much about her as about Michael … She desperately wanted him to fit in and be happy. She didn’t want him to be different because she couldn’t bear the thought that he might be bullied or left out. When Algy had started bullying Michael, Mel had even tried to replace a Barbie with a soldier doll, but it hadn’t worked. The soldier was still in his box. So, thinking rationally, why did she distrust Poppy and Tarkers so? What was the logic behind this? Well, there was none. She couldn’t ruin her relationship with Alan over a hunch. Maybe she was just jealous of Poppy for some bizarre reason. When she was training as a nurse, there was a great emphasis on being self-aware in order to approach patients with no preconceptions and prejudices. Perhaps there was something within her that was stopping her seeing Poppy as the lovely person that Alan saw.
‘OK, Alan, yep. Course I’d love to. Don’t mind me. I’m just a bit overwhelmed with it all,’ placated Mel.
Kelly shot her a glance, but Mel decided to ignore it. No, she would give Poppy the benefit of the doubt.
So that was how she found herself returning Poppy’s call and gushing about arrangements.
When she had come off the phone, Kelly told her that Rupert had been hanging around Poppy rather a lot at the school gates and that she was sure she had seen him wearing his usual buttoned-up stiff shirt but with some sort of ridiculous wig on one occasion and a false moustache on another.
‘What do you think of that? Do you think he’s taken a fancy to her too? Do you think he’s stalking Poppy? Perhaps he’ll shoot her one day!’ she said in what sounded like a hopeful tone. ‘I bet he has a collage of photos of Poppy in all sorts of different poses on some sort of weird altar in his house.’
‘Perhaps it isn’t Rupert,’ offered Mel. ‘No, I’m not giving that possibility another thought. I’ll bring you something lovely back from Rome. OK?’
47
The children were over the moon. They had been tempted by the promised trips to adventure and fantasy parks and being free to romp in Poppy and Tarker’s massive indoor swimming pool anytime of day and most of the night, by the sound of it too.
Poppy and Tarkers are either incredibly kind and altruistic individuals, thought Mel, or they’re trying to bribe us in order to fulfil some evil plot. Perhaps they’re just grateful that Alan’s given them such good financial advice. They just want to say thank you … but knowing Poppy, her only ulterior motive would be to try to impress.
On arrival at the airport, Mel couldn’t deny that she was impressed. They went straight to the VIP lounge and were wined and dined at their benefactors’ expense.
Then they were escorted to their seats in First Class. It was lovely not to be lumped in with the hordes and squeezed into a seat which was so squashed for space that one had no choice but to develop deep vein thrombosis.
It didn’t stop there. Wherever they went in Rome – the hotel, exclusive shops, restaurants – they were treated like royalty. They would enter a venue and without even introducing themselves, minions would appear immediately from every direction and tend to their every whim before they themselves were even aware that they had a whim. It was so pleasant that she and Alan relaxed together more than they had in months. The whole of Rome was at their feet, it seemed. Mel wondered how everyone expected and recognised them at first, but in the end became acclimatised to the limousine and even an armed bodyguard, though why they should require that level of protection, Mel had no idea. But it made her feel safer to have a man with a Kalashnikov at her shoulder, built like a concrete bunker and wearing dark, Mafioso-style sunglasses when she entered her pin number at the cash point. Many a time she had wished for protection like this at the cash point in Surbiton! Not that she had to do much with cash points on this Rome spree. Everything seemed to be for free! It was strange. Like something out of a film … wait a minute … Mafia! Why else would she need all this protection?
Why did the minions try to bow to Alan and kiss his ring? Not that Alan was having any of that ‘fairy’ behaviour, but as he put it, they were showing respect … just like shaking hands in England … but wait … that was another word used by the Mafia … ‘respect’! Mel’s heart was virtually leaping out of her chest now. It made perfect sense to her. She remembered The Godfather! Kissing the ring of the Don; power; respect; protection … being mowed down by the semi-automatics of smiling men dressed impeccably in Italian tailored suits!!! Oh my God! Oh my God!
She nudged Alan and whispered out of the side of her mouth, ‘Oh my God, Alan! Are you a don or something?’
‘A what?’
‘A don? You know…’
‘Mel, I got a 2:1 at university. Course I’m not a don! What are you wittering on about, you daft woman!’ He was laughing. It was a rather far-fetched idea. She was obviously letting her fertile imagination run away with her, as usual. Why and how would a quintessential English couple like Poppy and Tarkers be mixed up with something like the Mafia? They drank tea, went hunting (the ‘mock’ variety), shooting and fishing, had never been in trouble with the law, even for a parking offence, as far as
she knew. No, they were all sorts of things, perhaps, but Mafia!? Don’t be ridiculous.
‘I’m having a wonderful time! How about you, darling?’ enquired Alan, patting her on the bum.
Mel smiled. She was really enjoying herself. She’d bought the most beautiful shoes today, with Poppy and Tarkers’ money and blessing. They had insisted, despite Alan’s income these days being enough to afford a lot of this themselves. But as Alan had said, you don’t get rich and stay rich by spending it all on shoes. Gosh, he was wise. Their new friends wanted to treat them and it would have been churlish to refuse. Mel was certainly not going to argue. It was so lovely to be with the Alan she knew and loved again. If he was shovelling cocaine up his nose at the moment, it was certainly being done in total privacy. She didn’t have to fret about it now … he seemed totally normal and relaxed.
48
After a weekend spent in what resembled the Pleasure Dome from the poem Kubla Khan, they travelled home content and ready to take on the world together.
‘Oh yes! It’s been an absolute delight having the children and animals here!’ Poppy gushed. ‘Amy’s been riding Elmo and has even been jumping in the paddock. Fancy some Pimm’s, cucumber sandwiches and strawberries?’ Mel laughed to herself. How could Poppy and Tarkers have anything to do with the Cosa Nostra when they were so stereotypically upper middle-class English? How ridiculous! So she swatted the annoying thought straight out of her mind.
‘Thanks so much! So the children have had a whale of a time then?’
The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife Page 18