More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  Mary was jolted from the sudden shock of the dichotomy of good fortune and bad news. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You’ll be late for school.’

  As they hurried along the street, Thomas kept pestering her by asking if they were going to keep the money. Every time he asked her, she always gave him the stock response.

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Forty - Four

  After the hectic lunchtime session, Maggie paused behind the bar and poured herself a large Chardonnay. She made a show of huffing noisily at a wisp of hair trailing across her forehead. As he cleared tables, Craig glanced disapprovingly in her direction.

  ‘You still sulking?’ Maggie said as he placed a row of dirty glasses on the counter.

  ‘At least Mandy don’t drink,’ he replied, his jaw tight with suppressed anger.

  ‘Well bully for her!’

  ‘I still don’t see what you’ve got against her.’

  ‘Nothing personal.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  Maggie shrugged irritatingly and took a sip of wine.

  ‘Well?’ Craig demanded, his eyes boring into hers.

  ‘If you’ve got something going with this girl,’ Maggie said, ‘I don’t think a boss employee relationship would work.’

  ‘Why not? What about you and Gary? You were a husband and wife running a business, like thousands of other couples do.’

  ‘Yeah, and Gary and me were always at each other’s throat. Anyway, you’re talking about a family run business. That’s different.’

  Craig gave her a lopsided, ironic smile. ‘Yeah, you can say that again. It’s worse. A lot worse.’

  Maggie turned away impatiently. ‘Just because you can’t get your own way, little brother.’

  ‘It’s not a question of getting my own way.’

  Maggie spun back to face him. ‘Shh! Keep your voice down.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that...’ Craig stopped and waved his hands helplessly in front of his sister. He looked lost, reminding her of a time when he was very young and had come off his bike and hurt himself badly. She remembered him staggering towards her, blubbering incoherently for help.

  ‘Look, Craig,’ she began, ‘if you promise there won’t be any lovers’ tiffs...’

  It took a moment to sink in, then Craig’s eyes gleamed with sudden brightness. ‘If she gets out of hand,’ he laughed, and jerked a thumb in the direction of the street.

  ‘As long as both of you don’t bring your problems into the wine bar.’

  Craig grinned at her and shook his head. ‘Everything’ll be hunky-dory. I promise.’

  Maggie glanced at her watch. ‘And you can do me a favour in return. There’s a semi-final tonight. Germany versus Italy. So we’ll be quiet I reckon. Would you mind if I take the night off?’

  Smiling, Craig came around behind the bar. ‘Sure. No problem, Maggs. Off out anywhere?

  Maggie stared at her wine glass intently. ‘Oh, a bit tired. Just thought I’d have a quiet night.’

  Something about his sister’s tone made Craig think that she was lying, but as he picked up the telephone behind the bar, he dismissed it.

  ‘Who you phoning?’ said Maggie. ‘As if I couldn’t guess.’

  Craig grinned. ‘Well, I don’t want to keep her in suspense.’ He finished dialling and threw his sister a look. ‘Thanks, Maggs.’

  Maggie nodded and took a large swallow of wine, then frowned thoughtfully. Must get Mandy to dress a bit better, she thought. She’s got the worst dress sense of any girl I’ve ever seen.

  ***

  The wad of money was stacked in a neat pile on the kitchen table in front of Mary, taunting her. Five hundred pounds! More money than she’d seen in years. It would make next week’s Family Allowance look pathetic.

  ‘Yes, but what are we going to do with it?’ Thomas demanded for the umpteenth time.

  Mary shook her head and blew on her tea. A cunning expression crept across Thomas’s face.

  ‘What’s for tea, Mum?’

  Mary shrugged and shook her head wistfully. ‘Nothing very exciting. Just some cheese on toast and baked beans.’

  A slight pause, allowing Thomas time to drive home his idea. ‘I suppose we could always go out somewhere. That Chinese place where you can eat as much as you like. We could use some of that money.’

  Simon glared at him and slammed down his can of Pepsi Max. ‘I think we ought to give that money back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s our father’s money. And he’s a bastard.’

  ‘Simon!’ Mary cautioned.

  ‘Well, it’s true. So send it back to him.’

  But Mary was already imagining the little luxuries the money could provide. All day the temptation to spend had been wearing, and avoiding the temptation seemed irritatingly priggish, as if she was some sort of religious fanatic, one of those goody-goodies who frown upon pleasure.

  She looked Simon in the eyes and mustered up a rational reason to spend the errant father’s money. ‘Simon, I’d love to be able to send this money back, but how can I? I’ve no idea where he lives. None at all. Besides, when he left us and buggered off to America, we were entitled to some family maintenance payments. If he’d been in this country, the Child Support Agency would have chased him for money. Money to which we were entitled.’

  Simon’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?’

  Mary rose with deliberation and her chair scraped back nosily. ‘We can’t send this money back, so that settles it.’

  Simon scowled. ‘What you gonna do?’

  ‘We’re going to have some fun for a change. We’re going on a spending spree. We deserve it.’

  Thomas stood up hurriedly, punched the air triumphantly, and gave a great whoop of joy.

  ***

  Mike had spent much of the day pub crawling. He had telephoned most of his clients and postponed the appointments. He just couldn’t face it after what had happened. In the late afternoon, he ventured home. It was a hot day and he needed to shower and change before going out to meet Maggie. And he needed a few alcohol free hours. He expected to find Claire home, and was prepared for sullen silences or raging arguments, but the house was empty. He was relieved. He needed to cheer himself up, put on a good mood to meet his old lover and rekindle their relationship.

  He had arranged to meet her at seven-thirty in the Beau Nash, then he planned to take her to Thackeray’s for a meal. It would be costly, but spending that much money on another woman was revenge, and he felt it was just what his wife deserved. Except she wouldn’t know about it, which tended to take the edge off it.

  He arrived at the Beau Nash fifteen minutes early, and was surprised to find Maggie had already arrived, and was halfway through a large white wine. Mike smiled and pointed at her glass.

  ‘Another of those?’

  She shook her head emphatically. ‘I’d better not. I’ll have a small one.’

  But as Mike turned away to fetch the drinks, she called after him, ‘Oh go on! You’ve twisted my arm. Make it a large one.’

  When Mike returned with her wine, and a pint of lager for himself, they clinked glasses.

  ‘So what’s on the agenda?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought we’d have dinner at Thackeray’s.’

  She whistled. ‘You’re pushing the boat out.’

  He grinned at her, then suddenly looked serious. ‘When we were lovers, you ended our relationship because you didn’t want to split up a marriage.’

  She smiled. ‘You believe in cutting the small talk and getting straight to the point, don’t you?’

  ‘I just want you to know, that I’m splitting up with Claire, and it has nothing to do with you. So now we’re both fr
ee, and hopefully can start all over again. That’s if you want to.’

  She frowned. ‘But why ...I mean, how come you’re leaving your wife?’

  ‘She’s become a Scientologist. We had a screaming great row about it last night. She’s taken a load of money from our account and given it to those wankers. And all she does is talk bullshit and gobbledegook. And it’s ironic, isn’t it: I thought I’d lose my wife by going with another woman. Instead, I’ve lost her because of a pseudo religious cult. I just don’t know what to do. If I go back home, we’ll just have another screaming row about it. I think I might have to move out and get a flat.’

  Maggie leaned across the table and slipped her hand over his. ‘And what about tonight?’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yes, you’ll need a place to stay tonight. You can stay with me if you like.’

  ‘What about your kids?’

  She gave Mike a big smile. ‘I think they need to meet you. Especially if you’re going to be a fixture.’

  He grinned back at her, and they clinked glasses again. As he looked into her eyes, he thought he saw them twinkle in a watery sort of way. It was either the love light or the wine. Or maybe a bit of both.

  Forty - Five

  The following day, while the children were at school, Mary went to the Royal Victoria Place and indulged in another shopping expedition. And it was a luxury to come back in a taxi instead of the bus. As soon as she got indoors, she unloaded the shopping, a new pair of shorts and T-shirt for herself, jeans, shorts, and t-shirts for the boys, and some luxury food items and wine from Marks and Spencer’s. She had just managed to stack the food in the refrigerator when the telephone rang. She froze. Crashing back to reality.

  What if it was Ronnie ringing? Payback time.

  She went out into the hall, took a deep and tremulous breath, then picked the receiver up gingerly. It was Dave.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart. It’s me.’

  Mary let her breath out slowly. ‘Hello, Dave.’ Her voice was flat, unemotional.

  ‘Has he been in touch again?’

  ‘Well, sort of.’

  ‘What d’you mean: “Sort of”?’

  She cleared her throat softly before telling him about the money, her voice full of guilt. He reacted in exactly the way she expected.

  ‘You did what?!’

  Her voice became thin. ‘What else could I do?’

  ‘You could have done what I told you to do in the first place. You could have gone to the police.’

  ‘But what about the money?’

  ‘You should have given it to them. Told them you didn’t want it.’

  She laughed dryly. ‘Oh yes, and that would have ended up in the Police Benevolent Fund, I suppose.’

  Dave exhaled loudly and disapprovingly. ‘Don’t you see what you’ve done, you little idiot. You’ve played into his hands. Done exactly what he wanted you to do. You’ve accepted his money. He wants to own you. And he’s buying you.’

  ***

  As soon as Maggie returned from dropping the children at school, she found Mike sitting on the patio outside the through lounge, sipping tea.

  ‘You want some breakfast?’ she asked.

  ‘Never touch the stuff.’

  Her voice rose in surprise. ‘You never eat breakfast?’

  ‘I can never face eating at this time of day.’

  ‘How can you go to work ... I mean, how d’you manage to get enough energy to get you through the morning?’

  He pouted and shrugged. ‘Cutting hair’s not exactly energetic.’

  ‘Even so,’ she said, and slumped into a garden chair next to him. She took his hand and smiled. ‘The kids seemed to just accept you. Which is a good start. So where do we go from here, Mike?’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘Have you made up your mind, about splitting up with your wife?’

  Mike nodded gravely and thought about it. ‘Definitely,’ he said after a long pause.

  ‘You know, you’re welcome to move in with me, don’t you?’

  ‘I know. But I’m not looking forward to the scene that’ll erupt when I tell Claire. I wish there was another way.’

  Maggie shook her head forcefully. ‘No. You’re going to have to tell her. Trouble is, if you tell her about me, she’s going to know that we had an affair in the past; that it’s not just something to do with her crazy religious streak.’

  ‘And that’s what worries me. It would have been easier if I let her think that she was the one to blame, because of this Scientology crap.’

  ‘If only life were that straightforward.’

  Mike sighed and glanced at his watch. ‘Much as I’d like to sit here with you, sunning myself, I’ve got a lot of work on this morning.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘You’d better get snipping then. Will I see you later?’

  ‘Try and stop me.’

  He kissed her lingeringly on the lips, gave her a cursory wave, then left via the side gate. She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the early warmth of the sun on her face as she heard his car start up. Everything felt sunny and fresh, and she could smell the faint trace of coffee from Mike’s abandoned mug. After a while, she started thinking about the white wine they had opened the previous night when they returned from dinner at Thackeray’s. There was still a quarter bottle left; and she’d been up a good couple of hours getting the kids ready for school; and it was such a glorious day; and she wasn’t in the mood for another hot drink. So why shouldn’t she pour herself just one glass of white wine?

  To hell with it! Why not?

  She went into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass, then returned to sit on the patio, closed her eyes peacefully, while she sipped her wine.

  Two and a half hours later, across the other side of Tunbridge Wells, Mike felt hot and thirsty, and had a half hour to kill before his next client. So he dropped into the Cross Keys and had a pint of lager. He knew he’d have been better off eating something, but as it was such a glorious day, somehow a pint of lager seemed a harmless pleasure. Besides, he was still feeling the effects of the previous night’s carousing with Maggie, followed by lovemaking which hadn’t been exactly stunning. Maggie had had so much to drink, she climaxed in less than half a minute, then fell asleep, leaving him feeling uncomfortably affected. As he rolled off her and drifted to sleep, he couldn’t resist smiling at the gender role reversal. It was men who were supposed to suffer from premature ejaculation.

  Forty - Six

  Craig Wanted Mandy to start work at the wine bar that same evening, but Mandy told him she’d had a word with her employer, Mario, who was insisting on a month’s notice. Craig went round to see Mario.

  ‘Hi!’ the chip shop owner greeted Craig, feigning surprise. ‘To what do I owe this visit?’

  ‘You know bloody well why I’m here, Mario,’ said Craig. ‘It’s about Mandy.’

  Mario frowned and shrugged elaborately. ‘What about her?’

  ‘She ain’t working for you no more. As and from today.’

  Mario waved a stubby finger back and forth like a metronome. ‘No way, Mr. Thomas. No way.’

  ‘What d’you mean, “no way”?’

  ‘Like I say to Mandy, the law’s the law. There are regulations. You can’t walk out. Not like that.’

  ‘Mandy can. Just watch her.’

  Mario glanced down into a fresh batch of batter he was preparing, and cleared his throat nosily and swallowed. Craig felt like smacking the chip shop owner but controlled himself, although he could feel the blood rise in his neck with every moment that passed.

  ‘See,’ began Mario, pursing his lips and shaking his head, ‘Mandy’s not part time.’

  ‘So?’ snapped Craig.

  ‘She’s a full-time employee. So she h
as to give proper notice. One month. Minimum.’

  Craig shook his head. ‘Not Mandy. I’m sure you’ll make an exception in her case and bend the rules.’

  Mario gave an explosive laugh. ‘Make an exception? Why should I do that? Hmm?’ He pointed threateningly at Craig. ‘You can’t go around stealing staff like that.’

  ‘Oh come on, Mario. Stick a notice in the window and you’ll fill her place in no time.’

  ‘It’s not convenient. She walks out of this job and - let me tell you - no wages for this week. No, sir.’

  Craig smiled confidently as he thought about his trump card. ‘You’d better pay her the money she’s owed for this week. You don’t want to make things difficult for yourself.’

  ‘Me!’ said Mario, thumping his chest with two fingers. ‘Why should I make it difficult for myself? I have the law on my side. You can’t just walk out of a job. And if she does, not only will she get no pay for this week, she’ll get a solicitor’s letter. I want recompense. Consequential loss. You see, I know about the law.’

  ‘Good,’ said Craig, his eyes glinting with anticipated triumph. ‘So you’ll know about sexual harassment in the workplace.’

  Not a muscle moved in Mario’s face. After a brief pause, Craig saw his Adam’s-apple moving as he swallowed.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t you? Then let me spell it out for you. Mandy’s told me all about the way you try to touch her up in the back room. So if you wanna make a song and dance about her leaving...’

  Mario smiled, almost a sneer, dropped his voice and leaned closer to Craig, trying to convey a worldly, lad-to-lad camaraderie, even though he was old enough to be Mandy’s father. ‘It was only a bit of friendly ... you know.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ said Craig, nodding seriously. ‘In fact I know what your missus’d make of it. And these things can get blown up out of all proportion. Before you know it: wallop! It’s hit the front pages and your life’s in ruins.’

  ‘You’re bluffing.’

  ‘Am I? Just try me.’