by David Barry
‘That’s not the point,’ Craig snapped unintentionally. ‘I think he’s trying to make an effort. And I had a word with him about my sister’s drinking.’
‘When was this?’
‘While you were out in the kitchen. He agreed that her drinking’s way out of line. He’s going to see if he can get her to overcome it.’
‘Meanwhile, we’re having to run this place by ourselves.’
Craig gave her a helpless, defeated smile and shrugged. The alternative’s a lot worse. The more time she spends in this place, the less customers we’ll have.’
A cough from behind alerted Mandy that a customer needed the bill that had been asked for at least five minutes ago.
***
Ted was smiling to himself as he pushed his key into the front door. ‘I’m home,’ he sang with renewed energy. His voice, usually so lacklustre, now positively beamed with delight at his deception.
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Marjorie called out.
Marjorie was in her usual place at the table, drinking tea and devouring a plate of Jaffa Cakes. Ted would normally have kept his disapproval suitably blank of expression, but today he found the image of Marjorie, indolently tucking into her biscuits, funny. He chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’ Marjorie demanded.
‘You are, dear,’ he said, daringly and with a satirical edge.
Marjorie gave him a look that would have frozen hell. He beamed at her and brought the gift-wrapped parcel from behind his back. He congratulated himself on his timing, which he thought was perfect.
‘It’s a surprise present,’ he said, as his grin grew wider.
Marjorie frowned, bemused by this unexpected behaviour from her normally unimaginative spouse. She accepted the gift cautiously and began to unwrap it carefully, as if she worked for the bomb squad.
Ted watched her, a glint in his eye. ‘Where’s Miranda?’ he asked.
‘I told you, her name’s Tracey. She’s having a nap.’
Marjorie tugged the bright oblong box from the wrapping paper. She frowned as she saw what it was. ‘A mobile phone! What on earth do I want with a mobile phone?’
‘It’s a present. I thought it would come in useful as you start looking around for hotel properties. Then, when you do eventually find a place, you’re going to need one. Keep up with the times, and all that.’
‘Well, I suppose...’ Marjorie accepted grudgingly.
Ted sat down next to her and started to open the box, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone. ‘I’ll see if I can sort out how it works. I’ll show you how to send a text, then when you need to contact me at work - like when you’ve got some news about the hotel business - I’ll always be contactable.’
Marjorie nodded approvingly. ‘This is the best idea you’ve ever had, Ted. I have to admit.’
Ted smiled craftily. All that lovely money in his very own bank account. And now the most devilish, cunning plan he’d devised. Admittedly it wasn’t original - he’d read about it in a discarded tabloid on the train - but it was going to be the sweetest revenge of all time. It was almost a shame he wouldn’t be around to see Marjorie’s face when she got his text.
***
Music pounded loudly as Mike walked up the front path. He wondered if it was Maggie’s children, then realised it was only three o’clock and they would still be at school. As he opened the door, the blast of sound hit him like a battering ram, and he realised the stereo was probably turned up to maximum. He went into the living room, hurriedly crossed to the stereo and switched it off. The contrasting silence was a relief and he let his breath out.
‘Maggie!’ he yelled. ‘Where are you?’
He went into the kitchen, where he discovered an empty Gin bottle and a shattered glass on the floor. He dashed back into the hall and took the stairs three at a time. But where was Maggie? He checked the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms and she was nowhere to be seen.
Then a thought struck him that filled him with fear. Her car. He didn’t remember seeing her car outside. Then again it might be in the garage. He rushed outside and opened the garage door. No car.
The fearful thought struck Mike that Maggie had probably got pissed, realised she had to get to the school to pick up the children, and had driven in an inebriated state. The worst that could happen was being stopped by the police on her way there and being done for drinking and driving. But what if she killed someone? Or managed to get to the school to pick up the children, then drove home in a terrible state.
Panic gripped him as he fumbled for his mobile. If only he could get a taxi to get to the school to pick up the kids before Maggie did, he might be in with a chance.
He found the taxi firm in his phone’s address book and clicked the send button.
As soon as they answered, Mike broke in hurriedly. ‘Look, I need a taxi in the next ten minutes. Urgently.’
‘Sorry, sir, we’ve got nothing for half an hour, at least.’
‘But this is a matter if life and death.’
There was a pause. ‘Hang on a minute. I’ll see what I can do.’ He heard the man speaking to someone else, then he came back on, speaking sincerely and apologetically. ‘I’m so sorry, everyone’s out. It’s the school run. I just haven’t got anyone. If, as you say, it’s urgent, why not try the emergency services?’
Mike swore and clicked off the phone. Now what could he do? The school was two miles away and he was out of condition. He glanced at his watch. It was just possible for him to get there before she met the children.
He set off down the road, jogging at a steady pace.
Sixty - Three
Mike was choking and spluttering as he arrived at the school gates. The punishing run had taken him longer than he thought. He was so out of condition, and he promised himself that he would do something about it.
He edged his way through the throng of children leaving the school and found Daryl and Hannah waiting on the front steps of the entrance. There was no sign of Maggie. Daryl’s frown, the one which was almost permanent, grew more pronounced.
‘Where’s Mum?’ he demanded.
Mike shrugged and tried to speak, but he was too out of breath.
‘Have you been running?’ said Hannah.
Mike nodded. Daryl turned to his sister and spoke to her matter-of-factly.
‘He’s been done for drinking and driving.’ He stared up at Mike, his eyes hostile and challenging. ‘So where’s Mum, and how are we getting home?’
‘I’ve no idea. I thought she was picking you up, seeing as the car wasn’t at home.’
‘Have you tried her mobile?’
Mike shook his head as Daryl turned to Hannah and muttered something he didn’t catch. Precocious little bastard, thought Mike. He had tried to make the effort and like the boy, but it was difficult. He was hoping to avoid the old cliché about stepfathers and resentful stepchildren but somehow the boy wound him up the wrong way, especially when he stared at him in that infuriatingly knowing way.
He took his mobile out of his pocket, scrolled down to Maggie’s number and dialled. It was on voice mail. Gritting his teeth, he clicked it off impatiently. Daryl stared at him accusingly.
‘If you got her voice mail, why didn’t you leave a message?’
Mike was about to answer when the mobile rang. When he answered it was Craig, breathless and speaking hurriedly.’
‘Mike! We have a major problem - at the wine bar. My sister’s here and she’s out of it. Christ! I’ve never seen her so drunk. She’s collapsed and we’ve managed to get her out into the kitchen, but not before she insulted a party of some of our regular customers. Hello? You still there?’
Mike answered gravely, ‘Yes, I’m still here.
‘You’d better get over here, Mike, and see if you can get her home.’
&nb
sp; ‘That might be a bit tricky. I’ve just picked up Hannah and Daryl at their school. So I’m going to have to take them home on the bus.’
‘Can you take them to my mum and dad’s house in Rusthall? Then maybe get back here. I don’t think it would be good for the kids to see their mother like this.’
‘Yeah, OK. And I’ll get down to the wine bar as soon as I can. I’d get a cab up to Rusthall, only it’s the school run, so the bus might be quicker.’
He glanced at Daryl and Hannah who were staring at him intensely, trying to work out what was going on. He said a brief goodbye to Craig and hung up.
‘We going to Nanny and Grandpa’s?’ asked Hannah.
‘What’s happened to Mum?’ said Daryl.
‘She was working at the wine bar and she’s not feeling too well. Come on, we’ve got at least a ten minute walk to catch the bus. We’d better get going.’
As they walked out of the school gates, Mike noticed how sullenly quiet both the children were, probably both suspicious about their mother’s illness and the cause of it. He started to feel sorry for them.
‘Sorry about having to go on the bus. Maybe we can grab a bar of chocolate on the way.’
Both children visibly brightened, Mike thinking it was at the prospect of chocolate. But he was mistaken as they both had an excited conversation about a bus journey, a journey that was probably a novel experience for them.
‘Have you ever been on a bus before?’ Hannah asked her brother.
Daryl frowned thoughtfully. ‘Once ... I think. But I can’t really remember it. I wish it was longer bus ride than just to Rusthall though.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Hannah.
‘Hey!’ said Mike, with false cheerfulness. ‘Maybe we could go on the bus to Brighton one day. That’s quite a long journey.’
They both looked at him so gratefully, that he warmed to them for the first time.
***
When Ted arrived at Donald’s house, Donald took him by the hand, led him into the living room and sat him down on the sofa.
‘Have you thought about it yet?’ Donald asked, with a tremor of excitement.
Ted nodded. ‘I have. And I’d like to take you up on your offer.’
Donald laughed. ‘Dear boy, I’m delighted!’ He bent forward and kissed Ted on the lips briefly. ‘But don’t make it sound so formal. Your offer makes it seem like a job offer, like I’ve just asked you to become an employee. Not someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.’
Ted smiled sheepishly. ‘What about Bamber?’
Donald tapped the side of his nose. ‘I can handle Bamber, who I think will be living at his mother’s house in Lewes from now on. But the hard part is dealing with the wife from hell.’
‘I think I’ve sorted it out,’ said Ted. ‘I bought her a mobile phone. I had to spend an hour teaching her how to receive text messages.’
Donald frowned. ‘What about sending them?’
‘No need for that. I saw this story in a newspaper I found on the train. Some pop singer gave her husband his marching orders by sending him a text.’
Donald giggled excitedly. ‘And you’re planning to give your wife the heave-hoh in the same way?’
Ted smiled, preening himself at his devilish plan. Sweet revenge.
Donald clapped his hands together. ‘This calls for a celebration. I’ll go and open the bubbly.’
‘While I write the text,’ Ted said, grinning hugely.
While Donald was in the kitchen, Ted composed a brief message in his Messages mode.
Marjorie Am leaving U. I want a divorce. Goodbye and good riddance. Ted.
Ted stared at the message for several minutes. And then he thought about Donald and their trips to the theatre. And the money he had in his own bank account. Money that had given him so much confidence. He felt like a new man. It was a new beginning. Discovering the person he had always wanted to be, but couldn’t because of her.
He pressed the send button, and imagined his message travelling like a magic carpet across the air waves, bleeping its way into Marjorie’s phone.
‘I’ve done it!’ Ted yelled triumphantly. ‘Donald, I’ve done it!’
Sixty - Four
Mike stared worriedly at Maggie as she lay supine on the sofa in the living room. He slurped noisily from a steaming mug of coffee, hoping it was loud enough to bring her out of her inebriated slumber.
Two hours ago he had dropped the children off at her parents’ house, and felt obliged to tell them the reason. Her father had frowned worriedly but didn’t seem surprised, and Mike promised he would try to at least get her to cut down drastically on her alcohol intake. Her parents said they would look after the children and run them to school the following morning. Then Mike had taken a taxi to the wine bar to collect Maggie. She had sworn loudly and obscenely as he dragged her in full view of the customers across the wine bar. At first the taxi driver refused to take her, and then Mike told him she had already thrown up, was over the worst of it, and clinched it with the promise of a double fare.
Now, as he sat and stared at her, he pondered their future. He was having serious doubts about what he had got himself into. Now the view looking back was suddenly so much sweeter. He began to think the better option might have been to talk Claire out of her devotion to Scientology, an easier bet than trying to convert a serious alcoholic.
Suddenly Maggie turned her head, and her eyes opened and focused on Mike.
‘Maggie,’ he said, ‘I’ll make you a coffee, if you feel up to it.’
With a great effort, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, grabbed at a cushion, scowled at it and hurled it onto the floor.
‘We need to talk,’ Mike added.
She stared at Mike, as if he’d said something deeply insulting. ‘What about?’
‘About your drinking.’
She laughed humourlessly. ‘My drinking! I like that. It’s you who drinks too much. You’re an alcoholic. I’ve never known such a...’ She struggled to form a sentence and waved an arm loosely in his direction. ‘You’re the one who’s banned from driving. I’m not. I’ve still got my licence. Because I just enjoy a quiet drink in the evening. It’s you who goes out all the time and gets rat-arsed.’
‘Listen, Maggie...’ Mike began urgently.
‘No, you listen,’ she shouted. ‘I can drive my car. You can’t. And that’s what it boils down to. Because you’re a piss-artist and I’ve still got my licence.’
He realised it was useless to argue with her. She was projecting her own problems onto him. It was irrational behaviour and it was pointless arguing with an alcoholic who wasn’t willing to accept there was a problem. Suddenly an idea struck him. It was cruel, but in the circumstances he didn’t care as long as it got a result.
‘Maggie,’ he said, ‘you went out in the car today.’
‘So!’ she sneered. ‘I can drive. I’ve got a licence.’
‘You went out in the car,’ he continued. ‘Do you remember where you parked it?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘OK then. Where is it?’
She waved an uncoordinated arm about. ‘It’s ... it’s ... I don’t bloody well know!’
‘Do you remember picking the kids up from school?’ Mike watched as doubt swept across her face like an eclipse. ‘You almost killed them Maggie. They were so scared, they got out at the traffic lights to get away from you. Then they phoned me to come and get them. And I’ve taken them round to your parents’. You were driving so erratically Hannah was screaming and crying. You might have killed them. And you don’t remember, do you? Don’t remember almost killing your children? Well, do you? And if I asked you to take me to where you abandoned the car, could you do that, Maggie? Well, could you?’
She stared at him, fear i
n her eyes, and he almost regretted having lied to her. He saw tears trickle out of her eyes, as if a tap had been turned on, and she began shivering and shaking. He put down his mug and went and sat next to her on the sofa. She shook and sobbed in his arms as he comforted her.
‘Maggie,’ he said gently. ‘Promise me it won’t happen again. That you won’t drink like this. We’ll both do something about it. Together. We’ll get help.’
He felt her head nodding on his chest.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘We’ll both get some help, Mike. But that’s tomorrow. And at least the kids are safe and sound at Mum and Dad’s. So why don’t we just have one little night cap? Just one. The last one. I promise. Just for tonight.’
Sixty - Five
After a hastily eaten breakfast, Donald dashed off to open up the antique shop, leaving Ted alone in the house. Now Ted felt lost; unsettled. After having sent Marjorie the text message about leaving her, he had no option but to spend the night at Donald’s. But, as Donald had insisted, Marjorie had to be faced at some point. Besides, Ted needed to make arrangements about collecting his things and moving out. And then he needed to come to some sort of agreement with Marjorie about taking joint responsibility over Miranda (he refused to call her Tracey).
It took Ted a teeth-gnashing hour to pluck up the courage to telephone Marjorie. She picked up the receiver as soon as it had rung, almost as if she had been waiting for the call.
‘Is that you, Ted?’
He cleared his throat noisily before replying. ‘Yes. Did you get my text message?’
‘No! What text message?’
‘On the new mobile phone I bought you.’
Marjorie’s voice snapped impatiently. ‘Oh, I can’t be doing with those contraptions. I don’t know how to switch it on.’
Ted’s mind raced furiously. Last night it had seemed so easy, sending her the text saying he was leaving her. The fact that she hadn’t received it was a major problem.
‘And why didn’t you come home last night?’ she demanded.
‘Um,’ said Ted, as he tried to think. ‘Leaves on the line.’