“I might have been,” said Martha, laughing in the flirty way she always did when there were men present. “I wanted to get into the party mood, y’know let meself go a bit.” Angie shook her head and smiled at her friend. “She’s always ready to let herself go, isn’t she Brian? One of these days you’ll let yourself go a bit too far, lady.” Martha giggled again. “Don’t be silly, Angie. I always know what I’m doing. That’s why Brian trusts me, isn’t it, pet?” She patted her husband’s cheek, patronising him as he stood in silence behind her. He shrugged and smiled.
“It’s time we were getting ready, Martha,” said Angie, ushering her up the stairs. “We’re already late. Come on. We‘ll go and put our costumes on. We can give the fellas a real surprise when we’re ready.”
As they got changed Angie eyed Martha with envy. She was curvaceous with long slender legs. Angie's boyish figure had always been a source of irritation to her and as she dressed she had to push away her jealousy. Martha was a stunner.
“Well,” Martha said. “What d'you think?” Angie glanced up from pulling on the tights of her elf outfit and gasped, stunned by the vision standing in front of her. “You look fantastic.”
Martha had transformed herself into a harem girl. Her blonde hair was braided at the front and fastened to the top of her head in a tight chignon. The remainder of her hair fell sleekly to her shoulders in a golden yellow curtain. Her cropped bodice had large faux diamonds and gold sequins in zigzags across the front, and the diaphanous material of the sleeves was gathered attractively at her wrists with gold thread. In her navel she wore a large ruby-coloured stone. The harem pants, made of the same transparent material as the sleeves on her bodice left very little to the imagination. Angie’s heart sank. How typical it was of Martha to make a show of herself. Joe’s eyes would pop out of his head when he saw her costume. She turned away, jealousy gnawing at her stomach, and finished putting on her own costume that now felt ridiculous. She was sure she and Martha had agreed to play the party for laughs and turn up in something fun and outrageous. As usual Martha had managed to upstage her. “You go down, Martha,” she said, hiding her envy and disappointment with a grin. “They'll be waiting for us. I’ll be down shortly. Get Joe to pour you a drink. It’ll keep you in the party mood.” Not that she needs it, she thought as she turned away.
Angie heard the whistles and whoops of approval from Joe and Brian as Martha went into the living-room. She'd obviously been successful in getting the reaction she wanted. Angie looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her elf costume made her look even thinner; the heavy green tunic flattening what little bosom she had. Laughing at her thin stick-like legs clad in bright-green tights, she struck a pose with her hands on her hips. “Angie,” she murmured to herself. “You look like a runner-bean. How are you going to carry this one off, eh?” She plonked the little green hat on her head and smiled at her reflection. “Here goes nothing.”
She jumped through the living-room door and stood jauntily in front of them, feet apart, hands on hips. Joe, Martha and Brian roared with laughter when they saw her.
“That’s my Angie,” laughed Joe. “Always the girl with the biggest sense of humour.” He put his arm round and her and kissed the top of her head. “You look great, love.”
***
She watched Joe as one-by-one he danced with all the women in the room. They’d queued up to dance with him. He was without doubt the best-looking man there. It had been the same when they'd started dating. Wherever they went Angie was aware of female eyes on him. Cat’s eyes, she’d called them.
He was aware of it too, she was sure of that. Sometimes she wondered whether she should worry about his popularity with the opposite sex but when they all told her how lucky she was it made her proud. He always went home to her. It was her he loved.
It was a great party. The music was brilliant and they danced all night. See You Later Alligator by Bill Haley and the Comets, hits by Elvis Presley and The Everly Brothers, and Rock and Roll Waltz by Kay Starr were among the favourites. And when Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly’s hit, True Love was on the turntable, Joe had swept her up and danced her around the room, kissing her neck, her lips, her face. Everyone had been on the floor but it was getting late and the dance music had given way to slow love songs. Brian joined Angie at the edge of the room.
“I haven’t had a dance with Angie the Elf yet. There’s Elvis now. How ‘bout it?” Angie smiled at him and nodded. She liked Brian. He was dependable, a bit quiet and not very exciting but the perfect partner for Martha. She was in control and Brian accepted it. He did look ridiculous in his milkman’s uniform though. Angie had a bet with herself that it was Martha’s idea he should wear it for the party. He was no match for her Joe who had gone to the party as Rick from ‘Casablanca’.
“You ought to be careful dancing with blokes, Brian. People might think you’re turning a bit funny.” Brian laughed and then looked serious. “There’s no way anyone could mistake you for a bloke, Angie. You’re lovely.” She looked at Brian in amusement. “Oh...well, thank you, Brian. What a nice thing to say.”
Brian looked away, embarrassed. Angie smiled, thinking how boring he was. They danced together for a few moments more, swaying gently to the soft music while he sang ‘Love Me Tender’ closely into her ear, excruciatingly off key. While they danced she looked around the room for Joe. “Did you see where Joe went Brian?” she asked, interrupting his flow. He shook his head. “I can’t see Martha either. I think it’s time we went as well. It’s very late and I’ve got me rounds in the mornin’.” Angie agreed. “I’ll go into the kitchen and see if I can find them. They’re probably in there talking.”
“OK. I’ll get the coats.”
Angie made her way through the swaying bodies and went into the kitchen to look for Joe and Martha but it was empty. The back-door was open. She wondered if they'd gone outside for some fresh air. It was stuffy with cigarette smoke inside the house and some of the guests had congregated outside. She stepped into the garden and walked down the footpath running its length. At the end was a shed. She stopped halfway down thinking that no one would go as far down the garden and turned to go back to the house. As she walked back up the path she heard a noise coming from the direction of the shed, so retraced her steps.
The shed was new, about eight feet in length and smelt of recently applied creosote. The door was slightly open. Angie peered hesitantly through the gap into the darkness and in the gloom could make out two people lying on the shed floor. She drew back embarrassed then smiled to herself, knowingly. It happens, she thought. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, she recognised Joe’s familiar shape. Her hand flew to her mouth to stop herself from crying out.
Joe was lying to one side of Martha, his body slightly forward with his right knee bent and resting across her. Martha’s arms were around his neck, her long red nails sensuously stroking the back of his head. Angie watched transfixed as Joe leant further across her placing his mouth on hers in a rough, sensual kiss. Her bodice lay discarded on the shed floor. Angie watched trance-like as Joe cupped Martha’s breast. He moved his head down and began to caress her with his lips. Martha writhed and moaned with pleasure, arching herself up towards him. Standing petrified in the darkness, Angie was hypnotised by the scene playing out like a nightmare.
A beam of silver light from the moon appeared suddenly from behind a cloud and streamed in through the shed window, illuminating their entwined bodies. The radiance of its beauty was lost on Angie as she watched the scene of brutal truth in front of her. She saw Joe deftly unbutton his flies while Martha expertly shimmied out of her harem pants, revealing smooth marble-white skin. Breathing noisily they were completely unaware of Angie in their urgency. She shook her head in disbelief.
Taking a shaky step back she brought her right foot up, kicking the shed door shut as hard as she could. Stumbling back up the garden she sobbed hysterically. As she stepped through the back door, Brian emerged from the hall, his arms
laden with coats. When he saw Angie he dropped them and ran towards her. “Angie. For God’s sake, what the hell’s happened?” He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, urging her to pull herself together. She pointed towards the garden. “They’re in the shed. That’s where they are,” she gulped. Looking up at him, her face wet with tears she grabbed the front of his jacket. “Do you know what they’re doing, Brian...my husband and your wife? Shall I tell you?” He released her and stepped back, his shoulders slumping forward as he leant wearily against the cupboards. He stared at the floor for a few moments until it dawned on her. “You knew about this didn’t you?” she cried incredulously. “And you accept it just like that? Haven’t you got any dignity? Don’t you care that she plays around?”
Brian had no time to answer as Martha walked through the back door into the kitchen. Angie turned on her. “You cow,” she screamed. “You bloody bitch. What the hell d’you think you’re playing at, sneaking off with my husband. And yes, you old trollop, I know you were sucking up to me, pretending to be my friend. Friend, huh. What a joke.” Angie pulled her hand back and struck the side of Martha’s face in a hard slap that knocked her sideways. “I never want to lay eyes on you again. Keep away from me and keep away from my husband or I’ll friggin’ kill yer.”
Martha shrugged, holding the side of her face where Angie had slapped her while Brian retrieved their coats from a pile on the floor. Wrapping Martha’s around her shoulders, he guided her through the small gathering of people who were eagerly watching the commotion. He turned and looked sadly at Angie. “I’m sorry, love,” he said. As Brian and Martha pushed through the partygoers Angie cried out to them. “It’s all right everybody. The slag’s going home. Your men are safe. The show’s over. You can all go back to your little lives now you’ve ‘ad some excitement. Go on, piss off and don’t look at me like that. It’s ‘er you should be looking at not me.”
Angie went back into the garden and walked towards the shed to find Joe. It was empty. Joe had fled.
***
She opened her eyes slowly and tried to focus. The inside of her mouth felt rough and her lips were cracked at the corners. Fumbling for the lamp at the side of the bed, she knocked it off the bedside cabinet in the darkness. “Christ,” she cursed.
She rolled off the bed, found the lamp and flicked the switch. It was nine-thirty in the evening. Angie hoped the girls were in their rooms. That’ll be one less thing to worry about, she thought. She went out on to the landing, switched on the light then guided herself unsteadily down the stairs, one hand over the other down the banister.
The kitchen was neat and tidy. She sneered. “Little housey-wifey has done her chores. She’ll want a medal next.” She went unsteadily across to the stove where there was a covered plate. “I s’pose this is for me,” she grumbled to herself. She lifted the plate and wrinkled her nose in disgust, replacing the plate quickly. “Potatoes and soup. Gruel again. I’m not eating that crap...no ta.”
Sitting on her haunches, Angie opened the cupboard under the sink. Taking a bottle of gin from her stash she twisted off the top and placed the bottle to her lips. She allowed the alcohol to run into her mouth and down her throat. Sliding to the floor, she leant her head against the stove then drank again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s better.”
Chapter 6
“I don’t know why you’re so disappointed in Stephen, Diana. He’s just a very sensitive young man. One could almost say he has an artistic nature.”
“He isn’t sensitive, mother. Bone idle would be a far more accurate description of him. He's had the best education money can buy and he still doesn’t know what he wants to do. His university place is arranged with some timely leverage from Matthew and he hasn’t mentioned it once. I despair of him.”
“You’re being too hard on him, Diana. Give him a chance for heaven’s sake. You should be more supportive of him. I’m sure Matthew would agree with me?”
“Of course he would agree with you, Mother. He always does.”
Diana Barton ran out of the restaurant and walked quickly to where she had left her blue Mercedes. She shivered and looked up at the sky. It was overcast and full of snow. The greyness of the clouds matched her mood and she sighed. She pushed the key into the lock and once inside, rummaged in the glove compartment for the supply of cigarettes she usually kept there. “Damn, where are they?” she muttered under her breath then remembered she'd given them to Stephen before they had gone into to the restaurant. “Oh well,” sighed. “I should probably give up.”
Her son appeared at the doorway of the restaurant. He scowled at his mother, resenting her insistence they should leave when he was having so much fun. He and Olivier, the restaurant owner, had been sampling the delights of his fine wine cellar. Red wine always made Stephen feel antagonistic and today was no exception. He sauntered over to Diana’s car and dropped a cigarette stub onto the pavement. As he ground it out with his foot, a lock of glossy black hair fell forward, covering his left eye. Frowning with annoyance he combed his hair back with his fingers. Diana tutted and shook her head. “Hurry up, Stephen.”
“'Do we have to go, Mother? Grandmother isn’t bothered about seeing me. I doubt if she’ll know I’m there anyway, the old girls so senile.” Diana sighed and looked disappointed. “You're so thoughtless sometimes. You know how much she loves to see you. She gets very lonely on her own and she’d love some company.”
Twisting the rear view mirror towards him, he smoothed down his hair with his other hand. He liked what he saw. “OK,” he said, “but only for a while. I’ve made plans to meet the others later. I want to shower and change before I go out. Anyway, you and granny don’t even get on so I don’t know why you’re nagging me to go. You should go and see her more often yourself.” He reached across to fasten his seat belt then thought better of it. He glanced at himself again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t know why she has to live in such a huge house, anyway. She should be in a home where she’ll get proper attention. It’s bloody ridiculous.”
Diana shot a look of frustration at her son before starting the car. He often astonished her with his lack of compassion. He was intolerant of anyone disadvantaged in any way. “You won’t complain when you inherit. When your grandmother dies you'll be left a large part of her estate. Perhaps you’ll feel differently then.”
Stephen didn’t answer. He wished his mother would stop banging on about his damned grandmother and her money. Why should he care? He had a generous allowance and his parents had been willing and able to provide him with a good education. They weren’t pushing him about university and a job would be detrimental to his social life. No, life was just great the way it was.
“Aren’t you going to put your seat belt on, Stephen?” Stephen shrugged. As Diana started the engine he sank back into the pristine cream leather upholstery. Smiling to himself he lifted his leg and rested his right foot on the polished walnut dashboard. He knew it always annoyed her when he did that.
Chapter 7
“It would be nice to have a special person wouldn’t it, Katie?”
“Do you mean a boyfriend?”
“For God’s sake. Of course I mean a flippin' boy friend.”
“Well...I don’t know. And you’re too young anyway.”
“Says who?”
“Tut...I don’t know. You just are. Boyfriends always want something from you.”
“You mean sex.”
“Emma!”
“Well you do. Why don’t you just say it? You won’t go to hell you know, just by saying the word ‘sex’. There must be something wrong with you. You’re always so...well... good. Are you an angel dropped out of heaven who isn’t allowed to say ‘sex’? All the kids at school are shagging each other.”
“Don’t be so daft. And there isn’t anything wrong with me...and your stupid friends aren't ...doing that. You don’t know everything. I know you think you do, but you don’t.”
“So you’re in lov
e with someone then?”
“I might be.”
“Oh. My. God! You are. You’re in love. Little Miss Iron-Knickers is in love. I don’t believe it.”
“Just shut up, Emma.”
Kate was glad it was the weekend. Cocooned in her bed she snuggled down into the centre of the blankets not wanting to leave them to step out into the bitter cold of her bedroom. Icy cold January mornings were no temptation to go downstairs. She doubted Angie would be up so she would be the one who made up the fire in the front room. The ash and debris from yesterday’s fire would still be sitting in the grate. Her heart sank. It was the worst job in the world.
Some time ago it had crossed her mind that it was dangerous to leave Angie in the house with an unattended open-fire, so she looked out an old fireguard from the shed and placed it round the hearth. Angie had looked cross. “What’s that for?” she’d asked when Kate had taken the guard into the living-room.
“It’s just for safety’s sake, Mum, that’s all.” Angie’s cross look had given way to a dirty one fired in Kate’s direction but she hadn’t protested. Kate was surprised she’d managed to get away with the idea of a fireguard without Angie putting up a fight.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rushed towards the chair where her dressing gown was. Shivering, she hurried to get the garment round her although it made little difference. She pulled it as tight as it would go, fastening the cord around her waist.
Knocking gently on Emma’s bedroom door she waited outside on the landing for her sister to answer. There was no sound from inside so she opened the door and looked into the room. Emma was fast asleep, her pretty face pale but totally relaxed. Kate sat on the edge of the bed and leant forward to brush a strand of wayward blonde hair way from Emma’s eyes. She sleepily turned her face away then stretched and muttered something incomprehensible. Kate giggled and Emma opened her eyes, surprised to see Kate sitting on her bed. “What’s up?”
A Dish of Stones Page 5