‘I’ll miss you too Trina but you know you have millions of friends, not to mention all the admirers that are queuing up to take you out. Those six weeks will fly by.’
‘I know, but they’re not like you – we get on so well, which is funny considering we’ve not known each other for long. It feels like we’ve been friends for years.’
‘It does.’ I raise my wine glass in a toast, ‘To friendship!’
‘Forever friends.’ Trina raises her glass and we glug back the wine and I realise how lucky I’ve been to find such a good friend – and not just Trina, but Flynn too.
‘What did your mum and dad say when you told them? I bet they were over the moon.’
‘They were, I don’t think they could quite believe it either. I spoke to Mum first and she was shouting to Dad to come to the phone. I could hear him bellowing what’s wrong with you woman in the background but he was thrilled too, although he tried to act all cool. Mum kept saying are you sure? I think she’s frightened I’ve got it all wrong. I said just book the flights Mum and stop worrying. They’re going into the travel agents tomorrow to book them.’
‘When are you going?’
‘Beginning of September, it’s their springtime so should be nice and warm.’
‘I’m so jealous. You’ll have a fab time, especially catching up with your brother after all these years – a trip of a lifetime, you lucky mare!’
‘It is.’ It’s like a dream come true – can it really be that my life is on the right track at long last? I mentally hold the Beccabird’s beak closed before she has a chance to put her two pennorth in and spoil it.
‘You might meet a nice Aussie while you’re there; all hunky and tanned.’
‘You never know.’
‘You don’t – the world is your oyster!’
We chink glasses again; it seems to be a night for toasts.
‘Now…’ Trina puts her glass down on the table. ‘…re the Jonathan situation. Spill. I want all of the details of how you’ve come to your senses and decided that you’re no longer in love with him.’
I shrug. ‘It wasn’t a conscious decision so I can’t take the credit for that and anyway I wasn’t in love with him, I just couldn’t trust myself around him, he can be very persuasive and I’m so weak willed.’
‘Okay, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. And you’re not weak, you’re just too nice and you see the best in everyone. Although I can see the attraction with Jonathan, he’s very handsome in a seedy sort of way.’
‘Seedy?’ I laugh.
‘Yes, definitely seedy, and trust me, I’m a connoisseur on seediness, can smell a rotter a mile away. Sharp suits and shark-like smiles, circling their next victim to sink all of those razor-like teeth into.’
This is very true; once Jonathan has his teeth into you it’s very difficult to get away. Trina isn’t like me; she doesn’t want a live in, permanent relationship. As she’s said herself, she’s happy to see someone on a regular basis but she doesn’t want to give up her home or independence. She’s just started dating a self-made millionaire builder who’s already head over heels in love with her but she has no intention of moving in with him .
I do want to live with someone; I want to be part of a twosome. I want to share my life with someone and maybe that’s the trouble; I’ve been so desperate that I’d have settled for all of Jonathan’s faults because I knew he’d take me back and treat me like dirt but at least I wouldn’t be on my own. Not anymore though; I’d rather be on my own than settle for Jonathan or a carbon copy of him.
Trina is looking at me and waiting for a reply. I’m doing it again, disappearing down rabbit holes of random thoughts.
‘It was weird,’ I say, ‘There I was, being grilled by Em after having put my size fives in it as usual and I suddenly realised that I didn’t have any feelings for Jonathan at all; no love, no hatred, nothing, complete indifference. I have no more feelings for him than a stranger I’d walk past in the street. I’ve always known exactly what he was like and for some reason I couldn’t get enough of him but now I wonder if I went a bit mental when we broke up. It’s almost as if I had a voice in my head telling me that I couldn’t be trusted around him; that I’d be drawn back to him if I saw him again so I believed it and ran away.’
I did, and still do, have a voice telling me that I couldn’t be trusted around him; the Beccabird, and I can hear her now, ruffling her feathers and harrumping. I know that I’m the Beccabird really but somehow it seems she’s forged a life of her own, I’ve allowed her to live and feed me negative feelings about myself.
Trina is a good friend but I don’t think I can tell her about the Beccabird because I surely would sound completely round the bend; there are limits to any friendship.
‘So in a way you have to thank Em for bringing you to your senses? ’
‘Maybe I do,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘Now I think back I’ve felt like it for a while but until I was put on the spot about landing Jonathan in trouble I didn’t realise.’
Trina picks up her glass again. ‘To new beginnings, and good riddance to seedy rotters!’
‘New beginnings!’
We drain our glasses and Trina pours another glass, emptying the bottle. It’s still early and I foresee a hangover tomorrow but who cares, I have some celebrating to do – no more living in the past, no more Jonathan, plus I have six weeks in Australia with my family to look forward to.
‘Hey, listen to that!’ Trina cocks her head on one side. ‘If that’s not a sign I don’t know what is.’
‘What?’ I look at her in puzzlement.
‘The music,’ she says waving her hand at the CD player. ‘Listen to the words, it’s definitely a sign. I’ll turn it up.’
She presses the remote control and I listen as the volume increases and the music which has been playing quietly in the background since I arrived gets louder. The soulful voice of David Gray, one of Trina’s favourites, fills the room.
Trina is looking at me expectantly and I listen to the words and begin to smile. Oh my God, she’s so right, maybe it is a sign because this is so how I feel about Jonathan now. I look at Trina and she waves her hands as if conducting an orchestra and as the chorus begins, we join voices and belt out the words together.
‘Say hello and wave goodbye .’
Chapter Eighteen
I t’s Saturday morning and I’m helping Flynn on a rush job again. Before I agreed to help I established beyond any reasonable doubt that it’s not posh blonde’s house – there’s no way I could go back there and face her after the wet knickers incident.
Flynn is helping a mate out who’s overstretched himself and didn’t want to turn this job down. Apparently, the owner is ‘an awkward sod’ as Flynn’s mate puts it, who won’t hesitate to punish him if it doesn’t get done by giving all of the work to someone else in the future so to prevent this from happening Flynn is doing the job for him.
The house isn’t very far away from Flynn’s – so if I get desperate and need the loo I can speed walk back home in about fifteen minutes. So this time I’ve covered all bases.
I hope.
I enjoyed myself last time (apart from the knickers thing) and I’d do it for nothing but Flynn has insisted that he’s going to pay me even though I’ve said there’s no need. I’m going to put it towards my spending money for Australia.
We pull up outside the house and Flynn kills the engine. Sausage pulls his head up from between his paws and shuffles his feet on my lap, sniffs the air and obviously unimpressed, settles back down again. The house we’re outside of is much like Flynn’s place only smaller and without the bay windowed charm: a thirties end terrace with a small, walled front garden and narrow, mean looking windows.
The front door of the house is standing open and a burly, bald headed man comes out and approaches the truck as Flynn opens the door and jumps down.
‘You Flynn?’ he asks as he clacks gum around his mouth giving a glimpse of grey tombstone-like
teeth. I can’t help staring at him, transfixed by the size of his earlobes, they’re possibly the biggest earlobes I’ve ever seen in my life. They stretch down from his ears like Dumbo’s, weighted down by the grubby looking gold hoops that are pushed through elongated pierced holes.
‘That’s me. You must be Bazza?’
Bazza doesn’t answer but turns to look me up and down as I clamber down from the seat and walk around the truck to join Flynn on the pavement, Sausage tucked underneath my arm.
‘Who’s this, your girlfriend?’ He snickers and nods at me. ‘The boss don’t like spectators on site, slows the work rate down.’
‘I’m not his girlfriend, I’m his assistant.’ I bristle.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he snorts, pointing at Sausage, ‘And I suppose that’s a gardener as well, is it?’ He roars with laughter at his own joke.
Flynn ignores him and strides to the back of the truck and starts unloading the tools onto the pavement. I follow him and stand awkwardly next to him, aware of Bazza’s eyes on my back.
‘What shall I do with Sausage? Have you got his lead?’ I don’t want to put him down in case he runs off. I also don’t trust Bazza; he’d probably slap him between two slices of bread and eat him if he got the chance.
‘Yeah, it’s in my pocket, carry him round the back and I’ll tie him up near us so he doesn’t run off.’
‘He wasn’t very friendly, was he?’ I say quietly. Flynn follows my eyes and studies the back of burly Bazza as he lumbers back into the house.
‘No,’ Flynn lowers his voice. ‘Bit of a shyster according to my mate. Bodgit and Scarper, strictly a cash in hand merchant. To be honest Bazza and his boss aren’t the sort of people I like to work with. Cut too many corners.’
Flynn picks up the tools and I manage to carry one spade tucked under my free arm and follow him into the front garden and down the slabbed path along the side of the house to the back garden. Long and narrow, the garden has a concrete path dissecting it into two halves, running from the back door to the rusty gate at the end. A patch of waist high grass covers one half and on the other side of the path are a jumble of brambles and weeds. I toss my spade onto the lawn and we walk to the end of the garden and stand back and look at the house.
‘So what’s the plan?’ I ask.
‘Cut the grass so it looks like a lawn and get rid of all the brambles and weeds. That’s it basically, bare minimum. Apparently they’ve got tenants moving in on Monday, HMO.’ Flynn looks in the direction of the house where the distant sound of hammering can be heard.
‘HMO?’ I say in surprise. ‘I thought these were two bedroomed houses. They don’t look very big.’ I’ve lived in plenty of shared houses so I know that most houses of multiple occupancy are at least four bedrooms.
‘It is only two bedrooms, Bazza in there is splitting the living room into two bedrooms so they can squeeze more people in. Get more rent out of them. Poor sods. From what my mate says they put coin meters in for the electric as well so they can make even more money.’
This happened in one of the houses that I lived in; I don’t even know if it’s legal but it’s easier to move than argue the point. I didn’t stay there long because I was frightened to put the heater on because I’d be feeding the meter with coins constantly and watching it whizz around at super speed. I silently thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to live somewhere like this anymore.
I shudder.
‘Glad I don’t have to live here,’ I say.
‘Me too.’ Flynn pulls Sausage’s lead out of his pocket and snaps it onto his collar and takes him off me and puts him on the floor and loops the lead over the gate post. Sausage doesn’t look very impressed at all and stands still and stares up at Flynn accusingly.
‘Won’t be for long, boy,’ Flynn says as he bends down and pats him on the head.
‘Liar,’ I say with a laugh.
‘Well, it’s not going to take that long.’ Flynn straightens up. ‘They’re paying for a basic job and that’s what they’ll be getting.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ I pull my heavy-duty gloves on – a pair I bought especially for the occasion so that they actually fit. I look at the tools assembled on the ground; two spades, heavy duty refuse sacks, garden shears with extra-long handles and a scary looking metal scythe,.
‘I’ll do the hacking and cutting and you can do the sweeping up and bagging. You could mow the lawn as well once I’ve cut it down a bit.’
Phew, that’s a relief. I know my limits and also how clumsy I am; the thought of a scythe or a strimmer in my hands is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat and any bystanders running for cover.
Flynn tackles the grass first and I stand and watch as he scythes expertly through the grass bringing it to a mow-able height. His practised movements make it look easy and I have to admire him; his well-muscled arms are easy on the eye and I think what a shame; if only.
He’s gay, barks the Beccabird, are you completely deluded?
No I’m not deluded, just saying, that’s all. A girl’s allowed a little daydream isn’t she?
No.
In no time at all Flynn has finished the scything and he disappears out to the front garden to get the lawn mower from the truck. I start by sweeping all of the cuttings into a nice tidy mound and then mess it all up trying to get the cuttings into a sack. I settle into a rhythm of sweeping and shoving and it seems to be effective. I glance over at Sausage to check on him and see that he’s given up with the sulking and settled down and gone to sleep.
I don’t know why but I feel uneasy and I realise that I can’t wait to finish the job and get home. I stop for a moment to analyse my fears; what, exactly, is it that’s bugging me? Burly Bazza? He’s not very pleasant and there’s something creepy about him and I definitely wouldn’t want to meet him down a dark alley but he’s not a threat to me with Flynn here, is he?
Why do I feel the need to keep checking on Sausage? He’s only a few feet away so nothing’s going to happen to him, so what is it? What’s bothering me?
I don’t know, I decide, shoving the grass into the sack a bit faster, but the sooner we’re done here the better.
Flynn reappears at the side path and I feel relieved to see him which is ridiculous because he’s only been gone for a matter of minutes. He’s pushing the lawn mower in front of him and when he gets to me he pushes it onto the edge of the grass and turns towards the house.
‘I’m just going to have a quick word with Bazza, I won’t be long. I’ll start this up for you when I get back.’
I nod and carry on clearing up the grass cuttings and think how much better the garden looks already. When I’ve swept all of the cuttings into the bag I hold the sack closed and trample carefully on it to flatten it down and then tie it into a knot. I need to take it out to the truck but I don’t want to leave Sausage on his own. I could pick him up and take him with me but it’ll be a bit awkward trying to carry the bag as well.
Don’t be so ridiculous! shouts the ever present Beccabird, you’ll only be a few minutes.
She’s right. I am being ridiculous. I grab hold of the bag and drag it down the path along the side of the house and out to the truck. The back of the truck is mostly empty and feeling very pleased with myself I heave it up onto the back and then clamber up and pull the bag to the back to make it all tidy so we can still fit the tools on. I think I’m getting the hang of this labouring lark.
I jump down from the truck and quickly walk down the side of the house into the back garden, crossing my fingers that burly Bazza doesn’t choose that moment to come out of the open front door – I don’t want to bump into him if I can help it. The thought of his face as his eyes travelled up and down my body makes me cringe.
I jump as I nearly collide with Flynn as he chooses that moment to come out of the back door. Not turning my head I look out of the corner of my eye as Bazza watches him from the back door, arms folded, cigarette clamped between his lips as he leans against the door frame.
‘Right charmer, he is,’ Flynn says through clenched teeth as we walk to the end of the garden together.
‘That bad, eh?’ I see Sausage watching us from the end of the garden and feel foolishly relieved. For God’s sake, what did I think was going to happen to him?
‘Worse. I feel grimy just talking to him. Definitely wouldn’t want to live here – he was bragging how he keeps a set of keys for himself for every house he works in.’
I look at him and pull a face. ‘Surely that’s illegal or something, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t think the legalities of it would bother him. Likes to keep an eye on the tenants, he says. Seemed really pleased with himself, I think he thought I’d be impressed. Says it’s surprising what you can find out about people from looking around their rooms.’
‘Yuk. I wonder if the boss knows he does it?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so, I wonder how many other houses he’s got the keys to? Who knows what he’s capable of? Made me feel sick, every time you bent over to pick some grass up he was drooling. I could see him at the kitchen window, ogling you.’
I shudder. Maybe that feeling I had wasn’t so ridiculous after all.
‘He says the boss’ll be round later to see how we’re getting on – I feel like telling him what Bazza boy is up to but I don’t want to land my mate in the shit and lose all his contracts for him.’
‘Are you going to tell him?’
‘Don’t know.’ He shrugs. ‘He probably wouldn’t care anyway cos he’s not much better than a slum landlord. I just wish I hadn’t taken the job now.’
‘Well,’ I say in a bossy tone, ‘Let’s just get it done and we can go home and reward ourselves with something nice to eat. The sooner we get it done the quicker we can leave.’
‘Yeah,’ Flynn says thoughtfully and then grins. ‘You can make one of your special bacon and fried egg sandwiches with brown sauce.’
‘I definitely will,’ I agree. ‘So let’s get on with it and leave creepy Bazza to his own devices.’ I feel stupidly pleased that Flynn’s coming home afterwards and not going out; I’ve got so used to spending our evenings together that when he’s not there I miss him and the house seems empty and way too quiet. I try to ignore the distant squawking from the Beccabird telling me that we’re friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. I know that, I tell her, do you think I’m stupid?
Say Hello and Wave Goodbye Page 18