A Bottle of Plonk

by Jacquelynn Luben

  ‘I’m afraid he hasn’t got Ronald Reagan’s charisma - a poor substitute - and you might find the same problem when you’re looking for a new man to replace Tony.’

  Elaine stood up. ‘Whatever you say, Mother.’ She’d have to get out before she started screaming. Somehow she managed to sound conversational. ‘Anyway, I shall have to go soon. I’ve got a hundred and one things to do. I’ve got to get my case packed and sort out some things for Alex before Tony arrives this evening; and I want to pop into the off-licence for some wine for Ginnie, too.’

  ‘Oh, you needn’t bother to do that. You can take that bottle of wine your father won. It’s very nice, I’m sure, but you know how red wine upsets my stomach. And we’ve still got the champagne. You take it. You’ll be doing me a favour.’

  Elaine was sapped of all resistance. Red wine was better than Oil of Ulay. It was one way of keeping her mother quiet.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Mother. Just the same, I’d better call Alex in. I want to have him ready when Tony comes.’

  I don’t want to give him an excuse to hang around, she thought, but refrained from saying it out loud.

  She took the wine from her mother and called to her father and son through the kitchen window, ‘Dad, Alex, we’ve got to go shortly. Is the game nearly finished?’

  It was still half an hour before she and Alex were ready to leave. She saw her mother watching her as she walked from the house, looking for signs of weariness to confirm her own disappointment at Elaine’s changed situation. Elaine could almost imagine her thoughts as she watched her daughter – “Such a pity she’d sacrificed everything for her principles, instead of listening to good advice.”

  She sent Alex to sort out his things as soon as they got home and she threw a few items of casual wear into a weekend case for herself.

  The telephone call from Ginnie came just as Elaine had taken her leisure pants suit from the wardrobe. Alex, engrossed in packing some cars and miniature road menders into a box, ignored it, and Elaine, clad in her black lace slip, picked up the bedroom telephone.

  ‘I know you’ve been looking forward to a quiet weekend and a natter,’ came Ginnie’s familiar voice. ‘But, out of the blue, guess who’s arriving tonight? My brother, Stephen. You remember him, don’t you?’

  ‘How could I forget him? He was the first man to break my heart,’ commented Elaine dryly.

  ‘Oh, surely not - I thought he was only interested in oily motor bikes then. Though not any more! Very suave, these days. Anyway, I thought we’d have a little dinner party. I telephoned my sister, Sally, and she’ll probably be coming. So can you bring a dress for dinner tonight?’ Elaine couldn’t help a little sigh escaping. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll still have time for our walk tomorrow - and a hack in the afternoon. I won’t let them interfere in our girls’ talk.’

  ‘Damn!’ said Elaine, putting down the phone. ‘That’s the last thing I wanted.’

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ came a familiar voice behind her.

  Elaine jumped. The voice which she had always found seductive had not lost its appeal. The instinctive pleasure at the sound of it fought with irritation at hearing it now in her bedroom and lost the battle.

  ‘What the hell are you doing in here, Tony?’

  ‘Alex let me in. I came up to say hallo. I couldn’t just walk out of the house taking him with me. You’d be claiming I’d abducted him. Don’t I get a kiss?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You could have called out.’

  ‘You were on the phone. You couldn’t hear.’

  ‘Well, you might at least have knocked on the door.’

  His face expressed genuine puzzlement. ‘Why? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’

  ‘Look, Tony. You’ve given up your rights to all you see before you. And that includes rights to walk into my bedroom. If you would care to go downstairs and get Alex’s stuff into the car, I will come down to see him off - when I have my clothes on.’

  ‘I can’t see why you’re making such a fuss. I’ve seen far more flesh on the average Spanish package tour. You always did over-react.’

  ‘Will you go downstairs? I want to change and you’re making me late.’

  ‘Shall I take your weekend case downstairs for you?’ Tony asked, smiling at her with his usual charm.

  ‘I haven’t finished. I have to find a dress for a dinner party as well.’

  ‘Oh, wear the little black dress. You always look very sexy in black. And black tights.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice. You’ve obviously been learning from my mother.’

  ‘Now there’s a woman with an instinctive grasp of the average man’s needs.’

  Elaine couldn’t help laughing at this. ‘That’s not how I’ve heard you describe your ex-mother-in-law before.’

  ‘I know we’ve not always seen eye to eye, but she dropped one or two hints that she understands the difference between a casual affair and the real thing.’

  ‘And which category do I come under?’

  ‘You know you’re the only woman for me. I’d be back like a shot if you’d have me.’

  ‘With or without the casual affairs?’

  ‘They’re not important. Some people drink too much. Some can’t help gambling. I can’t stay away from women. It’s just the excitement of forbidden fruit.’ He discounted the episodes with a casual movement of his hands. ‘Just think what it would mean to Alex - to have us back together.’

  He was so persuasive and he knew her weakest point. She put aside temptation.

  ‘I couldn’t even consider it,’ she lied. ‘I know just how much it hurt me before.’ That was the truth. ‘I couldn’t put up with that humiliation again. I have self-respect now.’

  He reached out and touched her face.

  ‘Self-respect. It doesn’t keep you warm at night.’

  He moved closer and took her in his arms. She felt the familiarity of his body. Temptation swept over her again. It was like the desire to lie down and sleep in the snow, even though it could kill you.

  She let him kiss her.

  ‘Don’t go off for the weekend. Let your mother look after Alex. We could have a second honeymoon. Paris in the spring. I’ve got some holiday due.’

  ‘What about my job?’

  ‘What would that matter if we were together again?’

  Common sense reached her brain, like a douche of ice cold water.

  She stepped backwards, putting her hands on his shoulders to keep him from taking hold of her again. ‘My job is very important to me, Tony. It’s my life. I’m making a new life for myself. Without you. Please don’t try to hold on to me.’

  She dropped her hands, and he smiled ruefully.

  ‘It was worth a try. I miss you.’

  ‘Daddy. Are you ready?’ Alex’s voice came from mid-stairs. His feet clomped up the remainder of the steps.

  ‘Can I come in, Mummy?’

  She slipped a dressing gown on and opened the door. ‘Daddy’s just coming, Alex. Have a lovely weekend. I’ll see you Sunday night.’

  ‘Are you and Daddy friends now, Mummy?’

  ‘Daddy and I are good friends, Alex.’

  ‘Couldn’t we all live together again?’

  Elaine knelt down to his level, and stroked his hair. Softly she said, ‘I’m sorry, Alex. But Daddy and I would just fight if we lived together again. This way is better.’

  She hugged him, and reached out for a tissue to wipe a small tear away from the corner of his eye.

  Avoiding Tony’s gaze, she smiled and her voice sounded young and bright even to her own ears.

  ‘Off you go, boys. Have a good weekend.’

  She watched from the bedroom window, as Tony carried Alex’s small case to the car and Alex followed with his precious box of toys. Stupidly, ridiculously, there were tears in her eyes.

  She blew her nose hard with the tissue and opened the wardrobe door, then slipped off the dressing gown and looked at her reflection in the mirror
. Her face looked back at her above the black lace. One of those faces that gave no clue to the vulnerability of its owner. She looked sophisticated and composed. That was the image she would take with her to the dinner party. Tony was right about one thing. The little black dress would be ideal.

  Chapter 11: After Eight

  (Friday Evening)

  There was no doubt about it, Elaine could look stunning when she wanted to, although perhaps the scene with Tony had acted as a small charge of electricity. Whatever the reason, as she entered the room, having discreetly left the bottle of wine with Ginnie’s husband, James, her cheeks were flushed, her auburn hair had the sheen of silky fabric and the little black dress was alluring.

  Ginnie was welcoming. ‘Elaine, you look fabulous. Being fancy free obviously suits you. I can’t think why you haven’t found a new man.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be fancy free, if I had,’ commented Elaine wryly. ‘Have I ever told you that I enjoy my job?’

  ‘I’m not suggesting for a moment that you should give up your bachelor-girl existence, but a bit of male company and, well, you know..., does add a certain frisson.’

  ‘I sublimate my energies into producing a damn good magazine. Anyhow, James is always off on business conferences. And you seem to manage pretty well without – “you know”, as you call it.’

  ‘Variety is the spice of life, my dear,’ said Ginnie, and she glanced at Elaine through lowered lashes, ‘And I should know.’

  It took Elaine a few seconds to grasp her meaning. ‘You’re not - you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.’

  ‘You are an innocent,’ smiled Ginnie, moving closer to Elaine, so that they couldn’t be heard. ‘It doesn’t hurt anyone. James is none the wiser. It makes a nice change from riding.’

  ‘How do you know he won’t find out?’ said Elaine. ‘You have no idea what it feels like to be on the receiving end of all that.’

  It was difficult for her not to show how hurtful the words had been and she was aware that her face was giving away her emotions. She should have known her friend’s nature from past times, but she’d imagined Ginnie’s marriage to James was quite stable. She drew in a couple of deep breaths; she didn’t want to start an argument. But Ginnie’s attention was already elsewhere, as a tall figure came up behind her and put his hands over her eyes.

  ‘Guess who?’

  ‘Stephen, you idiot,’ exclaimed Ginnie. ‘Who else could it be?’

  Elaine stood by as Stephen twirled his sister round and gave her a hug, saying, ‘How are you, Ginnie? It’s great to be home.’ Elaine wondered if he’d remember her. But her unspoken thoughts were soon answered. ‘And Elaine of the ginger pigtails. You’ve grown up.’

  Elaine was aware of him casting a swift appreciative eye over her, and then, to her surprise, he grasped her too in a bear hug of an embrace.

  Embarrassed, she struggled to regain her equilibrium.

  ‘Me - grown up - you were a long-haired lout in oil-covered jeans when I last saw you.’

  ‘Enough reminiscing, you two,’ Ginnie broke in. ‘Come and join the others and James will get you a sherry. I had hoped that Sally would come - you remember my little sister, Sally, don’t you Elaine - but she rang and said she’d can’t manage it after all. Stephen, she says why don’t you pop over and see her tomorrow? She’s having one of her famous parties.’

  ‘Famous for what?’ asked Stephen as James poured sherries from a heavy decanter.

  ‘Notorious, I should say,’ commented James. ‘Notorious for cheap wine and a surplus of salt and vinegar crisps.’

  Sherries consumed, Ginnie positioned them at the table. ‘James, you must look after the ladies - the thorn between the roses, you might say.’ Her lips twitched in the suspicion of a smile, as she directed Clare, a large, plain woman into a seat beside James. ‘I’ll sit next to Stephen, and Julian will be over here on the other side of me. That’s what I like about a round table. It’s so nice and cosy. We can all talk to each other.’

  Elaine found herself sitting next to James on one side, and on the other, Julian, the florid faced husband of the un-rose-like Clare. Stephen sat opposite Elaine, and she did her best to deliver an equivalent amount of pleasantries to all of them.

  Julian leaned across the table to address Stephen.

  ‘Just back in England, I hear. No place like home, eh? How d’you get on with the Frogs?’

  Elaine watched Stephen’s face and noticed a scarcely perceptible tensing up of his jaw.

  ‘Naturally, I’m glad to be back to see the family. But I enjoy being in France. Paris still holds a great deal of charm for me.’

  ‘Well, each to his own, I suppose. I gave up all that foreign travel ten years ago, when I started working for James’s firm. Had a desk job since then. And I’m damn thankful for that.’ The man continued in the manner of a lecture, rather than a conversation. ‘And frankly, I shall always be grateful that we’re an island race - it’s a pity that such a lot of - shall we say - refugees - seem to seek sanctuary here. I can see the day when we’ll all be khaki coloured.’

  Elaine, embarrassed, glanced at Stephen to see how he was going to react.

  ‘I suppose it’s feasible we could end up piebald or striped,’ he replied, with a perfectly straight face. ‘Just think what beautiful creatures zebras are.’

  Elaine suppressed a laugh and cut a piece of her Ogen melon, since Ginnie, possibly to avert a souring of the conversation, had hurriedly told them to start.

  The awkward moment passed as the pre-dinner sherries and the first glass of good wine removed tensions and improved humour. Clare, who had very little conversation, seemed intent on devouring her meal in the fastest possible time, whilst James and Stephen exchanged anecdotes about brushes with customs officials in their respective trips abroad.

  ‘Did you see much of the French countryside?’ Elaine asked her neighbour, hoping to have found a safe topic.

  Ginnie, her face deadpan, murmured almost under her breath, ‘Julian’s always been interested in hills and lowlands, haven’t you, Jules?’ Taking a basket of bread rolls in her hand, she leaned towards him, her décolletage revealing to him more of her than was perhaps obvious to the rest of the table.

  ‘Would you care for another roll, Julian?’

  Raising one eyebrow imperceptibly, barely moving his eyes from the front of her dress, he took a roll in the palm of his hand and, with his thumb, gave it a slight squeeze, with the motion of one testing a peach for ripeness.

  ‘That would give me great satisfaction.’

  Elaine, astounded at this blatant by-play, glanced first at James, who was continuing his conversation, apparently totally unaware of these double entendres, and then at Stephen. Stephen too was speaking as though nothing was happening, but Elaine saw that his face had stiffened and there was an angry look in his eyes. She was relieved that she had not imagined the incident, inspired by her earlier conversation with Ginnie. Ginnie, who looked flushed and excited, was obviously enjoying the extra frisson, as she had put it, of conducting her flirtation under her husband’s nose.

  In a slight pause in the conversation, Clare came in, in a booming voice, ‘Are you married, Stephen?’

  ‘I haven’t felt ready to make a commitment,’ Stephen replied in a thinly veiled dig at his sister and her accomplice.

  Julian, blissfully unaware of the coded message, joked, ‘You needn’t think marriage will tie you down, old chap. Sometimes the licence gives you extra licence.’ And he roared with laughter at his own pun. Leaning across the table to his wife, once again engrossed in her meal, he shouted at her, ‘Enjoying the coq au vin, old girl? That’s one bird not ruling the roost, eh?’

  The chicken was delicious. The company all concentrated on their food, murmuring only desultory conversation. Ginnie, glowing at the various compliments, looked remarkably pretty. Suddenly, Elaine felt a movement from her right-hand neighbour as he placed his hand on the hostess’s thigh. Ginnie, not expecting the uns
ubtle approach at that moment jumped, and Stephen, jolted by her movement, half turned to see the misplaced hand. He glared at Julian.

  Elaine glanced to see if he would say something but, in loyalty to his sister, he remained quiet. However in the lull, the incident had been more noticeable than had obviously been intended. James looked in the direction of his employee and at his wife, but his face gave away nothing.

  ‘It’s a strange thing how we mimic the animal world, I always feel, don’t you, Julian?’ he said. ‘Now take what you were saying about that rooster on the plate there. It’s chickens who invented the “pecking order”, you know. But we bring it into our homes and we bring it into our businesses.’

  ‘I always feel that we run a very democratic company,’ said Julian, his voice a shade less confident.

  ‘We do indeed. But there still has to be a managing director. There still has to be a decision maker at the top. And the same applies to the home.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather sexist? I never thought of you as the chauvinistic type,’ said Elaine.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that I was chauvinistic, Elaine,’ James replied. ‘However, if, in a time of financial difficulties, I had to say to Ginnie, you’re spending too much money on clothes, on entertaining or on the horses, surely, as the only breadwinner, that would be my right.’

  Ginnie’s face lost its rosy glow and she stared at James in surprised horror.

  ‘I didn’t think we had financial difficulties, have we?’

  ‘Well, I’m speaking hypothetically, of course. But we’ve all suffered from the recession. The business has suffered. We may well have to contract our office staff. These days, with computers, there’s less need for people pushing about bits of paper.’

  Julian looked up quickly. His face, too, was changing colour and had taken on a yellowish sickly look. For a second, Elaine caught Stephen’s eye and knew that they were both watching like an all-knowing, all-seeing theatre audience understanding the drama being played out, understanding the messages that James was pronouncing, and knowing that Ginnie and Julian were understanding them too. Elaine turned to see whether Clare was concerned, but she was giving her full attention to the chicken bone in her hand. She had obviously not taken in all the minutiae of the events of the past few minutes, and was barely listening to the conversation which, to all intents and purposes, had deteriorated into a financial and business discussion.