When Archie Met Rosie

by Lynda Renham

  ‘That’d be great, won’t it Johnny?’ says Rosie.

  Johnny looks unsure.

  ‘Well … there’s my car …’ he begins.

  ‘You can collect it tomorrow,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, sure I can,’ he agrees.

  ‘Thanks Grandad,’ says Holly, slipping her arm through mine. Moira makes a huffing sound and strides off along the street. Where’s my Harry when you need him, that’s what I want to know.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harry

  Eric Ledbetter, who had always considered himself Braintree’s answer to Ryan Gosling, now saw his chance to tread the boards. He had as good a chance as anyone, if not better, he’d decided. After all, he’d attended an evening class in drama at the local school, that’s more than could be said for most people. Okay, there had only been three of them on the course and one of those had been a bored OAP and the other a young lad on benefits who only came to keep warm on a Wednesday night, but that hadn’t deterred Eric. He focused his eyes on a chair at the back of the village hall, took a deep breath and bellowed into the microphone.

  ‘To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the arrows and slings of righteous misfortune.’

  Harry winced and shot his hand into the air.

  ‘No, no, Eric,’ he shouted.

  Steph covered her ears as the speakers screeched.

  ‘Too right,’ she groaned. ‘You’re going to perforate me eardrums, mate.’

  ‘It’s the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,’ corrected Harry.

  ‘You what?’ asked Steph.

  Eric stopped in the middle of his flow, his face contorting in confusion.

  ‘That’s what I said wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Harry said, struggling to hide his disgust.

  ‘I’m sure I did,’ said Eric indignantly, his apple red cheeks turning an even brighter red.

  ‘I know what I heard,’ snapped Harry.

  Steph made a clicking noise with her tongue.

  ‘Still it doesn’t really matter, does it, Harry?’ she said. ‘After all, we’re not doing Shakespeare, are we? I mean, who’d want to? The thing is we don’t have a lot of choice. We need to replace Robin as soon as possible.’

  Harry sniffed.

  ‘I don’t understand how Robin can have a perforated ulcer when he never even knew he had an ulcer to start with?’ complained Harry.

  ‘That’s how it happens I suppose.’

  Harry sighed, pushed his glasses onto his head and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘You’re looking rough, Harry, do you need an aspirin?’

  ‘It’s just a cold,’ he shivered.

  ‘You need someone to warm you up,’ she said with a wink.

  Eric shuffled on his feet.

  ‘Do you want me to carry on or what? It was only a little mistake. I thought it sounded okay.’

  Harry sighed heavily.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t okay. It’s slings and arrows of outrageous fortune not arrows and slings of righteous fortune. It’s Hamlet, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘It was brill,’ said Steph.

  ‘I could kill Robin,’ muttered Harry.

  ‘Thanks for auditioning Eric. We’ll let you know in a few minutes.’

  Eric gave Harry a dirty look and shuffled out of the hall. Steph laid her hand on Harry’s knee.

  ‘You don’t have to hurry back do you?’

  ‘No,’ he said laying his hand on hers.

  ‘Oh,’ said Eric, popping his head around the door. Harry quickly pulled away from Steph and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I left my jacket.’

  Harry sneezed, and Steph passed him a tissue.

  ‘Harry and I were just talking about the part, weren’t we Harry?’ she said.

  Harry nodded.

  ‘We think you’d be great.’

  ‘Wow really?’ gasped Eric.

  ‘Yes,’ said Harry. He knew it was much too late to find anyone else. It was Eric or nothing.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ said Steph. ‘I’ll give you the script, so you can practise it. The next rehearsal is Wednesday at seven.’

  ‘I’ll know it off by heart by then,’ said Eric.

  Steph locked the church hall doors while Harry was dissolving the aspirin in water. She slid her arms around his waist and then lowered one hand to his crotch.

  ‘Let’s give Eric time to get in his car and then let’s go back to my place.’

  ‘I’ve got this awful cold,’ he sniffed, feeling himself harden beneath her hand.

  ‘I’ll make you feel loads better,’ she whispered. Her lips met his and he pushed her against the wall.

  ‘I have to be back by ten. I might have to collect Holly from town.’

  ‘That gives us plenty of time,’ she smiled.

  Harry pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it to silent. There’s nothing more likely to dampen his erection than a phone call from Moira.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rosie

  Frank always said I was as daft as a brush and I’m beginning to think he was right. I was daft tonight, alright. I should have stayed with Doris and Shirl and got on that bus. I’d be sitting at home now, lovely and warm, watching some rubbish on Netflix. Instead I’m accepting a lift from some posh tart’s father and all because I don’t want to be on my own with Crabbers. I wish Frank were still here. I’m really missing him. You wouldn’t believe it would you? It’s not like we were madly in love or anything. But he was always there. I kind of miss him telling me what an idiot I’ve been. I can almost hear him.

  What were you thinking of helping out that girl? The bugger might have had a knife. You’re daft you are.

  He would be quite right of course.

  ‘Mum’s got a proper nice car,’ Holly says proudly.

  She’s fully recovered now and no doubt snug as a bug in a rug with my coat wrapped around her. I’d given Crabbers back his jacket and I’m bitterly regretting it. Holly’s right. Her mum has got a posh car. It’s one of those four by four jobbies. Except right now it’s in the process of being clamped. I mean, right now. The guy is in the process of doing it as we approach him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ calls Moira. ‘You can’t do that. I had to rush to my daughter’s aid, she was being assaulted.’

  ‘Is that right?’ says the guy with a smirk.

  ‘It’s true mate,’ says Crabbers.

  ‘Yes it is,’ says Archie. ‘I’m her grandfather. I can vouch for what they’re saying. I can’t walk far without my stick, so I don’t know how we’ll get home if you do that. We had to park close by, so I could walk, and we had to get to my granddaughter quickly. It was a bit of an emergency.’

  He’s alright is Archie, unlike his daughter, or was it daughter-in-law? Yes, probably daughter-in-law. She’s not much like him.

  ‘Come on, don’t be a dick,’ I say to the guy who is still intent on clamping. ‘Take it off and let us go home. We’re all freezing, and she’s had a horrible shock.’ I nod towards Holly.

  The truth is I don’t want to lay out for a cab for me and Crabbers. He might get all sorts of ideas into his head. Anyway, they’ll charge double on a Friday night.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let you off this once.’

  ‘Thanks mate,’ says Crabbers, handing him a fiver.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I say snatching it out of his hand.

  ‘I thought …’

  ‘I don’t think it is a good idea you thinking. You’ll get us done you will.’

  Archie opens the back door and Holly, Crabbers and I climb in. It smells of new leather and fancy perfume. It’s warm too, but I still can’t stop shivering.

  ‘Thanks so much, Rosie,’ Holly says as she hands me my coat. Moira slams the car door with such force that I jump out of my skin.

  ‘I’m really not happy about this, Dad,’ she grumbles. ‘Will you please try Harry again?’r />
  ‘Harry’s my dad,’ Holly explains.

  ‘In a minute Moira,’ says Archie. ‘There’s no urgency now.

  ‘I WhatsApped him,’ says Holly.

  ‘You what?’ asks Archie.

  ‘Never mind,’ smiles Holly.

  ‘Where shall we drop you?’ Archie asks craning his neck around to look at us.

  Now, put yourself in my shoes. Posh car, posh family, and they’re no doubt from the top end of Romford. The mother already thinks I’m the scum of the earth. She probably thinks I’m some kind of bag lady the way I’m strutting around with this holdall. I wonder what they’d think if they knew what was inside it. It would be interesting to see their faces. All the same, the minute I say Tradmore Estate I’ll be labelled. After all, what decent person lives on the Tradmore Estate? A decent poor person, that’s what. I open my mouth to say Princes Street, which is at the bottom of our estate, when Crabbers says,

  ‘Tradmore Estate for Rosie, and I can walk from there.’

  Great. Thanks a lot Crabbers. There’s silence for a moment. Holly turns to look at me and I feel myself shrink in my seat.

  ‘Is that where you live?’ she asks. ‘I’ve got mates there.’

  ‘You never told me you had friends that live on Tradmore Estate,’ Moira says, not hiding her disapproval.

  ‘Destiny lives there. Number 103b. Do you know her?’ Holly asks turning to me.

  ‘Can’t say I do.’

  ‘She’s all right is Destiny.’

  ‘What a ridiculous name,’ Moira snaps. ‘Dad can you please try Harry again.’

  ‘Bolton Builders, that’s you ain’t it?’ says Crabbers suddenly. ‘I knew you looked familiar. You did my mum’s roof. You knocked off a fair bit because we’d just lost our dad.’

  Archie smiles.

  ‘Ah yes, I remember that. Bet Crabtree, that’s your mum isn’t it?

  ‘Good memory,’ says Crabbers.

  ‘You can drop us in Princes Street,’ I say. ‘It’s just before.’

  I don’t want them driving into the estate. Heaven knows what’s going down on a Friday night.

  ‘No, we’ll drop you at your place,’ says Archie. ‘It’s late. You don’t want to be walking home.’

  He clearly thinks Crabbers is no knight in shining armour.

  ‘There’s no need,’ I say. ‘Honestly, Princes Street is fine.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ says Archie.

  I wish he’d stop arguing with me. It looks like I’ve little to say in the matter. I know you shouldn’t be ashamed of where you live but I am and that’s that. If I have one dream, it’s to get off the Tradmore Estate.

  ‘I’ll drop you here,’ Moira says stopping the car some way from the flats.

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ says Archie.

  This is getting painful. I think Moira has made it very clear I live in a dump. I’d much rather get out now while I still have an ounce of self-respect left. No doubt she’s just waiting for Johnny and me to pull out knives and mug her of her four by four.

  ‘Right,’ I say, pushing Crabbers. ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘See you Rosie,’ Holly says.

  ‘Moira, we can take Rosie to her flat,’ says Archie firmly.

  It’s very nice of him but I do wish he would let up going on about it.

  ‘Dad, I don’t think that’s …’

  ‘Right, I’ll walk her home myself then,’ he says, swinging open the door. I slide out of the car and button up my coat before nodding to Crabbers.

  ‘Thanks Johnny, I’ll see you around then?’

  ‘Oh,’ he says uncertainly. ‘Yeah course. I’ll see you at the funeral, won’t I?’

  ‘Dad, I don’t think you should,’ calls Moira. ‘It’s very rough in these parts and …’

  ‘I’ll be five minutes,’ he says, firmly taking my arm.

  ‘She makes me feel like Bruce Willis,’ he whispers. ‘You lead the way.’

  ‘What about your stick,’ Moira shouts.

  He ignores her.

  ‘This is very kind of you, but you really don’t need to escort me. She’s quite right, your daughter, it is a bit rough here.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of anyone, girl,’ he smiles. ‘Anyway, you rescued our Holly. I’m grateful if no one else seems to be.’

  I can feel Moira’s eyes stabbing into my back. If looks could kill I’d be on the floor by now. The estate is quiet and I’m grateful for that. I feel stupidly ashamed that I live here, especially at my age. Here I go again. But it’s true isn’t it? Most decent women of my age live in a nice house on a nice estate, don’t they? I’m grateful it’s dark. Archie won’t be able to see the discarded condoms and syringes.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say at the entrance.

  ‘Are you on the ground floor?’ asks Archie.

  ‘Sixth floor, but I’m used to it.’

  Oh dear. I hope he doesn’t offer to walk me up. Moira will have my guts for garters if he has a heart attack on the way.

  ‘Can you see your flat from here?’ he asks looking up. ‘You can wave from the window. I’ll know you’re home safe then.’

  ‘Your daughter will be waiting.’

  ‘Daughter-in-law,’ he corrects. ‘And she can wait.’

  She’ll have to wait an awful long time too. It takes me a while to get up those stairs now with this dodgy hip of mine.

  ‘Right,’ I say.

  I desperately want to go to the loo. I swear I don’t know how I’ve held it back for so long. Now I’ve got to hold it back a bit longer, so I can wave from the window. My bladder will burst. It’s going to be freezing in the flat too. I can’t afford to leave the heating on when I’m not here and it will take forever to warm up. I hurry up the stairs as quickly as I can, my hip not thanking me in the least for this overexertion. My toes are numb from the cold. I can’t make him wait too long. He must be seventy years old if he’s a day. The last thing I need is for him to be mugged. Moira would never forgive me. I push my key into the lock and hurry to the window to wave to Archie. He waves back, and I watch him limp back to the car. How silly is this? I only want to rush back downstairs and escort him back to Moira. Life’s mad isn’t it?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alfred

  ‘Here we are,’ says Harry, before sneezing loudly.

  ‘Do cover your mouth, Harry,’ says Moira distastefully. ‘We don’t all want to catch it.’

  The car tyres scrunch on the gravel. I look up at my house and feel a small pang of loneliness. The front door remains closed and no matter how much I will it, Cath doesn’t open the door to welcome us. I can’t think of a single time when I’ve pulled up on the driveway and she hasn’t run out to greet me. It’s going to be a miserable Christmas without her. My Peugeot 205 sits in the driveway. It needs a good clean.

  ‘I’ll get your case,’ says Harry.

  Moira, meanwhile, strides to the door and waits while I hobble behind her. My arthritic knee is playing up something chronic in this cold weather. I’ll be glad to take my pills. I hadn’t liked to mention I’d forgotten them. I didn’t want Moira going on about something else. I push the key into the lock and the door swings open. A foul odour hits us. I pretend to ignore it. Harry with his cold, mercifully, can’t smell anything. Moira wrinkles her nose.

  ‘What’s that terrible smell?’ she grimaces.

  ‘I can’t smell anything,’ I say.

  ‘It’s freezing in here. Didn’t you leave the heating on?’

  ‘No,’ I snap. ‘I’m not throwing money away.’

  Moira sniffs the air. At that moment Cleo, the cat, rushes towards us, meowing for all she’s worth. Harry almost trips over her as she runs under his feet. Moira is quite right though. It is freezing in here. I really should have left the heating on.

  ‘Just leave the case in the hall,’ I say. ‘I’ll sort it later.’

  ‘Is your bed made?’ Moira asks running a finger along the sideboard. She’d never have done that if our Cath was her
e. There was never a speck of dust when my Cath was alive.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll put the heating on,’ says Harry, shivering.

  ‘You need a Beechams,’ I tell him.

  The kitchen’s a mess. I’ll grant you that.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ says Moira peeking in.

  Molly from next door has been feeding Cleo. It was very kind of her. She’s not all the ticket, is Molly. She’s lovely and everything but she’s one of those bohemian types, head in the clouds and all that. She does palm readings. Cath tried to get me to have mine read. She’d go to Molly’s regularly to get hers done. It’s all a load of rubbish if you ask me. How can you read someone’s future from looking at their hand? Still, it was lovely of her to feed Cleo. It’s just a shame she put the empty tins in the kitchen bin instead of the dustbin outside. The room stinks of gone off Sheba. Cleo wanders under Moira’s feet and she utters a curse, Moira that is, not Cleo the cat. The sink is full of the dirty dishes I’d left. I’m not sure why I’m surprised to see them. Molly barely washes up her own stuff, so it was pretty clear she wasn’t going to do mine.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on and empty these bins,’ sniffs Harry.

  ‘We’re not having a cup of tea, Harry, until I’ve done something with this kitchen,’ says Moira. ‘It stinks in here.’

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ I say, sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘We’ll never get this smell out,’ she complains.

  Harry sniffs again.

  ‘I can’t smell anything,’ he says.

  God bless colds.

  ‘Check the bedroom,’ instructs Moira. ‘I’ll make a start on the kitchen.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ I say.

  I don’t want her fiddling around in Cath’s kitchen. Come to that, I don’t want her fiddling about in any part of the house.

  ‘At least let me wash up. Why you haven’t got a dishwasher, I’ll never know. I was always telling Cath …’

  ‘Please leave it,’ I say sharply, but she ignores me and begins to clear away the sympathy cards that sit on the kitchen dresser.

  ‘For pity’s sake, just leave my things alone, will you?’ I bark.