[2018] Abel's Revenge

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘Very much so. You’ve done brilliantly, Beau. It’s a wonderful achievement.’

  ‘We will have to ramp it up in Cali now. Are you onboard?’

  ‘I’m tempted, Beau. I really am. But my parents are old, and my kids would miss them. It’s an upheaval for everyone, never mind the fact it’s another country.’

  ‘What about that rascal, Dan? What’s his views? You guys still getting on well?’

  Dan has been distant of late. I’ve caught him pacing outside on the phone. When questioned, he was furtive and defensive. He said it was just a work call.

  ‘He wants to go because he hates it here. I haven’t got his hopes up by discussing it with him. Children make choices complicated and it’s another busy place for him to get used to. I think he’s lonely.’

  ‘We’re fixing that, remember? Badders in a few days. We’ll have a drink after the game at the bar. He’ll meet most of the team as they’re playing badminton that night as well. Dan’s a good guy, isn’t he? Call centre fellow, yes? We’ll look after him.’

  I’ve spent a large proportion of time and effort keeping Dan and my boss apart. On better days, I hope their respective positive and negative outlook on life would meld like yin and yang. I pray they will complement each other. The realistic me knows Dan would be sarcastic and Beau confused. At best.

  The restaurant is heaving when we arrive. The owner hugs Beau as if he’s welcoming him back from the trenches. He kisses me three times, extremely fast. I can only manage one and am left pouting in the air like a surprised duck.

  He ushers us through the throng to an enclosed terrace at the rear. The big cheeses from the business are here and most of the little ones. Rachel has saved me a space, but Beau guides me into a seat next to him. I notice his girlfriend, Felicity, isn’t here. Excellent. Compared to that glamorous amazon I always feel like the cleaner.

  Rachel looks perturbed until Herman the German from marketing folds his impressive frame into the seat on her right. He must be eighteen stone of weight-lifting fury. Rachel pours him a large wine and flutters her false eyelashes at him. Even from where I am at the table, I can see one of them is loose. She winks at me, and I doubt Herman will survive the experience.

  We are essentially a start-up company, but progress has been impressive. Beau is struggling for the staff he needs out in California, hence Rachel’s transfer. This big win means he needs many others there soon. It’s a fantastic opportunity. I must talk to my parents. I thought it was them and my friends here that stops me leaving. Instead, Dan is the reason.

  There is no way I could leave without the children, and without him it doesn’t work. Unless I use childcare. Dan can be useless at times, but it’s still preferable to someone else looking after them.

  The problem is, where are we as a couple? His drinking is increasing again. We had a few weeks of relative soberness and the resulting sex reminded me of happier times. Not so frantic, of course; it was ten years ago. Then, as his sobriety slipped, we had a few sessions where I might as well have jumped on one of the winos from the park. I suspect they wouldn’t have passed out so fast afterwards either.

  However, what Beau says is true. This is everything I’ve worked towards. It might be the big opportunity of my professional life. I’ll give Dan a month under the spotlight. See if he’s responsible enough to prove he can raise our children in a new place while I’m at work. The question is, do I tell him he’s being tested, or not? It’s probably best I say nothing. Like with that bloody awful wine he keeps bringing home.

  Chapter 21

  Dan

  Two days later

  I finally have time to myself. After the school run at least. There’s a big company meeting at my work to which I wasn’t invited, and everyone got the day off. Brilliant. If that doesn’t bellow, ‘Game Over’, I don’t know what does. The best we can hope for is enhanced redundancy or an extended consultancy period. Both of which mean more cash for doing nothing.

  Relationships at home are icy. She tripped over the box of Star Wars toys I promised to sort out. In all honesty, they were in our bedroom for months. I’ve brought them down to the front door, so I can’t forget my one and only job today.

  Then, I’m going to eat salty snacks, guzzle beer, and watch Star Wars the movie. Maybe all of them. Olivia is picking the kids up after work, then taking them to Old MacDonald’s, as Grace calls it, for a Happy Meal. I don’t even need to worry about picking them up later.

  ‘Okay, small people, do we have everything?’

  They can’t hear me over the squabbling. Today, I won’t shout.

  ‘Sweets, anyone?’

  The snakes both chant, ‘Me me me.’

  ‘You should answer me first time, children. And there are no sweets.’

  They groan, but it’s one-nil to yours truly.

  Five minutes into the journey, Grace equalises.

  ‘Daddy, where’s my drink beaker for school?’

  Cursing and sweating in the rush hour traffic, I turn around in someone’s drive. They glare at me through the window as though I’m about to park it there for the day. I pull up in front of our house, jump out, run in, grab the bottle, get back in the car, and do up my seatbelt.

  ‘Charlie’s done a poo.’

  That’s two-one. Enough of the score analogy. I always lose. Rain patters on the windscreen, too, in case I’m in any doubt whose side God is on.

  It will be a close call to reach school on time. We arrive with seconds to spare, but the bitch at the gate shuts it as we run up and I have to go to main reception and register as being late. I’ve got a free day, so I manage not to swear at anyone. I hum the theme tune to The Empire Strikes Back on the way home.

  ***

  At our front door, the postman, Pete, is bent double staring through our letterbox. Pete resembles a greasy tapir. He is someone else I try to avoid.

  ‘Greetings, Pete. Can you see Olivia in there?’

  There’s a strange sound as he jerks upright. Him and Bailey would get on well.

  ‘Erm, no, no. It’s empty.’

  ‘Better luck next time, eh? If you’d rather, I’ll give you a few photos. No money shot I’m afraid, but a couple of good sunbathing pictures. Save you the bother of having to come over here.’

  He looks frightened. And weird. He also has muddy feet and trousers, like he’s been delivering to scarecrows.

  ‘I had a parcel.’

  I wait for the parcel. He blinks at me. I haven’t the energy for this. So, I let myself in, and say goodbye.

  ‘I used to collect them.’

  For a minute, I think he’s talking about photos of Olivia, until I realise his little black eyes are staring at the Star Wars figures. I exhale and decide I’ll give him a few minutes. He can’t be completely worthless if he likes science fiction.

  ‘Great, aren’t they? Olivia wants rid of them, but I don’t want to throw them away. Every time I pick one up, it reminds me of the excitement I used to feel.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. We could do swaps.’

  It’s immediately obvious Pete has absent listening skills. And that’s one of his more minor problems. I bet he was the type of kid who jammed the figures up their noses the moment they got home from school.

  ‘I need to get rid of them, Pete. Not disguise them by changing them into similar ones. Even Olivia won’t fall for that.’

  ‘I can make money at a car boot sale I go to with them. Good money. I swapped a Darth Vader for a burger last time.’

  I analyse his expression to see if he’s joking or not.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like the deal of the century.’

  ‘He was missing his cape, and the burgers were expensive.’

  I gently close the door on Pete’s face. Manners are unnecessary when dealing with subspecies. Note to self: avoid Pete at all costs. If contact is absolutely necessary, ensure the police are present.

  Pete has ruined Star Wars for me, so I watch Aliens. My phone ringing wakes me
from a fitful dream where a critter has hold of my groin by mistake.

  ‘Dan, it’s Olivia. I’m running late, can you do the school run?’

  Shit. My sluggish brain tells me there’s little left of the eight pack of beers I bought.

  ‘Can’t your parents go?’

  ‘No, they can’t. You’re not doing anything today, so you do it.’

  I distinctly remember her telling me to enjoy my free day. Why the hell did I answer? I’m not drunk enough to tell her the truth.

  ‘Okay, I’ll go.’

  ‘Good and don’t forget we have badminton tonight.’

  I drop the phone in shock. Badminton? With who? My brain wobbles like poorly set jelly, and I recall something about playing against Beau and his girlfriend. I recall joking his girlfriend’s name is Rupert. I have more pressing problems. I’ll have to walk to pick the kids up which I hope will sober me up. That means they’ll moan all the way home. Unless I take chocolate.

  While walking, I experience a moment of clarity and remember what she told me not to forget the night I went out with Ian. It was to ask for my badminton racquet back. I’ll have to hire one.

  I arrive five minutes late at preschool, so the other mothers are long gone. Cue dirty looks all around from the staff. Charlie is crying because he thinks I’ve forgotten him. He dawdles the four hundred metres to infant school and we are the last there as well.

  ‘Can you come in a minute, Mr Flood?’

  What! No thanks. Ten-nil to God. I try to keep as much space as possible between the teacher and me, but she walks into a small treatment room. I follow her in, and they hand me an injury form. Grace fell over in the playground and has a grazed knee. She jumps off the bed with a smile. The teacher’s face is impassive. I thank her. We can both smell beer.

  Chapter 22

  Olivia

  Mike is rubbing his car when I get home from work. He loves that vehicle. Unusually, he doesn’t look super-pleased to see me. He must be freezing in those clothes this time of year though. Stick a jumper on, man.

  ‘Thanks for changing those bathroom bulbs, Mike. We struggle with that fitting.’

  When he stands, I see why he is distracted. There is a long, silver mark down the side of his car. I can almost hear his teeth grinding.

  ‘The garage quoted me eight hundred to fix it.’

  Before I can reply, the sound of a hippo being dropped into a blender comes from our lounge window. Mike has a shall I ring the police? expression on his face.

  ‘It’s only Charlie. I’ll catch you later.’

  ‘Mummy, Daddy won’t take us to Old MacDonald’s.’

  My patience dwindles further. He knew I’d promised them that. He has a vacant air about him which makes me think he’s been drinking. I go to kiss him hello and have to chase him around the kitchen table. He smells strongly of mint.

  After I’ve taken the children to McDonald’s, my parents arrive to babysit before I have time to get the thumbscrews out. Once they’re settled in, I race upstairs to change, calling down to Dan.

  ‘Tell me you got your racquet back from Ian.’

  ‘He promised to drop it around yesterday, but recalled he’d lent it to someone else.’

  That is annoying. Although I’m amazed he remembered to ask in the first place. He’ll regret hiring one of their shit loan racquets. Dan comes up the stairs and leans against the door. I hope it isn’t to hold him upright. I don’t want him embarrassing me later.

  ‘Olivia, have you spoken to Pete before?’

  ‘Pete who?’

  ‘Pete the postman. I caught him looking through our letter box. He had really muddy shoes, too.’

  ‘Ah, him. I’ve seen him taking a short cut through the allotments. I’m not sure his name is Pete. He’s harmless.’

  ‘You reckon? He was creepy as hell. Pete the deviant is more appropriate. He wanted to buy naked pictures of you.’

  ‘Shut up. It’s you that’s the degenerate.’

  He shoots me an exasperated look. We can’t even agree if we like the postman or not. I walk towards him and he clatters down the stairs. He is avoiding me. As he disappears out of view, I see that box of toys next to the door. I asked him to get rid of them, not move them to a new place. Choose your battles, Olivia, or you’ll be fighting the whole time.

  I pull on my Shock Absorber bra. We don’t want any black eyes tonight, and I thank Joseph Shivers for inventing Spandex, or Lycra, or whatever this supportive stuff is called. I now have the buttocks of a twenty-five-year-old. Badminton is the only chink in Beau’s armour. He is massively competitive with it. I’ve played him before and he isn’t that good.

  I’m similar. I hate losing and believe you should give your all at sport, even if it means thrashing your opponent. Unless it’s your boss, of course. I let him win the odd one, to keep him happy but I walk a fine line. If he knew I wasn’t giving it everything, he’d be angry. If I spanked his arse though, he’d be humiliated.

  I doubt Dan will be any good, especially at doubles, which is a shame. The bitch is coming tonight. And, like Rachel’s hedgehog, she must be crushed.

  I can’t wait to get out of the car when we arrive at the company sports club. Dan has overdone it on the aftershave. Beau has paid for the court, so we only need to hire a racquet for Dan. He swings it around as though he is limbering up for Wimbledon. I flinch as he misses a light fitting by millimetres. We wander into our respective changing rooms. Him whistling, and me with feelings of despair.

  We come out at the same time and walk towards the hall. Dan moaning as usual.

  ‘Gyms are weird places. You have to find one that’s on your level, or you can’t relax. This one’s unsuitable for me. Mine would be called The Fatness Centre. Only people with a BMI over twenty-five allowed, and to enter the pool you need to have over forty percent of your body covered in hair. There’d be none of these pecker-heads hanging around at the water cooler. I mean, who wants a three-hour conversation about how many protein bars you wedged up your ass that morning.’

  ‘Sounds more like a watering hole, than a gym.’

  ‘Can’t we play in a community centre or something?’

  I have to shut him up, or he’ll go on forever.

  ‘Would you prefer we played in a church hall? We can pretend it’s 1970.’

  ‘Very funny. No need to take the piss if I’m uncomfortable. Look around you, most of the people in here are so slim and fit they don’t even have a BMI. The last place I want to be is somewhere filled full of lantern-jawed women who could kick my ass.’

  ‘You should appreciate they let you in here. You will be by far the hairiest and smelliest beast they’ve ever allowed in these premises. The moment you leave they’ll get a hoover out and feed anti-bacterial spray through the sprinkler system. I suspect they’ll dispose of everything you sat on, touched, or looked at. Staff included.’

  I stick one more dagger in at the hall doors. Just for fun.

  ‘Please don’t go near the pool, or you’ll shut the place.’

  Beau and Felicity are warming up on the court. She’s a lovely girl. Sweet, kind, a little monotone perhaps, and I hate her. It feels as though someone has slipped a lead coat on me as we approach them. Whereas my Spandex grips my faults together like cling film, hers is necessary to hold everything down. Even her calves are so high and buoyant they could do with cover. I don’t want to look at Dan’s face, but I must…

  Chapter 23

  Dan

  Momma. I stumble into the gym in a trance. A simple person’s smile droops on my face. I thought Jessica Rabbit was a cartoon, but she’s real. I can hear her talking. Olivia is saying something as well, but it’s not on my frequency. I turn around but only her eyes are in focus. That’s a nasty scowl. A warning sound beeps in my deep, deep subconscious.

  ‘Are you going to shake her hand, Dan?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Sure. The lights are a bit bright for me in here.’

  Damn. I could have worn sunglasses.
That would have been better for sneaky reasons.

  ‘Hi, Felicity. Beau.’

  They both pump my hand and are pleased to see me.

  ‘Shall we warm up?’

  Beau hits it too hard for me to return easily and I have to backpedal. I give it a huge swing of my arm, and it lands on the sweet spot of my racquet. I’m disappointed with how far it goes. It hovers politely in front of Beau who hammers it into my dicky knee. I can’t stop a squawk coming out of my mouth.

  Felicity rushes over, full of concern. Pain, what pain? Up close, she has skin like a butterfly’s wings. It even moves in a similar fashion. I can hear the Spandex losing the battle for her breasts. We warm up for another minute and, for obvious reasons, I underperform.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ Olivia snarls in my ear as we walk to begin serve for the first game.

  ‘What do you mean? Do we want to win? Don’t forget he’s your boss.’

  ‘She isn’t. We will triumph, Dan. Remember that. You understand the rules, don’t you? Over the net, not through it.’

  ‘I’m just getting going.’

  ‘You’d perform better if you didn’t have to drag your chin around on the floor after you.’

  Ah. She noticed my subtle glances. We play the first game and get thrashed. I ignore Olivia’s tuts, try to ignore Felicity’s tits, and the atmosphere remains cordial. I am improving though. The main problem I have is the hire racquet strings have the tensile strength of a teabag. They’re playing badminton, I might as well be playing lacrosse. I’m almost catching the shuttlecock and hurling it back with brute strength.

  We play another game and I rally, but I’m still distracted by the vision of loveliness opposite. I can describe her outfit to the nearest stitch. Yet, I can’t tell you if Beau is clothed or not.

  I focus on her teeth. They are magnificent, white, powerful things. I best keep the shuttlecocks away from those bad boys or she’d shred them to pieces like a pigeon through a combine harvester. I bet the shuttlecocks are expensive here. Maybe they’re made from pigeon’s feathers.