Afternoon Tea at the Sunflower Café
Page 14
‘Ruth bloody Fallis,’ said Hilda. ‘But we call her Norma Know-it-All. You’re a lucky lass if you haven’t come across her.’
‘She once swore me blind that Lionel Blair was in The Exorcist,’ said Sandra Batty through a mouthful of sandwich. ‘She wouldn’t have it that he wasn’t.’
‘Thick as pig shit,’ someone shouted.
That reminded Cheryl. ‘Does anyone know if Ruth lives on a farm?’
‘That’s a funny question,’ replied Ava Preston. ‘What made you ask that?’
‘Oh, just something someone said.’ Cheryl underplayed it. Much as she didn’t like Ruth Fallis, she wouldn’t have falsely accused her.
‘No, she lives on Ketherwood Avenue, the Wombwell end. Her house is at the side of Jock’s scrapyard but their son used to work at Hedges battery farm, I’m sure,’ said Hilda. ‘Not sure if he still does.’
‘Cheers,’ said Cheryl.
‘Did you know she’d shagged a Grumbleweed?’ said Ava. ‘She once told me that. Hinted that she wasn’t sure if he or Jock was her son’s dad.’
‘I’d have thought that little twat would be in prison by now,’ Marie Blackstock spat. ‘He was always trouble. Mind you, with Ruth and Jock as your parents, what would you expect?’
‘Or a Grumbleweed,’ Ava put in.
‘No chance of that,’ said Hilda. ‘Jock junior is the spit of Jock senior. God help them both.’
‘Will they replace her?’ asked Gemma.
‘I heard that Lesley Clamp’s been in for an interview,’ said Ava and everyone hissed as if they were in a pantomime and the villain had just walked on stage.
‘If any of the Clamps come in, I can assure you I’m straight out of the door,’ snarled Hilda. ‘Josie Clamp was a good lass, God rest her soul, but she’s the only one out of the whole brood who knew how a duster worked.’
‘I heard that Nepal Clamp—’ started Marie, but Hilda cut her off.
‘Don’t mention that little tart’s name in my presence, Marie.’
‘These cheese and apple sandwiches are nice,’ said Meg Thompson, who was always far more interested in the food than any politics. She held a thumb up to Patricia who was wiping down her counter at the front of the café.
‘Sorry, Hilda,’ said Marie, putting her hand over her mouth because she’d just remembered why she shouldn’t mention Nepal Clamp in particular to Hilda.
‘She’s had more balls in her mouth than a Hungry Hippo that one,’ Wenda said. ‘You wouldn’t recognise her without a cock stuck down her throat.’
Wenda always caused a lot of giggling with her inability to mince her words. And some gagging noises.
‘I’ve got a question,’ said Val, changing the subject quickly because Hilda wasn’t joining in any laughter. On the contrary, her expression was darkening more with every passing second. ‘If I thump that spotty cow Ivanka in the office, will I get sacked?’
‘Yes, you will,’ said Hilda, after sipping some tea. ‘Why, what’s up?’
‘She looks right down her nose at me whenever I go in there. At least miserable Della doesn’t do that, even if she barely acknowledges you’re there. I’d rather be ignored than have some little snot think I don’t belong to the same species.’
‘Astrid reckons there’s something going on with her and Jimmy,’ said Wenda, through a mouthful of scone.
This was met with a ripple of amused disbelief.
‘It’s true,’ said Astrid. ‘Jimmy flirts with every woman in the world except her. Vat does that tell you?’
But no one could follow Astrid’s ‘logic’. She obviously didn’t think like a woman yet, they thought collectively. Women spotted other women having affairs.
‘I’m getting fed up with those Des’s Discount products,’ said Gemma. ‘They’re absolutely rubbish, aren’t they?’
‘I won’t use that Fillit Bong,’ huffed Hilda. ‘I’ll make a note of that and we’ll have a word with Della. Again. That window and glass cleaner should be relabelled “feck all” because then it would do exactly what it said on the tin. I’m sure it’s just water with some green food colouring in it.’
There was a bee-like mumble of hmms in agreement.
‘I’ve told Della that I’m not doing Mr Savant’s house again,’ said Wenda then, as she poured herself another cup of tea. ‘And I’ve told her none of us are doing it either. She said she was going to ring him and let him go.’
Everyone froze in position.
‘She said what?’ said Hilda, eventually.
‘You heard.’
‘Della said she would turn away his custom?’ asked Sandra, as open-mouthed as the others.
‘Yep.’ Wenda was proud of the impact her words had had on them all.
‘She must be going through the change,’ said Astrid. ‘Or she has been doppelgängered.’
‘Anyway, moving on . . .’ coughed Hilda.
Cheryl’s hand slowly rose to signify she had another point. Hilda smiled. ‘You’ve got summat to say, love?’
Hilda felt sorry for Cheryl. She knew she must have split up with her partner because she lived around the corner from Ann Gladstone and saw that her son had moved back in with her. She’d never thought much of the Gladstones and was inclined to think that Cheryl was well rid, but the lass was pale and a fair bit thinner than the last time she had seen her and she deduced from that that she must be suffering from a dose of heartbreak.
‘It’s Mr Morgan. I’ve inherited him from Ruth Fallis’s workload. Has anyone else here cleaned for him?’
It was clear from the reaction of mumbled ‘nos’ that no one had.
‘Why, what’s up?’ asked Hilda.
‘I can’t work out if he’s a dirty old man or not. I’m sure he had a feel at my boobs as he was helping me off and on with my coat.’
‘Then he’s a dirty old man,’ Meg spluttered through her sixth cheese finger.
‘You put him in his place if he is,’ said Hilda firmly. ‘ We don’t have to stand for any of that in our job.’
‘Kick him in the bollocks if he does it again,’ said Wenda, as she sank her teeth into a mini cherry cheesecake. ‘If being a filthy old bastard was an Olympic event, some blokes wouldn’t be able to stand up for the weight of gold around their bloody necks.’
Meg was almost choking on pastry now.
‘Remember Friddle the Fiddle?’ Wenda said to everyone, resulting in a wave of head-nods, yes-noises and shudders. ‘Some pervs only understand the international language of knee-in-the-cobblers, which Josie Clamp was only too happy to give him.’
‘I vill teach you some Kung Fu moves after this tea just in case,’ Astrid called over.
‘Hark at Mr Miyage over there,’ said Marie and set them all off laughing.
‘Thanks, Astrid,’ smiled Cheryl, knowing that whatever Astrid taught her in ten minutes was hardly going to help. Mr Morgan was stout and at least six foot tall. And who was to say he didn’t know any self-defence moves himself?
‘Now we come to my big news,’ said Hilda, clapping her hands to restore order again because she was impatient to deliver it. ‘I was in here yesterday and this woman came in with a mop and bucket. And we got talking, like you do, and I found out that there’s a new cleaning company in town.’
All eyes were fixed on her, waiting to hear the significance of the mystery woman with the cleaning tools.
‘Anyone heard of Lady Muck?’ she carried on, facing a sea of shaking heads and mumbled ‘nos’. ‘Well apparently this woman works for a new firm called Lady Muck.’ Hilda reached in her pocket and got out the handful of business cards which Connie had given to her the previous day and passed them around. ‘She said this Lady Muck woman pays two pounds an hour above the minimum wage and every month someone gets fifty pounds for being Employee of the Month. And they give you an allowance towards buying your own cleaning stuff and they even give you a bit of sick pay cash in hand. And some money towards your travelling expenses. And a Christmas bonus.’
‘Have you rung them, Hilda?’ asked Gemma.
Hilda called them to order. ‘No, I haven’t called them. You know what they say about things that look too good to be true, they usually are too good to be true. I’ve looked them up on the internet and couldn’t find anything about them—’
‘If it’s a new firm, they might not have set one up yet though,’ said Marie.
‘I shan’t move anywhere if I can’t take my clients with me,’ said Hilda, resolutely.
‘They’d go where you go, surely?’ said Cheryl.
‘Of course they will,’ said Hilda, nudging her small bosom up with her folded arms, Les Dawson style.
‘We could go to Della and tell her what other firms are offering. Might make her sit up and take notice,’ said Gemma.
‘Well, there’s no point in going to Cleancheap because my cousin works for them and Roy Frog pays worse than Jimmy does. Plus the word is that it’s going down the pan,’ said Irene.
Hilda nodded. She’d heard that rumour too and was inclined to believe it. ‘Thing is, I’ve worked for Jimmy Diamond a lot of years. He might be tighter than a gnat’s chuff but there’s such a thing as loyalty.’
‘Bugger loyalty,’ said Marie.
‘Yeah but if this Lady Muck can give out all that, I’m sure as hell he could,’ Hilda argued. Everyone nodded a vigorous agreement.
‘We all know he’s creaming off us,’ Meg said, stuffing a scone in her chops.
‘If we went en masse to Jimmy and pressured him, he just might give us what we want: more money per hour, better cleaning products et cetera.’ This from Gemma.
Hilda picked up one of the business cards, looked at it again then cast it disdainfully back down on the table. ‘I think this woman might be a flash in the pan. I will have a word with Della and see what she says but I’ll stay put for now.’
‘Better the devil you know,’ someone shouted from the back, making them all laugh.
They knew that Hilda didn’t like change. She liked order and familiarity above all. They also knew that, despite being ruled by her condition, she was a wise old bird and had their best interests at heart. They trusted her judgement implicitly.
It was decided that Hilda would go in to the office on Monday and talk to Della. When the afternoon teas were finished and doggy bags filled, although Meg had hoovered up a lot of what was left as usual, Astrid gave Cheryl a lift home and in her tiny front room attempted to show her a couple of self-defence moves, which was very kind of her, but Cheryl knew in a million years that she wouldn’t be brave enough to attempt them.
Astrid’s hands landed on her hips and she shook her head.
‘I’m vasting my time, aren’t I?’
‘Oh Astrid, I do appreciate you doing this but I’m not going to be able to put all this into practice,’ Cheryl sighed in response.
‘I can’t believe you could tackle Ruth Fallis and yet you are afraid to kick zis Mr Morgan in ze knackers if he tries to feel you up.’
Maybe if she had found Mr Morgan feeling up Edith, she would have stormed in there like Uma Thurman, but Cheryl knew she had more courage when standing up for others than she had standing up for herself.
‘Look, I’ll be all right. I might have got it wrong; after all he is a church organist. He could have just been clumsy with his hands rather than gropey.’
Astrid smiled sympathetically.
‘Okay, here is vat we will do. Next week, you go to my Mr Price on Wednesday and I vill go to Mr Morgan. Mr Price is a nice bloke. He keeps out of your way doing ze Times crossword in his conservatory. I vill make sure zat Mr Morgan is very clear where his boundaries are.’ Cheryl opened her mouth to protest but Astrid was having none of it. ‘T’is settled. I inzist.’
‘That’s so kind of you, Astrid,’ said Cheryl. ‘I bet I’ve got it wrong though and he didn’t mean to touch me.’
‘I hope so,’ replied Astrid. ‘Mr Morgan would never be the same man afterwards if he tried it on vith me.’
Cheryl was only glad that Astrid was on her side.
Chapter 30
Everyone in South Yorkshire woke up to a vista of white the next morning as heavy snow had fallen through the night, even though the weather forecast had only warned of light flurries and the council had heeded that and not sent any gritting lorries out. In the kitchen, Connie stood and stared out onto her garden. She could feel a draught through the shoddy windows and was forced to move back into the warm inner body of the room.
Jimmy was like a cat on hot bricks, frustrated because he said he was supposed to be having a round of golf with Pookie Barnes and a potential new client, one of Pookie’s cronies. Connie didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t have been that agitated to miss a game of golf with a man he schmoozed with but in reality didn’t like that much. Jimmy stomped around a bit, huffing at the clouds, then put on his coat and said he was going out to the hut where the fire-bin was to burn a load of rubbish.
Connie remembered back to the first year of their marriage when they had been snowed in. They didn’t have a great deal of money and had been living with her mum who was the most wonderful baker. They’d sat on the huge furry rug in front of the fire and scoffed a whole apple pie and cream between them. Connie had been six months pregnant and glowing and felt as sexy as hell. She’d loved and fancied Jimmy so much. Okay, so they had married too young, but their dreams had fitted together like a perfect two-piece jigsaw puzzle then. Connie would raise a family and Jimmy would go out to work, just like they did in the old days. That’s what Connie wanted most of all because her dad had never been around and her mum, though she hated having to do it, had to leave a key so that Connie could let herself into their chilly, empty house from school. She used to pray sometimes that her mum would fall ever so slightly ill so she couldn’t work and would be there cooking her tea when she came home.
They’d both played their parts – Jimmy had been the breadwinner, Connie had kept house. So why did it all go wrong?
That night in bed, Connie felt Jimmy hunch over to her side of the bed until he was spooning her and she stiffened, trying to work out whether he was asleep or not.
Then he clarified that by speaking. ‘You awake, Con?’
‘Er, yes,’ she replied.
‘What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow?’
‘More of the same.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’ She felt his breathy sigh of annoyance on the back of her neck.
‘Is it so bad being cooped up in the house with me?’ Connie asked, trying to stop her heart from quickening in anticipation of his answer.
‘No, no. It’s just that I’ve got things to do, places to go.’
‘People to see?’ She ended the phrase for him.
‘If you count Pookie as a person,’ he came straight back at her. ‘If he doesn’t stop slapping weight on, he’ll soon be able to body-double for Jabba the Hut.’
Connie lay in the dark listening to the clock’s baritone tick-tock downstairs in the hallway, aware of her husband’s close proximity. Was it her imagination or was he inching closer to her? Then she felt his lips on her neck and his hand on her waist, pulling her over to face him.
‘My best girl,’ he said. He had always called her that and only now did she realise the underlying meaning of the words. Was she the one he saved for best? The one that he stuffed away in a cupboard and only took out occasionally when he wanted to use her? In that case she wasn’t so much ‘best’ as a ‘standby’.
Connie unexpectedly felt like crying. She had been clinging to anger to drive her on, but she suddenly wanted to let it go, let the softness and vulnerability flow back into her.
‘Am I, Jimmy? Am I really?’
‘Yes.’ He kissed her and she kissed him back, fervently, desperately. His hands touched her and her hands touched him.
‘I love you,’ she said, unable to stop the words from leaving her. It had been so long since they made love that it almost physically hurt. Tears rolled from the corner of her eye onto the pillow as his breathing quickened and he held her. She loved him and she hated him, she wanted him miles away from her and she wanted his body to stay next to hers for ever. She wanted her Jimmy back again, the man who bought ‘his best girl’ fancy chocolates because he didn’t want her to forget that even though he might not give her as much attention as he should, he loved her. But that Jimmy had existed only as a shiny veneer on a cunning tosspot of a husband. Connie felt as if the husband she loved had died an age ago but she had just found out about it. Her grief was no less for the years in between, in fact it was more, for the waste of emotion and time and opportunities she could have had. This impostor, now inside her, shared his shape, his smell, his voice and her body wanted to believe he was still her Jimmy. But her head was denying her that ability to self-deceive.
Sated, Jimmy pressed his lips to Connie’s forehead .
‘I love you,’ he said, before rolling over and settling his head on his pillow. It didn’t take him long to fall into sleep but Connie lay staring into space, knowing that he had lied to her. Yet again.
Chapter 31
It was a different Connie who woke up to the one who had let her husband use her the previous night. She had dreamt of her mum handing her a small present wrapped roughly in brown paper.
‘Connie Elizabeth Clarke, you can do anything you put your mind to and don’t you forget it. Don’t let anyone laugh at you, unless it’s on the other side of their faces.’
She’d been looking up at her lovely black-haired mum as if she were a small child again as her hand came out for the present. And she opened it as she had in real life all those years ago and saw the magic.
*
Cheryl had gone through the whole house and filled a carrier bag full of Gary’s detritus, plus the guitar. She didn’t know what to do with it: should she just dump it on Ann Gladstone’s doorstep or should she ring Gary to come and collect it? But she couldn’t bring herself to phone him. How could it be that they had been together for ten years, how could they have shared so much for so long and overnight have turned into strangers?