by Karen Botha
He answers, ‘We were broken into one night. A gang of four blacks jumped the fence. Mum and Dad were sleeping, no threat to anyone. But the safe was in their bedroom. Rather than taking the valuables left out and making it easy on themselves, they decided to get my Dad to open the safe. He did, we were insured anyway, so there was no point in not doing, but they beat him to death, anyway. Mum was tied up and had to watch the whole thing.’ He trails off.
I take a quick gasp of breath at the horror.
‘Oh gosh, that’s awful?’
‘Thankfully they didn’t rape her which happens a lot. We were staying over at a friend’s so were out of the way. Mum was left there, and we found it all in the morning when we got home. It was after that she moved us here. Swore no-one would ever hurt us again.’
The silence hangs as we all consider the enormity of the wastefulness of a good life. I snuggle deeper under Giles’ arm. We all contemplate this as flames flicker random patterns that symbolise our thoughts.
‘Lucy, come inside with me a minute,’ Jennifer, Hugh’s American wife says, after some time.
I’m so comfortable I can’t be bothered to move, but I get up anyway and follow her inside to help with whatever chore she has in mind.
Once inside their country style kitchen-diner, I’m given the task of stirring the pre-prepared soup Jennifer puts on the Aga. She’s readying herself with making bread.
‘Wow, you certainly put on a good feast,’ I smile as I point at the first stages of bread dough.
‘Ah it’s nothing, a few left over veg in the pot and don’t let this bread making thing fool you. It’s actually Virginia’s recipe for beer bread. It's so simple, mix a few ingredients, and it just happens. Nothing to it.’ She literally throws an open can of lager in the mix.
‘Well, I am incredibly impressed,’ I say.
She catches me by surprise, ‘I’m glad Giles has found you, he seems so happy. You’re way better than Steph.’
I snap my head up from the soup pan and stare at her, what an odd thing to say.
‘She was loud and in your face, well until she got sick,’ she continues.
‘Oh, OK,’ I gulp, ‘I didn’t realise,’ this is really uncomfortable. It’s not something I expected her to tell me.
‘Yeah, I always thought Giles could do so much better. Seemed like she always had her eye on every other man,’ she sneers.
I remember Paula saying that Penelope had mentioned something similar, but considering Hugh always held a torch for Steph, I reason that it may just be jealousy talking. I have to be careful what I say on so many levels.
I mumble, ‘Oh really..?’
‘She was a big flirt. Wasn’t happy unless all the men were focussed on her,’ but she mutters this almost to herself.
I process my thoughts.
‘Do you believe she died naturally or did anyone ever suspect she may have committed suicide?’ A shudder overtakes me as I realise I may have overstepped an invisible line. The type where your head prickles as nerves prepare for a backlash.
Jen doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Personally, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had ended it herself,’ her voice is hushed. She moves nearer to me, ‘she was so outrageously outgoing that to end up like she did must have been incredibly alien. We’d get together and play games with her, or watch TV that kind of thing. So she was still part of the group, you know? But she wasn’t interested. She’d lost who she was, didn't want to be someone else.’
I wonder whether this is a genuine possibility. About whether Paula and Mo are off on a tangent for no other reason than nothing can ever be simple in their world.
She carries on, ‘When you go from all the men adoring you, to being stuck in bed, a shadow of your former self, the adoration tends to die down a bit. Oops, pardon the pun,’ and she giggles behind her hand, ‘but you know what I mean. You’d lose your identity when such a huge part of who you were is suddenly missing.’
Right on queue Hugh bustles in.
‘What are you girls gossiping about?’ He heads towards the wine rack for another bottle of red.
‘Oh, this and that,’ Jennifer clucks as she throws her unbaked bread into a tin and clatters it as she opens the oven door.
GILES
‘Don’t take me home,’ Lucy blurts as we get in the car to leave Hugh's. Excitement punches my solar plexus as I sideline a look at her.
‘Where would you like to go?’ I flick my head towards her, taking in as much of her expression as I can manage without causing a major collision.
‘Back to yours, I don’t care what your place is like, I just want to be with you.’
My heart swells and I’m done with being a gentleman.
‘Back to mine it is then.’ A smile curls up the corners of my lips and I take her hand in mine. She squeezes it firmly. We sit in silence.
As I pull up onto my short double drive, I press the button for the automatic double garage door. As we wait for it to rise, I see my home from someone else’s perspective. It’s a tiny link detached brick box on an estate. Without character, but it suits me.
‘This is nothing to be ashamed of,’ her eyes are wide.
Embarrassment burns and my hands shake as I pull into the garage and the door hums closed.
‘It’s not exactly Hugh and Jennifer’s place, not exactly a country house and gravel drive! Wait until you see Wyndham and Pen’s place, it's beautiful.’
‘Yes but they have one house, you have two,’ she’s right, I always forget. I’ve tried my best to erase the part of my life involving the other house. I don’t want to dwell on this now, so move on the conversation.
‘Well, I’m pleased you like it.’
We’re both hopping out of the car, but she’s hovering at the side of it not knowing where to go. I come around and wrap both of my arms around her, one down at her waist the other slightly higher against her back. I crush my left arm as I slam my body against hers and into the high side of the 4x4. She stumbles, but she’s not thrown. She responds with as much heat and passion, kissing me back hard on the mouth, our tongues finding each other; then flickering on to explore ears and the delicate space at the base of our necks, excitement growing with each new sensation.
She’s ripping at the buttons of my shirt, tugging them inexpertly. I’m bunching her long dress into layers, grappling for the hem. I’m there, and I touch the silky skin of her legs. She opens them wider for me and I take the opportunity to reach between her thighs.
She is so wet, it’s leaking through her panties. I have to stop myself from giggling with pure glee that her body has readied itself so well for me.
She is tugging my belt. I reach down to help her, popping the buttons of my flies. I want her to reach inside my clothing. I want her to feel my body respond to her.
She does; needily grabbing at me, bending down to take me in her mouth. Her sigh is warm, hot even, and rapid. It tickles my sensitive end every time she exhales. She’s good at this! Her tongue tantalises me, bringing me towards climax, then stopping short of delivering. She takes me deeper, all the way down her throat and I sigh controlling my natural response.
I need to stop her before this whole event is cut short. With a deep breath, I move away, pick her up, and literally plop her on the bonnet.
‘Kick off your shoes,’ I demand.
She does then leans back, the engine still warm from the journey. Our eyes are locked, she’s calm and wanting, her skirt raised up to her waist and her legs bent at the knee, feet flat on the smooth paintwork of my car, legs spread wide.
She pulls down the straps on her dress freeing up her breasts to spill out and I love that she loves being on show to me. We’re in the moment. The electricity between us is intense. I reach towards her and take each side of her panties sliding them down as she lifts her hips.
I see her fully for the first time, a woman who wants me. She’s not a porcelain doll. She won’t break if treated too rough.
; As I slip my fingers into her glistening space, I slide her down, wanting to kiss her; to bury my head in her breasts. Her flesh moulds against my needy tussling, I need every part of this woman at once. I’m greedy with desire.
Her legs are so wide, as she moves down I touch her wetness with my penis and I can wait no longer. With a force I would never have planned for this, our first, and very special time, I ram into her with all my strength. Her head flips back, her eyes widen and her mouth opens expelling a gasp. I fill her and she encompasses my entirety. I quickly slide backwards and forwards, her hips rising and falling in time. The sensation as I almost pull out and then jam back in again is overpowering, flooding my knees with electricity. She’s moaning and her eyes are scrunched; closed. I slow, worried this will all end too soon. I change pace, become gentle and catch my breath. Her eyes open and she half sits again reaching towards me, breasts spilling forward as she jerks, still bouncing against my now slower movements.
I don’t want to be mild mannered though, this has been too long in the coming. I can’t stop myself. I need to be deep inside this woman, to enjoy as much of her as I can. Once again I speed up and take everything from her, I own her. She’s kissing me, her tongue exploring the back of my throat, our mouths pressed hard together, teeth grazing. Her ankles are wrapped around my ears, knocking the side of my head as I move us with my passion. She moans, as I bury in her once again, and that’s it. One moan too many. The swell rises from my groin and runs like warm heroin through every single nerve, crashing symbols of passion in my brain, my ears ring and my breathing stops, halted by this overpowering sensation of pure pleasure.
And a few seconds later it’s all over. Done.
She’s lying limp on the bonnet, we’re still connected, but it’s fading fast. She struggles to push herself upright, resting on her elbows and I shove the thought of her doing some ab work from my brain. She looks me dead in the eye and laughs. What is she laughing at? It wasn’t that bad, was it?
‘I think we needed that.’ Her giggle floats through the air like a melody and my momentary self-doubt vanishes.
‘I need more, we’ve unlocked the flood gates now.’
I grab her hand and pull her off the front of my car leading her into my home. She makes no comment on the house, I didn’t expect her to. It's somehow insignificant now. She dumps her bag on the kitchen table and it makes me smile that she's at ease. I look forward to the years ahead where her same habit will bring me back to this special moment.
She comes towards me and snuggles her head into my chest, reaches to kiss my lips.
‘I need the loo,’ her eyes shimmer in the half light. It’s not exactly what I’d expected to come out of her mouth and I let out a small snicker in appreciation of her naturalness.
I direct her to the small cloakroom in the hall through my bland lounge. I put the kettle on whilst she’s gone and stand and view the interior from her perspective. I have very little furniture, but girls like that, a blank canvass upon which to make their mark, don’t they? I settled on this house purely for the two garages, the house was unimportant.
PAULA
Lucy and I are in the Post Office. Waiting. We sometimes do this, pool our chores and have a catch up whilst we’re getting on with it. Today we’ve already dropped some paperwork into a solicitor I’ve done some freelancing work for. We’ve both had our eyes tested and of course tried on several pairs of unneeded glasses, giggling as they transform our features.
‘I don’t understand why you always have to queue in the Post Office,’ Lucy fidgets from foot to foot.
‘Yeah, it’s like they never get the hang of peak time trade.’
‘And it doesn’t matter which one you go to, they’re all the same. They know you need to use them, so they don’t care about quality service.’
‘You know what winds me up?’ My insides stir as an old annoyance resurfaces.’
‘What?’
‘When my only free time to post a parcel was my lunch and I spent it queueing, aside from not being how I chose to spend the one hour a day I had to myself, you'd think they'd be prepared. Have you ever had that happen?’
‘No, I usually come here because it's a main one so at least they employ a lot of staff. But guess what I’ve had at one of our local Post Offices?’
I shake my head.
‘He only overcharged me for my parcel and then shouted at me because I pulled him up on it.’
‘You’re kidding?’ My mouth opens wide with matching eyes, arms thrown upwards. If there’s one thing I hate it’s injustice.
‘Yeah, the one in that convenience store round the corner from me?’
I picture the parade of shops with their handwritten signs plastered from floor to ceiling on dirty windows behind which toilet rolls are obtrusively stacked. ‘What did you do?’
‘I walked out with my package and visited the main Post Office and then reported him to the Royal Mail. Never used a local Post Office since.’
‘Haha, brilliant, don’t mess with you!’
We stand a little longer, fifteen minutes have passed already.
‘What have you been up to?’ Lucy asks as we shuffle forward.
‘I went line dancing.’ She plants her palm over her wide mouth and laughs.
‘You did what? You with the two left feet?’
Great, thanks for that, but decide to admit, ‘I fell.’
‘Oh, well I’m not surprised.’ We both howl rather louder than the other members of this queue appear to appreciate.
‘Yeah, bang, straight down, got my feet tied in a knot,’ when I’ve finished wheezing, we start again.
‘Giles went line dancing once, he said he was curious to see what all the fuss was about. Someone he knew used to go, or something. Apparently not for him.’
‘Hmm’ there’s not really much to say to that, so we stand together in amicable silence waiting for this never-ending queue to move. We're almost there.
‘See, this is why doing chores together is great, we’re at the front of this awful queue now,’ Lucy claps her hands together.
With another profitable sale of old clothing parcelled off to another happy e-Bay user, we head to the bank to close down a dormant account. More monotonous queueing reminds us of our previous conversation.
Lucy asks, ‘Why on earth did you go line dancing, anyway?’
‘Ah, well, I wanted to get to know Julie a little,’ I cringe inwardly. I see her mouth tighten and she turns away from me for long enough for my scalp to prickle. After her outburst the other day, I’m a little unsure of how to tread. I thank goodness we’re out doing our chores together. Not for the light entertainment, but because she can’t fly off the handle in the bank - particularly when it’s her account we’re waiting to close down.
‘OK, so she was a line dancer I assume. Did anything happen you should tell me about?’ Her voice is terse, spine upright.
‘No, I was just getting familiar with the group really,’ I answer carefully. ‘Some of them were really nice…’ I expand when I’m not shot down with a glare or worse.
‘Good.’
‘Yeah, I’m going to go back, not because of Julie though,’ I need to explain, ‘but because I really enjoyed myself.’
‘You enjoyed line dancing?’ She covers her mouth with both hands unable to stop the glistening in her eyes.
‘Yeah, honestly, I had fun. The people were a bit odd at first, but when they accept you, they all just seem, oh I don’t know… genuine… it’s nice.’
I’m forgiven, she smiles at me, warmth in her eyes.
‘It’s good for you to be around solid people, maybe now your opinion of EVERYONE won’t be so jaded.’
I decide to take that one. I breathe an inward sigh of relief. A young, thin chap with mousy blonde hair makes his way down the queue to see if he can help whilst we’re waiting. He takes Lucy's details and sets about closing down the account. Except that he can’t because she doesn’t have the correct identifica
tion.
‘That will have to stay on the to do list for another day then,’ she mopes as we walk out. ‘Now where?’
‘Lunch?’
We decide on sushi and ring up to make the booking for ten minutes time. ‘It always seems silly making a booking for literally only as long as it takes us to walk over,’ I say.
‘Yeah, but if we don’t, we can’t use our discount card.’
‘Indeed,’ we chime together. Like old times. There’s not been too much of that recently.
‘So, give me the update with Giles,’ we’re seated in our usual place by the window. It’s not a great view if I’m honest, we’re casually observing a high street sticky from over zealous night time drinking.
‘Only if you promise not to judge.’
Pain stabs through my organs reprimanding me for making my best friend wary. I really should learn a little more diplomacy.
‘Of course not, I’m only watching out for you, you know that,’ I glance around the small cafe style interior trying to diffuse a potential situation.
‘Well, I don’t believe he did it anyway,’ she cautions stiffly. ‘I was at his friends house the other day and Jennifer, his friends wife said she thought Steph may well have committed suicide.’ Her tone denotes I told you so.
‘OK, but tell me about Giles,’ I coax, feigning more excitement than could ever be genuine, ‘have you done the deed?’ I whisper theatrically.
And she lights up, her face literally radiates pleasure and I feel bad for spoiling this for her, ‘Yeah, several times actually.’
‘Really, and I’m assuming from your massive grin that you’re happy with the results.’
‘Very. It was after we’d been to Hugh’s the other day. I went back to his, and then the next day we spent the entire time in bed.’
‘Oh, you gotta love those days,’ I say, trying to remember the last time I had one. The snatched times with Steve were anything but languished days in bed.
‘Yeah, he cooked me breakfast. Well actually he burnt toast, but I won’t hold that against him. He didn’t even expect me to stay so I’m lucky he had bread in I suppose. I didn’t have a toothbrush, hairbrush or anything and it was fine. I had the best time Paula, I need you to like him,’ she says.
