Flings and Arrows

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘I’m so sorry Si,’ June whimpered. ‘Ralph and I fell asleep in your armchair. When I woke up there was no sign of you. I went to see what had happened to you and found my keys on the front lawn. I must have dropped them on my way out earlier. So then I rang Steph’s mobile as I was worried about you. And she told me what had happened. I feel perfectly dreadful.’

  Si patted June’s hand. ‘We’ll laugh about this one day.’

  ‘Well I won’t. I’ll be giving Mrs Waite next door a right flea in her ear.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Si.

  ‘Mrs Waite is the one who telephoned the police. Not only is she deaf, she’s clearly going blind. How otherwise could she not have seen it was you Si?’

  ‘She’s a very old lady June. Don’t upset her. Just leave things be. No harm’s been done.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Steph crisply. ‘I just hope my hair doesn’t fall out. This dye should have been removed two hours ago.’

  The cab pulled up outside a swish looking hair salon. Si wondered how much the impending romantic date had cost him so far, what with the hair and now the cab. His wife’s head swivelled round one hundred and eighty degrees from her position in the front. What with the Medusa hair and her pissed-off expression, she looked like something out of The Exorcist.

  ‘Try and stay out of trouble until I get home,’ she said to Si.

  By the time the cab pulled up in Jessamine Terrace, Si just wanted the day to end.

  ‘That’ll be sixty quid,’ said the cabbie.

  ‘How much?’ Si gasped. ‘We’ve only come from Blackfen Nick.’

  ‘You might have done mate. I’ve been to some poncy hair salon, Blackfen Nick, back to the poncy hair salon and now here. So that’s sixty quid.’

  ‘You must let me pay it dear,’ said June. ‘This is entirely my fault.’

  Si knew perfectly well that June couldn’t stump up that sort of money. ‘No sweetheart.’

  ‘Then you and Steph must accept some hospitality by way of repayment. I insist on the two of you coming to dinner with me and my friend Harry before the week is out.’

  ‘That would be lovely June. Thank you.’

  Si hugged June good-bye, paid off the cabbie and let himself into Number 42 with a weary sigh.

  ‘Hi Dad.’ Tom came out of the kitchen. An older woman stepped out behind Tom. ‘I’d like you to meet Rachel.’ What was it with Tom and older women?

  ‘Hello Rachel,’ Si nodded at the woman. He didn’t want to make small talk. He just wanted to relax in front of his television. Pushing open the door to the lounge, Si was taken aback to see two small people sharing his favourite armchair. They were immersed in a programme featuring a giant talking bear. Si reversed out the living room.

  ‘Who are these kids?’ Si asked Tom.

  ‘Tilly and Joshua,’ said Tom.

  Si stared at Tom, none the wiser. ‘Who exactly are Tilly and Joshua?’

  ‘They’re my children,’ said Rachel.

  Chapter Twelve

  June put the key in the lock and let herself in. Ralph greeted her and she patted his head. What a stupid woman she was. No more mooning around like a love struck teenager. It was time to act like a responsible senior citizen. What the heck was she playing at walking to health shops for quick energy fixes? She should forget all about salsa and romance. Take up jam making. Or knitting. The trouble with being old was that people expected you to behave old. And June just wasn’t ready for that. Worryingly, losing house keys and falling asleep in armchairs was exactly the sort of thing old people did. She hoped this wasn’t the shape of things to come.

  June walked over to the little table in the hall and put the house keys in the drawer. It was then that she noticed the flashing light on the answering machine. She pressed the play button. As Harry’s exuberant voice filled the hallway, June forgot all about jam making, knitting and being old.

  ‘Hello darling Juney,’ boomed Harry. Darling Juney! June wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself in delight. ‘I’ve just had the Beamer professionally valeted and it looks an absolute treat. And I thought to myself, “Harry old boy, what are you doing cruising around in this lovely car without the even lovelier June by your side?” So I’m ringing to ask if you’d like to come out for a spin, have a spot of pub grub and watch the sun set. Give me a call gorgeous. Toodle-oo.’

  By the time the message had ended June was feeling almost faint with excitement. She had to sit on the bottom stair and take deep breaths for a full minute. Gathering herself, she stood up, made herself count slowly to ten and then picked up the phone. Harry answered on the second ring.

  ‘Hello Harry,’ June quavered. ‘I’d love to watch the sun set with you.’ Forget the car ride and the pub grub. What could be more romantic than sitting side by side on a grassy bank, heads together, bodies silhouetted against a sinking ball of flame that flooded the skyline with orange and gold?

  ‘Splendid! Get yourself ready my darling. I’m on my way.’

  June scampered upstairs and ransacked her wardrobe. Her favourite floral dress was perfect for posing in Harry’s BMW, but not so great for sitting on grassy banks. What about her tweed skirt? No, the weather was too warm. Jeans? Should she even possess jeans at seventy? June settled on some loose linen trousers, a floral blouse and some jewelled flip flops that had been reduced to a fiver in Peacocks’ sale. June couldn’t help thinking that if she married Harry, she might be able to buy things in Marks & Spencer’s rather than Peacocks. Not that she was after Harry for his money. Of course not. But a little bit of extra comfort certainly added to the attraction.

  June inspected herself in the bedroom’s full length mirror. Not bad. If she screwed up her eyes and stood right back, she could even pass for fifty-something. She stepped closer to the mirror, applied fresh lipstick and then teased her hair with a comb. She’d better let Ralph out for a quick wee. Harry would be here any moment.

  While Ralph was out in the garden cocking his leg over the rose bushes, June quickly plumped up the cushions in the lounge and made sure the place looked nice. Just in case Harry came back later. For a nightcap or something. Butterflies took off in her tummy as she thought about or something.

  June let Ralph back in. She was just retrieving her house keys from the hall table’s drawer when Harry arrived.

  ‘You look divine Juney,’ said Harry. ‘Your chariot awaits.’

  Making sure her house keys were safely inside her handbag this time, June took Harry’s arm and let him lead her down the path to his car. As he opened the door for her and made sure she was comfortable, June felt like a princess. This was nice. Very nice. Although she enjoyed her walks with Ralph, June reckoned she could definitely become accustomed to having a chauffeur.

  ‘I know a lovely little pub about half an hour from here,’ said Harry. The Beamer cruised along. The radio was on and Tom Jones blared out. Harry sang along. ‘Sex bomb, sex bomb, you’re a sex bomb.’ June thought Harry had quite a good voice. Harry gave June a sideways look and winked. ‘And baby you can turn me on.’ June giggled and blushed.

  The BMW turned into the car park of the Nut and Squirrel. June thought it looked very classy. It even had a beer garden! A riot of blooms frothed from huge terracotta urns.

  ‘Shall we eat outside?’ asked June.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll have a leisurely meal and then watch the sun set.’

  A buxom middle-aged woman carrying some menus came over to their table. Harry appeared to momentarily lose the power of speech. June suddenly felt disconcerted. She studied the woman. Too tight skirt, brassy hair, bright blue eye-shadow and cherry lips. She was attractive in a past-the-sell-by-date way. Without doubt her biggest asset, in every sense of the word, was her chest. A badge proclaimed the name Dawn. Harry recovered and took both menus from Dawn, then handed one to June. June tried to study the menu but ended up scrutinising Harry to see if he was giving sidelong peeks at Dawn. Eventually Harry cleared his thr
oat.

  ‘I’ll have the roast salmon, new potatoes and green beans.’

  June had spent so much time studying Harry, she hadn’t a clue what was on the menu. She opted to have the same as Harry.

  ‘Would you like any wine?’ asked Dawn.

  ‘Yes. Actually make that champagne,’ said Harry importantly. June gasped. She instantly forgave Harry for giving Dawn the once over. A man didn’t order champagne if you weren’t special. ‘You’ll have to drink most of it Juney because I’m driving.’

  Dawn retrieved the menus leaving Harry and June alone again. Harry leant across the table and took one of June’s hands. ‘Look. The sun’s starting to go down.’

  June glanced up. ‘So it is.’ They weren’t sitting on a grassy bank, their heads weren’t together and they weren’t silhouetted against a sinking ball of flame. Instead a row of roof tops, chimneys and satellite dishes were outlined against burnt orange. But the hand holding was nice. And June liked the way Harry kept entwining his fingers with hers.

  And later, much much later, she liked the way Harry walked her up the path to the front door, an arm protectively around her waist, before drawing her close to him. She stared at him helplessly, her heart racing. And then his mouth came down on hers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After all the drama and confusion surrounding Si’s arrest and June’s ‘burglary’, Steph returned to Blown Away feeling not so much blown away as totally wrecked.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ screeched Dominic as Steph came through the door. ‘Get to the washbasin now please.’

  ‘Did I leave my laptop here?’ asked Steph as she leant back against the cold porcelain.

  ‘Yes. It’s quite safe. You left in such a hurry you were still logged on to Facebook. I took the liberty of hijacking your Status. Your friends are now furnished with Blown Away’s address and telephone number and think you rate the salon very highly. They also believe you have a bit of a crush on me.’ Steph opened her mouth to object and was promptly sprayed with hot water and foaming shampoo. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Dominic put up a hand to halt Steph’s complaint, ‘but it’s good for business. Never miss a business opportunity. That’s what my bank manager told me. Wise man.’ Dominic suddenly went dreamy. ‘He made a lovely pavlova too.’ Steph silently fumed while Dominic washed, rinsed, conditioned and sprayed her face with so much water Steph struggled to catch her breath. She had a fleeting vision of a newspaper headline: Woman Drowns in Hair Salon. ‘Oh, and I sent your message to Barry Hastings.’

  Steph gasped. ‘But I hadn’t finished–’

  A towel landed on her face. ‘Sit up,’ Dominic instructed. ‘I finished the message for you. It was easy enough to conclude. He’d asked if you wanted to meet up for a one-to-one so I said that you’d love to. Then I signed it off with lots of hugs and kisses and smiley faces.’

  Steph inwardly groaned. However, by the time Dominic had finished wielding his scissors and blasting her with a hairdryer the size of an aeroplane engine, Steph could forgive him anything. Her previous sensible bob had been softened with layers framing her heart-shaped face. The butterscotch toffee and blonde highlights flattered her colouring turning her eyes almost aqua.

  ‘There,’ Dominic held up a mirror for Steph to inspect the back of her hair. ‘You look absolutely gorgeous. If I weren’t gay, I’d fancy you.’

  But all good things come at a price. Steph left Blown Away clutching her laptop and an empty purse. She decided to walk home. The late afternoon sun enveloped her in soothing warmth. The weather forecasters were predicting a heat wave. That would be nice. She and Si couldn’t really afford a summer holiday. With a bit of luck they’d be able to sunbathe in the garden. Maybe even have a few barbecues.

  As Steph strolled along, her thoughts turned to Si. Poor man! She’d been wrong to snap at her unfortunate husband. After all, he hadn’t asked to be arrested. Steph put herself in Si’s shoes. Visualised opening June’s front door to a stony-faced policeman. Freeze! You’re under arrest! Being bundled into a panda car. Handcuffed even! Then tyres spinning and screeching as the cop hit the accelerator. Blue light flashing. Siren wailing. All the neighbours watching behind their net curtains. She would have been petrified – screamed hysterically. She would have wanted Si to rescue her. He would have been the first person she’d have phoned – just like Steph had been the first person Si had phoned. He’d wanted support. Reassurance. Sympathy. Not a flea in the ear. Ashamed, Steph stopped at the Newsagent on the corner of Jessamine Terrace. She bought a copy of Goal football magazine for Si and a family sized bag of Minstrels. That should perk him up a bit.

  Upon letting herself into Number 42, Steph could hear the television. Whatever was Si watching? Nursery rhyme music issued forth. The sound of children singing could be heard. Steph opened the door to the lounge. Two tiny tots were sitting in Si’s armchair, clapping their hands in time to the music on the television. So immersed were the children in their viewing, they didn’t even notice Steph. She shut the door and went down the hall to the kitchen. Her husband was sitting slumped at the kitchen table, staring into space.

  ‘Si?’ Steph put the footie magazine and Minstrels down on the table. ‘Where did the children come from?’

  ‘Hmm?’ Si gazed at Steph blankly.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, there are two kids in the lounge. They’re not mine. So whose are they?’ Si failed to respond. Why was her husband behaving oddly? Why was he just staring at her? As if his world had fallen apart? Or as if his world was about to fall apart. The blood drained from her face. ‘They’re not yours are they?’

  ‘What?’ Si furrowed his brow.

  Steph sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. ‘Have you had an affair? Are these secret love children?’ Si continued to gaze at her vacantly. ‘For God’s sake Si, talk to me!’

  ‘Talk to you!’ Si suddenly roared. ‘Yes I’ll talk to you! I go to work and get harassed. I come home and get arrested. My wife collects me and slaps my wrists. I find two kids in the house that don’t belong to me. Then my wife asks me if they’re mine and accuses me of having an affair. Thank you Steph. I’m going for a drive. Nice hairdo by the way.’ Snatching up the keys to his van, Si stalked out and banged the door behind him.

  Steph couldn’t believe what had just happened. She and Si never argued. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d raised voices to each other. She found herself adopting Si’s position and slumped over the table, staring into space. Her bewilderment intensified. So where had the kids come from? And then she heard a woman laughing followed by a man’s murmurs. It sounded seductive. Intimate. Tom! Tom had a woman in his room. Steph slapped her forehead as the jigsaw fell into place. The children belonged to the woman with Tom. What the devil was her son playing at? He might be eighteen, he might have finished school, but this was her house and she wasn’t having all manner of women being brought home by him. This time he’d gone too far. And what sort of female did he have up there? Well obviously a mother. But what sort of mother left her kids watching television in a strange house while she took to another man’s bed? And what sort of a predatory cradle-snatching woman wanted to go to bed with an eighteen year old student? The woman must be some sort of–

  ‘Pervert!’ she whispered. Oh my God. Steph clutched the table to steady herself. She felt sick. Dizzy. Just at that moment she heard a key in the lock. Si drooped in.

  ‘I’m sorry Steph. I didn’t go for a drive. Just sat in the van and took some deep breaths.’ He stopped and stared at his wife. She was as white as the kitchen cupboards. ‘What’s the matter love?’

  ‘Pervert!’ Steph gasped in horror.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Si couldn’t believe his ears. His wife had just called him a pervert! She’d been married to him for twenty-four years. Twenty-four years! And now she’d decided he was some sort of sex fiend.

  Thanks for that Steph. Thanks a bunch.’ Picking up his keys, Si turned on his heel and made off to the front door again.
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  ‘Not you!’ Steph finally found her voice. ‘Her!’

  Si spun round, eyes casting about wildly.

  ‘Up there!’ Steph jabbed a finger at the ceiling. ‘Tom has a female up there who I presume is the mother of those children.’

  ‘That’s right. Her name’s Rachel. You didn’t give me a chance to explain.’

  Steph rubbed her eyes wearily and stood up. ‘I’m sorry.’ She walked over to Si and put her arms around his waist. Si felt his anger dissolve.

  ‘That’s okay.’ He folded his arms around her.

  ‘No it’s not okay,’ Steph’s voice wobbled. ‘It’s not okay at all. I should have been sympathetic when you were falsely arrested – shown some understanding. Instead I was bossy with you and exasperated with June. And talking of June, I don’t know what’s got into her lately. She’s not herself. I caught her staggering along the pavement yesterday. She ended up grabbing the lamp post. I went to help her expecting her to look grey and ill. Instead she was all starry eyed and behaving like she’d had an epiphany. And as for Tom! I’m fed up with this house being treated like a lovers’ motel. Enough is enough!’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said Si. Oh to have his telly back. ‘So you’ll talk to him.’

  ‘No,’ Steph looked incredulous. ‘You’ll talk to him. Father to son. Man to man.’

  Si had been hoping Steph wouldn’t say that. ‘We’ll both talk to him.’

  ‘When?’

  Steph let go of Si and crossed her arms. Uh-oh. Si recognised the body language. When women did the arm crossing thing, it meant they were on the warpath. And now Steph’s chin was jutting out and she was looking all determined.

  ‘I guess there’s no time like the present,’ he said resignedly.

  Out in the hall Si stopped to listen. The sounds of the television prevailed in the background. He went up the stairs quietly, Steph glued to his heels.