Flings and Arrows

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘What will you say?’ Steph hissed.

  Si was clueless. They were outside Tom’s room now. Why didn’t some clever clogs write a child rearing manual about situations like this? And then, instead of scratching his head, Si could’ve flipped methodically through the Index, run a forefinger down to the heading How To Chuck Unwanted Women Out Of Your Son’s Bedroom and all would have been ticketty boo. ‘I’ll wing it,’ Si said. He sounded more confident than he felt. He rapped on the door.

  ‘Yeah?’ Tom called out.

  Si levered down the handle and burst into the room. Steph sprang after him, tucking herself in behind Si’s torso. Tom was sitting on the bed. Rachel was beside him. Thank God they had their clothes on.

  ‘Son, I’m sorry. This has been a long time coming. I’m not sure how to word this. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of Rachel, but your mother and I have decided enough is enough. It’s over.’

  Steph’s head popped out from behind Si. She waggled a hand under her chin. ‘I’ve had it up to here!’ she nodded.

  ‘We don’t watch the box together any more. We don’t eat together any more. We go to bed at night and–’

  ‘Dad!’ Tom gave a sad smile. ‘Too much information. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry?’ Si stared at his son incredulously. Tom apologising was a first.

  ‘Sorry?’ Steph echoed.

  ‘Well of course I’m sorry!’ Tom exclaimed. ‘You two have been married for twenty-four years. And now you’re telling me it’s over.’

  Si turned round and looked at Steph. ‘I don’t think I’m getting through to him. You have a try.’ He pushed his reluctant wife forward.

  ‘Basically Tom,’ Steph warbled, ‘your friend has to go.’

  Si cringed but mentally applauded his wife for coming straight to the point. ‘She has to go,’ he repeated.

  Steph looked at Rachel. ‘I’m very sorry. Well actually I’m not sorry. Why should I be apologising? This is my home so I’ll speak my mind. What sort of woman are you? You come round here trailing two little kids, park them in my lounge–’

  ‘–in front of my telly,’ Si chipped in.

  ‘– and then clear off up here with my son to do God only knows what manner of debauched things. Frankly you should be ashamed of yourself. What sort of example are you setting those impressionable little children? Have you ever stopped to think about that, hmm? And what about Tom here? You’re messing about with a child Rachel. A child, do you hear? He may be built like a twenty-five year old but the fact remains he is only eighteen. You’re doing untold damage. You’re screwing with his marbles.’

  Si privately thought that it wasn’t Tom’s marbles Rachel was screwing. But he had to hand it to Steph. She was doing a champion job. Getting straight to the point.

  ‘So,’ Steph continued, ‘we want you Tom to stop bringing loose women with no morals back to this house. And we want you Rachel to leave the premises immediately. And please collect your poor little children on the way out.’

  There was a resounding silence. Tom’s jaw had dropped open. Rachel looked shell-shocked. Steph was almost panting with exertion. Si moved around his wife and held out his hand to Rachel.

  ‘Come with me please Madam.’ Oh God. His brief time at Blackfen Nick had rubbed off on him. He’d be bending his knees next and saying ’ello ’ello ’ello.

  Tom found his voice. ‘Mum. Dad. I don’t think I introduced you properly. This is Rachel Gardner. She was my drama teacher at school. Recently she started up an Amateur Dramatics Club. I’m co-writing a play with her. She thinks I’m very talented. Plus it will look good on my CV. Rachel has builders working in her house. We came here so we could concentrate on the writing.’ Tom indicated papers spread across the bed.

  ‘And I brought my children Mrs Garvey,’ Rachel said coolly, ‘because firstly they’re no trouble and secondly their crèche is shut for summer. Nor did I think Mr Garvey that it would be a problem leaving them in front of your telly.’ She began collecting the scattered papers.

  ‘Right-oh!’ Si gave a cheery wave. ‘We’ll leave you to it. Come on love,’ he grabbed hold of Steph’s hand. ‘We have to go out. No hurry Rachel. In your own time.’

  ‘Nice kids,’ Steph nodded, ‘a credit to you.’

  Holding Steph’s hand as if his life depended upon it, Si pulled her after him. He felt sick. Sick with embarrassment. And poor Tom! How would his son live it down? But then again, Tom had skin thicker than rhino hide. He probably wouldn’t be fazed. That poor woman’s face! She’d looked so shocked. How awful. All Si wanted to do was flee from the house. And not come back until Rachel had gone. He grabbed the van keys and propelled Steph out the front door.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ he put up a hand to silence her protests. ‘Just get in.’ Si banged the van door shut and turned the engine over. ‘We’ll go for a drive. Kill some time. And then we’ll go home and have dinner. Rachel will have gone and hopefully Tom won’t disown us.’

  ‘Well at this rate we’re never going to eat,’ Steph tutted. ‘Look at the time,’ she tapped her watch.

  The onset of evening hadn’t been lost on Si. A beautiful sunset was going on. If Si hadn’t felt so stressed he’d have sat in the van for a bit just watching the clouds and light patterns shifting.

  ‘We’ll drive to the chippie,’ said Si. ‘Save you cooking.’ He indicated to pull out. A BMW stopped and flashed him to go. Si put up his hand to thank the driver, then watched in dismay as the BMW appropriated his parking space. He’d have to drive around the block several times later to find another spot for the van.

  ‘It’s been a bit of a day,’ Steph sighed.

  ‘Never mind,’ Si leant across the handbrake and patted Steph’s thigh. ‘At least we have our romantic date to look forward to tomorrow.’

  Steph nodded. ‘Absolutely. We’re going to have a lovely time.’

  Si nodded. Nothing else could go wrong. Could it?

  Chapter Fifteen

  June was full of champagne. She was also in the middle of an incredibly long series of snogs. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had stuck their tongue down her throat. She had a hazy recollection of doing such a thing with Arthur, but long ago. Decades ago. Certainly prior to Arthur giving Viagra a try. That had been a short-lived experience. In every sense of the word. June wasn’t sure if snogging on her doorstep was quite the done thing. They’d been standing on the step for a good ten minutes now. Wouldn’t people passing by think her outrageous? Or revolting? Should a seventy year old woman be making out with a sixty-four year old in public? Or at all come to that?

  June closed her eyes and tried to enjoy Harry’s mouth on hers. After all the anticipation, this kiss was – dare she admit it? – disappointing. June put her arms around Harry’s neck. She was pushed up against her front door. The letterbox was pressing into her bottom. This latest kiss had been going on for well over a minute. Harry was making lots of mm mm mmmm noises. June took this as a sign of pleasure. Perhaps she should do the same. Surely it was only polite? But the shy, reserved part of June refused to oblige.

  June heard a discreet cough. She opened her eyes and looked over Harry’s shoulder. Tom was standing outside Number 42 with an older woman and two small children. They were staring at her and Harry. The children looked puzzled, the woman flabbergasted. Tom was grinning broadly. June put up a hand and gave a little wave. She’d have said hello if her mouth had been available. Tom ushered the woman and children down the path. Before setting off along Jessamine Terrace, Tom turned and gave her a cheeky thumbs up. June was mortified. She needed Harry to stop kissing her. Another couple of minutes had since elapsed. If nothing else, she needed oxygen.

  June pushed Harry away. ‘Harry!’ she gasped.

  ‘Sweet Juney,’ Harry panted, ‘are you going to ask me in?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ June clutched her cardigan about her nervously, ‘it’s quite late.’

  ‘Nonsense! The night is still y
oung – like us! Come on, let’s go in!’

  With a shaking hand, June opened her front door and flicked on the hall light. Ralph greeted them, bug-eyed and yawning. He ignored Harry but wagged his tail for June. Harry led June into the lounge. Ralph trotted after them, but Harry put the toe of his shoe against the terrier’s chest and shut him out.

  ‘Let’s get that salsa music going!’ said Harry walking over to the hi-fi.

  ‘Okay, but not too loud. Steph made a comment about it last time.’

  ‘Well it sounds like Steph needs to loosen up. This will certainly help.’

  Bold bars of piano sounded before a band burst into Latin rhythm. Despite worrying about Steph and Si, June instantly found one foot tapping to the beat. Harry turned to look at June and held out his hands. June kicked off her jewelled flip-flops and wiggled over. Harry strutted and pranced. June twirled and whirled, her bare heels flicking up.

  They danced for over an hour. Eventually June felt the last of the champagne bubbles pop and knew that she needed to stop. She was out of breath, hot and thirsty.

  ‘I need a rest,’ she shouted to Harry over the music.

  ‘Good idea. We’ll have an interval.’ He turned the music down.

  June walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, she took out a carton of apple juice and some bananas from the chill drawer.

  ‘Ooh, I love a good banana,’ said Harry coming into the kitchen. He was about to take one for himself when June snatched them away and slammed the fridge door shut.

  ‘What about a nice cup of milky cocoa?’ June asked.

  ‘Never touch the stuff,’ said Harry. ‘Makes me fall asleep. Bananas on the other hand,’ Harry opened the fridge door and this time successfully extracted a banana, ‘are fantastic energy foods.’ He stripped the skin off and tucked in. ‘Lovely. Drink up Juney, let’s get back to the beat eh?’

  ‘You know Harry, it’s been a lovely evening. I wish it could go on. But I’d like to go to bed now.’

  Harry carefully put the banana skin down. He took June’s hand. ‘It has indeed been a lovely evening. Your company is divine June. So much so I want to spend every waking hour with you.’ He paused. Looked her straight in the eye. ‘And every sleeping hour too.’

  June blanched. Was Harry hinting that he wanted to stay the night? Just like his salsa, Harry’s kisses were fast-paced. How many bananas should she eat to match Harry’s stamina between the sheets?

  ‘Juney my darling, I don’t want to make crass passes at you. We’ve known each other only a brief while. We’re golden oldies and who knows what quality of life we have left? Or, indeed, how many years? I want to seize life and live it in the now. Therefore my darling June, with both trepidation and excitement I’m asking if you would–’

  June’s hands fluttered to her mouth. This was it. Harry was going to propose. Oh my goodness. They’d only known each other five minutes, but Harry was right. Life was short. You never knew when God would be sending one of his messengers down: Hello June. Your time is up. Put these wings on and follow me please. Look at poor Arthur. Here one minute. Gone the next. And whilst she didn’t really know Harry that well, perhaps they could have a long engagement. Get to know each other properly. It would give her time to sell her house before getting settled into his detached property. June could almost feel the touch of the coveted Marks and Spencer charge card.

  ‘Yes,’ June smiled. ‘Yes Harry.’

  ‘Really?’ Harry looked perplexed. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to think about it? I don’t want to rush you into anything.’

  ‘You’re not, you’re not!’ June sang. She couldn’t wait to tell Steph. In fact, she’d tell both Steph and Si when they came to dinner. ‘I want my neighbours to be the first to know Harry. I want them to meet you. I’ve already suggested dinner as a foursome. We can have a little celebration!’

  Harry looked uncertain. ‘You want your neighbours to know about your private life?’

  ‘I tell Steph everything.’

  Harry nodded. ‘I see. I had no idea you’d be so laid back about it. Super! Where shall we go?’

  ‘Go?’ June looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes! Where shall we go so I can spend every sleeping hour with you! Do you fancy Brighton? I know a fabulous place that has four poster beds.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Steph wasn’t happy. She banged around the kitchen, clattering plates and cutlery. She was still reeling from embarrassment over her confrontation with Rachel. Her nerves were frazzled. She just wanted to eat her fish and chip takeaway and go to bed. Draw a line under the day. But Tom and Rachel hadn’t been the only thing to stress Steph. Now neighbour June had upset her equilibrium.

  On the journey back to Jessamine Terrace, Steph had clutched the parcel of fish and chips as Si’s van bucketed along. They’d hardly spoken a word to each other on the ride home. Every now and then Si had shaken his head, as if bemused. As Si had turned the corner into the top of Jessamine Terrace, he’d screeched to a halt. Steph had almost head banged the dash. Ahead, walking in the other direction with their backs to them, had been Tom with Rachel and her children. Steph had shrunk down in her seat. Si had let the engine idle until they’d disappeared out of sight. Nearby a Micra had started up. As soon as the driver had tootled off Si had shoe-horned the van into the space. And then Steph had felt the breath whoosh out of her.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she’d gasped.

  Si had followed his wife’s gaze. ‘Bloody hell.’

  Together they’d stared at June. Their prim and proper neighbour had been in the middle of a passionate lip lock. On her own doorstep! Steph had presumed the man nose to nose with her was the infamous Harry. Their kissing had been the sort of thing reserved for big screen films. Or possibly porn movies. Steph had pondered how long they could keep the kiss going without coming up for air. No wonder she’d caught June stumbling around on the pavement the other day, clutching lamp posts and proclaiming dizziness. The woman was oxygen deprived. Brain damaged even. What other explanation could there be for a seventy year old woman behaving like a teenager in public? Steph had glanced at the row of parked cars along Jessamine Terrace. She’d spotted the polished Beamer. Presumably Harry’s. June had said he had a few quid. So he was a Flash Harry.

  And then Harry had finally released June. They’d both gone inside. And Steph had been left wondering that if two pensioners could be so passionate on a doorstep, what would they be like in private? Steph had suddenly had a vision of Jessamine Terrace imploding as June and Harry ripped their clothes off and dived into bed. And that was when she’d felt something inside her curdle. Oh for a tenth of the passion she’d witnessed!

  ‘I’m going in,’ she’d snapped at Si.

  Stomping up the path to Number 42, Steph had felt like bursting into tears. As she now shook lukewarm chips onto plates, she wondered if her period was due. She wasn’t sure of her menstrual cycle these days. Her ovaries, like the hot flushes, seemed to be doing their own thing. She stared at the two portions of greasy fish. The batter had gone all soggy.

  ‘Do you mind if I watch the footie?’ Si appeared at her elbow.

  ‘I thought you wanted us to make more time for each other. Why don’t we sit down and eat our dinner together. Have a chat.’

  ‘But we’ve had some time together,’ reasoned Si.

  ‘What as in together at Blackfen Nick, together when I yelled at Rachel and together while we queued at the chippie?’

  Si looked bashful. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ He gave her waist a quick squeeze. ‘Have I told you that when you get stroppy you have two adorable pink spots on your cheek? And that I have an urge to kiss them?’ Si gently kissed one cheek and then the other. ‘And have I also told you that I can’t wait to take my beautiful wife out tomorrow night?’

  Steph looked slightly mollified. ‘Oh go and watch your football,’ she sighed.

  ‘Thanks love.’ Si grabbed his fish and chips and hastened off to the lounge.
>
  Steph put her plate down on the kitchen table and reached for her laptop. She might as well gossip on Facebook while eating her tea. If she could concentrate. June’s salsa music had pierced the dividing wall between the two houses. In the lounge Si turned the television up to drown out the music. Trumpets and chanting football crowds invaded Steph’s brain. She stood up and shut the kitchen door. The urge to have a secret cigarette was overwhelming. She shoved the thought away and logged on to Facebook. Shirley had written on her wall: Hope you had a relaxing day off. Can’t wait to see the new hair-do. At the top of the screen a little number announced a private message. She clicked on the icon. Her heart picked up speed. It was from Barry Hastings.

  ‘Got any tomato sauce love?’ Si appeared so suddenly Steph jumped. Her hands fluttered up, clumsily knocking the laptop. The machine bounced against her dinner plate flipping it into her lap.

  ‘Bugger!’ Steph shrieked. Si lunged forward to save the laptop. ‘Leave it!’ Steph yelled. As a reflex, she stood up. The plate smashed to the floor. Fish and chips scattered everywhere. That was the least of Steph’s worries. She didn’t want Si seeing the message from Barry Hastings. Not that it was a secret but, well, the thought made her uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m trying to help you!’ Si stepped back in amazement, hands up in surrender.

  ‘Just take the tomato sauce and let me clear up.’

  ‘But you’ve no dinner now!’

  ‘I really couldn’t care less,’ Steph said. And it was true. Her stomach had contracted into a tight ball. All she really wanted was that cigarette. ‘Please Si. Just leave me alone.’

  Si shot her a wounded look. Taking the tomato sauce, he retreated to the lounge.

  Steph put the broken plate and wasted food in the bin. She then wiped the floor, righted the laptop and sat back down. Thankfully the laptop had come to no harm. She rubbed a bit of grease off the spacebar then glanced up at the kitchen door. No Si. She turned her attention back to the screen.