Flings and Arrows

by Debbie Viggiano

  Steph had retrieved all the dropped change. Between catchy breaths she was counting out coins to the Indian lady. Now she was searching her bag for a tissue.

  ‘Here,’ the Indian lady said shoving a box of tissues in front of Steph.

  The kindness made Steph cry even harder. ‘Th-thank you.’

  She blew her nose noisily. Taking her change, Steph turned. Si instantly raised the newspaper up again. Steph moved toward the shop door. With every step she took, Si took a tiny one to the left so that he was obscured from her view. The overhead bell rang as Steph opened the door. Seconds later, she’d gone.

  ‘Sir, are you going to buy that paper or just stand in my shop and read it?’

  ‘Um, I don’t really like this particular paper.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. The words are too flowery.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Si folded the newspaper up and shoved it back on the shelf. Walking over to the counter, he took out his wallet. ‘I’d like to buy your biggest box of chocolates.’

  The Indian lady looked slightly mollified. ‘Here you are dearie.’

  Si thanked her. Before leaving the shop he paused on the pretext of putting his wallet away. In reality he was scanning the pavements for Steph. She was nowhere to be seen. Coast clear, Si opened the shop door and jogged across the road. Inside the van, he settled back and wondered how long he’d have to wait for Dawn. At that precise moment his mobile phone began to vibrate. A text message. It was from Dawn. The message was brief and to the point. Mission accomplished. Go home.

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  Dawn finished texting Si and popped the mobile back into her handbag. She reclined back on Barry’s bed. The evening had been a resounding success. Not so for Steph of course. However, Dawn didn’t feel sorry for Mrs Garvey. Not one little bit. The woman had a husband. And – as Dawn had pointed out – a very nice husband too. She hoped Si and Steph managed to sort out their differences. But Dawn had done her bit. Played her part. And what an evening it had been. Romance. Drama. Confessions. Oh yes. There had been a few of those. On both sides.

  Dawn could hear Barry in the bathroom, singing away as he ran water into a tub the size of a small swimming pool. A second bottle of champagne was sitting in an ice bucket next to the bed. Dawn sipped her drink and reflected back over the last few hours.

  Steph’s appearance had been expected. But not by Barry. He’d visibly paled when Mrs Garvey had strolled in reeking of brandy and full of gung-ho. Dawn wasn’t a spiteful person, but after the scene Steph had made in Dawn’s front garden, this time it had been nice to be in the driving seat. Mrs Garvey had needed to learn that it was all very well sounding off when your husband was being poached by another woman, but it was quite a different matter when it came to waving red flags and blowing whistles over a potential lover. Whilst Steph had every right to warn Dawn off Si, she was floundering in deep waters without as much as a pair of water wings when it came to Barry Hastings. Barry was up for grabs. And may the best woman win. And in Dawn’s opinion her single status rendered her the winner. Therefore she’d had no qualms about putting Steph in her place.

  Barry had been absolutely bemused, poor lamb. As far as he was concerned, Steph had cancelled the evening. To have her standing in his hallway apoplectic with rage, calling him a two-timing double-crossing bastard, was a little unfair. Dawn had experienced a bit of a tense moment about the truth coming out, but thankfully Barry hadn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. As a result Steph had been none the wiser about her so-called text messages cancelling the evening. Dawn had exhaled with relief when Steph had fled like a greyhound with a rocket up its arse. Barry had turned to Dawn, dropped his strategically placed cushion and held his arms wide in a helpless gesture.

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ he’d asked Dawn. ‘She cancelled our evening. And is it true that you’re having a fling with her husband?’

  Dawn had taken a deep breath.

  ‘I need to tell you exactly what’s been going on. However, you may not like me very much afterwards.’

  Barry had sat on the edge of the bed and taken Dawn’s hand. ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he’d said.

  And out had come the whole story.

  ‘I just want you to know that whilst Si was hoping I would seduce you, everything that’s happened between us tonight Barry has been genuine on my part. You can’t fake feelings. And I definitely have feelings for you. If you’re angry and want me to leave right now, then I will. But I don’t have any regrets Barry. My only regret would be if you didn’t want to see me again.’

  ‘Actually Dawn, I don’t care if you did come here under false pretences. It’s a damned unusual way to meet a girl, but if I saw Simon Garvey right now I’d thank him from the bottom of my heart. I told you earlier. You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

  Barry had then started to tell her all about his many marriages and four teenagers who sounded like carbon copies of Melody. Dawn had put up a hand to stop the flow of words.

  ‘Listen pet. We both have a history. But the past is the past. Let’s just concentrate on the now and let the future look after itself.’

  ‘I know my future,’ Barry had said. ‘It’s sitting right here on this bed with me. I love you Dawn. I know it sounds crazy, but I do. And one day I hope to hear you say those words to me.’

  Dawn had sighed. ‘Barry, you’ve had women coming out of your ears.’

  ‘I’m not quite as bad as you think,’ Barry had assured. ‘The only women I’ve been in touch with are via Facebook. I was hoping to find somebody that way. But Steph Garvey was the only one who agreed to meet me.’ And then Barry had straightened up. ‘I know. I’ll prove to you how serious I am.’

  And with that he’d stood up and disappeared into the lounge. Moments later he was back clutching a laptop.

  ‘Look at this.’ He’d flopped down on the bed with the machine.

  ‘What about it?

  ‘This is my Facebook account.’

  Dawn had looked. One hundred and fifty six friends. All female.

  Barry hit some buttons. ‘Gone.’

  ‘Gone?’ Dawn had asked blankly.

  ‘No more Facebook account.’ Barry had slung the laptop on the floor. ‘No more networking and trying to meet women. I’ve told you Dawn. And I’ll keep telling you. I’ve met the woman of my dreams. And that’s you.’

  And Dawn had smiled. She was too old and cynical to believe in love at first sight, but she couldn’t deny the fact that there was a beautiful chemistry between her and Barry. And who was she to turn her back on the chance of seeing if things blossomed.

  Dawn slipped into Barry’s dressing gown and padded across the carpet to the en-suite. An apartment with not one but two bathrooms! She pushed the door open and stepped into a cloud of steam.

  ‘Brilliant timing,’ Barry turned off the taps. ‘Have you brought the champagne?’ ‘No. Do you want me to fetch it?’

  ‘Of course. We have a huge bubble bath here, but we need the other sort of bubbles to go with it.’

  ‘Never mind that for a minute. You haven’t kissed me for at least five minutes.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to do something about that won’t we?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

  Dawn let Barry’s dressing gown drop to the floor. Two golden arms circled her waist.

  ‘Have you ever made love in a bath before?’ Barry smiled into her eyes.

  Dawn wrinkled her nose and considered.

  ‘Can’t say I have.’

  Taking her hand, he stepped into the bath and pulled her down next to him.

  ‘Well in that case,’ he kissed her left cheek, ‘I think,’ he kissed her right cheek, ‘that might be,’ he kissed the tip of her nose, ‘about to change.’ And with that his lips came down on hers.

  It was quite some time before either of them drank the second bottle of champagne.

  Chapter Sixty

 
; Steph crashed through the door of 42 Jessamine Terrace. She looked a fright. Twin streams of mascara streaked her cheeks. Her nose was bright red and swollen. Her eyes looked like red-rimmed road maps. She’d smoked three Silk Cut one after the other and now felt sick to her stomach.

  The journey home had been a nightmare. The train had only travelled a short distance before it filled with Saturday night revellers. They’d piled on board, filling up all the seats – apart from the one next to the scary looking woman slumped by the window. What was that saying? Oh yes. Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone. The carriage had been packed with happy people, dressed up to the nines as they went out to celebrate Saturday night after a hard week’s work. Chatter and laughter. Aftershave and perfume. The sounds and smells had intermingled as the train rattled along the tracks. The almost carnival atmosphere had intensified Steph’s misery. Not that long ago, she’d been like them. Full of anticipation about the evening ahead.

  The bus ride had been even worse. A bunch of teenage boys had openly stared at her, whispering and nudging each other. Before getting off at their stop, one of them had shouted a parting shot.

  ‘Where’s the Halloween party?’

  They’d all guffawed with laughter. Then they’d grouped outside on the pavement clearly debating what to do next. The bus had hovered on the side of the road, rocking gently from side to side as a new influx of passengers spilled through its doors. Steph had willed the bus to hurry up and get a move on. The boys had been nodding at each other by this point. And then one of them had reached into a rucksack for something. Steph had stared at them through bloodshot eyes. The automatic doors had flapped shut and the bus lurched off. But not fast enough. Suddenly a plastic Coke bottle had bounced off the window making Steph jump. The boys had hooted with laughter, openly jeering. One had given her a middle finger by way of a farewell salute. It never ceased to amaze Steph how mindless some members of the human race were. She wondered what the boys’ parents were like. Perhaps they stood around on pavements outside pubs, heckling passersby. Steph had stared at the spotty ringleader. And then a small, rebellious part of her had taken the bait. She’d crossed her eyes and poked her tongue out, holding the pose until the bus had bounced round a corner and the boys were gone from sight. Stupid little twits. Steph had dug in her handbag for her compact mirror. Then she’d taken one look at the witch in the mirror and started crying again.

  And now Steph was standing in her hallway. The walls folded around her, like comforting arms. Home. Her sanctuary. She dumped her handbag on the hall table. The lights were off downstairs. Only the fake candelabra shone on the landing. Steph wondered if Tom was home. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock. She crept up the stairs in her stocking feet. As she passed Tom’s room she could hear soft murmurs. Her son was talking to somebody. On the phone? Seductive laughter followed. Female this time. Steph presumed Tom had that girl in there. Melody. Seconds later the bedsprings began creaking wildly. Oh God. That was all Steph needed to listen to. Was there no getting away from people bonking?

  Steph pushed open the door to her bedroom. The bed had a damp towel slung across it. She stared at it and wondered where Si was. Well, clearly not with Dawn. Probably that other little hussy then. Amanda. At the thought of Si with another woman, Steph could feel herself getting upset again. She started to undress. Seconds later she was stripped to her underwear. And then Steph caught sight of herself in the mirror. She stared at herself clad in the flashy new bra and knickers. Who had she been kidding? Of course she’d bought the underwear for Barry’s benefit. But had he wanted to see it? Good heavens no! Steph was fairly positive that if she’d stripped to her undies and offered to dance erotically on Barry Hastings’ telephone table, he’d still have remained impervious to her charms. She couldn’t begin to compete with that...that... blow up doll that had been sprawled across Barry’s bed. The tart. Trollop. Steph clenched her fists and gnashed her teeth. Well stuff Barry Hastings. And stuff Dawn.

  Next door, Tom’s headboard was now banging against the wall. Melody was groaning. The sound infuriated Steph even more. A mammoth menopausal flush was starting up. Steph could feel the heat searing through her, mixing with red hot fury. It coursed through her veins. Her entire body was glowing. Any minute now she’d have steam pouring out of all her orifices. She might even self combust. Her bra and knickers would burst into flames – poof! Steph tore off the offending underwear. She couldn’t bear it. In fact, she was going to get rid of it. Right now.

  Oblivious to her nakedness, Steph strode over to the window and wrenched it open. Balling the bra and knickers up, she tossed them out into the night. Bloody things. She slammed the window so hard she thought the glass would rattle out of the frame. Grabbing her nightdress, she flounced off to the bathroom to wash off her wrecked make-up.

  As Steph scrubbed at her skin, she decided to banish tonight’s disastrous events from her thoughts. And no way would she admit what had happened to Si. He was out having a super time with the lovely Amanda. Let him think she’d had a fabulous time too. The rotten swine. Steph slapped face cream all over her cheeks. Her skin shone under the bathroom light. A blotchy mixture of pink and red. She looked like she had some sort of tropical disease. Tom and Melody were now reaching a noisy climax. Had they no dignity? Suddenly the mattress and headboard ceased all noise. Silence prevailed. But what was that? Steph cocked her head and listened intently. A diesel engine. Si’s van. He was home.

  Steph shot out the bathroom and dived under the bedcovers. Her hand reached for the bedside lamp and flicked the switch. The room plunged into gloom. She didn’t want a barrage of questions from Si when he came through the door. She would feign sleep. She heard the van’s engine splutter and die. A second later the driver’s door clunked shut. A brief pause and then the front door opened. Steph willed herself to lie still. She could hear keys being slung on the hall table followed by the sound of slow, steady footsteps on the stairs. She forced herself to breathe in time with each footfall.

  Chapter Sixty One

  The following morning, Si awoke soon after eight o’clock. He stretched and luxuriated in knowing he didn’t have to get up for work. The job at The Nut and Squirrel was finished. Tomorrow, Monday, he would meet Terry at The Malt and Shovel for the next contract. Si mentally wiped his brow. Thank God he’d kept his job. He was aware that he’d pushed Terry’s patience to the limit with his private life impacting upon his working life. Hopefully none of the staff at The Malt and Shovel would be middle aged sirens trying to ensnare middle aged plumbers.

  Si reflected back on the events of last night. He’d expended buckets of nervous energy on his plan. It had been a resounding success. Dawn had sent him a second text message just as he’d driven into Jessamine Terrace. Incredibly, she and Barry Hastings were an item! Si was both relieved and pleased that the two of them were so smitten with each other. That meant Steph was firmly out of any romantic couplings with Barry Hastings.

  When Si had let himself into 42 Jessamine Terrace, the house had been as quiet as the grave. He’d put his keys down on the hall table along with the large box of chocolates he’d bought at the newsagents. That was when Si had spotted Steph’s handbag. Taking her mobile phone from his pocket, he’d carefully tucked it deep within the bag’s folds. All traces of the texts he and Dawn had colluded in had been removed from the messaging and call log records.

  When Si had crept into the bedroom it had been in darkness. He’d observed the small mound on one side of the bed. It had looked like Steph was curled up in the foetal position. He had crept silently around the edge of the bed. He had known Steph was feigning sleep, but let it go. Nothing was to be gained by talking late at night on top of the shock and drama she’d endured. Si didn’t like himself for what he’d done, but at least with Barry Hastings off the scene he had a chance to repair his marriage.

  Si now looked at the bedside clock. Five past eight. He would do his best to make up for all the upset Steph had gone through l
ast night. In fact, he’d start right now. He swung his legs out of bed. Quietly, he padded downstairs to the kitchen. Busying himself with the kettle and toaster, Si set about preparing a breakfast tray. He was going to give Steph a romantic start to the day. Tea and toast in bed. Ten minutes later he made his way out of the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs he paused. Balancing the tray precariously on the palm of one hand, he picked up the box of chocolates from the hall table.

  Pushing open the bedroom door, he saw that Steph was awake. She was still curled up, the duvet tucked under her chin. Her eyes were puffy and she looked worn out. She blinked a few times as he approached her side of the bed.

  ‘Morning,’ Si said.

  ‘You sound very chipper.’ Steph sat up and propped a pillow behind her back.

  Si made some space on the bedside table and set the tray down. ‘Yes. I guess I am. And you?’

  Steph looked at Si. Her face was a mask. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good,’ Si smiled.

  ‘What’s this all in aid of?’ Steph took the tea and toast from the tray.

  ‘It’s Sunday. So why not? Lazy day and all that.’

  Si perched on the edge of the bed next to Steph. He took a bite of his toast. For a moment neither of them said anything. Si studied his plate while he munched. In his peripheral vision he could see Steph staring miserably at her toast.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said eventually. ‘You didn’t have to do this.’

  Si shrugged. ‘I wanted to.’

  ‘Did you, um–’

  Steph paused, seemingly unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say.

  ‘What?’ Si asked.

  ‘Did you have a nice time last night?’

  Si swallowed and made a face. ‘So so.’ He took another bite of toast.