‘Um. As a matter of fact yes,’ Melody withdrew some notes from her pocket. ‘They were on the floor. Same place as the laptop,’ she nodded.
‘Excellent.’ Si stood up and reached for the cash. ‘It’s a tenner short.’
‘Oh, sorry. I used it for the bus fare for me and Tom.’
‘We’ll say no more about it.’ Si tucked the money into his wallet and sat back down.
‘Are these your children Si?’ asked Harry.
‘This one is,’ Si nodded at Tom. ‘That one,’ he nodded at Melody, ‘is my son’s girlfriend.’
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ Tom gave a tight smile.
‘Well it’s a pleasure to meet you both,’ said Harry. Harry shook Tom’s hand and then kissed Melody’s. She seemed to find this terribly funny. ‘I say, you look awfully familiar. Do I know you?’
‘She’s my daughter.’ Dawn had reappeared with a bottle in an ice-bucket. She set about popping the champagne expertly.
‘Ooh, can I have a glass?’ asked Melody. ‘I’ve just been dumped so I’m inconsolable,’ she winked at Harry.
‘Poor you,’ Harry simpered. ‘Then you must definitely pull up a chair and sup a glass of champers with us. It’s very good for heartache.’
‘Don’t mind if we do,’ said Tom, earning himself a dirty look from Harry. Tom grabbed a nearby chair. He parked himself away from Harry and next to June.
‘I love bubbly,’ Melody batted her eyelashes at Harry. She dragged an empty chair over from the next table and sat down. Right next to Harry. Si couldn’t help noticing that Harry was looking like a man who’d died and gone to heaven.
Si took a sip of champagne. Under the table he squeezed Steph’s hand. Tom was chatting to June about salsa dancing. Harry was deep in conversation with Melody. Telling her all about his BMW, detached house and socking great pension. Melody was hanging on to every word. Every so often she’d squash her upper arms together, thrusting her ample chest forward. Harry’s eyes were in danger of dislocating from their sockets.
‘Are you ready to order?’ Dawn asked.
‘Yes. More champagne,’ Harry roared.
‘I love a man who spends money,’ Melody purred.
‘Absolutely!’ Harry agreed. ‘That’s what money’s for. Can’t take it with you.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Melody. Si watched her jiggle closer to Harry. ‘How old did you say you were?’
‘Shall we go for the carvery?’ Si asked everybody.
Only Steph replied. ‘That would be nice.’
Dawn scribbled on a notepad and headed off to the kitchen.
‘I must go,’ said Tom draining his champagne. ‘I have a salsa lesson.’
‘On a Sunday?’ asked June.
‘It’s a private arrangement.’
‘Well have a nice time dear.’
‘See you later son,’ Si nodded at Tom.
Melody was now whispering in Harry’s ear and giggling. Si hoped the girl wasn’t going to be a nuisance. So far June had been oblivious to Melody’s flirting. It was with a sense of relief that he watched Melody stand up.
‘I must go too.’ She gave Harry a dinky wave. ‘See you later.’
Harry waggled his fingers back. ‘Toodle-oo for now.’ Harry dragged his attention back to his table companions. ‘What a poppet,’ he said to nobody in particular.
‘Absolutely,’ June agreed, misunderstanding. ‘Tom is one of the sweetest boys on this planet.’
Si knew – romantically speaking – that June could do miles better than the lecherous Flash Harry. Someone like, for example, that dapper gent sitting behind her. What was his name? Si thought June might have called him Arnold. Certainly Arnold couldn’t take his eyes off June. Si could tell Arnold was a gentleman just by looking at him. Yes, just as soon as this interminable lunch was over, Si would be having a frank talk with his sweet, naive neighbour. He would tell June her fortune. And it certainly didn’t involve Harry’s pension.
Chapter Sixty Eight
June had been a bit apprehensive about getting together with Harry and her neighbours for this dinner date. She had a sneaking suspicion that Steph and Si weren’t keen on Harry. And now that June was sitting here next to the man himself, she was starting to feel reservations and doubt creep back in. Harry had begged her to give him a second chance. To start the relationship all over again. He’d promised not to hassle her for sex. And no more had been said about the booked weekend to Brighton with its blasted four poster bed. But being with Harry now was – dare she admit it – boring. Steph and Si were listening to Harry with glazed expressions.
June gave Harry a sideways glance. After two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach, he was flushed. He was also talking too loudly. It was one thing for Harry to privately tell her all about his big house and matching pension, it was quite another to foghorn the details to her neighbours and surrounding diners. Harry was coming across as pompous and egotistical.
But another very key factor in June reassessing her opinion of Harry was due to the person sitting behind her. Arnold. June had been thrilled to bits when she’d walked into the restaurant and seen Arnold sitting with Bridget. She had no worries about them being a couple. Arnold had explained that Bridget liked the ladies. Not the gents. And what a gent Arnold was. June couldn’t imagine Arnold sitting next to her, half cut, braying about his ISAs and Bonds.
‘What sort of pension do you have Juney?’ Harry interrupted her thoughts.
‘Well, er, just a modest one. But it sees me and Ralph all right.’
‘But being all right isn’t sometimes enough. Is it? I mean, who wants to spend their retirement in Blackfen?’
June bristled. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Blackfen Harry. Anyway, it’s not as if I’m confined to one place. Next weekend I’m going to the Lakes.’
‘The Lakes!’ Harry took a slug of champagne. ‘Never mind Boring Britain. What about seeing the world?’ He waved his arms around extravagantly. ‘You can’t do that on a modest pension. You need one like mine. One that can take you to the proper Lakes. Italy for example. Absolutely ravishing. Talking of ravishing,’ Harry glanced at his watch, ‘would you excuse me a moment. I have some unfinished business to attend.’
June took a sip of champagne. Why couldn’t Harry talk plain English. It was perfectly acceptable to excuse oneself on the grounds of needing to visit the Ladies. Or the Gents in his case. All this fancy talk about unfinished business. Where did he think he was going! To a board meeting?
Harry trotted off in the direction of an overhead sign saying Toilets.
‘June love,’ Si was looking at her in a very frank way.
‘Yes dear?’
‘Forgive me for asking, but are things serious between you and Harry?’
June fiddled with her champagne flute. ‘I don’t mind telling you that in the first few days of meeting Harry I felt like–’
‘Go on,’ said Steph gently.
June looked apologetic. ‘You’ll think me so stupid Steph. Harry made me feel young again. Like a teenager. How ridiculous is that!’
Steph smiled ruefully. ‘Not ridiculous at all June. I can identify exactly with what you’re saying.’
June snorted. ‘To my eyes Steph you’re still a slip of a girl. What would you know about re-assessing your life or having a senior crisis?’
‘More than you might know,’ Steph said drily.
‘But I’m seventy! Old enough to know better.’
‘I think,’ said Si carefully, ‘that at some point everybody re-evaluates their life. Whether they’re forty, seventy or even ninety.’
June rolled her eyes. ‘God forbid I’m still here at ninety. But it would be so nice to have some companionship Si. I love little Ralph, but I do get terribly lonely. And I feel guilty complaining. I have a good life and thankfully good health too. But I miss my husband. The camaraderie. Even the arguments. You two don’t know how lucky you are to have each other.’
‘We do June,’ Si assured.
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Steph nodded and fumbled for Si’s hand. She squeezed it tightly. June was surprised to see that Steph had tears in her eyes.
‘All I want to say June is–’ Si hesitated. He appeared to be picking his words carefully. ‘We think you can do better than Harry. Don’t rush into anything with him eh?’
June smiled. She wasn’t offended by Si’s comments. He was, after all, like the son she’d never had. And she knew Si cared deeply about her and was simply concerned.
‘No chance dear. In fact, after today I will be cooling things down with Harry. Letting it fizzle out.’
Dawn appeared balancing several loaded plates on each arm. She set them down on the table mats. ‘Shall I put Mr Cavendish’s roast in the oven until he’s back at the table?’
‘Thank you but no. I’m sure he won’t be much longer,’ June said.
Dawn nodded and moved on to another table.
‘Shall we wait for Harry before we start?’ June asked.
‘It’s only polite,’ said Si.
‘In that case, while Harry’s absent I’ll visit the rest room myself. Back in two ticks.’
‘No rush love.’
June stood up. Turning, she caught Arnold looking at her. He gave her such a lovely smile that June felt quite elated. Dear man. She beamed back before heading off towards the Ladies. Goodness knows what Harry was doing in the Gents. He’d been gone for over a quarter of an hour.
June pushed against the rest room door. Three cubicles lined one wall. Opposite were a row of basins. A mirror ran the length of the room. June put her handbag down on the edge of one basin. She rummaged for her lipstick. Suddenly there was a groaning noise. June jumped. The mirror reflected the cubicles back at her. The middle one was locked. Somebody inside the cubicle was making some very strange sounds. June ran the lipstick over her mouth. The middle cubicle’s door suddenly took on a life of its own. June stared. The door appeared to be juddering on its hinges. June decided to use the loo and get back to the others as quickly as possible. She went into a cubicle and locked the door. There was a moment’s silence and then the occupant of the middle cubicle let out a long moan. June could hear heavy breathing now. Panting. She stood up and flushed the toilet. She was just about to exit the cubicle when the occupant next door murmured something. June froze.
‘Ahhh,’ sighed the voice. ‘Harr-eeeee.’
Chapter Sixty Nine
Steph turned to Si.
‘And then there were two.’ She indicated the empty table.
‘These dinners are going to be stone cold if we don’t eat them soon.’
‘Actually, I think I’ll make a quick visit to the Ladies too.’
‘And then there was one,’ Si said.
‘Won’t be a mo,’ Steph smiled.
Weaving her way through the diners, Steph found the door to the rest room. Inside, two of the cubicles were engaged. Steph assumed June was in one of them. Cautiously she prodded the remaining cubicle door. Sometimes you could never be sure if a toilet was occupied or not. There had been one unhappy occasion where Steph had attempted using a loo – not dissimilar to this one – which had appeared vacant. Shouldering her way in, Steph had crashed into a surprised woman enthroned upon the porcelain, Hello! magazine in one hand and a bag of tortilla chips in the other.
The door swung gently open. Steph went in. Sliding the lock across, she hung her bag on the door’s peg. Suddenly there was a thump against the partition. The lock on the door loosened but held its purchase. Steph didn’t think anything of it. There wasn’t a huge amount of room in cubicles like these and sometimes occupants accidentally elbowed the flimsy panels. But then there was another thump, this time jolting the lock enough to slip undone. Steph reached forward and snapped it shut again. She then set about layering toilet paper around the seat. Steph didn’t like sitting on public loo seats. And being short in the leg she wasn’t very good at hovering either. Steph paused. What was that? A noise. Murmuring. And then the partition began to abruptly take on a life of its own. It was as if somebody was bouncing against it. She watched the grey melamine shifting. Boink, boink, boink. The lock came undone again. But Steph was oblivious to it. Somebody was starting to breathe very heavily. Steph straightened up, toilet papering suspended. Now the person was moaning. And talking. What were they saying? It sounded like ow-ee. Good heavens, was somebody giving birth in the cubicle next door? You read about such things in newspapers almost every week. Teenagers hiding pregnancies from families. Dressing in baggy clothes. Sloping off to public conveniences. Delivering their load. Transferring the wrapped bundle into a shopping bag. Trundling off to the local hospital and leaving a newborn outside the Maternity Ward.
The occupant was groaning audibly now. Steph dithered. She didn’t want to call out in case she frightened the person. However, if somebody was in difficulty they might need the Emergency Services. And then Steph came to a decision. She would find out for herself exactly what was going on in the cubicle next door. But discreetly.
Carefully, Steph put one foot on the papered toilet seat. Pushing herself up, she planted both feet wide. Steph strained to see over the top of the cubicle partition. If only she were an inch or two taller. Adopting a ballerina’s stance, she balanced precariously on her tiptoes. Her cubicle door was wide open now. Steph prayed nobody came into the rest room. If she was caught doing Swan Lake on a toilet seat, there would be a lot of explaining to do. Steph clung to the top of the partition, raising herself as high as she could. Even her eyebrows were raised. They nearly shot off her forehead when she found herself gazing across the rafters at June.
June put a finger to her lips. Terrified even to breath, Steph glimpsed down. Nothing could prepare her for the sight that met her eyes. A woman was reclining back on the toilet seat, legs up against the cubicle walls. The woman’s face was hidden by long hair. She was naked to her waist. And leaning over her was a man. Steph’s eyes widened. Good heavens! They were at it! The man’s tailored trousers were down, the fabric puddled around his ankles. Steph found herself thinking the material would crease. And then she mentally shook herself. Fancy such an irrational thought popping into her head at a time like this. The man had a very white bottom. His buttocks were slightly flabby. They wobbled with every thrust he made – and there was plenty of that going on. Steph’s mind boggled. Things were obviously building to a climax. The woman was gasping now. She was oohing and aahing quite shamelessly and – no! – clearly faking as well. Steph was amazed to see the woman casually bring her wrist up to her face and check the time on her watch.
‘Ooh yes,’ gasped the woman. Now she was stifling a yawn.
‘Oh darling,’ panted the man, ‘my little popsicle.’
‘My sweetheart,’ cooed the woman. Now she was checking her nails.
‘You are the sun, the stars and the moon,’ puffed the man as he pounded away. Steph frowned. His voice was very familiar.
‘You are my universe,’ sighed the woman as she picked off some nail polish. Her voice was familiar too.
‘Aaahh.’
‘Ooh.’
‘Eee.’
‘Give it to me lover boy,’ urged the woman.
‘Oooooooh,’ said the man picking up speed.
Steph’s jaw dropped as realisation dawned. The woman was Melody. And the man – good God! – the man was Harry! Steph couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to work out who she was watching. She had to hand it to Harry. For a sixty-four year old he certainly had stamina. She didn’t dare look at June. Harry’s whole body was juddering away now, like a pneumatic drill. She felt slightly sorry for Melody. Her back must be killing her.
And then several things happened at once. Melody looked up. She took in Steph’s face first and then June’s. And then she screamed. Very loudly. Harry craned his head up awkwardly and followed Melody’s gaze. His face was pink from exertion. It changed to puce when he saw Steph and June. Melody pushed him off. Losing his balance, Harry’s hands shot out. He grabbed blindly
at something to break his fall. His hands encountered the industrial sized toilet roll dispenser. He clung on to it. It promptly came off the wall and hit him squarely on the head. Reams of toilet paper began to unravel everywhere.
‘How dare you!’ screeched Melody. She stood up, pants at half mast. Picking up the toilet brush she lobbed it at June. But Melody’s aim was off. The toilet brush bounced off the ceiling and landed on Harry’s back.
‘Oh my God,’ he shrieked, ‘get that disgusting thing off me NOW!’
June instantly disappeared from sight. There was a splashing noise from her cubicle.
‘Are you okay June?’ Steph shouted.
‘And as for you Mrs Garvey,’ snarled Melody lunging for the hygiene bin, ‘have this on me.’ She hurled the plastic container with all her might. The lid instantly parted company from the bin. Steph had a brief glimpse of the bin’s unsavoury contents raining over Harry before ducking to avoid the lid.
‘Noooo!’ Harry was squealing like a pig.
But Harry’s distress was the least of Steph’s concern. She was struggling to keep her balance. There was a crazy moment where she appeared to be tap-dancing on layers of loo paper. Steph’s hands flailed helplessly trying to grab purchase on the smooth partition walls. She was starting to look like a cartoon character – that moment of running on the spot before things went seriously awry. In desperation Steph clutched hold of the refurbished Victorian toilet chain. But the chain wasn’t static. And as Steph pulled, the chain went down. Steph fell into the toilet bowl in a fountain of flushing water. All hell was breaking out next door. Clambering out of the toilet bowl, heels trailing sodden loo paper, she shot out of the cubicle and cannoned into June. There was a moment where they simply stared at each other, too shocked to speak. And then Steph gave an unexpected snort.
‘I’m so sorry June,’ Steph struggled to control her facial muscles, ‘this really isn’t funny.’
‘I know,’ June clapped a hand over her mouth and promptly convulsed.
Flings and Arrows Page 25
