STOCKINGS AND CELLULITE

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Okay,’ I enthused.

  My first thought was Morag, but then I hesitated. What if she got plastered and became lewd and loud? Perhaps Julia would be the safer option. But if Morag later found out she’d been passed over in favour of Julia, my working life probably wouldn’t be worth living.

  ‘Anyone in mind?’

  ‘W-e-ll, I’m good pals with a girl at work. She’s actually one of the solicitors. But despite having a tremendously responsible and sobering job, she can in fact be a bit-’

  ‘Irresponsible and not so sober?’

  ‘Er, well, only out of hours.’

  ‘I’m intrigued Cass. Do elaborate.’

  ‘Her name’s Morag. She’s attractive and vivacious but she can be rather, well, all sort of heaving bosoms and full on.’

  ‘All heaving bosoms eh? Well that’s sorted then. She’s definitely invited.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll square it up with her tomorrow when I’m back at work.’

  I didn’t manage to touch base with the lady in question until lunchtime.

  ‘Why are we rushing?’ complained Morag as we headed to the park at a trot. ‘What’s wrong with walking?’

  ‘I need air,’ I gasped, ‘fresh air. I’m working again for that awful Martin Henniker this week. He’s so noxious I feel like I’ve been poisoned.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Julia nodded her head as she puffed along on the other side of me, ‘his new secretary walked out last week. She only stayed two days.’

  ‘Yes well never mind Hideous Henniker,’ Morag collapsed onto the hard slats of our park bench. ‘I’ve road tested this little lot,’ she produced her speed dating list complete with scribbled out names, ‘and they were all crap.’

  ‘You slept with all those men?’ I gasped.

  ‘Oh Cass for goodness sake stop being such a prude,’ she scrunched the list up and lobbed it at a nearby litter bin.

  I turned to Julia. ‘How did your date turn out with Wosser-name?’

  ‘Miles,’ Julia beamed.

  ‘What sort of a name is Miles?’ snorted Morag.

  ‘A nice name. He’s a sweetie and I like him.’

  ‘Men,’ Morag grumbled, ‘are a pain in the backside. They’re like a blender – you need one but you’re not quite sure why.’

  Julia and I laughed and joined in good-naturedly.

  ‘They’re like commercials – you can’t believe a word they say.’

  ‘Or like mascara – they run at the first sign of emotion.’

  We creased up.

  ‘Attagirls,’ whooped Morag happily. ‘Men are like popcorn – they satisfy you but only for a little while.’

  ‘So you won’t be interested in a bit of a blind date this weekend?’ I asked slyly.

  ‘I never said that,’ Morag sat up straight giving me her undivided attention.

  So I told her about meeting up with Matt and his widower pal.

  ‘Oh why not,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve damn all else to do.’

  As the week progressed the sun shone ever warmer and my thoughts turned to summer holidays. I found myself slipping into the travel agents and grabbing an armful of holiday brochures.

  ‘Are we going abroad Mum?’ Livvy asked that evening, fingering the brochures longingly.

  ‘Looks like it,’ I grinned.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ enthused Toby. ‘Disneyland here we come.’

  ‘I was thinking more Europe actually.’

  ‘As long as it has theme parks Mum I’ll be more than happy.’

  ‘There will be a beach with an in-built wave machine and you will be deliriously happy,’ I informed my son.

  But when I telephoned to book the holiday of my choice, it appeared that everything suitable had been snapped up months ago.

  ‘If you give me a definite time frame Mrs Cherry I can investigate global cancellations and last minute availability,’ said the travel agent.

  ‘Well okay, just so long as you understand I don’t want to be sent off to some godforsaken third world country. I don’t want food poisoning, diarrhoea, cockroaches, toilets that are only holes in the ground, stinking drains, rats, dead cats-’

  ‘Yes I get the picture Mrs Cherry,’ the travel agent interrupted. At the other end of the line I could hear the continual tapping of keys. ‘Ah! This looks promising but availability is for one week only. There are just two small apartments left at The Gardens, self-catering, in picturesque Benalmadena.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ I asked none the wiser.

  ‘Spain.’

  ‘I’ll take it.’

  Just as the day was drawing to a close, my long awaited new bed was delivered. I was not disappointed. The elegant chocolate leather contrasted richly against the cream bedroom carpet completely transforming the room.

  However, there was a bit of a setback with Liv and Toby’s respective beds. Stupidly I hadn’t realised they were flat packed and required home assembly. Two pairs of blue eyes gazed expectantly at me.

  ‘Sorry kids but I’m not even going to attempt it.’

  ‘Call Dad,’ Livvy suggested sensibly.

  After just two rings a girl breathlessly answered. I say girl because she sounded about twelve. Presumably this was Charlotte the Teenage Mutant Tartlette.

  ‘Hello, is Stevie there please?’

  A small pause. ‘Who’s calling?’

  Was it my imagination or did she sound suspicious and proprietary?

  ‘His wife,’ I replied as the bitch within me inexplicably roared to the surface. Almost immediately I felt contrite. Charlotte was not the cause of my failed marriage. ‘One moment. BABE!’ she foghorned. Babe? ‘It’s your EX-WIFE.’

  I caught my breath. Well that had put me in my place hadn’t it? My shoulders sagged. Oh so what? Did I really care? She was quite right. I was Stevie’s ex-wife and it was only a matter of time before a piece of paper formalised that fact. Why should I mind if Charlotte was being territorial?

  Seconds later Stevie came on the line. I quickly explained about the twins’ beds.

  ‘Hey no problem Cass. I’ll grab my toolbox and pop over right away. Can’t have the kids disappointed.’

  ‘Thanks, I really appreciate that.’

  Ha! That would show Charlotte a thing or two. I might be the ex-wife but Liv and Toby were still his children.

  When Stevie later sauntered past my open bedroom door and spotted the new leather bed dominating the floor space, he couldn’t help doing a double take.

  ‘That’s…exotic.’

  I felt acutely embarrassed. The bed seemed to silently pulsate with sexual energy.

  ‘It’s posturepaedic. Good on your back.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Stevie winked.

  ‘It’s good for bad backs,’ I explained irritably.

  ‘Whatever dongs your gong Cass! What have you done with the old bed?’

  ‘It’s in the garage awaiting a trip to the rubbish dump.’

  ‘Don’t chuck it. I’ll collect it at the weekend and stick it in one of my spare bedrooms.’

  An hour later Stevie slung a screwdriver in his toolbox and straightened up.

  ‘Thanks very much for your help,’ I said stiffly.

  Livvy’s room looked indescribably pretty, the princess four-poster hung with the palest of pink voile curtains. And Toby’s room was now more pre-teen than playschool with its bunk bed and desk combo.

  It was gone midnight when, with a small thrill, I clambered under the duvet and spread-eagled my body across the king-sized mattress. I briefly wondered whether I would ever share a bed with another man again.

  On Saturday morning Morag arrived in her gleaming little sports car. Low slung and sexy, it was great for two people but totally impractical for squeezing in Livvy and Toby. Grumbling hugely, Morag climbed into my filthy but sensible family hatchback.

  ‘I won’t make much of an impression turning up in this hillbilly wagon.’

  ‘With looks like yours you don’t need to rely upon a sports car for props,’ I soo
thed.

  ‘Do you think?’ Morag perked up.

  It was true that she looked lovely, dressed in a plunging white top and pristine designer jeans.

  At the yard, Toby and Liv spotted Petra and Jonas and immediately ran off to join them. Morag and I went straight up to the house. The side gate was open so we strolled round to the back garden. Matt was fanning a smoking barbecue and chatting to another guy who had his back to us. At the sound of our footsteps Matt looked up, his face splitting into a welcoming grin which grew even bigger when he copped Morag’s billowing cleavage.

  ‘Well hello girls,’ he beamed giving me a firm kiss on both cheeks so that he then had an excuse to kiss Morag twice. His eyes kept zooming in on her cleavage. Judging from the way she had switched to jiggle mode, Morag was not offended. She was impressed enough with Matt to step her forceful personality up another notch and was now doing a superb impression of Miss Piggy, all fluttering eyelashes and lots of hair flicking.

  ‘I have to say Morag, Cass described you perfectly.’

  ‘Hmm?’ Morag simpered. She even sounded like Miss Piggy. Any minute now she’d be calling him Kermit.

  ‘Cass said you were very – what was it? All heaving bos-’

  ‘Buzzes,’ I interrupted, flashing Matt a stern look. His eyes were dancing with mischief. Morag looked perplexed.

  ‘As in buzzy,’ I explained.

  ‘Oh yes I am a very buzzy person,’ Morag said eagerly.

  But I was no longer looking at her. Instead I was staring in disbelief at the other man who had turned to face us and was looking pretty stunned himself. Morag followed my gaze and her mouth dropped.

  ‘You!’ all three of us chimed together.

  Matt looked pole-axed. ‘Er, do you all know each other?’

  ‘We’ve bumped into each other here and there,’ Morag replied coolly.

  ‘What a small world,’ mused Matt.

  I stared at Ploddy – Jamie. ‘You are Mac?’

  ‘Mac is a shortening of my surname. A nickname if you will. I don’t mind what you call me,’ he shrugged, ‘so long as it’s not Mr Pitt.’

  I flushed.

  ‘Who’s Mr Pitt?’ Matt asked.

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

  ‘How about a nice drink?’ I changed the subject with forced gaiety and lunged at a jug of ruby liquid on the garden table. ‘Mm Pimms, delicious. Cheers everyone!’

  I took an enormous swig of the fruit and mint concoction just as the twins erupted into the garden closely followed by Petra and Jonas. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the distraction of children.

  ‘Dad we’re starving. Is the barbecue ready yet?’

  I reeled. Petra and Jonas belonged to Jamie? He in turn was staring at the twins.

  ‘But I’ve seen Liv and Toby on numerous occasions at the stables. I’ve even let them ride my kids’ pony.’ Jamie scratched his head in bemusement. ‘I had no idea you were their mother.’

  At that moment Petra gave me an odd look, as though seeing me for the first time. ‘I’ve just remembered why you look so familiar.’

  ‘Oh?’ I suddenly felt horribly nervous.

  ‘Yeah, it’s coming back to me now. You were in the field the other week with Matt. That’s right. You were running around in the noddy and Matt was chasing you,’ she started to laugh. ‘God it was seriously funny. We were all killing ourselves in the yard,’ she broke off to clutch her sides. ‘And Matt was slapping your bottom… ah ha ha ha!’ she doubled up with mirth. ‘And your backside was wobbling all over the place,’ she grabbed her buttocks and jiggled them about while snorting and gasping for breath. ‘And then you fell flat on your face and your bum was still wobbling even when the rest of you had stopped moving.’

  The only sound now was of Petra’s raucous laughter as she staggered about hugging her torso, clearly at the painfully funny stage of hysterics.

  ‘How dare you tell such filthy lies about my mother,’ Toby spat and launched himself at Petra.

  The two children crashed to the floor and instantly began pummelling each other. A moment later Jamie was on to them, yanking both children to their feet.

  ‘ENOUGH!’ he bawled.

  Toby was white faced and thin lipped with rage, his fists clenched impotently by his sides.

  ‘My mother doesn’t run around in the noddy,’ he hissed furiously.

  ‘And she hasn’t got a wobbly bottom either,’ Livvy piped up indignantly.

  ‘A wasp went up my trousers,’ I explained hoarsely. ‘Stripping was the only option.’

  ‘Oh God I’m so sorry,’ Petra was mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to make fun. I had no idea it was something so frightening.’

  ‘Right you two,’ Jamie said. ‘Shake hands. I’m not having any bad feeling.’

  Within seconds the children had dismissed the matter in the way only children ever do and disappeared inside the house for Cola.

  ‘Okay,’ Matt grinned, ‘enough drama. Let’s have those fillet steaks!’

  Any lingering awkwardness was instantly dispelled. The food was delicious and the drink flowed. In due course the children peeled off to the stables. Jamie, possibly because of his daughter’s earlier faux-pas, seemed to go out of his way to be attentive company and I felt myself warming to him more and more. He made me laugh and I began to feel so at ease with him I started to suspect something was going on between us – and it was something I liked.

  It also became apparent that Morag was extremely taken with Matt. She flirted outrageously and eventually bullied him into a guided tour of the stables, leaving Jamie and I alone together. We sat companionably in the low afternoon sun, watching the broadening shadows. Eventually Jamie got up and refreshed our glasses.

  ‘So. You and Matt?’

  ‘Friends,’ I replied firmly.

  Jamie took a sip of his drink. ‘He’s a great guy. We’ve been pals for more years than I care to recall.’

  I remembered with a jolt that Matt had talked about knowing Jamie since school days. How he’d gone through the grief process with Jamie when his wife had died so suddenly. I cleared my throat.

  ‘Matt told me that you were a widower.’

  Jamie contemplated his glass for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ he pulled a face. ‘Did he tell you about Philly?’

  ‘No,’ I lied, not wishing for Jamie to think Matt indiscreet. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Sure, why not.’ Jamie paused for a moment, seeming to pick his words with care. ‘I lost Philly four years ago. Nearly lost my mind too. Matt was brilliant. Along with my family, he was instrumental in shouldering a lot of grief.’

  I didn’t know what to say for a moment. I’d lost my husband but the circumstances were very different in that Stevie was still alive. My loss wasn’t remotely comparable to this man’s.

  ‘Philly had an undetected heart condition.’

  ‘How awful,’ I murmured.

  ‘I can still remember that morning so clearly, like a film running through my head. We’d just made love,’ he shrugged apologetically. ‘Philly’s hair was all tousled. She’d smiled at me and said she was going to have a shower. Moments later the shower sprayed into life, the water drumming against the glass door. It was a Sunday morning and I hadn’t felt any need to get up and start rushing about. So I’d flopped back down on the mattress and drifted into a light sleep. Thirty minutes later I’d opened my eyes to hear the shower still running. In that moment, instinctively, I knew something wasn’t right.’

  I stared at Jamie, transfixed. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I called her name. There was no reply. The shower was still tapping a beat against the glass door. I hauled myself off the bed and called her name again feeling a terrible sense of foreboding. When Philly still didn’t respond I levered the door handle down. Clouds of steam enveloped my vision and for a moment I just stood blindly in all this fog. And then the draft from the open door tugged at the steam, pulling pockets of it apart. Philly was slumped in th
e shower base, her legs curled awkwardly to one side. Her head was resting uncomfortably against the shower door and a curtain of wet hair hid her face. For a moment I was paralysed with shock and couldn’t move. Then I lunged forward, tearing at the door. Philly sprawled across the bathroom floor. God I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Her hair fell back from her face like wet seaweed and suddenly I was staring into dead eyes.’

  Jamie’s voice momentarily caught and I automatically stretched my hand across and touched his. He caught hold of it. Curled it into his palm.

  ‘Coming to terms with it was … difficult. I saw her face all the time. I’d walk into a room and see her profile in the print of a wallpaper pattern, or the silhouette of her body in rumpled bedclothes. It drove me mad. Couples who had been friends felt awkward. After a while they avoided me. Apart from Matt.’

  ‘He’s a nice guy,’ I murmured.

  ‘Oh he’s that all right,’ Jamie nodded. ‘My children were bereft and I’m not proud to admit that I was no help to them in the beginning. Matt saw Petra and Jonas every day. Bullied them into coming to the stables and got them riding which acted like a kind of therapy for them. It took a good couple of years for Petra and Jonas to become the carefree children they are now.’

  A silence fell between us for a minute or two.

  ‘And what was your therapy?’ I eventually asked.

  ‘Mine?’ Jamie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Oh for a while I was an embittered ranting lunatic. But life with all its harshness goes on doesn’t it? It’s a case of get over it and get on with it. Either that or give up. Throw in the towel. But you can’t wallow forever when you have two children to care for. So my kids ultimately got me back on track. I’m good now.’

  I was very aware that my hand was still within his. He made no attempt to release it. Suddenly I wanted the moment to never end. Right then I could have sat in Matt’s garden and held Jamie’s hand until the end of time.

  ‘Enough of my heavy talk. What about you? Still going for divorce?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ll keep the married name though – Cherry is prettier than my maiden name.’