Poor Albert gave a disgruntled sound, and shifted again. He might just have to bite her.
“I don’t understand,” Lillian replied, pushing Albert off the couch to sit down. Albert slumped to the floor and, looking back just the once, slouched off into the kitchen and stared at them from around the door. His bowl still hadn’t been filled.
“Mary, what’s going on, dear? The wedding is on Saturday. Look, you’ve even upset the dog with all this nonsense.” Lillian waved her hands absently in Albert’s general direction, the dog giving a yawn of agreement. He kicked out at his bowl but he knew from the sounds his humans were making that it probably wasn’t going to be filled be either woman. He went in search of the man. The man would feed him.
“No Mother, it’s off. It’s all off. Jason ran away with that stripper skank from the other side of town. Damn that bitch! She’s had her claws in him since forever. Momma, she’s the size of a whale! Greenpeace have probably set up to protect her house. I hate her!” Mary sobbed, sinking back into the couch, her hair hiding her heartbroken face. Mary, normally above such insults, couldn’t help but go after the most obvious aspect of the other woman’s physique as she felt her world fall apart.
“What in heaven’s name? No! Not that Jennifer Pinegold? The one with more thigh than midriff? I don’t believe it. I’ll kill her,” Lillian said, her head turning as if she could sense the woman in her presence already.
“Yes, Momma, that one,” Mary replied quietly. “They’ve already left. She was offered a job somewhere out west and that stinking, heartless idiot went with her. He left me, Momma. He left meeeee! He was supposed to marry me, and that snivelling dog has ruined my life. FOREVER!!” Mary’s fist flailed as if to pound the couch cushion but it fluttered back down feebly.
“Now, now Mary. I’m sure there’s some mistake. Let me go over there and talk to his parents,” Lillian said as she leaned over to remove Mary’s hair from her eyes. She wished she had more padding so she could comfort her daughter the way mothers did in movies, on well-endowed bosom and hips. Not overweight but not too thin, both women managed their weight through daily walks but still indulged in cakes and other treats.
Mary handed her phone up to Lillian, the message reading:
Couldn’t go through with it. Going to San Fran with Jenn. Sorry. Hope we can still be friends when we get back, alright? No hard feelings babe. xxx
Lillian read it over and over, getting angrier and angrier each time.
“Babe? Babe? Is that all you were to that conniving, no-good SOB? Yes, I’ll go over there and kill him with my bare hands, I swear it,” Lillian snarled, wanting to throw the phone but deciding against it. It was one of those smart phones, though Lillian couldn’t see what was so smart about it.
“He’s gone, Mom. He’s gone. They drove past the house as they left. The lowlife waved as they went,” Mary whimpered, her pain apparent for all to see. Even Albert finally gave in and went back to the couch, hoping to stop the sad sounds that came from the woman that scratched his belly and gave him extra treats.
“Well,” Lillian huffed. “Well.”
“Well what? It doesn’t get easier for saying well a lot.” Mary snapped.
“Hush your mouth, child. I didn’t run off and leave you did I? I mean, well. What are we going to do with all the food we’ve got prepared? All the people we need to tell? Well. I’ll need to speak to your father about this. That’s a lot of money we’ve wasted young lady. A lot of money. That’s a three tier cake I made you. Not like Sarah Rasnake’s pathetic attempt at a cream filled donut, oh no. Three proper tiers of proper cake. What am I supposed to do with it, I ask you?”
Mary hung her head again and sighed.
“I know, Momma. I’m sorry. And it gets worse.” Mary looked away from her mother, her face pained.
“Worse? How could it get any worse? Don’t go telling me you had to marry that useless piece of garbage because he’s put you in the family way!” Lillian barked, her brows knitting together in alarm.
“Noo! Momma! Not that, this,” Mary said as she pulled a large envelope from under the couch cushion.
“Oh? What on earth is that? And why do I feel like I don’t want to know?” Lillian replied reaching for the large envelope.
“I thought we would go away. For a honeymoon. I’d been saving for months and months, Momma. That’s why I never bought myself anything. I saved it all for this,” Mary sighed.
“Well, nothing wrong with a honeymoon. Some nice places up in the hills folk can be alone together to do what needs doing and have fun too. Let me get my glasses,” Lillian replied.
“I didn’t want to go to no shed in Virginia, Momma. I’d always dreamed of somewhere exotic. Somewhere different. Somewhere none of these hillbillies had even heard of. I heard of this place in a movie once. I looked it up and it was real. I saved and booked it.” Mary said.
“Florida? Well yes, it’s pretty and all that but overrated you know? Your Grandma and Papaw went there once. Said it rained so they came back. If they wanted rain they could get it just as well here without alligators,” Lillian replied, her lips twisting into a repressed grin.
“No Mom. The Algarve in Portugal. On a plane.” Mary wouldn’t meet her mother’s eyes as she finally revealed the name of the place.
“Are you out of your mind? People like you get snatched in those South American places. They have these poison darts they fire at you then, BAM! Gone! Good grief no. What made you want to go there? Full of jungles too. Lots of snakes. You know you don’t like snakes,” Lillian finished pulling out the flight details from the envelope.
Mary sat up on the couch shaking her head.
“It’s in Europe, Momma! It’s sun and sand and lots of historic places to see. It sounds perfectly wonderful.” Mary glared at her mother behind her back, wondering how the woman had got the places mixed up.
“Are you sure, dear? Because I might not have had all the fancy schooling you young un’s get but I’m pretty sure they speak Spanish and it’s in South America, somewhere near, well, somewhere else down there.” Lillian petered off looking confused.
“No, Mom. It’s in Europe, right next door to Spain. Not too far from France and the Algarve is at the sea, with sandy romantic beaches and fine wines and strange food. Doesn’t matter now does it?” Mary sighed.
At the sound of the front door, Albert gave a half-hearted yelp and wandered in from his search for the man to see who was coming in. It was Walter. Mary’s father was a large man. Wide and tall with thinning greying hair. Like Lillian, he was in his mid-fifties. Usually reasonably happy, he was easily confused with a world that made a simple life complex.
“Walter. Glad you’re home. We have a problem,” Lillian said to him as she pushed him towards his favourite armchair in front of the TV and bid him to sit.
“Okay?” Walter responded confused and looking at the tear stained face of his daughter.
“The wedding is off. That low-down skunk Jason has dumped your daughter and run off with a hooker,” Lillian said with a tone that was most accusatory.
“Right, yes I know.” Walter nodded.
“Know?” Mary jumped up from the couch, startling Albert. “How could you possibly know, Dad?”
Walter looked uncomfortably at the two women and the dog staring at him intently. “Well, I met Stan Hardwick about twenty minutes ago down town.”
“And?” Lillian pressed, staring at him with the intensity of an interrogator.
“Well, Stan had just had a call from another cop in Kentucky, you see? Seems your boy and that fat gal that used to work in the club, well they got pulled over and arrested,” Walter said. “So anyhow, Stan gets the story from his buddy in Kentucky about how Jason had been whining and crying about running away from certain doom in a wedding he didn’t want and had agreed to go with the fat gal. So he stole a car when theirs barely made it across the state line. And it seems they’re going to be there for a good long time ‘til the good people of K
entucky decide what to do with them. It was Stan who told me the wedding was off. He was a bit upset, I’ll tell you. He was looking forward to the party and all.”
Mary collapsed back onto the couch in fits of laughter and more tears. Her body couldn’t decide on an emotions and a confusing mix of happiness and sadness was all she could produce. Jason had run away from her, apparently from a horror of a marriage, and had ended up in jail after stealing a car!
“Sorry honey, but to be fair, it seems you got off lucky by the sounds of it,” Walter said.
Mary had to agree with him, her spirits lifting for a moment. That is, until her mother spoke again.
“That isn’t all Walter. Madam here has spent all her money on a honeymoon to South America, would you believe?” Lilian still stood, sending disapproving looks to both before Mary rolled her eyes, annoyance starting to break through.
“It’s Portugal, Momma. In Europe, Daddy, not South America at all,” Mary said.
“Can’t you cancel it and get your money back or something?” Walter asked. Albert had positioned himself by the side of Walter’s chair and was enjoying the unconscious, constant patting he was getting on the head from the man. Albert hadn’t forgot about his bowl, however, and was going to start nudging Walter about it after a little more petting.
Mary shook her head, her eyes filling with tears once more.
“No, I don’t think so. The flights are the day after the wedding and the cottage is fully booked up now.” She sighed, plopping back into the couch again as she remembered just how much money she’d spent on the honeymoon.
“Well,” Walter said, shifting, hoping the matter was closed. He was desperate to turn on the TV to watch football but terrified it might not be the best time to do it just now so he fiddled with the remote.
“I have a passport,” Lillian announced suddenly, her face revealing she had an idea. This usually meant her daughter and her husband were in for a hard time of trying to dissuade her from some hare-brained scheme. The revelation that she had a passport informed them both they weren’t going to like what came next.
Mary and Walter turned to look at Lillian in confused amazement.
“Why on earth do you have a passport, Lillian?” Walter asked, shocked at his wife’s secret.
“Remember when you went to Texas to work at that plant? I thought you’d be gone for six months. I was going to fly to visit you so I got a passport.” Lillian replied, looking at the floor sheepishly.
“Texas is in the States, Mom. You don’t need a passport to go there,” Mary said with more consternation.
“I’m not an idiot, dear. Of course, I know Texas is in the States. But I thought if Walt could get a few days off, we could fly down to Mexico from there for a romantic weekend or something. Oh, I don’t know! It was just a silly idea of a lonely lady is all,” Lillian said, slouching down on the couch next to Mary.
“So? Why didn’t you go?” Mary asked, her face now a wreath of pleased smiles. Her mother was a young girl at heart, it would seem!
“Your Daddy went and hurt his back and had to come home, of course. So, I just stuck the passport in a drawer and forgot all about it.” Lillian answered as Walter stood up from the chair and came over to her. He put a large arm over her shoulder and hugged her.
“Sorry I ruined your plan, honey. I didn’t mean to fall off a rig. I guess you deserved a break after all you’ve put up with from us for all of these years.” Walter said.
“Yes, yes I did and still do. That’s why Mary and I are going to use these tickets and go to wherever Portugal is, and you my good man are going to look after the house,” Lillian said, standing to her full height and glaring at Walter, daring him to reject her idea.
Walter went back over to his chair and collapsed into it, staring at the blank TV screen. He couldn’t fathom his wife, these days. She was full of weird ideas.
“We are?” Mary asked, pulling the attention back to herself.
“The trip is paid for and the wedding is off. You either lose your money and sit in the room crying for the rest of your life, or we go to this Portugal and have ourselves the best road, erm, plane trip ever, right?”
“I guess,” Mary said, shifting around on the couch and looking at Walter for a more reasoned reply as to why this would be the worst idea ever.
Walter didn’t disappoint and jumped straight out of his chair and stood in front of Lillian, hoping she was in the mood to be reasoned with. He didn’t really think she was but he gave it a shot.
“Now just hold on there one danged minute, Lillian! I have never heard anything so crazy in all my born days! This poor girl is heartbroken and your best plan is to run off to some foreign country on the other side of the world? What am I supposed to do while you’re having the time of your lives?”
“You’ll have plenty to do! I’ll give you a list of jobs I’ll be expecting you to get done while we’re away. You won’t starve. There’s a three tier wedding cake in the refrigerator. Even you’ll take a week to eat it and if you give any to Albert, I’ll break your knees, boy. He’s getting fat enough as it is.” Lillian tried not to laugh as her husband backed away from her tirade.
Albert lowered his head as he heard his name alongside the word “fat” again. His bowl had been empty for ages, the sunlight had moved a whole inch across the floor since it had been last filled!
“No, Lillian, I won’t have it! I understand everyone is upset about all this nastiness, but this is a crazy idea and you know it. Portugal, indeed! I have never heard anything so crazy, and you’ve come up with some doozies in your time, I can tell you,” Walter snapped at his wife, not noticing Albert hanging around his bowl again.
Walter settled back down with a huff into his favourite recliner and flicked on the TV. He held up a silencing hand to indicate that was the end to the conversation when Lillian started to reply. She promptly shut her mouth and stared at him in shock.
Glaring at her husband as she realized what had just happened, Lillian turned back to her daughter instead.
“Find the suitcases, Mary. I’ll sort my clothes. Your father is having visions of grandeur again. Once the football starts he won’t even notice we’re gone,” Lillian said to a stunned Mary before departing to her bedroom.
She’d never witnessed anything like this from her father before.
“Daddy?” Mary whispered, looking over at her father with round eyes.
Walter raised his hand again and pointed to the TV. “I’ve had my say, now do as your mother tells you.” As he heard Mary rising from the couch and heading for her bedroom, he gave a wry smile. He calculated a good six-hour drive to the airport. He nodded to himself. Yeah, he could manage that.
Chapter Thirteen
Ben Cooper tilted the glass of wine to his lips and took a sip. As usual it was perfect, but then it was Portuguese and he was drinking it overlooking a turquoise lagoon in the Algarve. The wine was perfect as was the lunch he was eating with it.
Ben gazed out over the crystal clear water and the holidaymakers enjoying the beach in the warm sunshine. Another day on the Algarve and, as like all days on the Algarve, it was bliss.
Ben was a blogger for an online tour guide. Sitting here, basking in the sun with a glass of fine wine wasn’t leisure, it was work. Hard, hard work he worked very hard at. This was what he did.
At six feet even and well-built, with a thatch of blonde hair and blue eyes, Ben at 35 looked healthy, fit, and quite attractive to the ladies, though he tended to ignore them most days. He’d been a soldier in the British army since he’d left school at 16. Now, still locked into a lot of the just-so ways of the army, he was free. Free to indulge a passion of travel and getting paid for it again. He had no real interest in the usual tourist side of things, though. His job was specifically to seek out those hidden gems the package tourist never sees. Those places that once visited someone may never leave again. Here in Fuseta, a little fishing village on the shores of the Algarve, he had found such a p
lace.
Ben smiled as two jet skis shot across the lagoon in the bow wave of a water taxi, on their way to the island ahead. Here, you could have all the speed you ever wanted, or like Ben, enjoy the slow pace of life in an Algarvian paradise. Though it could sometimes drive him mad, Ben had to admit, the slow pace had done him good. Meals would arrive when the waiter had finished talking to his neighbour. The wine would never come late, though it might be served mid conversation to a local fisherman. And of course, as soon as the sun hit dead centre in the sky, most places would close their doors and call it time until the cooler evening arrived. No rush for money. No busting a gut to earn those last few cents. They would work when they decided it was suitable and not before.
Ben carried a pocket of table clips and a ball of sticky putty in his pocket most of the time. Portuguese bars and restaurants insist on a tablecloth, regardless of the weather. No problem indoors, but fighting to keep a paper cloth on a table often became a nightmare out on a patio with the sea breeze. Waiters would half-heartedly attempt to fit them with table clips if they remembered to bring enough, but usually it required spreading the utensils, glasses and ash trays to hold it in place. So Ben always carried four strong clips of his own.
The silly putty of course was for those places that would have wonky pictures all over the walls. There was no way Ben would take a picture for his blog with wonky picture frames in the background, so he’d meticulously straighten them with a blob of putty in the corner. Yes, it got him some strange looks from the proprietors, but he noticed when he returned some days later the pictures would be just as he left them.
For now, Ben was happy enough to sit and enjoy his wine and the view.
A rather beautiful woman walked by, catching his eye. Ben wasn’t looking for a relationship or even a fling really, but he couldn’t help but notice the pretty ladies, could he? That was one good thing about living in a tourist town; when he felt like he needed some company, there was always someone around to fill the void temporarily.
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