by David Carter
‘Whereabouts are you based?’ asked Gringo, keen to move the conversation along.
‘At the top of the hill, Rosefield Antiques,’ and she took a card from her handbag and set it on the table.
Gringo knew the place. He’d been there once himself some years before, when he was younger and looking for cheap furniture. It was a rundown shop with a scruffy two-story warehouse above, where on dry days much of the stock was moved out onto the pavement in an effort to entice passers-by. He recalled the gear clearly; most of it ten times used dusty and dirty brown furniture that no one wanted any more.
‘How’s business?’ he asked, already guessing the answer.
‘Bloody awful! Let’s talk about something else.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘I have a flat in Willerby.’
That was a mid price range suburb where Gringo had once known a pair of nurses.
‘But I also have a holiday cottage a couple of hours drive from here, it’s quite isolated, set down by the river, but on a hot summer day, it can be tranquil, beautiful even.’
‘Sounds fabulous.’
‘I wouldn’t go so far as that; it doesn’t have any mains services for a start. My nephews and nieces love the place to bits. They’re fascinated by living by candlelight with an open fire in the evenings, and no TV. They love it to bits. In this day and age you wouldn’t think that, would you?’
Gringo smiled gently. He could imagine her there, surrounded by kids, the life and soul of the party. She boasted purple fingernails, whether real or fake he had no idea, but he thought they looked pretty cool. She wore a fair bit of gold jewellery too, decoration he wasn’t sure she needed.
‘Are you married?’ he asked.
‘No, not any more, and before you ask, no kids either.’
‘Anyone special?’
‘I have a bloke; he’s a contractor working in Dubai. He doesn’t seem in any hurry to come home, so I’m beginning to wonder about him. And you, Gringo, you must have a steady girlfriend?’
‘Yeah, on and off I suppose; nothing special.’
Half way through the meal the bottle of wine was empty and he knew he hadn’t drunk much. She could certainly sink the booze, could old Sarah, with no apparent slurring of speech, or any other signs of inebriation.
‘Another?’ he said, pointing at the bottle.
‘Oh no,’ she said, grinning at her own appetite. ‘But I wouldn’t mind another G & T.’
He happily ordered her a gin as they talked and talked, content in each other’s company. Then the meal was over and Gringo paid the bill, though she opened her bag and made some token effort to contribute, but he would have none of it, and Sarah secretly was happy to see that.
Outside in the car she said: ‘Well thanks very much for the meal, and the conversation. I’ve really enjoyed it.’
‘Me too, you’re great company,’ he said, without a hint of flattery.
‘I’ll have to be going, I promised to pop in on my mother. She lives alone. I usually make her a sandwich for her supper, and check she’s all right.’
‘That’s a pity.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought we could have enjoyed a more exciting evening than you visiting your mother.’
There was a short silence as if she was pondering the matter and then she said: ‘Oh did you now, and if I didn’t have to be somewhere else, Gringo, what exciting things would you have had in store for me?’
He turned towards her. She had asked.
‘If I had my way?’
Sarah nodded.
‘If I had my way,’ and he paused as if thinking carefully of his lines, ‘I’d take you back to my place, we’d open a bottle of good wine, play some music, cuddle up on the sofa, maybe a kiss or two, and a little later I’d take you upstairs and slowly remove all your clothes.’ He glanced at her face. Her mouth had slightly opened and her ample lips were glistening. ‘I’d kiss you all over, and I mean all over, and for the remainder of the evening and long into the night, I’d make long and gentle love to you.’
He smiled at her without displaying his teeth and refocused his wide open eyes on her face. There was a heavy silence and then she said: ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
‘Neither can I. You seem to have a strange effect on me.’
‘I’ll bet you say that to all the women.’
‘No I don’t. Usually I’m quite shy.’
She laughed a short, sharp laugh.
‘Shy! Shy? One thing you are most definitely not, Gringo Greene, is shy.’
He smiled and didn’t say a word.
‘Have you got a pound coin?’ she asked.
‘Sure. What do you want a pound coin for?’
‘I need to make a phone call.’
‘Use this,’ he said, fishing in his pocket for his mobile.
‘No!’ she said. ‘I hate those bloody things, I can’t get on with them at all, and anyway, I still believe phone calls should be made in private, not foisted on everyone else. Have you been on the train lately? It’s full of rude people trumpeting their business to the entire world.’
He reached forward and poked a small drawer with the end of his finger. A flap fell slowly open revealing a pot of treasure. She set her purple-topped finger into the drawer and picked out a pound.
‘I’ll take two,’ she said, ‘just in case,’ and then she was gone.
She was away a long time. For a moment Gringo began to think she might have thought better of it, and had taken the opportunity to slip away through the other entrance. Perhaps his proposition had scared her off. That rakish young man tried to bed me! The cheeky sod! He could imagine her telling George back at the Hamilton.
A red mini swept into the car park and squealed to a halt close by. Two young women jumped out laughing and joking, one wearing a smart blue dress, the other in tight denim pants. Gringo smiled at them, but they didn’t smile back. Instead they hurried by toward the steak bar and disappeared inside, and in the next moment Sarah jumped back in the car.
‘You’ll never guess what?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Mother’s not feeling so well. She’s gone to bed early. She doesn’t want anything to eat. She doesn’t want me to call. She says she’s going to sleep now, and she’s asked me to call by in the morning.’
‘So what does that mean?’
‘Start the car and I’ll tell you.’
Twenty
He drove her back to his place. She said she liked the look of the house, as Gringo opened the door and stared down at the day’s mail. He grabbed it and called her in and went through to the kitchen, flicking through the letters. Nothing from overseas, nothing worth anything. He tossed them to one side and picked out a bottle of white wine and fired up the coffee machine.
Sarah was exploring his sitting room.
‘Can I put on some music?’
‘Sure, anything you want.’
She flicked through his scanty music collection and picked out a Carole King album, and in the next moment You make me feel like a natural woman was swirling through the house. It was one of the few records that Gringo truly liked.
‘I love this tune,’ she said, singing along. ‘I had it when I was a kid.’
He came through with two glasses of wine, a large one for her and a small one for him, while the coffee machine burbled in the background, trying to complete with Carole.
Sarah took the glass and a big sip and set it on the glass table.
‘I feel guilty really, being here, with you.’
‘Why?’
‘Well you know, with Ronnie, and that.’
‘He could be in England with you if he chose. Fact is; he’s choosing to stay abroad. He’s probably having a whale of a time out there. He could be up to anything.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right, I’m thinking along similar lines all the time, but I can’t help wondering.’
‘Listen, kid, you only get so
many chances in life, and in my experience you have to take them or they pass you by, and before you know it…’
He left the words hanging in the air, and they weren’t lost on Sarah. Lately she’d become increasingly aware of the passing of time. It frightened her, but didn’t it frighten everyone? No one had called her kid in years and never by a man ten years her junior, and in a funny way she really liked it. She liked him.
In the next moment they were looking at each through wide eyes, hers slate blue, his as dark as the devil’s.
He leant slowly forward. She did too. They kissed, oh so gently, slowly, beautifully, and then came apart. There was a calm expression on her face. Neither of them spoke. There weren’t any words that fitted the moment. There was only one thing to be done. They must kiss again, and they did, cuddled up on the couch for the whole of the next hour.
‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he whispered.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on.’
‘You’re a very naughty man.’
‘Come along!’
‘All right.’
He stood up and took her hands and pulled her to her feet. They embraced and kissed again before heading for the staircase. He was behind her, his hands on her shoulders as he eased her up the stairs.
‘I hope you don’t think I jump into bed with every man I meet.’
‘I never sleep with a girl on the first date, ever, but today with you, I’m going to make an exception.’
She liked that too, even if it were so obviously a lie.
In the bedroom he did precisely what he said he would do. He took great care and copious time over everything he did. Nothing seemed too much trouble, and it was some time later when she breathlessly whispered: ‘Wash it before you put it in.’
He drove her home in silence at 3am. They had exchanged telephone numbers and now both of them were wondering if it had purely been a one night stand, a brief moment in each of their lives where they had sought companionship and comfort.
Neither of them regretted it, not for a second, nor ever would. It had been the best day in her life for several years, and though he couldn’t quite say the same thing, he had enjoyed himself immensely. If it were down to him, there most certainly would be a reprise.
They kissed gently in the car outside her apartment. She didn’t invite him in, she didn’t want him to come in, and neither did he.
‘I’ll ring,’ he said.
‘You do that,’ she replied softly, and they both wondered whether he really would.
Friday night and the weekend starts here, so the mantra says, and for the big drinkers that was the case, but for Gringo Greene, Friday evening often involved a relaxed night at home, and usually alone. He would rest up and prepare himself and his clothing for the weekend ahead. No, Friday wasn’t the weekend so far as Gringo was concerned. The weekend was Saturday and Sunday and he devoted himself to those days like no other.
At half past six Maria rang.
‘Hiya you.’
‘Hi kid, how are you doing?’
‘I’m great. Are we going out tomorrow?’
‘Sure, why not,’ the truth was that Gringo had been unable to unearth anything better, so his Saturday night this week would be spent amusing himself with Maria Almeida.
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I have some new things from Cardingberry’s.’
‘Great,’ he said, but somehow when you had a fair idea of what was coming it never seemed quite so attractive, or as exciting.
‘What time will you come round?’
‘Eight,’ he said, ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’
‘Look forward to it, bye Gringo,’ and she put the phone down.
Twenty minutes later the telephone rang again. He guessed it would be her back with some late thought or idea she’d meant to say before, or had forgotten about, but as it turned out, it wasn’t her at all.
‘Good evening to you,’ said the woman’s voice.
‘Oh, hello there. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. I took the day off work. I’ve been sleeping most of the day to make up for the lack of sleep last night.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Are you tired?’
‘Not really. I don’t seem to need so much sleep these days.’
It was true she had been sleeping on and off throughout the day, but when she was awake she had been thinking about him. Yesterday had been fantastic, right up there with the very best of days. She wasn’t stupid enough to think there was any possibility of a long term relationship between them, but something he had said had stirred up her thinking. Listen kid, you only get so many chances in life, and in my experience you have to take them or they pass you by, and before you know it…
Initially she’d thought she would never ring him. She would play hard to get and wait for him to call. But what if he didn’t ring? What if he never rang? That would have been it, all over and done with, one night and nothing else. She might never have seen him again. At least by ringing she gave herself another chance. He could only say no, and if he did, so what, she would have nothing, but she had nothing anyway, so she wouldn’t be any the worse off.
You only get so many chances in life; you only get so many chances, only so many chances. Too bloody true!
‘The thing is, Gringo…’
‘What?’
‘I was thinking of driving down to the cottage for the weekend. The weather forecast is great and it’s a lovely little spot when it’s dry.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘And I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’
‘Oh!’
‘Ah, you’ve made other arrangements, I can tell.’
‘No, it’s not that.’
‘Well what, then?’
‘Look, can I ring you back in ten minutes?’
‘Course you can, but I’ll be gone in half an hour. Don’t leave it too long.’
‘I’ll ring you back, for sure.’
Gringo sat back on the sofa and folded his arms and began thinking. It should have been a no brainer decision. On the one hand he had a cute and eager young woman with a slim toned body and a pretty face, while on the other, he had a middle-aged, slightly, it had to be said, slightly, overweight lady with a penchant for painted nails, alcohol, a dental plate and a haircut that was far too young for her. There was no decision to be made. No competition. He picked up the phone and punched in the number.
She was watching TV and answered almost immediately.
‘Look, I’m sorry about this, doll.’
‘What do you mean!’
‘I can’t make it tomorrow.’
‘Why not?’
‘Something’s come up, I’m really sorry.’
‘Well what’s come up? What’s happening, Gringo?’
‘It’s the firm; there’s a big flap on. I have to go down to head office tonight. I mentioned it the other day.’
‘But you said it was next week, next Tuesday, you said.’
‘I know, darling, but the flap must be bigger than I thought, they’ve brought the meeting forward, they’ve just rung me now, I can’t say no. My job depends on it.’
‘Are you mucking me about, Gringo?’
‘No, course not.’
‘Well it bloody well seems like it!’
‘Look, I’m really sorry Maria, but I’ll make it up to you next week. We’ll have a big night out on Wednesday, you’ll see.’
‘What is this flap all about anyway?’
‘I have no idea. No doubt they will tell me when I get there. Can’t stop darling or I’ll miss the train. I’ll ring you when I get back. Bye love,’ and Gringo grimaced and hurriedly set the phone down. He left it a few moments to see if she’d ring back, but she didn’t, so he picked up the phone again and rang Sarah.
‘It’s me.’
‘Ah, you’re back are you?’
‘I’m right here.’
‘And are you coming?’
‘Do you w
ant me to come?’
‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.’
‘I’d love to come. What do I need to bring?’
‘Just yourself, and a change of casual clothes.’
‘You got it.’
‘We’ll go in your car if you don’t mind. Your car is much better than mine. Come on round as soon as you are ready. There are a few things we’ll need to put in the boot.’
‘Whatever you think best. I’ll be there in half an hour.’
‘Look forward to it,’ she said, and she put the phone down.
Gringo ran upstairs and dug his overnight bag from the top of the fitted wardrobe. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent an entire weekend away with a woman. Next time he wouldn’t leave it so long, not if it had this effect on him. Suddenly he felt twenty-five again, really excited, and he tried to figure out why.
When it came down to it, it was crystal clear. On the one hand he had a relationship with a pretty girl that was going nowhere, as it rapidly approached its sell-by date. One the other, the opportunity for a change of scene with a passionate woman he had just met. His relationship with Sarah was still in that over-excited-just-met-you state, and when it came down to it; that was what he was seeking in any woman.
It seemed impossible to maintain that heightened electricity with any one partner for any amount of time, so his butterflying behaviour was only to be expected, or so he told himself. One thing was absolutely clear; he was more likely to learn something new with Sarah Swift than he ever would with Maria Almeida. That was a no brainer too. He had been right all along. It was just something of a surprise to him.
He took a quick wash, threw on a casual shirt and slacks; glanced at the telephone as if it might ring at any moment, but it didn’t, grabbed a jacket, and let himself out.
Twenty-One
It seemed incredible they had parted first thing that day. It felt like an age since they had seen one another. Her flat was part of a ten-year-old brick-built block, located on the ground floor. He was able to park right outside, next to her car, though he didn’t know it was hers.
