by David Carter
Did Harry feel the same way about her as he did? Was that what made him hit her? Had she described her affairs to Harry after a good few drinks in some swanky fiftieth floor New York restaurant? Had that made him fighting-crazy jealous, her talking about her lovers as she did with Gringo? At least he could understand that, but did it make Gringo as bad as Harry, a brace of wife-beaters together, except that neither of them had ever been so fortunate as to possess a pretty wife. At least Gringo’s bullying and barbarity had only been in the mind, but how long could that last?
The unsettling truth was that Gringo couldn’t rule it out. Alcohol contains some mighty strange powers. It can loosen the tongue, and ball the fist. Whatever the truth of it, in his eyes she didn’t deserve the care he felt for her, and worse than that, she had no idea how much she hurt him when telling of her copious affairs.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I want to go home.’
‘But you haven’t finished your meal!’
‘I don’t care. Let’s go.’
‘But it’s early, yet. You never finish your meals when we go out.’
‘Come on,’ he said again, and he stood up and headed toward the exit where the waitresses were gathering hopefully, knowing the tipping season was about to open. He paid the hastily prepared bill, slipped a tenner into the pretty kid’s hand, and smiled as if to say One night I might come back for you, and headed into the main bar, Glen scurrying behind, sharing an embarrassed look with the waitresses as if to say: We’ve had a little tiff, though I’m damned if I know what it was all about.
Someone opened the door to the disco downstairs and the thumping beat escaped for a few seconds. It blasted up the stairs, advertising the good times to be had in the steamy and packed basement. Glen took to her toes, her arms automatically coming up, her bag slung over her elbow, her body immediately in time to the music.
‘Boogie-woogie!’ she said. ‘Let’s go dancing, Gringo. I love dancing.’
‘No way! I’m taking you home,’ and already he was closing in on the main entrance.
‘Gringo!’ she shouted, almost trotting behind. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport! What has got into you?’
‘Off already, Mister Greene?’ asked Richie, surprised to see them leaving as he opened the door. ‘Come back soon.’
‘Sure Richie; thanks,’ mumbled Gringo, as he skipped down the stairs to the car park below, leaving Glen to smile at the lads, who were busy admiring her figure and butt, as she hurried after the guy who clearly had something sour on his mind.
Back in the car she said: ‘What was that all about?’
‘Nothing at all. I want to take you home, that’s all.’
‘But I didn’t want to go back to yours yet.’
‘We’re not going back to mine! We’re going back to yours!’
She bit her tongue and slumped in the seat and hooked up her belt.
‘I don’t understand you sometimes, Gringo. One day you are all over me, lovey-dovey, as if you are head over heels, and the next, you seem to hate me.’
‘Be quiet!’ he said, and that comment and the way he said it produced a desire in her to slap him and tell him to go to hell, but somehow she managed to keep control and say nothing. They drove home in a frosty silence, back to her place, her dad’s big seventies red brick detached house in a decent suburb that wasn’t quite select.
He pulled the car to a halt around the corner at the end of the close; the exact same spot where he’d collected her four hours before, and switched off the engine. They sat in silence for a few moments, seconds that seemed like hours, until Glen broke the spell, turning in to look at him.
‘So,’ she said, ‘are we going to continue this love-hate relationship?’
Gringo turned toward her.
‘The way I feel at the moment, Glen, it’s all hate.’
He regretted saying those words the instant they’d tumbled from his unthinking mouth, and he would regret them for the remainder of his days, but words once spoken can never be retracted. Sometimes the sound of a human voice can be more hurtful than any sharpened spear. Sometimes the hurt mind will lash out unthinkingly. When the red mist falls, evil words often follow. Her mouth fell open as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.
‘I see,’ she said eventually, reaching out and levering open the door.
‘Goodnight, Gringo,’ she said softly, and she stood out into the cold night air, pushed the door gently to, and walked away, turning down the close and out of sight without once glancing back.
Gringo didn’t say a word. He’d wanted to take hold of her and give her a good shake. He wanted to ask her, no, tell her, how he really felt, though he suspected she already knew. He wanted to ask her to open her goddamned eyes, to appreciate what she really had; to value the love and care he felt for her, but for whatever reason, nothing like that escaped his lips.
He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream like that famous painting that summed up all his nightmares. She made him so angry, anger the depth of which he’d never experienced before. It dominated his thinking, his waking hours, his entire body, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the feeling away. It wasn’t her he hated; he hated and detested his total lack of control, and the weakness is showed. He’d never felt that way before.
It couldn’t possibly be love, because love was supposed to make you feel like you were living in heaven on earth. Gringo imagined himself permanently cast down into hell. It couldn’t have been more different.
The red demon reappeared, grinning hideously, giggling, and shrieking: She’s making a monkey out of you!
‘I know!’ he yelled, as he sat alone in the car. ‘I bloody know!’
She’s making a monkey out of you!
‘Fuck off!’ he screamed, as he started the car and pointed it home. That could have gone a whole lot better.
Fifty-Nine
Back in Dryden’s office on Monday morning he kept an eye out for Mel. Twice she walked by his room when he was busy with other people and urgent phone calls. The third time she wandered past, a trifle aimlessly, as if in a daydream, he thought, he called her in.
‘Take a seat a sec.’
She sat down and glimpsed his tired face.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, Gringo, you look a little drawn today. Somewhat harassed.’
It was strange she said that because he thought exactly the same thing about her. There wasn’t so much careful makeup on her face, her shoulders appeared down, and her skin seemed white and listless.
‘I had a heavy weekend,’ he said, trying a smile, but he could see she didn’t believe him.
‘Fancy lunch today?’
‘I don’t know. Have I done anything wrong?’
‘Not that I know of. Have you?’
‘Probably,’ she grinned, a smile that brought a smile to his weary face.
‘No, there’s something important I want to talk to you about.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
‘Please,’ he said, pleadingly, fixing her with his Labrador dog-like black eyes, a face that few women could resist.
‘All right, Gringo. I’ll meet you in Shaman’s at half twelve.’
He smiled again and this time there was something of the old sparkle there. ‘Great,’ he said, ‘see you there.’
He found her waiting just inside the door, though her mind still seemed elsewhere, for it took her a second or two to recognise him.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s find a table,’ and he took hold of her arm and led her in. She made no attempt to free herself and that pleased him, and suddenly she seemed happy and relaxed in his company.
Jackson Skeets was standing silently at the end of the bar, sipping from a green bottle of lager, his piggy eyes estimating every few minutes how that day’s takings were running. There was no sign of Naomi, while Colum was running the bar, flirting with the girls as he always did.
Gringo and Mel settled at a table and ordered food and drink
from a podgy young girl they had never seen before.
‘So,’ said Melanie, sipping the newly arrived wine. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve heard on the grapevine that you might be…’
‘Up the duff?’ she volunteered.
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.’
‘Well either way, it’s true.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’
‘What does Brian think about it?’
She paused as if choosing her words with care, and then came out with a noncommittal answer that he ignored. ‘I don’t really care.’
‘I was wondering…’
But again she interrupted.
‘What you really want to know, Gringo, is, are you the father?’
‘I wouldn’t be human if that thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Am I?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You must have some idea.’
‘I don’t. Honestly I don’t.’
‘How come?’
She took another sip as the lunches arrived.
‘You know that game Scissors, Paper, Stone?’
‘Yeah,’ said Gringo slowly, wondering where this thread might lead.
‘Well Brian’s the Scissors, you see, ’cause he’s had the snip, if not literally, you get my drift. You’re the Paper, ’cause you’re always faffing about with bloody papers, and Richie’s the Stone, ’cause he lives in a huge stone building and he’s as hard as... well… stone,’ and she giggled at her own perceived cleverness.
‘Richie Henderson?’ said Gringo, his voice betraying surprise and disbelief.
‘The very same.’
‘What’s this got to do with him?’
‘What do you think?’
‘You tell me, Mel.’
‘It all started that weekend you took me to the country club. When I finally arrived home and before Brian got back, I gave Richie a ring.’
‘You told me that before.’
‘I did, but what I didn’t tell you was that when I saw him standing there, I was amazed at how I still felt about him, deep inside, you know. You only get so many chances at happiness, Gringo. I couldn’t believe it myself. I hadn’t felt that way about any man, sorry Gringo, not even you, for years and years and years. Something just went pop deep inside me. It was an extraordinary feeling. I couldn’t stop myself, and afterwards I just had this overwhelming urge to ring the guy. Can you understand that?’
Gringo recalled the feeling only too well, and the crazy sight of his disobedient hand flashed to the forefront of his mind.
‘So let me guess, you didn’t ring to warn him about mentioning seeing us together, with underlying hints of revealing tales of underage sex?’
She let out a tiny snort.
‘Nope, course not, that was all a fabrication. I’m sorry for lying to you, Gringo; I just didn’t know what else to say.’
‘Don’t worry about it. People lie all the time.’
‘You can say that again. I’ve met more than my fair share of liars, and most of them have been men.’
‘But what about when you rang me late at night, when you said you and Brian had never been happier?’
‘More lies, Gringo, sorry.’
He sniffed and grabbed a tired gherkin from the little dish before them.
‘So what happened?’
‘I arranged to go round and see Rich at the first opportunity.’
‘I thought you said you could never get away.’
‘Well, needs must; and I needed. There was a volcano erupting inside me. I did the only thing I could think of. I told Brian my mother was ill and that I had to go round and stay with her for a couple of days. He hates my Ma and will never go near her.’
‘Pity you hadn’t thought of that ruse before.’
‘Who said I hadn’t?’ she said, smirking again, tossing her hair away, and emptying her glass.
Gringo waved at Colum for a refill. He grinned and mouthed a Won’t be a mo.
‘So you went to see him at the Henderson?’
‘Yeah, you could say that.’
‘What happened?’
‘What do you think happened? Do you want chapter and verse?’
‘No, now that you mention it, I don’t.’
But she ignored his answer and continued anyway.
‘He did exactly what you did. He bought me a great dinner, he ploughed me with drinks, he took me upstairs to his private apartments; he removed all my clothes, and did whatever he wanted, just as you did, Gringo, just as little boys always want to do with their little girlies. That’s the way of the world, if you hadn’t noticed.’
‘That wasn’t quite how I remember it.’
‘Oh don’t get me wrong, Gringo. I enjoyed the evening I spent with you immensely. I’d never change a thing, and I’ll always remember it with great fondness, but meeting Richie again; well that was something altogether different, and I have to thank you for that. I realised straight away that Richie was the only man I could ever truly love, while Brian is a man I should never have become involved with in the first place. I’ll never stray again, and that’s a fact. Richie feels the same way you see, he said there hasn’t been a day go by in all those years when he didn’t think of me.’
Gringo would suspend judgment on that thought.
‘Does Brian know?’
‘He does now. I left him a week ago and moved in with Richie. I live at the Henderson now. He drives me all that way to work every morning, and picks me up every night, so he must be keen. Richie has this fab apartment on the top floor. You should see it. Talk about lush, you wouldn’t believe it. I was there on Saturday night when you turned up with Glenda. He came and told me you were in the house and I immediately knew who you’d brought from his description. I’d normally have come down, you see, but kept well away, seeing as you two were down there. I didn’t want to spoil your fun, but he said you went home dead early in a big huff with a face like a packet of Frosties. What is going on between you and Glen?’
Gringo ignored the question.
‘So does Brian know you’re living at the Henderson?’
‘Nah. But one day he is sure to find out, and when he does, he’s bound to come running looking for trouble. Richie knows that well enough, but you don’t own and run a place like the Henderson Club without coming across some pretty heavy characters. You have to be prepared for it, you have to have a contingency plan, and Richie has that in spades. If Brian isn’t careful, he might get more than he bargained for.’
‘So who’s the father, Mel?’
She opened her left palm, balled her right fist, struck the palm three times and threw a…
‘Stone! It’s Richie! Hard as rock! Let’s hope that’s right, eh, but in reality it’s an even Steven three way bet, though perhaps Brian, with his incredibly low sperm count, should be treated as a rank outsider,’ and she giggled and smiled at Gringo at her colourful description of her predicament.
‘And if it isn’t Richie’s?’
‘Who cares? I don’t. Richie is a very wealthy man and he’s pledged to look after me and the child regardless.’
‘People sometimes change their mind after the birth, Mel, especially if they imagine they’re not the father. Are you going to have a blood test just to be sure?’
‘Certainly not! If the kid has a black moustache we’ll all know the truth of it,’ and she giggled again at the thought of it.
‘You are not the first person to say that.’
Once more Melanie laughed, more girlishly and a little distant this time, as she took another slug on the wine.
‘Does he know it might not be his?’
‘I suspect he does, but it doesn’t seem to worry him.’
‘Bit of a mess, isn’t it?’
‘Not really. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been and that’s all I can ask for, but enough about me. Are you going to tell me what’s going down
between you and Glen?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘Come on, Gringo. I wasn’t born yesterday.’
‘She’s in love with this Yankee banker, so she imagines. I suspect she will be going back there soon.’
‘And that’s got up your nose?’
‘Maybe a bit.’
‘I can see that it does. Don’t let her hurt you, Gringo. You could do a whole lot better for yourself.’
He had heard that before. People often say: You could do a whole lot better than her, or him, when they are trying to be kind and sympathetic, but it doesn’t help one iota, and more than that, it’s rarely true.
‘You think?’
‘Sure, keep looking kid. She will come along one day, and when she does she’ll blow you out of the water, just look at what happened to me,’ and Mel reached across and clasped his forearm and gave him a comforting squeeze.
‘Thanks, Mel. You’re great, anyone ever told you that?’
She smiled like the sister he never had, and then he said: ‘So you’ll be leaving us too?’
‘Yeah, and not just on maternity leave either; I’ll be leaving for good. My engineering administration days are definitely coming to an early end.’
‘Any idea when?’
‘You’ll be the first to know, Gringo.’
Naomi Skeets came into the bar accompanied by a pretty petite girl with mousy hair. Gringo recognised the kid. She worked in some firm based on the ground floor in Frobisher Buildings. He had smiled and winked at her on a couple of occasions when they had been coming or going at the same time, but she had walked through his attention like a blind girl.
They watched as Naomi couldn’t stop smiling and touching the girl, who effusively smiled back. It was obvious to everyone in the bar, including her embarrassed husband and separate lover, that these two women were an item. Glen picked it up in an instant.
‘Look at them,’ she said, staring transfixed. ‘Have you ever seen two people more in love?’
