Sylvie slipped her feet to the floor and sat up. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on then shall I? I fancy one of those scones you’ve been so busy slaving over for the last hour.’
‘It’s early yet. Let’s wait a bit.’ Her mother leaned forward, picked up a magazine, and pretended to be engrossed in its contents.
The clock ticked on for another ten minutes. Sylvie was about to remark that it was well past their usual time for the Sunday mid- afternoon cuppa when the doorbell rang.
‘Would you like me to get it?’ Without waiting for a reply, Sylvie was up and into the hall. She recognized the stocky figure through the glass panel in the front door.
‘What a surprise! Nice to see you.’
The visitor looked somewhat taken aback at Sylvie’s evident glee but she could hardly explain that it was because her suspicions about a so-called unexpected guest had obviously been correct.
‘I did say I might pop round about this campaign of hers.’
‘It’s Uncle Colin, Mum,’ Sylvie called out, and led the way back along the narrow hall. She couldn’t hide the grin when she noticed that all the magazines had been tidied away and the cushions plumped up and neatly positioned at each end of the settee.
‘Afternoon, Margaret.’ Colin stood hesitantly in the doorway smoothing down the thinning strands of hair across his prematurely receding scalp.
‘You’ve come at the right time,’ Sylvie filled the awkward silence. ‘We were just about to have some tea. You sit down and have a chat with Mum while I put the kettle on.’
It was obviously early days, and she mustn’t jump to conclusions, but perhaps more had been going on with all those trips to visit a dying friend than she’d realized. Mind you, as his mother’s funeral had been a good six months ago, you couldn’t exactly call Colin a fast worker.
She was pleased for her mother, of course she was, but wasn’t it about time she had a bit more luck on the boyfriend front herself? It had only been a couple of days and there was still a chance this new guy might get in touch, but it would be stupid to get her hopes up. She had to face it – for the last year, ever since Paul really, her love life had been reduced to no more than the odd one night stand.
Taking her time in the kitchen, she put three of the matching blue striped mugs on the tray, but as she poured milk into the delicate flower patterned jug, she changed her mind. The best china cups and saucers were rescued from the far recesses of the top shelf and matching plates extracted from the bottom of the pile. Her mother would like that.
‘So what’s this campaign then?’ asked Sylvie as she made for the table.
‘You never listen! I told you about Nichole.’
‘I remember you saying what a struggle it is for her mother to push her back up the hill now she’s so big and how she needs an electric wheelchair.’
‘Which they can’t get on the National Health apparently and, what with her father on a farm labourer’s wage, there’s no way they can afford it. So we’re going to see what we can do to help.’
‘Great. I’ll leave you two to come up with some good ideas.’ Before she could pick up her tea, the phone rang and Sylvie hurried into the hall.
Ten minutes later, she replaced the receiver with a barely controlled whoop. Pity he hadn’t rung her himself but at least Trevor was prepared to go out on another foursome. Before she could disappear up to the privacy of her own room, the door opened and her mother came out, teapot in hand.
‘Just going to top this up. Who was that?’
‘Only Cheryl. She wanted to know if I’d go out on Saturday again. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘’Course not, love. You off with those college friends of hers again?’
‘I didn’t realize Cheryl was at college. I thought she was working at House of Fraser.’ Colin was obviously earwigging.
‘They’re sending her on a one day a week Retail course.’
‘Oh I see.’ Colin didn’t look any the wiser.
‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to,’ interrupted her mother. ‘Having to get all these fancy qualifications just to serve behind a counter. They had all those City and Guild’s things even in my day, but I’ve managed to build up a nice little business perfectly well without a lot of bits of paper.’
It would hardly do to point out that doing the standard wash, cut and set plus the odd tint or perm for the older women in the village was hardly a qualification for a job in one of the smart salons in town. Even her mother couldn’t seem to grasp how much things had changed. Why was it that everyone who lived in the village was stuck in the past? It was like living in a time warp.
‘Let me see to this.’ Seizing the teapot from her mother’s grasp, Sylvie made her escape to the kitchen. She lingered for as long as she dared and was relieved when she heard sounds of them emerging from the living-room. They were by the front door when she stepped into the hall
‘Going already? I’ve just made some fresh tea.’
‘Must be getting on. Bye, Margaret. Sylvie.’ He gave a little wave and walked swiftly down the path.
‘You didn’t tell me you’d got an admirer,’ Sylvie teased.
‘Don’t be silly. It can’t have been easy for him this last couple of years looking after his mother. He had to do everything for her those last months. It must have been a happy release at the end. Not that I’d dream of saying that to him, naturally. Poor boy.’
Sylvie chuckled, ‘He’s hardly that, Mum.’
‘He’s a good few years younger than me anyway. And I expect we’ll be seeing a lot more of him in the near future.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re got yourself a toy boy!’ Sylvie widened her eyes in mock horror.
Her mother flapped a hand and turned away. ‘Stop teasing. I’m being serious. We’re setting up a committee to raise money to buy a wheelchair for Nichole.’
‘Good for you!’
It was just like Sylvie to insist on giving him her bus fare. The return journey to Winton cost less than half that in petrol money but she said she wouldn’t let him bring her home again if he didn’t take it.
She was that kind of girl. Always insisted on paying her round, not like some of them. He’d spent a fortune on that Laura and what a right cow she’d turned out to be. A user, pure and simple. Only out for a good time at anyone else’s expense but her own.
A large puddle, which he hadn’t spotted in the dark until the last moment, caused him to swerve. He was still wobbling, trying to bring the bike back under control, as he came round the corner.
He hit the plank with a bump. There was no way he could avoid it. As the bike slowly toppled, he was able to put out an arm to protect himself as he hit the ground. He was more worried about the state of his bike than any possible bruises.
Carefully extricating his left leg from beneath the machine, he eased back. Suddenly he felt hands under his armpits. Someone was helping him up.
‘It’s okay. I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Shut up and listen, punk.’ The harsh whisper in his ear was as menacing as it was soft. ‘Keep your dirty little hands off my Sylvie. You keep well away if you know what’s good for you. Understand?’
Trevor was paralysed with shock.
‘Understand?’
Trevor nodded his head vigorously and tried to stand. Just as he got one foot to the ground, his knee was kicked from under him. The arms let go and gave him a violent push forward.
He lay sprawled over the bike, shaken and utterly confused. The kick into his ribs was more of a warning than a serious attempt to do him harm.
‘You come anywhere near Sylvie again and I’ll cut your bloody balls off.’ Another kick landed in the region of his kidneys.
‘Please, please! No more.’ Trevor’s scream turned into a sob. His bladder gave way. ‘I get the message, okay?’
Trevor braced himself for more and hot tears of relief flooded down his cheeks as he raised his head at the sound of running footsteps. By the time he had pushed h
imself up and looked round, his attacker had long disappeared.
End of sample
All in the Mind Page 28
