Careless Talk

by David Barry

  Forty - One

  The smell of grilled bacon wafted tantalisingly through the house. Betty sighed, looking at her watch. It was only 9.30. She reached for her goody-goody mid-morning snack, thinly-spread cream cheese between two slabs of Ryvita.

  ‘Hungry?’ Nigel said, making her start at she took her first bite.

  Betty nodded guiltily, almost choking on the dry biscuits. Nigel grinned from the doorway. He had a habit of sneaking up on her like this and it always made her nervous.

  ‘It’s the smell of bacon that does it,’ she mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs.

  ‘Jackie’s treating me to a cooked breakfast this morning. Later than usual, I’m afraid.’

  Betty was irritated by the boastful way he said it, making it obvious that he and Jackie had been having fun and games in bed. She felt jealous. It was a long time since her Ron had felt amorous. Always too tired.

  ‘Don’t forget you’ve got a tender to get out this morning,’ she reminded him, pleased to see his smile fade. ‘Deadline’s twelve o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll deliver it in person.’

  ‘You’ve got to re-write the proposal first. All ten pages.’

  Nigel tutted loudly.

  ‘Breakfast is on the table, darling,’ sang Jackie, sugar-sweetly from the kitchen.

  ‘Coming!’ Nigel called back. He smiled and winked at Betty. ‘I’d better go and eat it. Keep her happy. I won’t be long.’

  Betty gave her Ryvita a resentful crunch and switched on the computer.

  ‘Here we are, darling,’ said Jackie as Nigel came into the kitchen. ‘Don’t let it get cold.’

  Nigel sat at the table and stared approvingly at his full English breakfast, then frowned as he surveyed the rest of the table.

  ‘Something wrong, darling?’

  ‘There doesn’t appear to be any brown sauce.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to buy any. There’s tomato ketchup.’

  ‘Tomato’s not the same. I like brown sauce with my breakfast. I told you to make out a proper shopping list.’

  ‘I thought I’d remember. When I got to the shop, it must have slipped my mind.’

  Nigel squeezed a liberal blob of ketchup onto his plate. ‘Oh, well - it’ll have to do. But you must try and organise yourself, Jackie. Instead of just buying bits and pieces as and when we need it. If you can’t remember things, write them down. It’s always been my golden rule.

  Jackie slid into her seat opposite Nigel, and avoided looking at him. They ate in silence for a while. But the angry clatter of Jackie’s cutlery indicated that something was wrong.

  ‘Something the matter?’ Nigel asked, sensing the change in his fiancée’s mood.

  ‘Brown sauce!’ she hissed. ‘Who cares a damn about brown sauce?’

  Nigel chuckled, attempting to lighten the situation. ‘Well, I do for one.’

  ‘It’s unfair of you to criticise like that. You know how worried I am about the girls.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  As she watched him greedily gobbling his food, something tightened inside her. ‘It’s got to do with the fact that perhaps I should go back home.’ she snapped.

  ‘Perhaps you should, if that’s how you feel.’

  His remark, she observed, didn’t put him off his stride as far as eating was concerned. Somehow his enjoyment of the breakfast made her angrier. She was about to fire another shot across his bow when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Nigel. ‘I’d forgotten, my hair’s being trimmed this morning.’ He scraped the knife around his plate hurriedly, and shovelled an enormous forkful of food into his mouth. He swallowed noisily and swilled it down with a gulp of tea.

  ‘Can you let Mike in for me? While I give my hair a quick wash.’

  Jackie frowned. ‘Yes, but....’

  ‘It’s a simple enough request,’ Nigel said as he left the room.

  Sighing, Jackie followed Nigel into the hall. She dreaded meeting the hairdresser following all that business about his daughter’s abortion. It was not the sort of confrontation she felt able to cope with, especially this morning, after Nigel’s petty comments about the brown sauce.

  ***

  Malcolm sat at his desk, staring at the screen saver on his PC monitor. His chosen image was of a subjective camera viewpoint weaving in and out of a maze. How fitting this image seemed now as he waited for the revenge he knew was winging its way towards him like a bird of prey.

  God! What an idiot he’d been. To fall for a stunt like that. He went over and over the previous night’s events. He couldn’t get over the way he’d been set up. The way Savita answered the door to her flat, wearing that sexy negligee, and giving him the eye. Nicky was already lying in the double bed, duvet tucked up around her. He remembered thinking at the time, how peculiar this was, as if the girl was shy of showing any nakedness. It was only much later, when the disastrous event played back in his mind, that he realised Nicky was probably fully dressed.

  How could he have fallen for such an obvious trap? He had let his stupid fantasies overshadow his reason. Savita had been so transparently acting out the part of a siren, luring him to his doom.

  ‘We’ve already started without you, Malcolm,’ she whispered sexily as she joined Nicky in bed. ‘Why don’t you get undressed and see what fun we can have?’

  What an idiot! He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it. Undressing hurriedly, he saw the cruel amusement in Savita’s eyes as she watched him. But he was too dumb to comprehend it at the time. As he walked, naked and proud towards the bed, that’s when the young man dressed in black sprang through the doorway. Flash of the camera. Then he was gone. And Malcolm felt like bursting into tears. How could he have been such an arsehole?

  To distract himself from more worrying thoughts of revenge and retribution, he opened up his emails, telling himself that maybe the two girls would just demand that he treat them a bit better in future. Neither of them had shown up for work this morning, so he had no idea what their demands would be.

  He had about fifty emails. There were several with attachments, but the one that leapt out at him had as its subject “our insurance policy”. He frowned. Even though they were an insurance company, there was something peculiar about the wording. He opened it up. It contained one sentence. It said:

  “Unattractive, maybe. But an excellent likeness. Open it up, Malcolm.”

  Hands shaking, Malcolm clicked the mouse on the paper-clip icon. The colour photograph hit him like a ramrod in the guts. A full frontal of him, leering at the two girls in the background of the shot. And it was so obvious what his intentions were as he stood there. Naked. Naked and proud.

  Forty - Two

  When Jackie opened the door to Mike, she felt awkward; unable to look him in the eye.

  ‘Nigel’s got an important tender to get out this morning and his secretary’s working on it,’ she said in an affected manner. ‘I wonder if you’d mind cutting his hair in the kitchen?’

  ‘The kitchen’s fine by me,’ Mike replied, following her. Still unable to look at him, Jackie busied herself with clearing the dirty plates.

  ‘Sorry about the mess.’

  ‘Well, I don’t expect you’ve had much time for housework.’

  Jackie looked at him sharply.

  ‘Haven’t you just been on holiday?’

  ‘Oh. Yes.’

  Mike was enjoying her discomfort. He half smiled to himself, making certain she saw it, then pulled a chair from under the table for Nigel to sit on.

  After an awkward silence, Jackie said in a subdued voice, ‘I’m sorry if I caused you and your wife any problems when I rang up.’

  Mike shrugged. ‘Oh well ... it’s all water under the bridge now.’

  ‘Your daughter ... di
d she ... has she....’

  ‘Has she had an abortion, you mean? Yes, she has. And now it’s all forgotten. Finished.’

  Jackie put the plates carefully on the draining board, too embarrassed to disturb the awkward silence that hung in the air between them. Mike watched her, waiting to say what she had in mind. He saw the tension in her shoulders, and he saw her summoning the courage to speak as she turned to face him.

  ‘Do you mind if Nigel and I pray for your daughter and her unborn child?’

  ‘If that’s what turns you on.’

  ‘Why should it “turn me on”?’

  ‘Well, own up, you wouldn’t do it otherwise.’

  He grinned at her. He felt he’d let her off lightly. And why not? He was in a good mood. He was seeing Maggie later on.

  ***

  When Savita and Nicky strolled into his office at gone eleven, Malcolm noticed the malicious hint of a smile at the corners of Savita’s mouth and the cruel glint in her eyes. Nicky seemed less sure of herself, almost as if she was still scared of him, although she now had the upper hand.

  Savita was enjoying the drama of silence, while she watched Malcolm squirm. He coughed lightly before speaking, in a voice he barely recognised as his. More of a feeble croak.

  ‘All right. What is it you want?’

  ‘We’re going for gold,’ said Savita.

  Malcolm frowned, genuinely puzzled. ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘Exactly. You won’t be with us for long. I want you to clear your desk. Sudden resignation.’

  ‘You must be joking.’

  ‘No. I’m serious. I want you gone by this afternoon.’

  ‘But I can’t do that.’

  ‘My boyfriend followed you home two nights ago. He knows where you live. He can make sure your wife gets a copy of that photograph. You can choose. Marriage or job? What’s it to be?’

  ‘But - but this ... this is ridiculous,’ he stammered. ‘It’s blackmail.’

  ‘We’re not demanding any money.’

  ‘It’s still blackmail.’

  ‘You’re not in any position to argue or accuse us of any wrongdoing.’

  As he stared up into Savita’s vengeful face, Malcolm knew he would get no quarter from her. Maybe if he appealed to Nicky, she might be able to persuade her colleague. Once she saw how sorry he was.

  ‘Nicky,’ he began in a tremulous voice, ‘I’m fifty-two years old. I’ve been in this firm now for nigh on twenty years. If I have to leave, I’ll find it difficult to get another job. Especially if I walk out, resign for no reason at all. Please, Nicky. I’ll let you have loads of time off work. I’ll give you brilliant appraisals - so brilliant you’ll have to have a pay rise. What do you say?’

  Nicky pursed her lips. ‘Well, I’m not sure.’

  ‘I am,’ snapped Savita. ‘You’re a worse than useless toad. A fat pathetic amoeba, and you’re finished.’

  Malcolm’s eyes suddenly swam with tears. ‘This isn’t fair,’ he blubbered. ‘Please don’t do this. Please. I beg you. I’ll do anything.’

  Nicky was embarrassed and looked away. So he looked pityingly into Savita’s face, searching for some small deposit of mercy.

  ‘Please, Savita. I know I behaved abominably, but ... I’ve learnt my lesson. Everyone deserves a second chance.’

  Then Nicky offered Malcolm his one last grasp of hope, the lifeline he was praying for. She turned to Savita and spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb all the emotion and turmoil that was happening before her.

  ‘Savita, I think we ought to discuss this in private.’

  Savita scowled at her. ‘There’s nothing more to discuss.’

  ‘I think there is. Let’s go out for a coffee and talk about it.’

  Savita sighed and shook her head. ‘Oh, Nicky. We mustn’t weaken over this....’ She threw a disparaging gesture in Malcolm’s direction. ‘This nasty tosser.

  But ... OK ... if that’s what you want. Let’s have a nice long break and talk about it.’

  They left Malcolm drying his eyes with a grubby handkerchief. ‘Take as long as you want,’ he called after them.

  ***

  As soon as Mike had departed, Jackie rushed into the kitchen. Nigel was sweeping his hairs off the kitchen floor with a dustpan and brush.

  ‘Darling, I’d like a word with you.’

  ‘Not now. I’ve got an urgent tender to get out.’

  ‘It won’t take a minute. This is important. I don’t want that man to cut your hair in future.’

  ‘Mike? Why on earth not?’

  ‘There’s just something about him.’

  ‘That’s hardly a reason for dispensing of his services.’

  ‘Please, darling, will you do it for me? There must be lots of other hairdressers.’

  ‘But I still don’t understand why.’

  ‘Please. Will you do it just to please me? Because I love you.’

  Nigel put the dustpan and brush on the work-top and put his arms around Jackie. ‘I wouldn’t want a haircut to come between us. And I’m sorry I complained about no brown sauce.’

  She giggled contentedly and kissed him.

  ‘I do wish though....’ he began.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remember what I told you about my sock stock rotation? You still haven’t got that right yet.’

  She pulled away from him and he could see she was struggling to contain her irritation.

  ‘I’ll buy you new socks. They do plain socks with different colours on the toes and heels. So there’s no need to have one of your slaves darning in your sweatshop.’

  ‘That’s not the same, Jackie. I’ve tried those socks and they don’t work. You can sometimes see a little bit of colour showing at the top of the heel. And that drives me insane.’

  Jackie’s eyes blazed. ‘Drives you insane? You are insane!’

  She swept out of the kitchen, and later on he heard the slam of the front door.

  Forty - Three

  As soon as they had sat down in Café Nero with their Cappuccinos, Savita shook her head, as if anticipating Nicky’s objection to how she had handled the Malcolm situation.

  ‘I’m not changing my mind about that man,’ she said.

  ‘But, Savita, we can’t destroy his life.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.’

  ‘Well ... yes, I do.’

  Savita blew on her coffee then took a tentative sip.

  ‘The punishment,’ Nicky went on, ‘hardly fits the crime. So, okay, the man’s a bully and a slimeball. But does that mean we have to totally destroy his life? It’s probably true what he said: I doubt if he’ll get another job at his age. Especially if he walks out for no apparent reason. And what’s he going to tell his wife? My God! He’ll be suicidal. He might even kill himself. Do we want that on our consciences?’

  Savita stared thoughtfully at the froth on her coffee. After a while she looked directly into Nicky’s eyes and said, ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go along with his offer of good appraisals, and maybe a pay rise, and having an easy life at work....’

  Nicky sighed. ‘Thank God for that.’

  ‘Providing,’ Savita emphasised, ‘that he doesn’t find another whipping boy.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I mean, the leopard doesn’t change his spots. Malcolm will leave us alone but he’ll find someone else to pick on. So here’s the deal. If we find out he’s bullying someone else, we proceed with plan A. We destroy him. If he behaves himself, fair enough, we leave him alone - apart from having an easy time of it ourselves, of course.’

  Nicky nodded thoughtfully as she considered this. ‘So do we tell him? About what happens if he picks on somebody else, I mean?’

 
‘Definitely not,’ snapped Savita. ‘What is the most common characteristic of bullies?’

  Nicky shook her head and waited for the answer.

  ‘They don’t bully people in front of witnesses.’

  ‘So,’ said Nicky, ‘how will we know if he’s picking on someone else?’

  ‘We both know,’ Savita replied, ‘from bitter experience, how miserable life becomes. If we see anyone looking depressed, we ask them what’s wrong. Show some concern and compassion. They’ll be glad to get it off their chest. And if it turns out to be Malcolm - well, that’s it! He’s finished. Is that a deal?’

  Savita thrust a hand out towards Nicky.

  ‘Deal!’ said Nicky, and they shook hands on it.

  ***

  ‘I love you,’ said Mike.

  Maggie ignored him and conjured up her diary on her iPhone. ‘What are you doing on Friday the seventeenth?’

  ‘Becoming an entry in your busy schedule,’ Mike replied huffily.

  ‘Don’t get heavy, Mike.’

  ‘Well, I thought it was supposed to be men who are supposed to treat sex casually.’

  She tapped in the entry in her diary, deleted the image, and started to push him towards the front door. ‘Time you were off.’

  ‘Is that all you can say?’

  ‘What d’you want me to say?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me say “I love you”?’

  She swung open the front door. ‘Oh, grow up, Mike!’

  He opened his mouth to speak but she cut in. ‘Did you buy your wife those flowers?’ He looked at her blankly. ‘No, I didn’t think you had.’

  She slammed the door shut behind him.

  ‘Women!’ he shouted at her through the mottled glass. ‘I’ll never understand them.’

  ***

  Dave, whose performances at Cromer ran for five days from Tuesday to Saturday, had driven Mary and the boys home to his house on Sunday, so that they could be back at school first thing Monday morning, having only missed one week following half term.

  On Monday lunchtime, he was sitting in the kitchen with Mary, drinking tea and studying the form in the racing pages of his newspaper. ‘Just popping out to see a man about a nag,’ he suddenly announced, and rushed towards the back door, looking at his watch.