More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  ‘Do you mean “gone” as in moved out?’

  Marjorie nodded.

  ‘Oh dear! I hope I wasn’t the cause of this ... upset. If you could spare me just a few minutes of your time to explain, I’m sure we could sort things out.’

  Marjorie turned, leaving the door open for him to follow. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just go and put these in water.’

  ***

  Craig scowled at each portion of fish as he dropped them into the sizzling oil. Mandy watched him closely. As soon as his plastic bucket was empty, she took it from him. ‘What’s wrong? It’s your last week here. I’d have thought you’d be pleased, going on to bigger and better things.’

  Craig gave her a half smile and a shrug. ‘Yeah, well...’

  ‘I thought you might be worried about me losing my job. But seeing as he new owners are keeping me on...’

  ‘They’d have been stupid not to keep you on, Mandy. You’re worth your weight...’ Craig broke off.

  ‘Are you trying to say I’m fat?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Mandy smiled, teasing him. ‘Just a bit on the large side, eh?’

  Craig shook his head quickly. ‘Well, you ain’t exactly skinny. So what? You’re great as you are.’ Craig smiled awkwardly. ‘Very tasty, in fact.’

  Mandy giggled. ‘Like fish and chips?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve often caught you looking at me in a certain way. I know because you was my employer, you wouldn’t ... but ... well, now you’re leaving...’

  ‘Hold on a minute, Mandy. I know women are entitled to take the initiative these days, but...’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘This has nothing to do with you, Mandy. It’s just I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Something to do with that bloke?’

  Craig frowned, but guessed what she was going to say. ‘He come round one morning ... a few weeks ago. Wanted you to go to the pub. He seemed to have some sort of hold on you.’

  Craig let his breath out slowly. ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘He was bad news. I could tell. You in trouble, Craig?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  Craig shook his head hurriedly and disappeared into the back room to fetch his jacket. When he returned, he left a bunch of keys on the counter.

  ‘Will you lock up for me?’

  Mandy looked concerned. ‘How long will you be?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue.’

  Mandy looked on the verge of tears, so Craig stroked her cheek affectionately with the back of his hand. ‘Don’t worry, love: I ain’t done nothing wrong. I’m only helping them with their enquiries.’

  Seventeen

  Jason fumbled with the zip on the back of Maria’s dress as they kissed. She pushed him away. ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘But you’ve been leading me on all night.’ Jason looked like a toddler starved of sweets. ‘Come on, baby. Why not?’

  She let her eyelids close, then opened them again, as if trying to control herself. A melancholic performance. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  Undeterred, Jason gave it another try. ‘But you and me, we could make beautiful music together.’

  Maria tried not to laugh or throw up. She controlled herself and said, ‘It’s not you, Jason. I want you. I really do. It’s just that ... I’ve got something wrong with me.’

  He eased away from her on the sofa and discovered he’d been holding his breath. He let it out slowly before asking her what she meant.

  ‘It’s not what you’re thinking,’ she whispered, leaning across and kissing his cheek. ‘I haven’t got a sexually transmitted disease or anything.’

  ‘Oh, I never thought...’ he began, but she interrupted him.

  ‘It’s just that I’ve got ... well ... strange sexual preferences.’

  A grin crept back onto Jason’s face. ‘Try me. As long as it’s nothing painful. I’m game for anything.’

  A creaking sound, coming from one of the bedrooms made Jason suspicious. ‘What was that? I thought you said your flatmate was away.’

  Maria pressed herself closer to him. ‘She is. I expect that was the water heater in her room. It always makes that noise.’ She ran a hand along his thigh. ‘Now then: where were we?’

  ‘You were about to tell me what turns you on.’

  Maria giggled alluringly. ‘I hope you’re ready for this.’

  ***

  As Mike hurried downstairs, he heard a snuffling sound coming from the living room. ‘Claire?’ he called out, poking his head round the door. ‘Is that you?’

  It took him a moment to spot her. She was squashed into a crumpled heap on the floor in a corner of the room. A sobbing mess, she looked as if she’d been that way for some time. He went over and knelt down beside her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She shook her head erratically. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What d’you mean, you don’t know?’

  ‘I feel ... so ... so depressed.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Her body shook as she took great heaving gulps of air through her mouth. Mike tried to calm her by stroking her hair.’

  ‘Please, please, sweetheart,’ he pleaded soothingly, ‘try to keep calm. There must be something wrong. Tell me about it.’

  ‘I wish I knew. I really do. But I haven’t a clue what’s wrong with me.’

  ‘Is it Andy. Or Chloe?’

  ‘No. Andy’s doing fine. He’s sorted himself out. It’s me who’s....’ She stopped and stared into space, tormented by invisible demons.

  Mike was torn. On the one hand, he was deeply concerned, but on the other, having glimpsed the time on his watch, he felt irritated that she was making him late for an appointment, and for no good reason that he could fathom.

  ‘Why don’t you see the doctor.’

  ‘What can she do?’

  Mike stood up, his patience wearing thin now. ‘At least she might be able to suggest ... or give you something for whatever it is that’s wrong.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How should I know? I’m not a doctor. But I’ve got to get off to work.’

  She suddenly spat out vehemently: ‘Oh, don’t you worry about me. I don’t want to make you late.’

  ‘Look, I have to get going. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong.’ He shrugged and pouted.

  She stared at him, eyes filled with hatred, which surprised and frightened him. ‘Well, go on then. Go.’

  ‘I don’t like leaving you this way.’ He stopped in the doorway. ‘Promise me you’ll go to the doctor.’

  ‘Yes, all right. If it makes you happy.’

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say “no, it’s to make you happy.” Instead he muttered lamely, ‘I’ll call you later. See how you are.’

  ***

  I feel stupid,’ Jason protested, although he was panting excitedly.

  ‘Come on, sweetie-pie,’ Maria urged, ‘don’t give up on me now. You’ve come this far...’ She drew bright pink lipstick carefully around his lips.

  ‘I don’t think I can contain myself much longer.’

  ‘Shush. You’re making me smudge it.’

  ‘Hurry up.’

  Maria put the lipstick down on the coffee table. ‘That’s it. I’ve finished.’ He made a grab for her. ‘No you don’t. Keep your hands to yourself for just a minute. I want to see what you look like. Stand up. Move around.’ She saw that he was about to object, so added breathily. ‘Come on, Jason. I first got turned in by this when I went to see The Rocky Horror Show
. I promise you it’ll be worth it. I’m getting so turned on.’

  Jason tottered precariously as he got up from the sofa, his size eight feet squashed painfully into Maria’s size six high-heel shoes. He looked down at the stockings and suspenders he was wearing and discovered it was turning him on.

  ‘OK,’ Maria yelled. ‘You can come in now.’

  Jason’s mouth fell open. He swivelled towards the door as Vanessa entered, followed by four other ex conquests of his from West Kent College. They all had digital cameras, and he faced a barrage of flashing bulbs.

  ‘I’ll get these photos run off in their hundreds,’ said Vanessa.

  Another girl giggled. ‘We can email them to thousands of people.

  ‘Have you ever seen such a wanker?’ said Vanessa.

  The other girls whooped and cheered and giggled.

  Eighteen

  Let’s go through to the lounge,’ said Marjorie in her best telephone voice.

  ‘Allow me,’ offered Donald, taking the tea tray. Best bone china, he noticed. Was she trying to impress, or had the flowers done the trick? Either way, he was in with a good chance of getting Ted off the hook.

  As he entered the living room, he almost dropped the tray. That ghastly wallpaper! That hideous furniture! And in such a beautiful house. He felt like crying.

  ‘Thank you. Put it on the coffee table,’ said Marjorie.

  Donald placed the tray carefully on the ceramic-tiled table top, his eyelids flickering rapidly as he caught sight of the design, a flamenco scene, complete with ubiquitous Spanish donkey. His hear sank. Did he really want to bring Ted back to this? He slid on to the pink Draylon sofa, hoping the static didn’t raise his few remaining grey hairs.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ asked Marjorie.

  ‘Just milk, please.’

  Marjorie poured the tea, handed him a cup, then settled into the chair opposite. ‘Well, you’ve got a bit of a cheek, coming here like this, haven’t you?’

  She made it sound like a compliment, as though she admired him for having the nerve to confront her. He gave her a sly, knowing smile, as if they understood one another. He coughed delicately before speaking.

  ‘I just wanted to reassure you that Ted and I just enjoy an occasional trip to the theatre. I don’t want to come between husband and wife - especially someone in your condition.’ He stopped to sip his tea. ‘Men have hobbies. What’s wrong with that? And the child needs a devoted father.’ He paused just long enough to give his next words dramatic impact. ‘And uncle.’

  ‘Uncle?’

  ‘Yes, I love children. Spoil them rotten, I do. I only wish I could have them myself, but....’

  Marjorie looked thoroughly confused now. This was too much to take in. She opened her mouth to speak but her mind was blank. During this hiatus, Donald decided it was time to push his luck.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind my saying how attractive this pregnancy is making you.’

  Marjorie blushed and whispered,’ Thank you.’

  Donald congratulated himself. He had taken a calculated risk and it had paid off. If this woman was an Eskimo, he could have sold her a refrigerator.

  ***

  A frosty reception greeted Nigel when he called to see his betrothed. Jackie flung open the door and spoke coolly. ‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting you.’

  Nigel beamed at her, then produced a bunch of flowers and a pink envelope from behind his back. ‘Own up: you thought I’d forgotten.’

  Feeling guilty, Jackie accepted the flowers. ‘Oh, they’re lovely,’ she said in a soft, whispery voice.

  Leaning forward, Nigel gave her cheek a slobbery kiss. ‘Many happy returns, birthday girl.’

  Blushing, Jackie placed the flowers on the hall table and opened the envelope. ‘I’m sorry ... I thought ... when the postman didn’t bring a card from my loved one...’

  ‘Who’s that then?’ Nigel teased.

  ‘You know very well who.’

  ‘No, I don’t. For all I know it might be the milkman or window cleaner.’

  Jackie tittered. ‘Don’t be silly.’ She removed the card from the envelope and stopped herself from wincing. The design - a large, garishly painted bunch of flowers - left a lot to be desired. Nigel’s taste in such things was sadly lacking. But Nigel was happily oblivious to his beloved’s reaction to the card. Always one to flog a dead horse, Nigel was determined to keep the banter going for a bit longer.

  ‘I’m not being silly,’ he giggled. ‘Unless you tell me who your loved one is, I might think it’s someone other than yours truly.’

  ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘It’s you, my darling. I think I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Nigel, dropping back down to earth. ‘I have an appointment in half an hour. I can’t stop. I just wanted you to know I hadn’t forgotten. And I’ve got another surprise for you. I’ll give you your present over a candlelit dinner tonight.’

  Jackie made an awkward expression with her mouth. ‘Oh!’

  Nigel frowned. ‘What d’you mean “oh”?’

  ‘I must have told you a thousand times. Rehearsals.’

  ‘You didn’t mention it.’

  ‘I did. I told you.’

  ‘But it’s your birthday, for heaven’s sake.’

  Jackie laughed nervously. ‘The show must go on, as Arnold says.’

  Nigel put on an unpleasant-smell-under-the-nose expression. ‘Is he this leading light of the amateur dramatics world?’

  ‘You know very well who he is.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve mentioned him often enough. I’m sick of hearing his name. Arnold this, Arnold that.’

  ‘Now, now! Little green-eyed monster.’

  ‘Well...’ Nigel started to back away to the porch. ‘I’m just disappointed, that’s all. Can’t you cancel the rehearsal?’

  ‘It’s the last one before the dress rehearsal. We open next week. You want it to be a good show, don’t you?’

  Nigel shrugged as if he couldn’t care less.

  ‘Why don’t we pop out for nibbles after the rehearsals?’ Jackie suggested.

  ‘What time d’you think you’ll be finished?’

  ‘Oh ... about ten.’

  Without warning, Nigel suddenly metamorphosed into an overworked, overstressed, but very self-important business executive. ‘Sorry, no can do.’ He chopped the air with his hand. ‘I have a presentation first thing in the morning.’ He thrust back his sleeve and gave his watch an aggressive look. ‘And I’m already running behind schedule...’

  He turned and strode purposefully towards his car.

  ‘Couldn’t we go out tomorrow night instead?’ Jackie called.

  ‘I’m busy. Work to catch up on.’

  ‘Then why not pop into rehearsals for a while? They know it’s my birthday. Arnold let it slip.’

  Nigel turned round, his face a cloud of suspicion. ‘Arnold?’

  ‘Yes. I told him it’s my birthday. And I suspect they’ve arranged something. A cake, probably.’

  Nigel hesitated, his hand on the car door. ‘Oh, well, I’m not promising, but I’ll try and make it. About what time?’

  Jackie smiled triumphantly. ‘Oh, about eight-ish.’

  Nineteen

  Craig stared at the no smoking sticker on the taxi window and inhaled deeply, imagining the warm smoke being sucked down into his lungs. It was nearly three years since he’d given up, but now he could really murder a cigarette.

  ‘Nice day,’ said the driver, attempting conversation for the second time.

  Craig grunted and stared out of the window. The driver took the hint this time and turned up the radio, and began whistling tunelessly to a Coldplay recording. It began to grate on Craig’s nerves, and he was relieved when the number ended and the local ne
ws began.

  The driver pulled up close to Tonbridge Police Station. ‘Here we are. The cop shop. That’s thirteen-forty on the meter.’

  Craig leaned forward across the front passenger seat, alert and listening. ‘Hang about. I wanna hear this.’

  The newsreader was saying: ‘...and two men have been charged in connection with the Tunbridge Wells Working Men’s Club murder. Both men are local, and one of the men, who was released from prison just over six months ago, has been named as thirty-seven year old Anthony Rice from Tonbridge. Rice worked as a local cabby until recently. The other man has been named as father-of-two...’

  Craig didn’t catch the rest of it. The taxi driver gave a sudden whoop of recognition. ‘Blimey! I remember him. He worked for our firm. What a nutter. Went smack into a BMW down near the Pantiles, and just walked away. Left ‘is cab in the middle of the road. What a nutter.’

  Craig leaned back in his seat. ‘Keep the meter running. You’ve got another fare. I’m going back to the chip shop. I left something behind.’

  ‘Chip shop to cop shop and cop shop to chip shop,’ chortled the driver. ‘Now the question is...’

  ‘No,’ Craig cut in. ‘I ain’t coming back here. No need.’

  ***

  Mike stopped off at the White Hart for a lunchtime drink, and rang his home. After letting it ring for ages, he was about to hang up when his son answered, sounding breathless.

  ‘Hi, Andy. It’s Dad. You been running.’

  ‘I was rushing to get to the phone. I heard it from outside.’

  ‘Where’s Mum?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue. If she was in, she’d have answered, wouldn’t she? Hang on: there’s a note here. It says she’s gone up to Newcastle to see Chloe. And she’s staying over.’

  ‘She never mentioned she was going.’

  Andrew chuckled. ‘Does that mean we can have a Chinese takeaway tonight?’

  ‘If you like. And I’ll get in some beer.’

  ‘How about hiring a DVD?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’

  There was a brief pause, then Andrew said awkwardly, ‘I suppose she is all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’