More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  ‘Sure. But if you get sick of baby talk, just let me know.’

  Dave frowned. ‘How long you over here for?’

  ‘Long enough to make peace with my ex wife and get to know my kids.’

  Simon took his thumb out of his mouth and spat out, ‘I don’t talk like a baby.’

  Ronnie laughed cruelly. ‘No, but you sure as hell suck your thumb, kid.’

  ***

  As he neared their flat, Pran decided not to tell Alan about walking out of his job. He knew it was cowardly, but just couldn’t face it. Anything was better than having to deal with his partner’s self-righteousness. That sanctimonious expression of disbelief that Pran hated, the precursor of a heated argument.

  “Ace of Spades” assaulted him as he opened the flat door. It immediately set his teeth on edge. He entered the living room and, finding Alan sprawled along the sofa with his eyes closed, immediately crossed to the CD player and ejected the disc. Alan opened his eyes and glared at Pran.

  ‘Hey! I was listening to that.’

  ‘It was getting on my nerves.’

  ‘Everything gets on your nerves these days.’

  Pran slumped into an easy chair. ‘You know I can’t stand metal. Fascist white music.’

  Alan sneered. ‘A typical racist generalisation.’

  Pran’s head slumped forwards miserably, depression showing in his shoulders. ‘It’s just that it grates. That music makes me uptight.’

  ‘Don’t direct your anger at me, Pran. Leave your work problems where they belong. At work.’

  ‘Who said anything about problems at work?’

  Alan laughed humourlessly. ‘Oh come on! Don’t pull that one on me. Every day you come home in a bad mood. And you’re taking it out on me. I have to put up with this shit because you won’t confront your colleagues at work.’

  Pran wanted to tell his partner that he had confronted his boss, and look where that had got him. He was now out of a job. He felt angry. How could Alan not see that he was in a no-win situation.

  ‘And you know why you won’t confront them,’ Alan went on, throwing his legs off the sofa and sitting up. Cos you’re a fuckin’ wimp!’

  Pran stood up. ‘Right! That’s it!’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out!’

  Pran stormed out of the room. Alan shouted after him:

  ‘That’s it! Run off to the pub and come home pissed, so you still don’t have to face anything.’

  The flat door slammed. Alan rubbed his fingers hard against his forehead. ‘Shit!’ he said. He went over to the stereo, but decided against playing anymore metal. It would probably set his nerves on edge, though it was not something he would ever admit to Pran.

  ***

  Ronnie glanced at his watch. ‘I have to hit the road.’ He threw Simon a look. ‘Unless you kids wanna take a ride with the old man?’

  Simon shook his head, avoiding eye contact with his father.

  ‘It’s a real cool car, kid. A Chevrolet Corvette.’

  ‘Cor! Can we, Mum?’ said Thomas.

  Mary shook her head. There was panic in her voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  Ronnie stood up abruptly. ‘Maybe another time.’ He smiled at Dave. ‘I don’t wanna make waves. I come in peace.’

  Rising, Dave said, ‘I’m pleased to hear it. There’s just one thing, Ronnie - ’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Mary showed me the letter you wrote, in which you said you loved her till death - which you underlined.’

  Ronnie walked to the door, turned and grinned at Mary. ‘Didn’t mean to worry you, babe. But, don’t forget, we got married in a church, and we took the vows.’

  Mary sniffed disparagingly. ‘You were never religious, Ronnie.’

  Ronnie shrugged. ‘Even so. Well, I must be away. Be seeing you. Have fun in Blackpool, Dave. So long, kids.’

  Simon ignored his father, staring down at the floor. Mary, Dave and Thomas saw Ronnie to the front door. The ex husband jerked his shoulders audaciously.

  ‘He’ll come round.’

  ‘Not Simon,’ said Mary forcefully. ‘He’s got a long memory.’

  Ronnie shrugged it off with his catchphrase, ‘Even so.’ Then, without looking back, he hurried across the road, climbed into his Corvette, and drove off in high decibel style.

  ‘Cool!’ Thomas said.

  ‘Yeah,’ mused Dave. ‘You can’t hire cars like that. I wonder where he got it from?’

  Mary gave his hand a comforting squeeze. ‘Thank you for mentioning the letter.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t let that one go.’

  They returned to the kitchen to find Simon slumped over the table, sobbing. Mary cuddled him.

  ‘It’s all right, darling. He’s gone now.’

  ‘I hate him!’ Simon cried.

  Twenty - Three

  Dead on the stroke of eight Nigel marched noisily into the church hall, causing the rehearsal cast to lose concentration before reaching the end of the first act. Jackie, especially, lost concentration and had to be prompted several times. The director scowled and scribbled furiously in his notebook.

  Act One limped to a close, followed by a short embarrassed silence. Then Jackie introduced her fiancé and announced apologetically that he was visiting the rehearsal because it was her birthday. The director sighed petulantly before huffily mentioning that it was his intention to carry straight on with the rehearsal, so would they all please mind saving the birthday celebration and the cake until afterwards. The cast nodded gloomily and set up for the next act.

  Jackie hurried over the Nigel and gave his hand a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I know you want to get away.’

  Nigel’s eyes darted in the leading man’s direction. ‘I suppose I don’t mind waiting now I’m here.’

  ‘But you’ll see the end of the play. I don’t want to spoil the opening night for you.’

  ‘No fear of that,’ Nigel replied, rather cryptically.

  When rehearsals continued, Nigel laughed uproariously, but only it seemed whenever his fiancée had a funny line. He stared stonily at Arnold, the leading man, and didn’t crack his face once. As soon as the play ended, Arnold tilted his head in Nigel’s direction and said to Jackie, loudly for all to hear: ‘We can tell who’s got friends in tonight.’

  In the pub later, Nigel bought drinks for everyone. It was a hefty round, but he felt a need to impress, especially in front of Arnold. And the leading man, he noticed, was overly tactile, mostly with Jackie.

  The director asked Nigel what he thought of the rehearsal. Nigel looked towards Jackie, wondering whether he ought to be diplomatic. Then he glanced at Arnold, and thought about speaking his mind. And, when he saw the leading man touching his fiancée on the hand, he chose the latter option.

  ‘I think,’ he boomed, pausing for effect and claiming the attention of the assembled company, ‘that it seemed unnatural, the way the actors behaved.’

  The director felt a flush rising in his face. ‘Could you elaborate?’

  ‘The acting was - how shall I put it? - exaggerated. Unreal.’

  In spite of remaining outwardly calm, the director felt cold waves of hatred as he stared at Nigel. ‘But it’s a naturalistic play.’

  Nigel nodded in agreement, and there was a triumphant gleam in his eye.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ the director went on, his voice several degrees colder now. ‘Are you saying it was performed in the wrong style?’

  Nigel chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t know anything about styles. It made me laugh in places. It just didn’t seem very real. But then I don’t know much about the theatre.’ He raised his glass at Jackie. ‘Cheers, darling! Happy birthday!’

  ***


  After reading Simon and Thomas a bedtime story, Dave returned to the kitchen and found Mary sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. He sat opposite her and drummed his fingers on the table. Once he had her attention, he smiled.

  ‘Have you forgotten? It’s your favourite TV show tonight. Desperate Housewives.’

  Mary pulled a face. ‘You’re looking at one.’

  ‘Hey, come on! He didn’t seem that bad to me.’

  ‘How can you say that? Every time he opened his mouth, he...’ She stopped and shuddered.

  Dave smiled thinly and shrugged. ‘OK. He proved he was an ace tosser. But he didn’t do or say anything to make us think he might harm you or the kids.’

  ‘He really scares me. God! How can you be so insensitive? Couldn’t you see what he was up to?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, he was playing mind games. But that’s him, isn’t it? I really don’t think he meant anything by it.’

  Mary shook her head forcefully. ‘He’s up to something. I know he is.’

  ‘But why would he be? He’s got a relationship with someone in the States. And why, after all this time, would he want to come back and ... and what? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘With Ronnie it’s a power thing. And when the court ordered him to keep away from us, he lost that power. I think it’s been festering in him ever since.’

  Dave laughed nervously. ‘Well, if you’re that worried about it, why not call the police?’

  Mary sighed with frustration. ‘If you don’t believe me, what chance do I have with the police?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you.’

  ‘But you think I’m exaggerating.’

  Dave rubbed at his forehead. ‘No, but I know where this is leading. I’ve signed that contract, Mary. If I don’t honour it, they’ll sue me. It’s as simple as that.’

  Mary sighed deeply. ‘I know. It’s just I’m scared. When we get home after half term, I’ll be worried sick. I know I will.’

  Dave took her hand. ‘Look, Ronnie told us he’s staying in Southend. He’s got family there. He won’t want to travel here that often.’

  ‘Not at all if I can help it.’

  ‘OK. We’ll have a great time next week. And when you get back here, I’ll phone you every night. You’ll be fine. Just do as I suggested. Leave the answerphone on permanently and monitor the calls.’

  ‘Great life I’m going to have.’

  ‘A temporary measure. Until I get home.’

  Suddenly, without warning, Mary’s mood lifted. She giggled and gave Dave a mock punch on the jaw. ‘What could you do to protect me against Ronnie? You’ll have to go to the gym every day when you’re in Blackpool. Build up those muscles.’

  ‘Good idea. Keep me out of mischief and chorus girls.’

  ‘You’d better not.’

  He giggled mischievously and she knew she could trust him. He glanced at his watch.

  ‘It’s gone half-nine. I can just about afford a decent bottle of wine. Fancy a few glasses with some of those posh crisps while we watch the next episode?’

  ‘I could kill for a glass of wine.’

  ‘Steady on.’

  ‘And there’s no saying what I wouldn’t do for a bag of those special crisps.’

  Dave grinned at her. ‘Looks like my luck might be in then.’ He rose and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘I’ll be a few minutes. I’ll go up to the little Tesco’s in Southborough.’

  As soon as he was gone, the telephone rang. Mary was expecting a call from her mother, and dashed into the hall to answer it before it woke the children. But as soon as she picked up the receiver, a cold tingling sensation ran down her back.

  ‘Hello? Who is this?’

  Silence. She tried to speak again, but her voice caught in her throat. She could tell someone was listening at the other end, getting a kick out of her fear. She wanted to ask if it was Ronnie. That truly evil bastard. But she knew he’d left the house less than an hour ago, so it was unlikely he’d be back at Southend. Unless he was ringing from his mobile. She pressed the receiver close to her ear, listening for any background noises. But there was nothing. Just the silence. She slammed the phone down and burst into tears. She stood in the hall for a moment, shivering and sobbing, trying to compose herself. Once she had recovered, she knew she had to dial 1471 to trace the number. She thought the person would know enough to invalidate the trace by dialling 141, but it was worth a try. She was about to pick up the phone when it rang, making her jump. She hesitated, then grabbed the receiver angrily and hissed into the mouthpiece:

  ‘Who is this?’

  It was her mother.

  ‘Have I called at a bad time, dear?’

  Twenty - Four

  Betty hurriedly crunched and swallowed a thirty per cent less fat crisp and managed to answer the telephone by the third ring. ‘Good morning,’ she sang in a ridiculously exaggerated rising inflection. ‘Total Voice and Data. How may I help you?’

  Nigel, who was on tenterhooks, waiting for the outcome of a recent tender, came tearing into the office. ‘Who is it?’ he whispered.

  Betty covered the mouthpiece. ‘It’s your other half.’

  ‘Oh!’ Nigel found it difficult to disguise his disappointment. Besides, Jackie was the last person he wanted to speak to this morning. ‘All right! I’ll speak to her. Transfer it to my extension.’

  Betty struggled with the buttons on her telephone as Nigel sat at his desk. The extension in the upstairs bedroom rang.

  ‘Blast! Press and hold twenty-one.’

  Betty tried to suppress her irritation. ‘The last time I did that, I lost the call.’

  Nigel tutted loudly. ‘Oh here! I’ll take it on your phone. The kettle’s just boiled. I wouldn’t mind an Earl Grey with two sugars.’

  He leaned across Betty’s desk and picked up the phone, furiously punching buttons to retrieve the call. Betty got up, throwing her boss a contemptuous look. For someone who sold telephone systems, how come he could never get to grips with his own four extensions? No wonder, she decided, his business was in decline.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Nigel dropped his voice to speak to his fiancée. ‘Jackie, I have to be brief, I’m afraid. Got a busy day ahead of me.’

  He heard Jackie snuffling. Was she getting a cold, or had she been crying?

  ‘I hate you,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It meant so much to me.’

  ‘What did? What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know very well. Last night you told the cast what you thought of them.’

  ‘Oh - I see. That’s what you’re upset about. Well, I’m sorry - I only gave them my honest opinion. It’s not my fault. That director chap asked me what I thought and I told him.

  ‘You could have been nice instead of horrid.’

  Nigel glanced at his watch and gritted his teeth. ‘Lie, you mean.’

  Jackie raised her voice. ‘You have to make allowances, Nigel. They’re not on the stage in the West End. They’re doing it for a bit of fun.’

  ‘They take themselves blooming seriously then.’

  ‘Well, of course they do. Otherwise there wouldn’t be much point in...’

  Nigel interrupted, speaking hurriedly. ‘Look, Jackie, I haven’t got time to discuss this now. We’ll talk about it later.’

  ‘There won’t be a later.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I mean the wedding’s off.’

  ‘But it’s less than two weeks away.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Jackie blubbered. ‘I never want to see you again.’

  The line went dead. Stunned, Nigel replaced the receiver. Betty came into the room, carrying two mugs of tea.

 
; ‘Problem?’ she said.

  Nigel nodded slowly, a dazed, faraway look in his eyes. ‘I’ve just had an argument with Jackie. The wedding’s off.’

  Betty sat down and switched on the computer. ‘What again!’ she said.

  ***

  ‘I called at the shop and you weren’t there,’ said Bamber, lighting another cigarette from the end of the one he’d almost finished.

  ‘When was this?’ asked Donald, deliberately busying himself plumping up the cushions on the sofa, and avoiding Bamber’s probing eyes. Bamber could always tell when he was lying.

  ‘Don’t try to tell me you were out buying, because the Volvo’s been parked outside all morning. So where did you go?’

  Donald waved his arms about wildly and coughed dramatically. ‘It’s a disgusting habit. I don’t care if you damage your own health, but why should I have to suffer?’

  Watching his performance, Bamber smirked. ‘Don’t change the subject.’

  ‘I’ll answer you,’ yelled Donald, ‘when you put out that disgusting ... thing.’

  ‘And I’ll put it out when you tell me where you’ve been all day.’

  ‘This could go round in circles, you know.’

  ‘I know. So you first. Tell me where you’ve been and I’ll put it out.’

  ‘No, you put it out first, then I’ll tell you. See! I told you it would go round in circles.’

  Bamber stuck the cigarette in his mouth and applauded Donald. Despite his uneasiness, Donald laughed.

  ‘OK, I’ll tell you on one condition. Promise me you’ll have another go at giving up. You can get little patches you stick on your arm. They’re supposed to be quite effective.’

  ‘You’re so transparent. Playing for time.’

  ‘All you have to do is promise, and I’ll tell you.’

  Bamber shrugged. ‘I promise. Now tell me.’

  Donald hesitated. He decided he would tell his partner about going round to see Marjorie, telling him it was today instead of yesterday. ‘I was at Ted’s house. And before you say anything, he wasn’t there. She’s thrown him out. I went there to plead his case. See if the bitch would take him back.’