More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  ‘One moment. This is household waste.’

  Vanessa gave him a sharp look. ‘This is household waste.’

  The council official moved towards her black bundle. He was a short, stocky man with a ragged moustache, and Vanessa would have liked to pull it off his face, causing him a great deal of pain. He looked at her bin liner suspiciously.

  ‘That looks like books and magazines. That’s for recycling.’

  Vanessa raised her voice. ‘Look, you idiot, this is household waste. So mind your own business.’

  She lifted the bag and was about to hurl it into the mess below.

  ‘But it is my business. We’ve got a good record for recycling. And we’re looking to improve it.’

  He grabbed the bag. Vanessa tried to pull it from his grasp and it split, spilling its contents on the ground. Eyes widening, the council man stared in fascination at the bundle of hard pornography, and especially a picture of a peroxide blonde in the full-throated act of fellatio.

  ‘What the hell’s this?’ he demanded.

  But Vanessa had already turned and got back into Nigel’s car. ‘Quick!’ she yelled. ‘Let’s get out of here. The bag split, and the council man saw what was inside.’

  Nigel laughed uproariously as he drove away.

  ‘That’s not funny,’ said Nicky, cringing in the passenger seat next to him. ‘And there’s another bag of the stuff. Now what are we going to do?’

  ‘Let’s drive to some woods and dump it,’ said Vanessa.

  Nigel stopped laughing. ‘But that’s fly-tipping. It’s illegal.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Vanessa.

  Nigel snorted, couldn’t contain himself and began laughing again. In spite of her recent shock, Vanessa suddenly saw the funny side of the incident, and she too began laughing. Before long, all three of them were sharing the joke, and Nicky’s tears were tears of laughter now.

  Fifty - Eight

  Mandy snuggled close to Craig under his umbrella and giggled. ‘This is crazy,’ she said. ‘Whose idea was it to go for a walk across Tunbridge Wells common?’

  He smiled, stopped walking and kissed the top of her head, her hair damp but with a slight scent of something floral. ‘I think,’ he replied, ‘it was someone not a million miles from here.’

  Mandy shrugged and pursed her lips. ‘Well, I thought it would get us out of your grotty flat. If I have to stay there too long I get depressed. Couldn’t you afford somewhere better? I mean, it ain’t as if you was working for a pittance, Craig. You an’ Maggie own the wine bar.’

  Craig sighed and irritation crept into his voice. ‘I haven’t got around to thinking about moving yet. We seem to spend so much time at work. Maybe after Christmas.’

  ‘But that’s a couple of months away.’

  Craig forced a grin. ‘It’s not long. The supermarket shelves are loaded with Christmas gifts.’

  She stared probingly into his eyes and he guessed where this conversation was leading.

  ‘I spend most of the time at your place,’ she said. ‘My parents are convinced I’ve already moved out.’

  Craig looked away, his eyes focused on the green dome of the Opera House in the town below. He frowned and shook his head before speaking. ‘I’m worried about the future. It’s just that it doesn’t feel all that stable.’

  ‘Because of Maggie?’

  ‘Partly. And now there’s Mike working for us.’

  ‘Only part time.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I like him, and I thought at first he was going to be good for Maggie. But now I’m not so sure. It’s like they’re both on some sort of self destruct partnership, like a suicide pact.’

  Mandy’s voice became disapprovingly harsh. ‘We have to face it, Craig, they’re both alcoholics.’

  Craig nodded slowly and thoughtfully. ‘And that’s what worries me. How can we continue to run the wine bar? It’s like leaving children in charge of a sweet shop.’

  Mandy squeezed his hand. ‘Look, whatever happens, Craig, I want to be with you. We’re both capable of working, and with two salaries coming in...’

  She stopped speaking deliberately and gazed into his eyes.

  ‘It’ll get dead quiet in the new year,’ he said. ‘I promise that whatever happens we’ll definitely find a flat where we can live together. That’s if you fancy moving in with me. I mean permanent, like.’

  Mandy grinned hugely then kissed him full on the lips.

  ***

  Dave stretched across the kitchen table and reached for the sugar. ‘I can’t do without at least one teaspoon of the stuff.’

  Opposite him, Mary pushed the bowl towards him. ‘Stop worrying. It’s not as if you’re fat.’

  He spooned a guilty half teaspoon of sugar into his mug and stirred, then tapped his stomach. ‘I’m getting a bit of a paunch.’

  Mary made an impatient clicking noise with her mouth. ‘For God’s sake! You think you’ve got worries. I’ve got to appear in court the week after next for Ronnie’s trial.’

  Dave sighed exasperatedly and shook his head. ‘I told you, for stalking and burglary they’ll put him away. It won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Until he gets out.’

  ‘One bridge at a time.’

  ‘And what if he gets off?’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  Dave sighed again. ‘The police caught him in the act of breaking in. Bang to rights. With all the other evidence of him stalking you, and how you complained about it to them...’

  ‘That’s just it,’ Mary cut in. ‘Ronnie’s such a bullshitter. He can be so convincing. He’s one of those liars who remembers everything he’s said, and he never seems to get caught out.’

  Dave leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. She found the gesture irritating and withdrew her hand impatiently and picked up her coffee mug.

  ‘I know what I’m going to say in court. I’ve got to fight fire with fire.’

  Dave frowned. ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘I’m going to lie about some of the things he said. Tell them about his threats to kill you, me and the kids.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.’

  ‘Why not? No one can prove differently. It’ll be my word against his.’

  ‘Yes but...’ Dave stopped, unable to think of a convincing argument why she shouldn’t make up lies about Ronnie.

  ‘But what?’ Mary snapped.

  ‘I just don’t want you to get caught out. Supposing he has a good lawyer who finds out you’re lying?’

  Mary pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. ‘You must think I’m really stupid.’

  Dave looked up at her, a hurt look in his eyes. ‘I didn’t think that for one minute.’

  Mary’s lips pursed stubbornly. ‘Well then.’

  ‘It’s just that these lawyers are professionals used to leading people into saying things they don’t want to.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much television.’

  Dave opened his mouth to speak but she broke in hurriedly. ‘OK. I’ll only tell them the truth, exactly as it happened, and everything Ronnie said. The truth. I’m going to pick up the kids from school.’

  Dave watched her as she left the room, sceptical of the way she had changed her mind about telling the truth.

  ***

  At the wine bar that night Craig and Mandy found time to sit down and have a spot of supper together, leaving Maggie behind the bar and Mike serving at the tables. They both noticed Mike’s eyes were glassy with drink and kept eyeing him warily. And Maggie’s voice was becoming strident and her laugh irritatingly loud. They hurriedly finished their meal so they could get back to work again and had secretly agreed that what Maggie and Mik
e needed was food inside them.

  ‘Your turn,’ Craig told his sister as he went behind the bar. ‘Why don’t you and Mike have a leisurely meal together? It’s not as if we’re that busy.’

  ‘Not that quiet either,’ Maggie replied, waving her wine glass in the direction of the bar in general, and spilling wine onto the counter. She wiped it with a bar cloth and grinned challengingly at Craig, as if he had criticised the accident, but his eyes were frosty. Maggie shrugged, feeling some discomfort from his accusing stare.

  ‘OK, I’ll get Mike, and we’ll sit at that table over there.’

  She went and sat at a corner table, taking with her a bottle of Chardonnay for herself and a bottle of Australian Shiraz for Mike. After Mike had sat next to her at the table, Mandy got their food orders and went out to the kitchen to ask the chef if he could please prioritise their steak and fries.

  Craig stood behind the bar, moodily scowling as he watched Mike running his hands up Maggie’s thighs. They whispered and giggled and fondled each other in between large gulps of wine, and Craig prayed that the food would arrive soon.

  The chef managed to produce their meal in under ten minutes, and at first they both attacked their food with relish, but when Maggie was halfway through her steak she pushed the plate to one side and came behind the bar to get another bottle of Shiraz for them both.

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ Craig said.

  Maggie gave him a withering look before returning to her table. She filled their glasses and they drank deeply. Then Mike began kissing her in earnest, as if he had forgotten they were in a public place, running his hands over her breasts. Most of the customers were by now casting curious glances in their direction. Especially as Maggie was responding to Mike’s advances by squealing and moaning with pleasure, now having totally forgotten where they were.

  Craig and Mandy stood transfixed, looking on in horror as the couple noisily dropped to the floor under the table, pawing at each other’s clothes, attempting to undress each other, oblivious that their drunken lovemaking was being watched by a dozen customers.

  Fifty - Nine

  Following the funeral of their father and the house clearance trauma, both Nicky and Vanessa became immune to any further stress and accepted the move from their house in Tunbridge Wells to Crowborough with resigned indifference. But two days after the move, as they enjoyed a leisurely Saturday morning breakfast with their mother, Nigel came storming into the kitchen.

  ‘I can’t concentrate,’ he yelled. ‘That radio’s so loud it’s distorted. Can’t you hear it?’

  They looked up at him expressionlessly and he seethed because he thought this was passive aggression and all three were ganging up on him.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ he ranted. ‘Am I the only one who can hear how distorted this racket is?’

  Vanessa caught her sister’s eye and they sniggered. Nigel glowered at them and his face burned.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny. Some of us have got some work to do.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nicky. ‘We weren’t laughing at you. It’s just that you sounded like that old bloke on TV, the one who’s always complaining.’

  ‘I’m not always complaining.’

  ‘Nicky didn’t say you were, darling,’ said Jackie in her most reasonable tone, which Nigel found so irritating.

  He fiddled with the tuning dial of the radio. ‘Look at that! It’s not even tuned in properly. Couldn’t you hear it was out of tune?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t!’ snapped Jackie.

  ‘Well I don’t know,’ Nigel muttered to himself and turned the volume down so that it was barely audible.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ said Jackie. ‘It’s Saturday. You must learn to relax more. You’ll have a nervous breakdown if you carry on like this.’

  ‘I must get these quotations written. The deadline’s at noon on Monday.’

  ‘And how long will that take?’

  ‘Most of the weekend, I should think.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s what I do for a living.’

  ‘You won’t remain living for very long if you carry on like this. You’re overdoing it. At fifty six you need to slow down a bit.’

  Vanessa and Nicky watched this exchange with mild interest. Nigel suddenly ran out of steam.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ he mumbled lamely.

  Jackie’s lips tightened. ‘Do I take that to mean because I’m not working at the moment?’

  ‘Of course not. I like having you at home. You know I do.’

  With the edge of her knife Jackie pushed the crust of her toast to the side of her plate with a positive clatter. ‘I think we ought to get one thing straight...’ she began.

  Nigel waved his hands about with frustration. ‘Please! I’d like to have a lengthy discussion about your duties, but I don’t have time.’

  Jackie looked horrified. ‘Duties!’

  ‘Yes, duties. After all, if I’m to be the provider, working all hours God sends, then I hope it’s not too much to expect you to fulfil certain housewifely obligations.’

  Jackie stared at him, her face set in an expression of numbed disbelief.

  ‘And another thing,’ Nigel continued, ‘I’m not having you dictate to me who cuts my hair. Mike cuts it the way I like it and I’m going to give him a ring.’

  Nigel felt this was a good exit line and marched out of the kitchen. Jackie started as he slammed his office door closed. She looked helplessly at Vanessa and Nicky, hoping for sympathy, but they both stared at her accusingly, as if to say: “We told you so.”

  Nicky suddenly laughed nervously and said, ‘Shall I turn the radio up a bit?’

  Jackie sighed and shook her head. ‘No. Better not.’

  ***

  As Ted hurried along Church Road past Trinity Theatre, where he always looked longingly at the posters, hoping one day they might present a decent Shakespeare play, he went over the lottery numbers in his head. He had been doing them independently of Marjorie for several months now, and had chosen the numbers from his favourite works of the bard of Avon in the chronological order of when they were supposedly written.

  He had ten minutes to spare until he was due to arrive at the station for his shift and he hurried into the newsagent’s in Mount Pleasant to place his bet. He knew the odds were stacked against him but keeping it a secret from Marjorie gave him a vicarious thrill, and if he won just ten pounds one day, the sweetness of the deception would make him feel empowered. Just three of his numbers. That was all he craved. A modest little win. But it would be a major triumph.

  ***

  Craig dreaded visiting his sister but it had to be done. He went around the side of the house and was relieved to find his niece and nephew were playing quietly in the garden, building some sort of toy village in one of the flowerbeds. He called out to them in passing but for once they were so engrossed that they just gave him a cursory wave.

  He crossed the patio, rapped his knuckle on the sliding glass door, and went into the house. Maggie was in the kitchen drinking coffee, her face blotchy and her eyes watery and bloodshot. As Craig entered, her eyes flitted, darting to and fro, lost and unnerved by his sudden entrance, as if she needed time to prepare herself. He could see the panic in her disposition, the fear of being confronted by the hard-hitting truth of her behaviour. Her voice was sombre when she spoke, knowing why he was here.

  ‘Hi, Craig!’

  On the way over, Craig had thought about the ice-breaking way of saying what he wanted to say, but now he was confronted by the devastating sight of his sister, suffering from yet another hangover and amnesia from her terrible behaviour in the wine bar, he went straight to the point.

  ‘Maggie, this has got to stop. Right now!.�
�

  Her eyes blazed as she swung round to face him. ‘What the hell are you talking about, little brother.’

  ‘Your behaviour. You and Mike. Having it off under the table in the wine bar.’

  She frowned and her eyes looked distant.

  ‘You don’t remember, do you? You were both so pissed, you were at each other under the table. Don’t you remember?’

  She turned and glared at him. ‘We were just having a bit of fun. Deliberately having a laugh with the customers. Pub games, that’s all it was.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Maggie. You were both out of it.’

  Maggie picked up her coffee mug angrily, then slammed it down again onto the work surface. ‘Now look, Craig, keep out of it. It’s none of your bloody business.’

  Craig’s mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to speak. ‘It is my business. You’re forgetting I’m a partner in the wine bar. I sold the chippie to come into this venture with you.’

  Maggie’s eyes bulged as she stared at her brother, the veins standing out on her neck. ‘And who gave you the chippie? You were nothing. One of our employees. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be back in prison by now. Where you’ll probably end up.’

  Craig was astounded, his mouth wide open as he stared out his sister, unable to speak. She was still very much under the influence of alcohol, he realised, and was not behaving rationally.

  ‘Where’s Mike?’ he said after a long and uncomfortable silence. ‘Still in bed?’

  ‘He’s gone on the bus to Crowborough - to do some hair cutting.’

  Craig decided it was time to leave. He walked to the door and fed her his parting shot. ‘I pity the poor sod who has Mike to cut his hair today. Unless he’s going for the punk style.’

  ***

  When Ted got home that evening, Marjorie was in the lounge sipping cream sherry. She shushed him as he sank into an easy chair and started to speak. The lotto balls were about to be released. The crowd in the BBC studio applauded and brayed as they tumbled and fell. Then, as a ball rolled into the hole and down the ramp, the crowd whistled and cheered as though they all had the same number and everyone in the studio was a winner.