Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep.

by Sheryl Browne

  Bet your Botox it won’t.

  ‘It’s just… I like you,’ Leticia said quickly.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I like you, Donna. I think Jeremy’s behaved awfully towards you and I just wanted to let you know that… I suspect he might have lied.’

  Suspect? Well, good stock obviously didn’t breed brains, Donna thought cattily. Then felt guilty. Again.

  ‘He said you’d been separated for some time, you see,’ Leticia continued, wringing her hands together as she did, ‘before he and I…’

  ‘Gosh, there’s a surprise.’ Alicia rolled her eyes.

  Leticia glanced at her self-consciously, then visibly steeled herself to go on. ‘He said he was staying in the matrimonial home on the advice of his solicitor, because you were trying to cheat him out of his half of the equity.’

  Donna’s mouth clanged open.

  ‘Go on,’ Alicia said interestedly, while Donna gawped, speechless.

  ‘And then when he did leave,’ Leticia obliged, ‘without a penny…’

  Donna almost choked. ‘What!? He damn well did not! My mother helped me buy him out, so his son could stay in his home. He had more than his flipping fair share of the equity. It’s a wonder he stopped short of sawing the furniture in half.’

  God, this was unbelievable. Donna eyed the skies.

  ‘Um, how’s his accountancy business doing lately, Leticia?’ Alicia ventured.

  ‘Well, not too well, actually,’ Leticia admitted. ‘He’s working terribly hard, but with companies folding, his business property mortgage, and his son to support…’

  ‘Bullshit.’ Alicia said, before Donna went apoplectic.

  ‘Sorry?’ Leticia managed to furrow a whole brow line.

  ‘He might have a business mortgage, Leticia,’ Alicia glanced at Donna for confirmation, ‘but he pays Donna a pittance for the support of Matt.’

  ‘But he said —’

  ‘Codswallop,’ Alicia reiterated, ‘concocted to keep you on board, no doubt. If you ask me, it’s his lifestyle he’s looking to support. He’s after your money, honey, as sure as God made little green apples.

  Is he? Donna furrowed so many lines, her brow must have looked like a five-bar gate.

  ‘Where’s his car, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Alicia forged on.

  ‘In the garage, so he —’ Donna started.

  ‘He’s sold it,’ Leticia said over her.

  Glances were exchanged three-fold.

  Leticia swallowed daintily. ‘We were going to get him a new one for his birthday, you see and…’

  ‘We as in him, I wonder? Or we, as in you?’ Alicia fished.

  Leticia sniffled. ‘Me. I was going to buy it,’ she said, miserably. ‘A little Lotus run-around, you know, for getting to and from the off…’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. They’re just sooo handy,’ Alicia cut in, with a girly flap of her hand. ‘Donna runs around in hers all the time, don’t you, hon?’

  Donna wasn’t listening. She was busy putting two and two together and coming to the conclusion Alicia might be right. Jeremy hadn’t been working 24/7. He was never there. As far as Donna could see, he’d spent more time putting horses through paces than going to work, ergo more time in Leticia’s company and, more importantly to image-conscious Jeremy, the company she kept.

  ‘Who’s, um, paying for the wedding, Leticia?’ Donna asked casually, though she almost choked again on the ‘w’ word.

  ‘Well, Daddy, actually,’ Leticia answered, managing a whole baffled expression. ‘Jeremy wanted to pay, at least some towards it, but Daddy insisted.’

  ‘How convenient,’ Alicia muttered.

  ‘Leticia, just out of interest,’ Donna did her best to look only mildly interested, ‘where were you going to be living?’

  ‘On the family estate,’ Leticia looked at Donna as if it were a foregone conclusion. ‘Daddy said he’d have the gatehouse refurbished.’

  ‘In Jeremy’s honour,’ Alicia growled.

  Good God, Alicia was right. Donna stared at her astonished. The slimy little weasel. Always fancied himself a man of leisure rubbing shoulders with the landed gentry. And how better to do that than to marry into money and move into the gatehouse, where he could no doubt entertain his future dalliances, behind Leticia’s back, in more ‘salubrious’ surroundings.

  No wonder he always looked so dapper. He’d probably sold his accountancy business to refurbish his wardrobe. One couldn’t move in the right circles wearing orf the peg, after all, could one?

  Donna dragged her eyes slowly from Alicia, who didn’t look at all surprised, to Leticia, who glanced down, her complexion quite pale.

  Oh, dear. Donna’s sympathy gene kicked in, as Leticia studied the tarmac on the pub car-park for what seemed an awful long time. She was going to cry. Donna braced herself and stepped towards her. She couldn’t just do nothing. Even if the woman was the biggest bitch under the sun, which Donna was beginning to doubt, she couldn’t let her stand there and cry on her own.

  Oh.

  Donna glanced at Alicia confounded, as Leticia tugged up her shoulders. ‘I’m going to ask him to leave,’ she said determinedly.

  Well, well, kudos to Leticia. Peculiar though it might be, Donna couldn’t help but have a growing admiration for the woman.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Donna had walked around the park with Agnes, the little old lady she’d befriended after the lost ball in the pond incident, things were still as clear as mud, but she did feel more in control.

  Mark had been off duty when she’d gone to the station, which was disappointing — Donna would have been bolstered by one of his reassuring smiles, but he’d asked his partner to be there for her, to take her statement and offer her information on taking out a non-molestation order. Donna had to think about that, for Matt’s sake. But then, Jeremy had threatened violence. His behaviour, past and present, was certainly intimidating. And the fact was, Matt, Donna believed, was also getting the measure of the man.

  She’d left Simon at the hospital looking pale, but determined the show would go on vis-à-vis his fancy-dress party, particularly as it was now a double celebration of his betrothal to Nathan, as well as his birthday.

  Donna had a little worry about that. Simon, quite taken, it seemed, by the twinkly-eyed boy-in-blue who’d helped him at the pub, now fancied going dressed as a policeman.

  Oh, dear, Donna really was going to have to learn to engage her brain before opening her mouth. Maybe Mark wouldn’t mind Simon borrowing his spare jacket though, if she asked him. Donna pondered as she slowed her pace to keep in step with Agnes.

  As for Leticia, Donna had felt obliged to offer her a shoulder, though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Leticia to take up the offer.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I could love my husband’s lover,’ Agnes commented, as she fished in her eco-friendly bag for a dog-treat.

  ‘I’m not proposing to go so far as to love her, just lend her an ear,’ Donna assured her, then winced as Agnes’s totter turned to a near sprint to facilitate her scooping up yet another ball straying in her direction.

  ‘Whoa, that’s our Max’s ball,’ a puzzled dog-owner shouted, running over to her.

  ‘It’s for a good cause,’ Agnes informed him, plopping the ball into her bag and nodding at Sadie, who was bounding tri-leggedly across the grass in pursuit of the last ball Agnes had purloined.

  The owner propped his hands on his hips. ‘I don’t care what cause it’s for,’ he said, distinctly peeved. ‘Give it back.’

  ‘Shan’t,’ said Agnes, clutching her bag close to her chest. ‘It’s not your ball.’

  ‘You what?’ The man looked at her askance.

  ‘It’s your Max’s.’ Agnes pointed at his dog. ‘Have you asked him whether he wants me to have it?’

  The man frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  ‘Max said he doesn’t mind sharing his balls,’ Agnes informed him, with a pious nod. ‘You
shouldn’t presume to make decisions for others, young man.’

  ‘And you shouldn’t be out in public, my luv.’ The man shook his head as Agnes turned to trot back towards Donna. ‘Raving mad,’ he muttered, looking bemusedly back to his poor ball-less dog.

  At which, Agnes turned back, her peachy cheeks puffed up with indignation. ‘It’s people like you who are responsible for the downturn in the economic climate!’ she said, wagging a finger. ‘Greedy! The lot of you! You should learn a lesson from your dog.’ She eyeballed him meaningfully, then tottered huffily on.

  ‘What a selfish man,’ Agnes said, coming back to Donna. ‘The world could certainly do with less people like him.

  ‘Yes, Agnes, but it is his… dog’s ball.’

  ‘But the dog didn’t mind, dear,’ Agnes said, as she tottered on. ‘Now, the little autistic boy, that was different. It was the little boy who needed the ball, his dog said. Do you see?’

  ‘Ye-es.’ Donna had a little think, then scooted after her, clueless.

  ****

  Mark slowed his run to a walk, and then stopped in his tracks, his heart pumping pure adrenaline. Hardly daring to breathe, he watched Karl run on, the ball in his hand and Starbuck bounding along by his side.

  ‘Stop and sit, Starbuck,’ Karl commanded.

  Quietly, Mark watched on, mesmerised, as the dog obediently plonked its hindquarters down.

  Karl studied the dog for a second, his hair plastered to his head, his chest heaving, that familiar furrow in his brow that had Mark constantly wondering what he was thinking. What went on in a six-year-old mind where abstract ideas made no sense? Where interaction was impossible, Karl lacking the basic tools to interpret thought and feeling?

  Mark swallowed, and waited.

  Karl threw it.

  Mark still couldn’t believe it. Just as he’d done three times before, Karl threw the ball.

  ‘Fetch Starbuck,’ Karl said, immediately setting off at a run with the dog, giggling quietly to himself as he went.

  Laughing?! His boy was laughing. ‘Yesss!’ Mark whooped, punching the air. Jesus! His son was playing with the dog. He’d thrown that ball knowing what Starbuck’s reaction would be. What’s more, he was doing it spontaneously. It was an absolute bloody miracle.

  Okay – Mark tried to ground himself a little, Karl might have copied him initially, and, okay, it was repetitive behaviour to a degree. But the kid was as close to playing normally as Mark could ever hope him to be, and that justified an amount of loopy leaping about in Mark’s book.

  He turned to Jody as she walked towards him, Karl’s coat in one hand, bag containing essential dog and boy treats in the other. ‘Did you see that? Did you see him?’ he asked, breaking into a run to catch a hold of Jody’s shoulders and twirl her around.

  Jody laughed as Mark hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek, and acting like a great big kid himself. ‘Yes, Mark, I saw him,’ she assured him, when he eventually allowed her space to breath. ‘I didn’t dare look away in case you didn’t believe it without witness corroboration. Could I have my arms back now, please?’

  ‘Oh, right, sorry.’ Mark unhanded the poor girl and relieved her of some of her baggage. ‘It’s just so bloody unbelievable. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever imagine the dog would have such a beneficial effect.’

  And he’d had a few wild dreams, waking up in a cold sweat, worrying even in his sleep about Karl.

  Mark laughed again, bemused, then shook his head in wonder at the implausibility of himself laughing — with Karl, rather than at some of the comical situations he inadvertently created.

  Mark recalled the bewildered expression of the woman from the Salvation Army, who’d knocked last week, collecting for charity, to be greeted by a six-year-old kid cursing, ‘Bloody door. Shit, now I burnt the toast.’

  The lady was not amused. Mark couldn’t help but be, though he had reminded himself to watch his language in front of Karl, who repeated things verbatim, and who had hearing like radar.

  ‘You should laugh more often,’ Jody said, as they walked after Karl. ‘Takes years off you.’

  ‘As in I look like a complete miserable git when I don’t?’

  ‘No.’ Jody thought about it. ‘Moody and broody, but still handsome.’

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ Mark smiled his appreciation.

  ‘And miserable,’ Jody added.

  ‘You do know Starbuck’s a finely honed hunter-killer, don’t you?’ Mark said after a second, nodding at the great, black, lolloping Labrador, who was obviously as soft as a brush. ‘Trained to go for the jugular, should he sense his master has been upset or abused in any way?’

  Jody laughed, watching Karl fight Starbuck for the ball. ‘Better not upset Karl then, hey?’

  ****

  ‘Ring him, dear. I’ve buried two, you know? I know what these men can be like.’ Agnes gave Donna the wisdom of her advice based on experience.

  Donna looked at her askew, not sure whether she meant she’d buried them because she knew what they were like.

  ‘You have one of those walkie-talkie things, don’t you?’ Agnes asked, mopping a drip of ice cream up her cone with her tongue.

  ‘Mobiles. Yes.’ Donna smiled, chasing a drip up her own cone.

  ‘Well, ring him, then. No point waiting for him to make the first move, or you’ll end up like me, old and wrinkly.’

  ‘And lovely,’ Donna added. ‘Sadie certainly thinks you are.’ She nodded over her ice cream at Sadie hopping ahead of them, the proud owner of a smart new prickly red ball.

  ‘Thank you, Sadie,’ Agnes said earnestly. ‘She thinks you’re quite the loveliest human in the world, too; unlike some people.’

  Agnes stopped and turned with a scowl to a woman who was being overly firm with her dog. ‘He’s not deaf, you know,’ Agnes boomed. ‘He is, however, too concerned with the tone of your voice to concentrate on your command.’

  The woman stared at Agnes, astounded, taking in her slippers and melting ice-cream. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said haughtily.

  ‘As the dog begs yours, my dear. Speak more softly,’ Agnes instructed, ‘the emphasis on the first letter of the word: Sssssssit,’ she demonstrated thus, talking to the dog, who obliged in an instant.

  ‘You see? Not rocket science, is it?’ Agnes smiled, satisfied. ‘Oh, and slacken his collar off, my dear. He said he may be forced to sink his teeth into your rather plentiful rump otherwise.’

  So saying, Agnes turned to trot on, leaving the woman staring open-mouthed after her.

  Donna scooted to catch up. ‘Agnes that was awful,’ she said, laughing nevertheless.

  ‘Wasn’t it just? Honestly, some people just shouldn’t be allowed.’

  Allowed to what? Donna wondered as Agnes broke off the bottom of her ice-cream cone, offered it to Sadie, then proceeded to suck her ice cream through the hole.

  ‘Do you really talk to them, Agnes?’ Donna asked, as they walked on.

  ‘Well, they do communicate, don’t you think?’ Agnes answered evasively. ‘Can’t fail to see the love in her eyes, can you?’ She glanced down at Sadie, who was now hopping between them looking up adoringly.

  ‘No,’ Donna conceded, though she fancied Sadie might be more in love with her ice cream.

  ‘Come on then, ring your young man.’ Agnes said, as they neared the car park. ‘No time like the present.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure.’ Donna hesitated. What was the point? Yes, Mark had left the door open for her to ring, but that was only if she needed him to serve her as a policeman… in his uniform. A blob of ice-cream slid mournfully down her throat.

  ‘Pfffffft, poppycock! You’re obviously quite taken by him — or you’d like to be.’ Agnes guffawed, giving Donna a nudge. ‘You wouldn’t be agonising over him otherwise. Ring him. Go on.’ Agnes stopped walking, and waited expectantly.

  Donna debated, then, ‘All right. I will.’ She nodded determinedly and ferreted in her pocket for her mobile.
They’d parted with a kiss, after all. A friend’s kiss, rather than a lover’s kiss, but affectionate nevertheless. No reason she couldn’t give him a call.

  Donna selected his number.

  Have a quick chat.

  She waited while the call connected.

  Update him on things.

  Donna smiled as it rang out, then cocked her head to one side. Then blinked at Agnes, baffled.

  Uh-oh. Donna’s eyes slid sideways, to peer through the sparse foliage dividing car park from park.

  ‘OhmiGod!’ The smiled skidded from her face. ‘It’s him!’

  ‘Where?’ Agnes scrunched her head into her neck.

  ‘There,’ Donna whispered hoarsely. She nodded towards where Mark — unmistakably Mark — closed the tailgate of his car, then turned his twinkly-eyed smile on…

  Wait a minute!

  ‘That’s not silken-haired Sally!’ Donna tilted her head to get a better look.

  Agnes did likewise.

  So, who? Ooh. Donna quickly ended the call as Mark said, ‘Hi, Mark Evans?’ in her ear, his eyes still on the girl he was with.

  ‘They rang off.’ He shrugged and pocketed his mobile. ‘Thanks, Jody,’ he beamed her another smile.

  ‘It’s her, Jody-kiss-kiss.’ Donna’s ice cream plopped miserably from her cone to land with a splat on her Wellington boots.

  Agnes glanced at her puzzled. ‘Who?’

  ‘His girlfriend. The one with the flexible toothbrush.’ Donna ran her hand under her nose and reached for Sadie’s collar, before the dog hopped over and announced she was lurking in the bushes, spying on her boyfriend, who never was.

  Agnes narrowed her eyes. ‘Is he cheating on you, dear?’

  ‘No.’ Donna shrugged, embarrassed. ‘Not technically. Though he would have been, I suppose, if I, um… If we.’

  ‘With her!?’ Agnes looked back to Jody-kiss-kiss. ‘But she’s much younger than he is.’

  Yes, thank you, Agnes, Donna’s shoulders sagged. ‘With two hers, actually,’ she confided, not sure why she was. Probably because she knew Agnes wouldn’t judge her.

  Agnes stared at her, astonished. ‘Because you wouldn’t part with your virtue?’