Flings and Arrows (18 page)

‘Juney?’ Harry called from the living room. ‘Can you help me?’

June’s smile faded. She went into the lounge. Harry was still sitting at the table. He’d finished all the wine. His eyes were glazed.

‘Was it wise to drink so much Harry?’ asked June. ‘How are you going to drive?’

‘I told you,’ said Harry petulantly. ‘I can’t possibly drive after your neighbour stamped all over my foot.’

June privately thought that even if Steph hadn’t trodden on Harry’s foot, he still wouldn’t have been able to drive due to drinking too much and being over the limit. She was annoyed that he’d presumed to spend the night without asking.

‘Who was that on the phone? I heard you mention the name Arnold.’

‘That’s right. Arnold is a friend.’

Harry looked irritated. ‘A male friend! What did he want?’

‘I’m away with a rambling group next weekend. Arnold was ringing to firm up arrangements.’

‘Next weekend!’ spluttered Harry. ‘But that’s the weekend we’re going to Brighton. You’d better ring this Arnold person back immediately. Tell him you can’t go. Honestly Juney, you might have checked with me first.’

‘Actually Harry, I think
you
should have checked with
me
first.’

Harry puffed out his cheeks. He looked extremely put out. ‘I suppose I can get my money back. Help me up the stairs Juney.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Firstly I want to use the bathroom. Secondly I want to go to bed. Your bedroom isn’t Brighton, but I suppose we can still have a good time.’

June pursed her lips. ‘Harry, you’re not staying the night in my bed.’

‘Why ever not?’

June sat down at the dining table. ‘Look Harry. We’ve been having great fun with the salsa classes and had some nice dates. But I’ve barely known you a fortnight. I need time to think about this Harry.’

‘At our age Juney we haven’t got time! What is it you want? Some long, old-fashioned courtship?’

‘Yes!’ said June.

‘But whatever for? I’ve bought you champagne. We’ve watched the sun set. Let’s move on to the next bit. Come here Juney. Let me run my hands through your hair. Kiss your rose petal lips.’

At the mention of Harry wanting to kiss her, June recoiled. No thanks. Not if it was anything like the last time.

‘I’ll go and make up the spare bed Harry.’

June left Harry opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. She could have done without this. Rootling around in the airing cupboard, she pulled out a duvet and shook out fresh sheets. Ten minutes later she helped Harry up the stairs. June showed him the bathroom and pointed to the spare room.

‘I’ll leave you to sort yourself out Harry. I must get on with the washing up and let Ralph out.’

June turned on her heel and went back downstairs. She let Ralph out into the garden and then busied herself with dirty dishes. The evening, designed to showcase Harry as suitable fiancé material to Steph and Si, had ended up showcasing Harry only to her. And June now knew that Harry was not fiancé material. Yes he had a detached house, a lovely car and a solid pension. And he had been magnanimous splashing his money on champagne and wanting to take her to Brighton to stay in hotels that had four poster beds. But what Harry didn’t have was a generous personality. He’d been over familiar with Steph, condescending to dear Si and far too pushy with her. June felt as though everything Harry did was to secure one purpose. Getting her into bed. She rinsed the last plate and left everything to dry overnight in the draining rack. June decided that it might be time to cool things off with Harry. The only couplings she wanted with him were on the dance floor.

June let Ralph back in, locked up and turned off the kitchen light. Ralph bounced up the stairs ahead of her. June walked along the landing. The spare room door was closed. Thank goodness. Harry had gone to bed. Relief flooded over her. She pushed open the door to her bedroom. And then stopped dead in her tracks. For there, in her bed, was Harry. In all his naked glory.

Chapter Thirty Eight

Steph ran up the stairs. Locking herself in the bathroom, she let the tears flow. Was there anybody else in Jessamine Terrace who’d had a day like hers? She’d bet her last lottery pound that there wasn’t. Today she’d found her husband naked in another woman’s garden, provided street theatre to a bunch of dustmen, endured a pensioner groping her and now this! Finding Si beaten up in their own hallway had been a shock. Discovering Si had apparently committed adultery with a woman called Amanda was the greatest blow of all. Steph sat on the loo seat and put her head in her hands. It was too much. She was crying so hard she was having trouble breathing. She pulled a ribbon of tissue paper off the loo holder. Scrunching it up, she blew her nose. Steph didn’t recognise her husband any more. It had been difficult enough believing Si about Dawn. But she’d been prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. But now, another woman had popped up on the scene. And this time Si could offer no explanation. Huh! More like he’d run out of crazy excuses. How many women was he seeing? Was this the first time he’d been unfaithful? The second? Third? Was he having some sort of mid-life crisis? Steph pressed the soggy toilet paper to her eyes in an attempt to stem the tears. Bits of tissue stuck to her eyelashes and face. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. She just wanted to dig a great big hole, jump in and disappear forever.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

‘Go away!’ she shrieked.

‘It’s me. Tom. Open the door Mum. Please.’

‘No. Leave me alone.’

‘Dad’s innocent Mum. You have to believe me.’

Steph stopped crying. Innocent! What would Tom know about his father’s innocence? Maybe if Tom had seen Si with Dawn in her birthday suit he’d think again. A red mist suddenly shrouded her brain. Furious, she reared up from the toilet like a sea monster from hell. Unlocking the bathroom door, she flung it open.

Tom shrank back from the blotchy vision before his eyes.

‘You’re still a child Tom. Despite your romantic forays into the adult world, you know nothing. Trust me.’

‘I
know
that Dad’s innocent.’

Calm suddenly descended over Steph. An unnatural calm. One that comes before a storm. ‘And how would
you
know that your father is innocent?’

Tom gulped. ‘Because it was me having the fling with Amanda.’

‘Nice try son.’

‘But it’s true!’

‘The only trouble is,’ Steph enunciated through clenched teeth, ‘your name is Tom Garvey. Not
Si
Garvey. So don’t try and cover up for your father.’ She could feel herself getting wild about the eyes.

‘But I’m not! I told Amanda my name was Si. I knew she was married and I–’ Tom looked shamefaced, ‘I lied. I lied because if her husband found out, he wouldn’t be able to come after
me
.’

Steph threw back her head and laughed. It was a horrible sound. The cackle of a madwoman. That was appropriate. She felt quite deranged. ‘BOLLOCKS!’ she shrieked.

Tom took a step back. He’d never heard his mother swear before, much less say bollocks. ‘I’m telling you Mum. Straight up. Dad took my pasting.’

‘I don’t believe you Tom. You’re a clever boy. You’re off to university. If you had given a false name to this Amanda person, you’d surely give any name other than your father’s. So nice try. But stop covering for him. And keep out of this. It’s between me and your Dad.’

Tom opened his mouth as if to say something. Instead he just shook his head and shrugged in resignation. He went to his room. Seconds later his door closed.

Steph was desperate to talk to somebody. To hell with it. She’d ring Shirley. So what if Shirley gossiped to all the other Tesco staff. It would come out sooner or later wouldn’t it? They’d all look at Steph as she went about her business. Pitying looks while she stacked shelves and scanned goods. Ah, poor Steph. There she goes. The most betrayed woman in Blackfen. Her husband is a right goer. Not one but two women. Although by the time Shirley had finished gossiping, the Tesco girls would believe Si had ten women on the go. Steph stifled a sob. No. Not Shirley. She headed down the stairs. Si was still sitting at the kitchen table, clutching the frozen peas. Except they were now soggy. He looked up as she came into the kitchen.

‘Love? Come and talk to me.’ Si held out a hand.

‘Don’t you call me love,’ Steph hissed. ‘I’m not your love. And don’t you
dare
try and get Tom to cover up for you.’

‘What?’

‘You heard.’ Steph snatched up her laptop from the kitchen table. ‘I’m going to bed. And you can spend the night on the sofa. Unless you want to clear off to Dawn’s. Or Amanda’s. Or whoever else you’re bonking.’

‘Steph–’

Steph stomped up the stairs clutching her laptop. The tears began flowing again. She wiped the back of one hand across her eyes and went into the bedroom. Chucking the laptop onto the bed, she quickly changed into her nightdress. Slipping under the covers, she fired up the laptop and logged on to Facebook. A message from Barry Hastings. Steph inwardly groaned. Whatever Barry had thought of her crazy message, she was about to find out. She had her ‘hacked account’ excuse at the ready.

Dear Steffy. I am so sorry about your marital woes. You can confide in me any time you like. Why don’t we meet up and have dinner. Let me spoil you. My treat. I’m available tomorrow evening. Here’s my mobile number again. Call me. Right now.

It wasn’t yet ten o’clock. Most people were still awake at this hour. This time Steph didn’t hesitate. Her handbag was by the bed. Rummaging inside, she extracted her mobile phone. And pressed the numbers that would connect her to Barry Hastings.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Si chucked the packet of soggy peas in the pedal bin. He felt lousy. On top of everything else June’s chilli chicken casserole was playing havoc with his guts. Si turned off the kitchen light. He needed headache pills. And the bathroom. Not necessarily in that order. Wincing with every step, he went up the stairs. All was quiet in Tom’s room. He could hear Steph on the phone. No doubt she was bending somebody’s ear. Telling them what a dreadful husband she had. He hoped she wasn’t moaning to his father-in-law. Si had always had the feeling he’d been a disappointment in the son-in-law stakes. That Steph had married beneath her station. His in-laws would have preferred their daughter to have wed a banker. Or a property developer. Somebody flashy. Like that Barry Hastings.

Si locked himself in the bathroom. Clutching his stomach, he opened the window. He didn’t want to gas the house out. Or himself for that matter. Si lowered himself onto the toilet. Dear Lord. If June’s chilli chicken casserole could be bottled, there’d be a superb new laxative on the market. Si flushed the chain and washed his hands. Reaching into the bathroom cupboard, he popped a couple of Nurofen. Would it be safe to venture into the bedroom? There was only one way to find out.

Si pushed the bedroom door open. Steph was ending her call. Her face bore an expression he hadn’t seen before. Defiance. And then her features registered disgust.

‘I told you to sleep on the sofa,’ she spat.

Si could feel himself beginning to react. This just wasn’t fair. Today he’d had both eyes blacked and his foot stabbed with a fork. Now Steph was banishing him downstairs. And what for? Allegedly having a fling with some woman he’d never heard of, never mind met. His head ached. His guts ached. He’d had enough.

‘I’m tired and I want to go to sleep,’ he said.

‘Not with me you’re not.’

Si stripped down to his boxers. ‘No. Not with you.’

‘I mean it Si. You’re not sleeping with me.’

‘I mean it too,’ he said evenly. ‘In fact, I can’t remember the last time I slept with you Steph.’

‘What’s that remark supposed to mean?’

‘Exactly that. I can’t remember the last time we made love. Or the last time I kissed you without encountering a mouthful of night cream. Or a cold shoulder. So why should tonight be any different?’ Si flung back the duvet on his side of the bed. ‘You say you don’t want to sleep with me tonight. In truth you haven’t wanted to sleep with me any night.’ Si flopped into bed and pulled the duvet over him. Snaking out a hand, he switched off the bedside light.

‘I see.’ Steph’s voice floated across the darkness. ‘So because I’m not swinging my bra around like a football rattle and singing
here we go
all round the bedroom, you’ve written me off as a sexless has-been.’

‘I never said that. But sometimes a kiss and a cuddle would be nice. A bit of warmth.’

‘Huh! I was ready for
a bit of warmth
when you cancelled our date to Chapter One. Remember? I’d been to the hairdresser. Made an effort with make-up. I had on my best underwear. I was ready to ravish you Si. Do you hear me? Ravish you! And what did you do? You stood me up. Right there on the doorstep. You didn’t even say I looked nice. Instead you drove off into the sunset with that trollop in your van.’

‘I drove off to the sodding hospital. We’ve been over this already Steph. You’re not interested in ravishing me. The only thing you want to ravish is that silly bloody laptop. You brush me away all the time. Like some sort of dirty old fly.’

‘Oh, so that’s your excuse. How dare you Simon Garvey. How dare you try and justify screwing around.’

‘I haven’t been screwing anybody!’ Si howled.

‘No? I don’t recall you telling Amanda’s husband that.’

‘I didn’t get a chance. In case you hadn’t noticed Steph, the bloke didn’t stop to ask sensible questions. Didn’t check his facts. Just went in all guns blazing and decked me. I could hardly breathe, never mind speak.’

‘Well you can save your words and your breath,’ Steph snapped. ‘I’m not interested in your excuses. Are you getting out of this bed or not?’

‘Not. If it’s such a big deal
you
go and sleep on the sofa.’

‘I have work tomorrow. I’m not messing my back up.’

‘Neither am I,’ said Si. ‘The rest of me is messed up enough.’

‘Oh dear oh dear. Whatever will Dawn say when she sees her boyfriend sporting two black eyes.’