Flings and Arrows (21 page)

‘Just a minute,’ Si caught up with Dawn.

‘Are you talking to me,
pet
?’ she spat.

‘Look. I know you’re mad at me Dawn.’

‘That’s a bleedin’ understatement.’

‘Are you mad enough to seek revenge?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I have two black eyes in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘It’s not my fault you’re married to Mike Tyson.’

‘My wife gave me one black eye. She didn’t give me the other.’

‘Where’s this conversation going?’ Dawn feigned boredom.

‘Does my second black eye have something to do with you?’

‘What exactly are you implying?’

Si raked a hand through his hair. ‘Last night some bloke turned up at my house. He accused me of messing around with his wife – a woman called Amanda. And then he assaulted me. I didn’t know the man. I certainly don’t know anybody called Amanda. And I’m most definitely not having a fling with anybody.’

Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘For somebody who professes not to have flings, you most certainly carry on like you do.’

‘If you’re referring to me falling asleep in your bed, that’s because you tricked me.’

‘I did no such thing.’

‘I wouldn’t be in half the mess I’m in with the wife if you hadn’t undressed me and then shed your own clothes.’

‘To hell with your wife. She’s not the one having to face half a dozen leering dustmen every time she puts the bins out.’

Si held up his hands for Dawn to stop. ‘This is getting us nowhere. I don’t want unpleasantness. I just want to know if you hate me enough to organise some score settling.’

Dawn stared at Si. ‘You seriously think I’d send some chap round to your house to smack you?’

‘Also a woman.’

‘A woman smacked you too?’

‘No, no. This Amanda was at my house ten minutes ago. She confronted Steph. I just wondered if you’d put somebody up to it. Maybe your daughter?’

Dawn’s mouth dropped open. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. What sort of person do you think I am?’

‘Oh hell,’ Si put his head in his hands. ‘I can’t believe I just said that. All of it.’ Si’s hands dropped helplessly to his side. ‘Now that I’m voicing this aloud, it sounds crazy. I’m sorry Dawn. I just don’t know what’s going on in my life anymore.’

Dawn’s expression softened. She took a deep breath. ‘Look Si. I’m sorry too. I don’t mind admitting that I was hoping something would happen between us. I knew you were married. And I got my just desserts. But revenge? No. Of course not.’

Si nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

‘And as for thinking my daughter might be involved! I have to admit that playing the part of Amanda would be right up Melody’s street. She’d do anything to get money. Even steal it. She’d sell her own granny for a fiver.’ Dawn sounded bitter. ‘Melody’s back from Blackpool. Dumped the ex-con after spending all his ill-gotten gains. I can’t wait for her to be on her way again.’

‘You don’t sound like there’s any love lost.’

‘Oh I love her. But I don’t like her. She’s probably casting her net right now. Ensnaring some poor fool into parting with his bank balance. She won’t be happy until she’s bagged herself an old Sugar Daddy.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Well never mind my problems. You sound like you have enough of your own.’

‘I am in a bit of a pickle,’ Si admitted.

‘Well if things don’t work out with you and Mike Tyson, I’m here.’

Si gave a wry smile. ‘Thanks. But things will work out. I’m going to make sure they do.’

‘Oi!’ bellowed Terry. ‘Get this bleedin’ washbasin sorted.’

‘Coming mate,’ Si called. He turned back to Dawn. ‘Cheers love. I’d better get to work before I’m fired.’

Si felt sorry for Dawn’s problems with Melody, but he felt sorrier for himself. He was no closer to solving his assailant’s identity or saving his marriage.

Chapter Forty Five

Steph finished her shift and said good-bye to the girls. She didn’t know how she’d made it through the day. On the bus, her thoughts replayed the day’s events.

The morning had started where last night had left off. Disastrously. Coming face to face with the
other
other woman had been surreal. Seeing Dawn in her bouncy birthday suit had dented Steph’s confidence. Seeing Amanda had destroyed what little remained. Amanda had something neither Dawn nor Steph had. Youth. And to think somebody like Si had pulled a woman like that! It wasn’t that Si was unattractive – quite the opposite. But he had to be a good twenty years older than Amanda. Steph gulped at the realisation. She’d been traded in for a younger model. Well to hell with Si. As that old saying went: if you can’t beat them – join in. And whilst Barry Hastings might not be a toy boy, he was still a very handsome man. And tonight he was all hers.

Steph got off the bus and walked up Jessamine Terrace. As she fumbled with the catch on the garden gate, June came out of her front door. Ralph was at her heels.

‘Coo-ee!’

Steph cranked up a smile. ‘Hi June. How are you today?’

June shut her front door. ‘I’m really well. I have a bit of news.’

‘Oh yes?’

June walked down the path to her own garden gate so that she was standing opposite Steph. ‘Harry really liked you and Si.’

Steph could feel her smile wavering. ‘Excellent!’

June beamed. There was a pause. Steph realised June was waiting to hear something complimentary about Harry.

‘We liked him too,’ Steph assured. ‘Enormously.’

June visibly sighed with relief. ‘That’s wonderful to hear, because Harry has invited us all out. His treat. I was thinking Sunday lunch somewhere. Would that suit?’

Steph inwardly groaned. Dinner with Flash Harry
and
her estranged husband?

‘I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll let Si know.’

‘Thanks dear. Well I’d better not keep Ralph waiting. Come on boy. Walkies.’

‘See you June.’

Steph dismissed June’s invitation the moment she let herself into the house. Right now she had far more pressing things on her mind. Like making herself look drop-dead gorgeous. And getting out of the house before Si came home. She didn’t want another row. ‘Is that you Mum?’ Tom appeared at the top of the landing. He looked anxious.

‘Yes. Is something wrong?’

‘Are you and Dad all right now?’

Steph pursed her lips. ‘I’m not discussing things with you Tom.’

‘Have you thought any more about what I said?’

‘I’ll say it one more time Tom. Drop the subject.’

Tom nodded. ‘I’m meeting up with Aiden later. We’re going to try out June’s salsa class. June said all ages go. We thought we might have a bit of a laugh.’

‘Fine. Have a good time. I’m going out myself.’

‘With Shirley and the girls?’

Steph nodded. No need to let Tom know just yet what was going on. ‘Something like that. I must get ready.’

An hour later Steph appraised herself in the bedroom mirror. She was wearing exactly what she’d worn for her failed dinner date with Si. Right down to her best black bra and knickers. Not that Barry Hastings was going to see them. Steph added an extra coat of lipstick and pressed her lips together. Then she sprayed herself with perfume.

Sweeping up her floaty cardigan and handbag, she called out good-bye to Tom and hurried downstairs. As she opened the front door, Si was standing there with his key poised.

‘You saved me the effort,’ he joked feebly.

Steph didn’t smile. ‘Excuse me, you’re blocking the door.’

Si caught her arm as she pushed past him. ‘Don’t go Steph. This is all a big misunderstanding.’

‘Let go of my arm Si.’

‘You look beautiful.’

‘Thanks.
Now
will you let go of my arm?’

‘No. Listen to me. Let me have a quick wash and we’ll go out together. Somewhere romantic. Your choice. Let’s put everything behind us. Get things right again.’

‘It’s way too late to make things right. I gave you a chance after Dawn. I’m not being taken for a fool twice. Do I have a sign over my head saying
Mug
?’

‘Of course you don’t.’

‘Damn right. Now if you’ll just let me have my arm back. I have a train to catch. At this rate I’m going to miss it.’

Si released her arm. Steph looked at him. His face was full of sorrow. Her heart lurched. She felt horribly guilty. Her husband’s bruised eyes were at the purple stage. She wanted to kiss them better. The thought of going out to dinner with Si was far more appealing than meeting Barry Hastings. Si was her comfort blanket. Her soulmate. And then she rallied.
Was
her soulmate. She wasn’t some WAG who had to stay with a faithless footballer husband because they were a very marketable Brand X or lucrative Product Y. She would never trust Si again. And without trust, there was nothing.

‘I love you Steph.’

‘I must go.’

‘I’ll give you a ride to the station.’

Steph stared at Si disbelievingly. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I?’

Steph hesitated. She really was worried about missing her train now. ‘Okay then. Thank you.’

Following Si down the path, Steph felt bemused. How many women were about to go out with another man and had their husband giving them a lift on their way?

‘Where are you going tonight?’ Si asked.

‘For a meal.’

‘Anywhere nice?’ Si asked conversationally.

Steph gave him a sideways glance. This was weird. ‘Strada.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘I believe so.’

They drove in silence for the next five minutes. At the station, Si indicated and pulled over. Steph turned to face Si.

‘Thanks for the lift. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home.’

‘No worries,’ Si forced a smile. ‘Have a nice time. Say hi to Barry.’

Steph undid her seatbelt and opened the van door. She felt disconcerted. ‘Bye.’

Walking into the station, she didn’t see Si reach for his mobile phone. Or hear him asking Directory Enquiries for the telephone number of Strada.

Chapter Forty Six

Si now had the telephone number of Strada. His initial thought had been to sabotage Barry Hastings’ date with Steph. And what better way than to telephone the restaurant, pretend he was Barry Hastings and cancel the table reservation. But then another thought had occurred to him. If they had nowhere to go, Barry might take Steph back to his place. Order a takeaway. And there was no way Si wanted Steph in Barry’s pad. Steph was in a vulnerable frame of mind at the moment. Who knew what could happen? Especially as Steph looked like a movie star tonight. It should be he, Si, going to this restaurant with Steph. Not Barry bloody Hastings. Si gritted his teeth and rang Strada.

‘Hi. I have a table booked this evening and can’t quite remember where you are. Can I have your postcode?’ There was a pause. ‘Cheers.’

Si hung up and pulled his Sat Nav from the glove box. Part One of his plan was to drive to the restaurant. Part Two – well, he had yet to work that out. Si put his foot down. He was travelling through rush hour on a Friday night. He jumped four red lights and carved up a taxi. The sound of an angry horn blared behind him. Sod off mate. It wasn’t your marriage at stake here.

A little while later Si parked up in a tree-lined side road. Strada was within sight. A gaggle of girls came into view. They were wearing flashing pink Stetsons and tiny skirts. A hen party. Good. Si hoped they made a big racket. With a bit of luck Barry Hastings and Steph wouldn’t be able to hear themselves speak. The evening breeze lifted a hen’s skirt revealing a black thong and shapely bottom. Si found himself hoping the same thing would happen in front of Barry Hastings. And that Barry would be unable to take his eyes off the girl’s backside. Then Steph would slap Barry soundly and come running home to good old loyal Si. Except Steph no longer thought of Si as
good
or
loyal
. Just
old
probably. Si’s shoulders drooped. He checked his watch. Steph should be off the train by now. Perhaps she was already inside? Was she meeting Barry Hastings at the station or inside the restaurant? Si deliberated. Perhaps he should call the restaurant. Ask the waiter to discreetly find out if Mrs Stephanie Garvey was in the restaurant. But what if Barry had booked the table in the name of Mr and Mrs Hastings?

Just when Si thought he was going to drive himself nuts with unanswered questions, a woman came into view. Si sat up straight. It was Steph. Si craned his neck. There was a man by her side. Si felt his stomach knot. Yes. Barry Hastings. Si recognised him from the profile picture on Facebook. But Si would have recognised him anyway. The years fell away. He was back in the classroom handing out milk bottles at break time. Barry Hastings was queuing with Steph. She was giggling inanely at every word Barry uttered. Then Barry had asked, ‘What’s whiter than Simon’s milk bottles?’ Without pausing for breath he’d yelled, ‘Simon’s legs.’ Cue laughter. Si had been mortified. He’d stared at his legs poking out from his short trousers. Yes they were white. But Barry’s legs had surely been whiter.

But not tonight. Tonight Barry Hastings was very brown. On this warm summer evening he was wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt. The t-shirt showed off the tan. It also showcased Barry’s broad shoulders and tapered waist. Si glanced down at his comfortably spreading waistline. Why hadn’t Barry Hastings succumbed to middle-age spread? Barry’s hair was still blond. He didn’t appear to have a bald patch. Bastard. From this distance Si could see his love rival had aged well. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair. Si watched carefully. Barry and Steph had paused outside the restaurant. They were reading the menu. Now a waiter had opened the door for them. Barry was indicating Steph should lead the way. Si could just imagine Barry saying, ‘Ladies first.’ The prat. Now Steph was going inside. Barry had put a caring hand in the small of Steph’s back. Si watched with impotent fury as the restaurant door closed. Now what?

Si stared through the windscreen. The dying sun played on the leaves of the pavement trees. A couple of squirrels ran up a tree trunk and darted along one branch. Si’s stomach growled with hunger. He had a long wait ahead. Perhaps he could grab some fish and chips from somewhere. But he was loath to move. He reached for his mobile.