Flings and Arrows (3 page)

‘How’s the tea coming along love?’ Si called from the living room.

‘Be right there,’ Steph called back.

Her finger hovered over the mouse. She hesitated. Why ever not? What harm could it do? She gazed at the picture of Barry Hastings and clicked
Friend Request
.

Chapter Five

Si started the van up. Monday morning. He felt shattered before the week had even started. What a terrible night’s sleep. And what had been the matter with Steph?

Yesterday evening had started so well. A juicy steak followed by the sweetest victory from his boys in blue. Then Tom had called to say he wouldn’t be home. How much better could things get! Si had walked into the bedroom to find Steph already under the duvet, her back to him. Her whole body had been rigid, like she had the hump or something. Which had been a bit of a nuisance. He’d assumed earlier on that things would get fruity at bedtime. But apparently not. Usually Steph proffered her cheek for a goodnight kiss. All he’d encountered last night was her hair. And before he could ask Steph if something was wrong, there’d been a deafening roll of bongo drums, a squealing trumpet and then an explosion of salsa music had ripped through the house. What the hell had June been up to next door? Evidently Cuba had landed in her front room. Deflated, in every sense of the word, Si had chucked the pillow over his head and attempted sleep. Perhaps Steph’s hormones were playing up again. She had looked very pink over dinner.

Si turned the van into Preston Road and parked up. He was installing a new shower today – cash in hand too. That would keep the wolf from the door for a little while. Cheering up slightly, he grabbed his tools and rang the doorbell of Number 30.

‘Morning Mrs Johnson,’ Si greeted the retired school teacher.

‘Hello dear. Come in.’ Mrs Johnson ushered Si into the hall. ‘You know where to go. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

‘That would be grand.’

Si wiped his feet and headed up the stairs. Spreading out protective sheets, he settled down to the job. Four hours later, he was just strapping the pipe and making sure that nothing leaked into the wall when he heard footsteps. A shadow fell across him. Si’s head swivelled round.

‘I wondered if that was your van outside!’ said a gruff voice.

‘Terry!’ Si wiped his hands on a bit of rag. The two men gave each other an awkward hug with lots of back clapping. ‘Are you doing the tiling? I didn’t think small jobs like this were your sort of thing.’

Terry grinned. ‘In the current economic climate I say no to nothing! I just popped in to see what’s required for this job. I’ll knock it out later this afternoon. You look like you’re nearly done. Fancy waiting five minutes and we’ll go and have a bit of pub grub together? I’ll tell you about a juicy contract I have all lined up. I need another plumber. You up for it?’

‘Try and stop me!’ Si straightened to attention.

Half an hour later both men were seated at a knotty pine table in the corner of The Nut and Squirrel. Si peered myopically at the chalk board menu. The steak and kidney pie sounded tempting. Terry was eking out half a lager. Si wasn’t taking any chances and had ordered a pint of orange juice. He picked up the glass and glugged thirstily. One of the barmaids slid out behind the counter and strolled over.

‘What do you fancy?’ she asked the men.

Si looked up and nearly spat out his orange. Where had she come from? She hadn’t been behind the bar when they’d bought their drinks.

‘That depends what’s on offer today,’ Terry leered.

The barmaid ignored Terry. Her eyes were on Si. She flicked the tip of a very pink tongue against her upper lip. ‘Have you seen anything you like?’ she murmured.

Bloody hell! Was she flirting with him? Some of Si’s orange went down the wrong way and he began to choke. How embarrassing. Si could feel himself getting redder by the moment as he struggled for both breath and composure. He was now the colour of boiled beetroot. A mental picture of Steph having one of her hot flushes floated through his brain. He vowed never again to be unsympathetic.

The woman leant over Si to pat his back. As her warm hand made contact, he felt as if he’d been belted by a million volts of electricity. Every nerve ending in Si’s body was screaming to move away from the woman, but there was nowhere to go. His chair was jammed into the corner and up against the wall. Si was hemmed in by flock wallpaper and two of the biggest bosoms he’d ever seen. A badge was pinned to the left one. It said
Dawn
.

Terry grinned lasciviously. ‘You seem to have had a devastating effect on my mate.’

Dawn straightened up and eyed Terry coolly. She whipped out a notepad and pen from her apron. ‘Are you ready to order?’

‘I’ll have the cod in beer batter and mushy peas,’ said Terry, batting his eyelids in an exaggeratedly coy manner. Dawn didn’t bat back. She turned to Si.

‘What would you like pet?’

‘I’ll have,’ Si squeaked, larynx struggling for normality, ‘the steak and kidney pudding please.’

‘Anything else?’ Dawn did something with her eyebrows and smiled encouragingly.

Si shook his head. Best to stick to head movements for the moment.

Dawn sauntered back to the bar and disappeared through a swing door.

‘Think you just scored there mate,’ Terry took another sip of his lager.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Si whispered, vocal chords still husky. ‘The orange simply went down the wrong way. Talk about feeling an idiot. Never mind. At least I don’t have to come here again.’

‘You will if you work on my contract,’ said Terry.

‘Eh?’

‘This pub has built an extension around the back. It’s going to be a function room for weddings and such like. It needs rest rooms to go with it. Once they’re up and running, the next project is to revamp the old rest rooms. And when that little lot is complete, we move on to the next pub. The brewery has a whole chain to be done.’

Si stared at Terry, gobsmacked. A mixture of emotions ran through him. The first was a sensation of relief. He would have guaranteed work for a very long run with excellent money. The second feeling was dread. He didn’t want to see that woman – Dawn – again. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even want to
think
why.

‘Ooh look. Dinner’s coming.’ Terry nodded in the direction of the bar.

Si looked up to see Dawn walking towards them, plates aloft. She was a buxom female. She reminded Si of Jessica Rabbit. But blonde. And middle-aged. She had the most unusual walk.

Terry picked up his knife and fork, holding them vertically like a schoolboy. ‘Yum, yum,’ he grinned up at Dawn. ‘Can I get stuck in?’

Dawn banged Terry’s plate down. Then she turned to Si and carefully set the steak and kidney before him. Another flash of pink tongue. ‘Enjoy,’ she whispered.

‘Bloody hell mate,’ Terry spluttered. ‘What’s your secret?’

‘My secret is–,’ he stared after Dawn as she undulated her way back to the bar. What was the word to describe the way she walked? ‘My secret is I’m a happily married man.’ He stared after Dawn. The word Si was looking for was sexy.

Chapter Six

June hummed as she strolled through the park with Ralph. Bending down, she unclipped the terrier’s leash and watched as he sprang away, nose down tail up. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smells of a new summer. The scent of sweet grass cuttings filled her nostrils. She exhaled and smiled. It had been a while since she’d felt this chipper.

‘Good morning!’ she trilled at an elderly gentleman walking an ancient Labrador.

The elderly gentleman doffed his hat to her and creaked past. June sat down on a park bench. And to think, not so very long ago the likes of that particular pensioner might have been on her list of stalked protégées! June smiled and leant back against the hard wooden slats. She now had the interest of someone far more desirable.

‘Harry.’ She said his name out loud. ‘Harry,’ she repeated, closing her eyes. What a lovely name. ‘Oh Harry.’ She let the name roll around on her tongue, savouring it like a fine wine. ‘Harry. Oh Harr-eeee.’

‘Isn’t your dog called Ralph?’

June’s eyes snapped open. The elderly gentleman had done a U-turn and was now sitting at the other end of the bench.

‘Yes. He is. I was...I was just thinking about my last dog. He was called Harry.’

‘Trying to commune with him were you?’

‘Er, something like that.’

‘Don’t let me stop you. I know what it’s like to lose a beloved pet. Here, I’ll help you. We can concentrate together.’ The elderly gentleman closed his eyes. ‘Harry. Harry. Oh Harr-eeee.’

‘That’s very kind. However, I think the moment has gone. But thank you.’

‘Any time my lovely.’ The elderly gentleman leaned sideways and stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Arnold.’

June had to shuffle a little closer in order to shake the proffered hand. ‘June.’

‘I’ve seen you here before, calling your terrier. That’s how I knew his name.’

June nodded politely.

‘Well now June. Do you fancy a coffee? There’s a little pavement café down the road. The dogs can sit with us untroubled.’

June swallowed. Good heavens. Arnold was doing the very thing she used to do. Stalking. ‘That’s very kind Arnold, but Ralph and I need to get home. I’ve, um, a salsa class in a little while.’

‘I’ll bet you cut a dashing sight on the dance floor,’ Arnold edged up the bench. ‘You still have a very fine figure for a woman of your years.’

Flustered, June stood up. ‘Thank you Arnold. I must be going. See you again sometime.’ She whistled Ralph to heel and smartly clipped the lead into place.

Arnold doffed his hat. ‘I shall look forward to our next rendezvous.’

June smiled stiffly. Damn. She’d have to change parks for a bit now.

As she walked back to Jessamine Terrace, June’s thoughts once again turned to Harry. Last night had been such fun. Harry had stood on her doorstep, arms full of chrysanthemums and fine wine. He’d raved about her stew and dumplings. Even joked that he’d have to marry her. And everybody knew the saying...
many a true word said in jest
. They’d drunk all the wine. By the time they’d staggered into the living room, June knew she’d been more than a little tipsy. Harry had produced a CD from the inside pocket of his jacket. Sexy Salsa Hits. He’d slotted it into June’s little hi-fi, whacked up the volume and swept her into his arms. Dropping her briefly backwards so that she almost swept against the floor, Harry had given her such a smouldering look June thought she might burst into flames. Things were definitely hotting up.

June stopped briefly and clung on to a lamp post. Her knees trembled as she remembered the feeling of Harry’s body pressed up against hers. Salsa wasn’t called Dirty Dancing for nothing. And boy – had they danced dirty. Harry’s hips had ground against hers as they’d cha-cha-cha’d up and down the living room, his hand in the dip of her back, her tummy squashed flat against his – what was that? – and all the time, the whole
whole
time, Harry’s eyes had been locked on hers, savouring her soul, feasting on her,
devouring
–

‘Are you all right June?’

June let go of the lamp post. Steph was staring at her.

‘Gosh! Yes! Just went a bit dizzy. Don’t know what came over me!’

‘Do you want me to call the doctor?’ Steph was all concern.

June was mortified. ‘No really. It’s okay.
I’m
okay. Don’t let me make you late for work. You’ll miss your bus.’

‘If I miss the bus another will be along in ten minutes. Here, take my arm.’ Steph came over. ‘I’ll walk you up to your door.’

June decided that the quickest way to get rid of Steph would be to let her help. So she allowed herself to be guided through the wrought iron gate and up the steps to the front door. Steph put June’s key in the front door and led her into the lounge, Ralph bringing up the rear.

‘I’ll get you some cold water.’ Steph disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with a large dripping tumbler.

June sipped obediently. ‘That’s better!’ she said brightly. ‘I think the weather was too hot for me. Now off you go Steph,’ June stood up decisively. ‘Thank you very much but I am absolutely fine.’

‘Good.’ Steph eyed June beadily. She wasn’t going to be fobbed off so easily. ‘Did last night go well?’

‘Perfectly. We spent half the night dancing,’ June beamed.

‘Yes, we heard the music,’ Steph said drily.

‘Sorry about that,’ June edged Steph towards the door. ‘We’ll keep it down next time.’ The phone started to ring. ‘I’d better get that. See you later!’

June shut the door after Steph, darted across the hall and snatched up the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that the delectable, utterly gorgeous, naughty salsa queen June?’ husked a male voice.

‘Harr-eeee!’ June squealed.

Chapter Seven

As Steph hopped on the bus, she saw Tom stepping off. He looked dreadful.

‘Tom! Are you all right?’ she called after her son.

He turned and opened his mouth to say something, but the automatic doors slapped shut cutting off any words. The bus lurched forward. Steph clung on to a handy post, eyes scanning for somewhere to sit. She shuffled forward and swung into an aisle seat. Fidgeting, she adjusted her clothing and then sat cradling her handbag. Swivelling round Steph scanned the pavement for Tom, but he’d already turned the corner into Jessamine Terrace. Rummaging in her handbag, she pulled out a mobile phone. Tom answered on the second ring.

‘No Mum. I’m not making a mess, I won’t eat the entire contents of the fridge, I won’t forget to wash up after myself and I won’t be going out tonight.’

‘Why do you look so awful? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s happened. I’m just shagged.’

‘Don’t use words like that.’

‘Well what would you prefer me to say – I’m fucked?’

‘Tom I do not like,’ Steph lowered her voice, ‘
shagging
or
fucking
.’ Despite whispering, Steph was aware that the person sitting next to her had heard.

‘Chill Mum. University beckons in a couple of months. Then I’ll have to knuckle down. For now I’d rather spend summer shagging Florrie.’