Flings and Arrows (8 page)

They danced for over an hour. Eventually June felt the last of the champagne bubbles pop and knew that she needed to stop. She was out of breath, hot and thirsty.

‘I need a rest,’ she shouted to Harry over the music.

‘Good idea. We’ll have an interval.’ He turned the music down.

June walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, she took out a carton of apple juice and some bananas from the chill drawer.

‘Ooh, I love a good banana,’ said Harry coming into the kitchen. He was about to take one for himself when June snatched them away and slammed the fridge door shut.

‘What about a nice cup of milky cocoa?’ June asked.

‘Never touch the stuff,’ said Harry. ‘Makes me fall asleep. Bananas on the other hand,’ Harry opened the fridge door and this time successfully extracted a banana, ‘are fantastic energy foods.’ He stripped the skin off and tucked in. ‘Lovely. Drink up Juney, let’s get back to the beat eh?’

‘You know Harry, it’s been a lovely evening. I wish it could go on. But I’d like to go to bed now.’

Harry carefully put the banana skin down. He took June’s hand. ‘It has indeed been a lovely evening. Your company is divine June. So much so I want to spend every waking hour with you.’ He paused. Looked her straight in the eye. ‘And every sleeping hour too.’

June blanched. Was Harry hinting that he wanted to stay the night? Just like his salsa, Harry’s kisses were fast-paced. How many bananas should she eat to match Harry’s stamina between the sheets?

‘Juney my darling, I don’t want to make crass passes at you. We’ve known each other only a brief while. We’re golden oldies and who knows what quality of life we have left? Or, indeed, how many years? I want to seize life and live it in the
now.
Therefore my darling June, with both trepidation and excitement I’m asking if you would–’

June’s hands fluttered to her mouth. This was it. Harry was going to propose. Oh my goodness. They’d only known each other five minutes, but Harry was right. Life was short. You never knew when God would be sending one of his messengers down:
Hello June. Your time is up. Put these wings on and follow me please
. Look at poor Arthur. Here one minute. Gone the next. And whilst she didn’t really know Harry that well, perhaps they could have a long engagement. Get to know each other properly. It would give her time to sell her house before getting settled into his detached property. June could almost feel the touch of the coveted Marks and Spencer charge card.

‘Yes,’ June smiled. ‘Yes Harry.’

‘Really?’ Harry looked perplexed. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to think about it? I don’t want to rush you into anything.’

‘You’re not, you’re not!’ June sang. She couldn’t wait to tell Steph. In fact, she’d tell both Steph and Si when they came to dinner. ‘I want my neighbours to be the first to know Harry. I want them to meet you. I’ve already suggested dinner as a foursome. We can have a little celebration!’

Harry looked uncertain. ‘You want your neighbours to know about your private life?’

‘I tell Steph everything.’

Harry nodded. ‘I see. I had no idea you’d be so laid back about it. Super! Where shall we go?’

‘Go?’ June looked puzzled.

‘Yes! Where shall we go so I can spend every sleeping hour with you! Do you fancy Brighton? I know a fabulous place that has four poster beds.’

Chapter Sixteen

Steph wasn’t happy. She banged around the kitchen, clattering plates and cutlery. She was still reeling from embarrassment over her confrontation with Rachel. Her nerves were frazzled. She just wanted to eat her fish and chip takeaway and go to bed. Draw a line under the day. But Tom and Rachel hadn’t been the only thing to stress Steph. Now neighbour June had upset her equilibrium.

On the journey back to Jessamine Terrace, Steph had clutched the parcel of fish and chips as Si’s van bucketed along. They’d hardly spoken a word to each other on the ride home. Every now and then Si had shaken his head, as if bemused. As Si had turned the corner into the top of Jessamine Terrace, he’d screeched to a halt. Steph had almost head banged the dash. Ahead, walking in the other direction with their backs to them, had been Tom with Rachel and her children. Steph had shrunk down in her seat. Si had let the engine idle until they’d disappeared out of sight. Nearby a Micra had started up. As soon as the driver had tootled off Si had shoe-horned the van into the space. And then Steph had felt the breath whoosh out of her.

‘I don’t believe it,’ she’d gasped.

Si had followed his wife’s gaze. ‘Bloody hell.’

Together they’d stared at June. Their prim and proper neighbour had been in the middle of a passionate lip lock. On her own doorstep! Steph had presumed the man nose to nose with her was the infamous Harry. Their kissing had been the sort of thing reserved for big screen films. Or possibly porn movies. Steph had pondered how long they could keep the kiss going without coming up for air. No wonder she’d caught June stumbling around on the pavement the other day, clutching lamp posts and proclaiming dizziness. The woman was oxygen deprived. Brain damaged even. What other explanation could there be for a seventy year old woman behaving like a teenager in public? Steph had glanced at the row of parked cars along Jessamine Terrace. She’d spotted the polished Beamer. Presumably Harry’s. June had said he had a few quid. So he was a Flash Harry.

And then Harry had finally released June. They’d both gone inside. And Steph had been left wondering that if two pensioners could be so passionate on a doorstep, what would they be like in private? Steph had suddenly had a vision of Jessamine Terrace imploding as June and Harry ripped their clothes off and dived into bed. And that was when she’d felt something inside her curdle. Oh for a tenth of the passion she’d witnessed!

‘I’m going in,’ she’d snapped at Si.

Stomping up the path to Number 42, Steph had felt like bursting into tears. As she now shook lukewarm chips onto plates, she wondered if her period was due. She wasn’t sure of her menstrual cycle these days. Her ovaries, like the hot flushes, seemed to be doing their own thing. She stared at the two portions of greasy fish. The batter had gone all soggy.

‘Do you mind if I watch the footie?’ Si appeared at her elbow.

‘I thought you wanted us to make more time for each other. Why don’t we sit down and eat our dinner together. Have a chat.’

‘But we’ve had some time together,’ reasoned Si.

‘What as in
together
at Blackfen Nick,
together
when I yelled at Rachel and
together
while we queued at the chippie?’

Si looked bashful. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ He gave her waist a quick squeeze. ‘Have I told you that when you get stroppy you have two adorable pink spots on your cheek? And that I have an urge to kiss them?’ Si gently kissed one cheek and then the other. ‘And have I also told you that I can’t wait to take my beautiful wife out tomorrow night?’

Steph looked slightly mollified. ‘Oh go and watch your football,’ she sighed.

‘Thanks love.’ Si grabbed his fish and chips and hastened off to the lounge.

Steph put her plate down on the kitchen table and reached for her laptop. She might as well gossip on Facebook while eating her tea. If she could concentrate. June’s salsa music had pierced the dividing wall between the two houses. In the lounge Si turned the television up to drown out the music. Trumpets and chanting football crowds invaded Steph’s brain. She stood up and shut the kitchen door. The urge to have a secret cigarette was overwhelming. She shoved the thought away and logged on to Facebook. Shirley had written on her wall:
Hope you had a relaxing day off. Can’t wait to see the new hair-do
. At the top of the screen a little number announced a private message. She clicked on the icon. Her heart picked up speed. It was from Barry Hastings.

‘Got any tomato sauce love?’ Si appeared so suddenly Steph jumped. Her hands fluttered up, clumsily knocking the laptop. The machine bounced against her dinner plate flipping it into her lap.

‘Bugger!’ Steph shrieked. Si lunged forward to save the laptop. ‘Leave it!’ Steph yelled. As a reflex, she stood up. The plate smashed to the floor. Fish and chips scattered everywhere. That was the least of Steph’s worries. She didn’t want Si seeing the message from Barry Hastings. Not that it was a secret but, well, the thought made her uncomfortable.

‘I’m trying to help you!’ Si stepped back in amazement, hands up in surrender.

‘Just take the tomato sauce and let me clear up.’

‘But you’ve no dinner now!’

‘I really couldn’t care less,’ Steph said. And it was true. Her stomach had contracted into a tight ball. All she really wanted was that cigarette. ‘Please Si. Just leave me alone.’

Si shot her a wounded look. Taking the tomato sauce, he retreated to the lounge.

Steph put the broken plate and wasted food in the bin. She then wiped the floor, righted the laptop and sat back down. Thankfully the laptop had come to no harm. She rubbed a bit of grease off the spacebar then glanced up at the kitchen door. No Si. She turned her attention back to the screen.

Hey Steffy! Thanks so much for getting back to me. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to see your message in my Inbox or how thrilled I was to read your heart-warming response. I had no idea I meant so much to you at school or that being Facebook friends had left you blown away.

Steph frowned. Blown away? Something didn’t stack up. She scrolled up to see the conversation thread in its entirety. There was her message to Barry Hastings. She re-read it:

Dearest Barry. I was blown away by your accepting my friend request. And talking of being blown away, I am currently having a fantastic makeover at Blown Away (High Street, Blackfen, telephone 0208 666 3701 – ask for Dominic who is totally hot to trot). If I may be so bold Barry, I’d like to say you are very fit, in every sense of the word. You said you’ve never married so I’m presuming you’re ‘not the marrying kind’. Dominic isn’t either. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. And how very disappointing for me! You were the boy everybody was so in love with at school – myself included. I’d adore meeting up. Maybe I could bring Dominic?? Lots of love and hugs xxx

Steph groaned. She didn’t need to be Einstein to work out what had happened. She scrolled back down to Barry’s message and continued reading:

First and foremost, I am not gay! And I am most definitely the marrying kind. And I most definitely want to see you. Just you. Not Dominic! Here’s my mobile number. Steph gazed at the number without taking it in. Do give me a call. Day or night. I await with bated breath! Loads of love, Barry xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bloody Dominic. And bloody hell.

Chapter Seventeen

Si retreated to the lounge feeling like a whipped dog. Steph had been mood swinging all day. Okay, it had been a very trying day, but sometimes bad luck happened. Why couldn’t Steph look on the positive side? Si mentally ticked off reasons to be positive. Si’s arrest hadn’t led to a spot in jail. Steph’s hair hadn’t fallen out at the swanky hair salon. Rachel wasn’t Tom’s girlfriend. Steph’s fish and chip supper had gone on the floor, not her hips. And finally, thanks to Si’s swift reflexes, Steph still had a laptop. But had she thanked him? No. Just told him to take the ketchup and clear off. Women. He’d never understand them if he lived to be a hundred.

Si fingered the remote control and turned the volume up on the television. June’s salsa bongos were starting to echo in Si’s temples. The beat was reverberating right through his armchair. Due to witnessing his neighbour’s doorstep kissing marathon, Si had now had a sneak peek at June’s salsa partner. Steph had said he was called Harry. Si knew he wasn’t going to like him. Harry was not a gentleman. A gentleman didn’t behave like a letch. Especially in public. Si felt protective of June. She was a bit daffy but very sweet. He didn’t want anybody taking advantage of her. Si was looking forward to June’s dinner party. He wanted to check Harry out properly. Let the man know that if there was any nonsense, he’d have Si to deal with.

A heavier vibration zipped through Si’s armchair. Was that the front door banging? Si gave the television a last rueful glance. Chelsea were playing crap anyway. He hit the off button on the remote control. Seconds later June’s salsa mercifully stopped. Si heaved himself out of the armchair, his ears ringing. Voices were coming from the kitchen. Which could mean only one thing. Tom was home. Si took a deep breath. He and Steph owed their boy an apology.

‘The thing is,’ he could hear Steph saying, ‘if you weren’t in the habit of bringing unsuitable women back to this house, this incident would never have happened.’

Si went through to the kitchen. Steph was seated at the table in front of her laptop. Tom was sitting opposite. They both looked tense. This called for a cup of tea. Si squeezed round the back of Steph’s chair to get to the kettle.

‘Hello son,’ Si nodded his head. ‘Did you have a good evening?’

‘I’ve had better Dad,’ said Tom.

Si checked the kettle’s water level and flicked the switch. He turned and leant back against the sink. ‘Look son, first and foremost your mum and I want to apologise for the way we spoke to Rachel’

‘We do?’ asked Steph.

‘Yes,’ said Si. ‘We jumped to conclusions and got the wrong end of the stick. But your mum is right about one thing. If you didn’t have an endless stream of unsuitable girls flitting through here, the way we spoke to Rachel would never have arisen.’

‘This place is not a hotel,’ Steph sniffed. ‘More importantly, it’s not a place for you to constantly get your leg over.’

‘Are you saying I can’t have a girlfriend home?’

‘Not at all,’ Si assured. ‘I think your mum would just like to know that when you’re up in your bedroom, you’re preferably
listening
to music rather than
making
music.’

‘Oh come on Dad. You were young once.’

Si contemplated his feet. Yes. He’d been young once. It seemed like only yesterday he’d sneaked Steph into his parents’ house, the pair of them giggling as they’d tiptoed up the stairs. Bizarrely it also seemed a lifetime ago. He hardly recognised the married couple they now were. A couple who had once seemed so daring and reckless. Having fun. Even June was being daring and reckless! And so what if Si didn’t like Harry? June did! The kettle came to the boil. Si reached for the cups and teabags.