In The Name Of Love (5 page)

The agent was a portly middle-aged man who gushed over them
as he bade them enter, and the first thing to strike him was the strong musty
smell of an unoccupied house.

"How long has the cottage been vacant?" he asked.

"About two years now, since the old man passed away," said
the agent, leading them along the narrow hall, "Let's take a look in the
sitting room first." He led them through the open door to the left into a cosy
looking room with shabby, well worn furniture and threadbare carpet and
curtains. The windows were open, but the old, musty smell prevailed.

Each room had the same odour, and the old-fashioned kitchen
had excellent views of the overgrown rear garden, with many fruit trees down
one side and a massive horse-chestnut at the far end. It had a lot of potential,
but required a huge amount of work before anybody could live there.

The agent gave them details of the monthly rent required,
and Grant said, "It is far too high for a house in this state, and there are
too many improvements required before we could consider renting it."

"Well, the owners are living in London, and they would
prefer to sell it, if that interest you…"

"What are they asking?" said Grant, putting on a brave face
before his wife, who was looking most dejected.

"About four thousand, but I think they'll take a fair
offer."

"I'm sure they would. Thank you for your time, we'll let you
know," said Grant, ushering April and Joyce out of the property.

Little was said on the way back to Joyce's home, as the
three of them were most disappointed. Without a substantial deposit and a
better salary, he could never afford it, and on top of that there were all the
renovations it would require. "
Best forget it, and look for a small flat,"
he thought.

Fresh tea was made and they sat in the sunlight sitting room
chatting about the cottage. Joyce and Grant were in deep easy chairs on either
side of the marble fire place, while April sat close to Joyce on the wide sofa between
the chairs. They'd barely started drinking the tea when the door opened and
Cyril's beaming face looked in at them.

"Ah, a full house I see." He came into the room and walked
over to Grant with his hand outstretched, "You must be Grant, if I remember
right," he said, shaking hands before sitting on the sofa close to April. He
turned to her, saying, "And this little lady must be April."

April held out her hand and he took it into his large
paw-like hand kissing her fingers and saying, "It is good to meet you, April,
I've been hearing about your house-hunting quest from Joyce. Was the cottage
around the corner in King's Road suitable?"

Grant saw his wife blush at Cyril's attentions, especially
as he still held her hand, and to smooth things over he said, "It is a bungalow
with a lot of potential, but far beyond our reach at the moment."

Joyce poured Cyril a cup of tea, and he released April's
hand to take the cup. "Just what I need; a lovely cup of tea to settle the
dust."

"It could be a lovely place, but needs far too much work on
it," said Grant, keen to control the conversation. "We'll just have to keep
looking, I guess."

"Don't give up," said Cyril, not taking his eyes off April.
He patted her knee and said, "If you keep searching, you'll eventually find
just the right place; I'm sure." His hand rested upon her knee and he took up
the cup of tea with his left hand, all the time looking and smiling at April.

"Are there many properties available in this area?" she said,
seemingly not sure what to say, and looking a little uncomfortable at this
attention.

Grant saw her glance at Joyce for direction, but noticed
that Joyce just smiled and nodded for her to relax.

Cyril said, "You'll have to ask Joyce about that, I'm
afraid. She'll have a much better idea, and can tell you the best areas to
look. Where are you living now?"

"We're living with my mother at her house in Leeds."

"Good grief, that's a long way and a terrible journey.
There's so much traffic on the road these days, it's quite dangerous to drive
all that way. There's talk of a motorway, but that won't happen for a long
time."

They sipped on their tea, and finally Cyril settled back on
the sofa, still close to April, but without a hand on her knee. He turned to Grant
and said, "I understand you're with Granite Insurance, selling their new
pension programmes. How's it going?"

"Quite hard so far, but I'm very hopeful about the
prospects."

"Why are you working over this part of the country, if
you're living in Leeds?"

"Well, the company want to open an office over here, if I
can get some local customers to start the ball rolling."

Cyril turned back to April and said, "Do you know much about
Stockport?"

Joyce stood up and said to Grant, "Help me with these dishes
and I'll make a fresh pot and get some cake, while these two chat."

He packed the dirty cups on the tray, and followed her out
to the kitchen.

"Put the cups in the sink and rinse them out, while I sort
out the cake."

"Cyril seems quite taken with April, don't you think," said Grant,
looking closely at Joyce for her reaction. He was quite worried about the big
man's attentions to April, and even more worried about the way she preened
herself and seemed to glow in the light of his warm courtesy towards her.

"Take no notice of it at all; he means nothing by it, I can
promise you. He is very fond of young women and I'll talk to both you and April
about it later, but meanwhile pay no attention to him and his over-friendly behaviour
at all."

"If you say so, but I'm not sure I like it."

"Don't worry about the attention he's paying April, it's
harmless, I tell you. If you want to worry about something, worry about the
attention you're not giving me, after all these years."

His head spun around, his hands and arms covered in washing
suds, "What do you mean, I'm not…" He voice tailed off as Joyce came and stood
right before him, her large bosom pressed against his chest.

"Exactly, you're not paying me attention, like you used to –
remember?"

"Joyce, that was years ago, and I was just 17-years old.
It's different now."

She leaned forward and kissed him hard and long on the
mouth. With his hands all wet and soapy and his back pressed up against the
sink, he had no way of stopping her and when her hot tongue eased between his
lips, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt an immediate erection harden and so
must have Joyce, because she pressed her body into his, saying, "Now that's
more like old times, and proves you wrong. It's not different now—we're just a
little older and much wiser, that's all."

He felt her move away and he quickly turned back to the
sink, scrubbing away at the dishes and wishing that kiss had never happened. He
dried the cups and saucers and re-laid the tray, which was now burdened with a
large chocolate cake.

Joyce opened the door for him saying, "Don't drop them, big
boy," as she smiled and winked at him.

He was pleased to note that his erection had gone as fast as
it arrived, and strode into the sitting room with some confidence. This soon
subsided when he saw Cyril and April snuggled together at one end of the sofa.
She was giggling at something he'd said—or done—and didn't even look up at Grant
as he placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Joyce eased into her chair, and began pouring teas and said,
"April, would you be a dear and cut the cake."

"Yes, I'd love to. It looks absolutely delicious."

"Give Cyril a large slice, it's his favourite."

"And mine," she said, smiling up at Cyril as she passed him
the plate and fork. She cut a piece for Grant and he noticed she didn't even
look up at him as she slid it over along the coffee table, but kept her eyes on
Cyril. She giggled at the chocolate crumbs on his mouth.

"Just look at him, Joyce, he's just like a little boy," she
said, chuckling away. She reached for her napkin and wiped his mouth, saying,
"Who's a naughty boy, then."

Grant sipped his tea and nibbled at his small piece of cake.
Looking up he saw Joyce gesturing surreptitiously with her hands, indicating he
also had some crumbs on his mouth. He laughed and said, "I have chocolate cake
on my face too, do I? April, do you think you can wipe the crumbs from my face?"

He saw her frown at his words and when she looked over at
him he noticed her face harden and her lips tighten. With forced humour and a
grim smile she said, "That's not chocolate on your face, darling, you're
covered in lipstick."

Luckily, everybody laughed at April's comment about the
lipstick and so the tension was eased. The two women cleared away the dishes,
and Cyril laid out his chessboard and encouraged Grant to have a game.

"It's interesting that you're getting into the pensions side
of the business," he said, moving a pawn to k4 as his opening move. "I'm
working on the small business tax returns for this district, and I can tell you
in confidence that very few of them have any kind of pension scheme for
directors or employees."

"That's crazy, because look at the tax breaks they would
get, never mind the additional benefits," said Grant, moving a black pawn to k5
in response.

"What companies have you approached, so far?"

"Well, I've not had much luck in Stockport, although to be
fair, I've not really started here yet. I've a company in Oldham that I met
yesterday, and they seem quite keen."

"How would you like them to agree to your proposals?"

Grant looked up as Joyce and April returned. Joyce took out
her knitting and the two started chatting about wool, so he turned his mind to
Cyril's question.

"I'd be over the moon, but they want to think about it and I
don't think they're in any hurry to start, even though they are aware of the
enormous benefits."

"Who's the decision maker?

"I've been speaking to the MD, Ron Robertson, of Robertson
Mills in Oldham, and others on the board, but he has the final say."

Cyril put down his knight without making a move. "I know
Robertson. He was in my office only a few months ago, and I helped sort out a
major tax problem for them. Do you have his phone number with you?"

"It's in my brief case, in the car."

"Go and get it, I've got an idea."

Cyril followed Grant into the hall, and took the business
card when he returned. "You go and chat to the girls, and I'll give Mr.
Robertson a quick call."

Grant went back to the sitting room, closing the door before
sitting down. The two glanced at him, but didn't speak as they were too busy
with knitting patterns.

As he sat there, wondering what Cyril was saying on the phone,
and hoping he would come in with some good news, he looked at his wife. The
only words she'd spoken directly to him since the lipstick episode, was when
they were alone for a few minutes and she said, "I'm disgusted with your
behaviour, Grant, and want to see some marked improvement in the next few
weeks."

He dutifully hung his head, saying, "I'm sorry, sweetheart,
but Joyce kissed me and I couldn't…"

"That's enough; you can stop right there. It's always
somebody else's fault. Yesterday morning you blamed my mother for kissing you,
and now you blame Joyce for kissing you. What are you—a man so attractive that
women throw themselves at you?"

"No, not at all, but I…"

"Grant, from what I've seen today, and on other days, you
are more to blame than anybody else. You lead on my mother, and now you've
started on my new friend, and I tell you it has to stop. Right now, okay?"

He could see that further protestations of his innocence, or
arguments would be useless, and his best plan was to agree, so he said, "I'm
sorry it's upset you, sweetheart, I promise it will never happen again."

"What also annoys me no end," said April, who dismissed his
apology with an angry wave of her hand, "Is that you seem to be going after
women twice my age. What is it, don't you love me anymore?" She dabbed a
handkerchief at her eyes, which welled up with large tears as she looked right
at him and said, "Don't you find me attractive; the way you used to when we
first married?"

"Of course I do, darling, I guess it's just the pressure of
work."

"Well, that's another thing you better sort out very soon,
before our whole world collapses in ruin. We're living with my mother, driving
hours each day in the car, and spending money instead of making it, and I'm fed
up with it all." The tears gushed again, but when he went to console her she
pushed him away and rushed out of the room.

He watched her now, chatting about knitting with Joyce as if
she hadn't a care in the world. Through the door he could faintly hear Cyril's
deep voice on the phone, and he crossed his fingers, hoping for a rapid change
of luck that would change his life.

Cyril's voice rose, then went quiet. The women stopped their
chatter and as the door opened they all turned to look at Cyril. His face was
stern as he closed the door and took his earlier seat next to April, ignoring
the chessboard on the coffee table. He patted April on her knee and said,
"Everything is going to be alright, so hide that frown and put a smile on your
face."

Turning towards Grant he said, "Ron asked that you call on
him at 10:00 a.m. with the forms and they will complete the contract and pay
the deposit."

Grant jumped to his feet and went over to shake Cyril's
hand. "Wow, that's fantastic, thank you so very much. You just don't know how
much it means to me."

He took a quick step back as Cyril turned back to April, who
flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. She pulled back her
head to say to him, "You are a wonderful man, thank you, thank you, thank you."
With each ‘thank you' she gave him another resounding kiss, to the stage where
it was getting almost embarrassing.