It Always Rains on Sundays (21 page)

Too late, the minute she dropped off her goofy-duck back-pack, next thing she's running round wanting to say hello to her pet rabbit Ben. That's all I need (I'd been hoping Cynthia might've mentioned it). How do you tell a five year old kid her pet rabbit died? Poor kid, next thing she's bawling her head off – you'd've heard her in Timbuktu I'll bet.

Nobody even gives you a chance to explain.

After that they're all giving me the silent treatment. Let's not talk to the bad man – all I get is dagger-looks. So, now I'm a rabbit-killer, end of.

*
*
*

That's something else too – odd how you get to know things. Everything's so damned secretive. What happened, there's this guy I keep seeing over at Avril's house. I've noticed him a couple of times, kind've loitering, jumping up, trying to look into her kitchen window.

Finally, I went over to have a quiet word with him. ‘Hey, hey' I said ‘Look here, is there some kind of problem squire?' It turns out he's looking for Avril (join the bloody queue I thought). Then when I informed him she wasn't back as yet from her rather lengthy sojourn over in the States, his face dropped a mile. You could tell he was a bit agitated. ‘What fucking vacation's this?' he yelled. He flopped down on the front step. ‘Bitch. No wonder she isn't answering her bloody rotten phone –
I've just come to tell her our mortgage has come through' he whispered dejectedly.

Blimey I thought – it just shows, you think you know people.

All of a sudden he aimed a mighty kick at Avril's newly painted front door. ‘Bitch. I've left a good wife and mother of two, and a post-office cum-general for that bloody woman' he cried. This is when I had to step in to restrain him. ‘Look here' I said ‘steady on brother.' He stared, for a moment or two there was pure madness in his eyes. ‘I'm only an informative neighbour – I'm just putting you into the picture that's all.'

After a time he calmed down a bit. Then, as a final gesture he tore up the large manila envelope he was carrying into four pieces, he then stuffed it into her letter-box. He nodded. I then escorted him right off the premises. He climbed into a black estate-car, with Britanica Grocery Services on the side. I waved him off. He looked straight ahead. ‘Good luck squire' I called out. He shot off, narrowly missing an old lady wheeling a push-chair.

*
*
*

Cynthia was busy working at the sink, wearing her Marigolds (already?), up to her elbows in soap-suds. She'd got a bit involved, trying to scrub grime off a vase – it stunk to high-heaven.

Somehow or other I must've missed it.

I waited for a good time. She paused, easing her back, wiping her forehead with the back of her sleeve. Finally
I said ‘Guy there looking for Avril.' No answer, instead she rubbed harder. Again she paused ‘He'll have a long wait – she's just got married again' she informed me in a flat, either way voice.

‘Really?' I said (REALLY?) No wonder I stared.

Somehow or other I expected her telling me more.

Don't you worry Cyn does things in her own sweet time. Instead, she turned back to the job in hand, she scrubbed some more, then paused, staring at bubbles.

Finally she said ‘Mmmm, nice guy. They met going over on the plane if you must know.' She gave me a look. I nodded ‘Oh, nice one' I said.

She pushed back her hair, then renewed her efforts with the scrubber. She paused ‘Mmm. American gentleman, lovely manners, he's from the south – mind you, they all have nice manners over there. Well most of them. Very rich I might add' I nodded ‘
Vvvery nice'
I said.

Trust Avril I thought.

Somehow or other I couldn't help thinking about the other poor mutt – him with the cum-general and the mortgage, etc. Avril doesn't waste much time I thought to myself.

She seemed to want to talk ‘Nice guy – he's in real estate.'

‘Oh,
very nice, very nice'
I said.

‘That's what they call it over there. Over there they call it real estate.'

‘So I believe. How nice – very nice. Trust old Avril to come up trumps,' I thought aloud.

She let it go. ‘Even though he happens to be mega-rich, he's just normal,' she commented.

‘Is that right? Oh, nice one.'

She broke off rinsing the vase. ‘Colin, do me a favour. Stop saying, “Oh, nice one” Okay?'

‘Oh, right' I said. At least we were speaking, that's something at least.

She half-smiled to herself ‘Mm. isn't it funny how people meet up' she went on, picking up where she'd left off. ‘They both got acquainted on the plane going out, standing in line waiting for the loo.'

I nodded. ‘Oh, right. Nice one.'

She gave me a look. ‘Business-class, of course. They both had adjacent seats, right next to each other. He said he'd been admiring her ankle tattoo.'

‘That's really amazing' I said.

Mind you, she's right. I've made lasting friendships on planes myself. I still get cards from an ex-pat dentist in Alberta over in Canada. Unfortunately, we had to break off. Next thing Lucy runs in, she needs me rightaway – it's urgent. She pulled at my sleeve ‘Now daddy, it's very important' Lucy insisted (pity that, we were getting along nicely). Cyn, squeezed her way through ‘Unfortunately Lucy wet herself' she whispered.

*
*
*

Lucy waited outside, she's wanting to know where ‘poor old Ben' was buried. We walked hand in hand, I pointed at the fresh mound of earth. We stood in silence. Lucy bit
her lip, fighting back tears. ‘Shouldn't Ben have a cross?' I nodded. ‘Oh, and a verse …?'

She's right – why hadn't I thought of it.

Inside the shed I made a rough kind of a cross. Making up an appropriate verse, right off the cuff wasn't that easy:

Here lies Ben, fast asleep with the hen

Up in God's farmyard, high up in the sky.

Sadly, no-one knows when –

At least he didn't end up in a pie.

Lucy's head shook. Okay, fine by me (sometimes, just that smidgeon of humour). Last time, when old Henrietta's untimely demise. Somehow it was a lot easier, e.g. ‘Poor Henrietta – we thought you'd get better' etc etc. Finally we compromised ‘HERE LIES BEN – FAST ASLEEP WITH THE HEN.'

Sadly our peaceful little ceremony is rudely interrupted by the arrival of Alec Binns, the guy from Everlasting Sunlight, about our leaky conservatory roof. He had a silly laugh. ‘Hi guys – nice day!' he cried, then laughed for no reason. He stared at Lucy, then asked her name. ‘My dogs name is Lucy' he marvelled, rocking her head with a heavy hand, he said ‘Tell you what, you have a very pretty daughter.'

I nodded. Lucy looked at me, then rolled her eyes.

Again, he did his weird laugh. ‘Beautiful house. I've been looking at the garden. It's just like something out of a magazine' he chirped. His face went serious, he went over to the conservatory, proceeding to knock a slow
rhythmic knock. He shook his head sadly, then tutted. Cyn opened the door. They both stared (‘What?') He threw back his head, then did his crazy laugh. ‘My words – you've been in the sun. Is it an all-over tan?' he asked her. Cynthia gave him a cold look, then shut the door in his face. He turned ‘Mr. Turk, I've been giving it a great deal of thought.' He paused. ‘Look, let's talk about it man to man.' His hands came up with a whosh ‘How about tearing it down. Everything, the whole caboodle. Why not buy a new one – put lots of value on the house – you'd be really amazed.'

Don't worry I'm amazed already I thought.

Time for my ace-card. I showed him my guarantee, it still had three months to run before it expired. His face crumpled. He drove off laughing his crazy laugh, talking to himself. He's sending somebody round first thing Monday.

Cyn was in the utility-room (busy, busy, busy) as usual, sorting her way through a pyramid-size pile of laundry. I heaved myself up onto the counter – I was hoping she'd be in a better mood. I thought maybe we'd've picked up where we'd left off. I waited.

Finally I said, ‘Hey, quite a storm you had I hear?'

She straightened up slowly, working her fingers into the small of her back. ‘Still got your bad back, eh?' No answer, plainly I wanted to talk, Cynthia did not.

She closed her eyes, then rolled her head. You'd've thought she'd've been full of it – I know I would. ‘Some storm?' I repeated. ‘Papers over here were full of it,
sounded pretty scary. Hurricane Hugger-mugger I'm meaning.'

Her eyes opened ‘Storm? What storm? Hurricanes are a lot worse than any storm' then added ‘I should know.' She stared, ‘That tops wet I hope you know that?'

I jumped down off the counter. She's right, my pants are wet through to the skin. What's it take (now she tells me), anybody else they'd've mentioned it rightaway. “
Hey, look out, that tops wet”
That's what I'd've said, simple as that.

I stomped off upstairs to get changed.

Bad timing I expect. Don't you worry, next time I waited until the kids were in bed, fast asleep after their long exhaustive flight. Cyn was upstairs taking a long relaxing bath, listening to soft music, surrounded by lots of perfumed candles. She'd left the door ajar, I could hear Frank Sinatra singing ‘Strangers in the night.' While I waited I perched myself on the banister-rail. Through the gap I could see her towelling herself off. Wow I'm thinking – she looked in pretty good shape I'd say. Her hair had gone lighter too, showing off her rich golden tan. Something else I happened to notice too, she had a couple of diamond studs in her naval. That's new I'm thinking, as was the gold ankle-chain, held in place with a small heart-shaped, jewelled padlock. It looked expensive.

Her voice startled me ‘Have you seen enough?' Cyn said icily not using a smile. She covered herself with a towel, clutching it to her throat. She gave me a cold look
‘This your new hobby?' I stared. She closed the door with a thud, I heard the bolt shoot on. You feel really stupid, I rapped on the door. ‘Just in case you've forgotten madam. I am your husband' I yelled.

F it I thought – I could feel my temper already. I decided to go to the pub (I spelt it out in hot anger so not to wake up the kids) ‘I'm going to the F-U-C-K-I-N-G P-U-B' I whispered fiercely through the bathroom door.

My feet thudded down the stairs two at a time.

Natch. Cynthia always had to have the last word.

She stuck her head over the banister-rail ‘Do that' she screeched ‘and fucking well, S.T.A.Y there for all I care.'

I slammed out of the house. Some home-coming I'm thinking.

*
*
*

Cyn was still up when I got back from the pub (still disappointingly sober I might add). She was in the hallway, talking on the phone with her legs stuck out – she was more like her old self. I nodded. Talking to Avril over in the States would be my guess, one of those girly-type conversations, lilting high on excited yells, mixed with screamy laughter. She even managed a smile for once.

Don't worry I'd noticed the empty wine bottle. Whatever it takes, right.

Things were looking up.

Later, she came through into the living-room, she'd lit the fire. She made two big drinks, then put on some
music – this was nice music. She sat close to me on the sofa (‘So we can be nice and cosy, just the two of us') she whispered into my ear. I started to relax,
new perfume too, kind've musky
, I really liked it. It just shows, she's nice when she wants to be – the change in her was pretty remarkable.

She's really chatty. We clinked glasses and said ‘cheers.'

‘Guess what, Avril's coming home.'

I nodded. ‘Oh great. That's wonderful' I lied.

‘Mm. Tuesday, well hopefully at least.'

‘So soon, eh.'

‘That's if everything goes to plan.'

Soon it gets even better, we danced slowly around the room, next thing I know she's nuzzling my damned ear – how bad is that, I'll say. This is the trouble, she knows I'm weak. All I can think of is the great bed upstairs. We kissed (her eyes were closed), this went on for about a week at least. ‘It's nice to have you back' I said dreamily.

‘Mm, me too…' Cyn said.

*
*
*

2:30am. (CONSERVATORY). Looks as if we've come full circle – I'm back downstairs, sleeping in the conservatory. Cynthia, who else. This is what she's like. People don't really know her, they all think she's sweet as pie. Her being nice all of a sudden, it was all a sham – it's the oldest trick in the book. Trust me to fall for it.

What happened is we'd just ‘made love' – call it that,
had sex? (a joke). Nothing worked, call it what you like. Dictionary-wise, ‘non-performance' or ‘lack of success.' Who knows, it still amounted to the same thing – nerves probably. So, okay – it happens. Mind you Cynthia could make a eunuch nervous I bet. After that I just wanted to turn over and go straight to sleep.

Cynthia had other ideas. Even though it's the middle of the night, she still wanted to talk. Though, what made it worse, all she talks about is trivia, things that don't really matter. All of a sudden, then she said ‘Haven't you got a small head?' I tried to ignore her, there was bound to be more than that. She nudged my elbow (I was right). Her voice came out of the semi-gloom, ‘Colin … are you asleep?'

‘Go to sleep' I groaned sleepily.

This is what happens. Too late, next thing you know my minds alert. Meantime, she's out like a light – I'm left staring at the ceiling. Again, her voice came hollow and loud. More stupid questions ‘Don't you think so?' she persisted – ‘as heads go, it's a bit on the small side?' I opened an eye. Cyn's sat up, bright-eyed, she's ready to talk all night. I looked at the clock, I can hardly keep my eyes open. ‘My head is just average, okay.'