The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene (42 page)

   How was she supposed to be able to tell the difference between lust and love? And anyway, it wasn’t so important what the men thought or felt about her. To Glen, it only mattered what the woman felt, indeed what she felt, and she didn’t feel she loved Gringo Greene in any way, certainly not, how could she, when she loved Harry Wildenstein so completely and utterly. Of course she didn’t tell Ray Greene all about the reckless American, contenting herself with: ‘Let’s just see how things turn out.’

   Soon after that they came to the castle.

   ‘Ah, now here is a romantic story,’ he said, his eyes suddenly ablaze, and they hadn’t been that way since she’d arrived.

   ‘Tell me more.’

   ‘Katherine of Aragon of course, she loved Henry the Eighth body and soul, but his eyes had strayed to the younger, and some say prettier, Anne Boleyn. Flighty she was, Anne Boleyn. Katherine, for her non existent crimes was banished to the castle, this castle, locked away, out of sight, out of mind.’

   ‘Mmm, typical man thing reaction if you ask me. He couldn’t have what he wanted, so he flew into a rage and exercised his power to the full.’

   ‘Does Kevin fly into a rage?’ Ray asked, surprised at his own question.

   Glen fixed her green eyes on him. ‘No Mister Greene, not Gringo… Kevin, sorry, never, he’s a perfect gentleman, always.’

   Perhaps he is too much of a gentleman, thought Ray, but didn’t mention it, and then he said: ‘Well who, then?’

   ‘Will you excuse me, I need the loo,’ and she turned and broke free and caught Gayle’s attention and pointed to the
Ladies
sign that beckoned from high up on the grey stone work. Gayle smiled back and parted from Kevin and took Glen’s forearm and the pair of them disappeared into the wall. 

They took dinner in a small wine bar cum restaurant just off the market square. Glen opted for the steak and would later swear it was the best steak she had ever eaten. When it came to conversation Gringo’s parents were exactly like him. It never once abated, punctuated by jokes and funny stories aplenty, for they seemed to possess an inexhaustible supply of anecdotes, a tale for every occasion, with often more than one person speaking at the same time, frequently accompanied by raucous laughter that would attract the attention of the staff and most of the diners.
My God, that lot are a cheerful bunch, they’re having a whale of a time
, suggested the slightly envious looks that came their way, but as Glen was to discover all through the weekend, that was the norm, the humour and goodnaturedness of the Greene family, and it never once approached exhaustion.

   They acted as if they were a special bunch, she had never experienced anything quite like it before, and she couldn’t help but contrast it with her own family, where the bitchiness of the sisters; and downright cantankerousness of her father, ensured that it was only a matter of time before any similar gathering descended into rows and bitterness. The fact of the matter was the Greenes
were
a special bunch, and Glen knew which family she preferred. She did not love Gringo Greene, but boy oh boy, it would be so easy to fall head over heels in love with his small but precious family.

   Gringo paced himself in Ludlow, drinking apple juice, and after dinner he drove the merry gang back toward Shrewsbury and home, where his father rewarded him by opening the most expensive bottle of red wine in the house.

   As it turned out the girls drank more than their fair share, not that Gringo or Ray begrudged them. There was still time for more stories, reminiscences, each of the four taking it in turns to hold court, to spill the beans on crazy events and adventures they had encountered.

   It had been a wonderful day, a beautiful day, that would remain in their memories forever, but already thoughts were turning to parting, for Gringo and Glen would set off for home just after lunch on the Sunday, and heaven knows when they would see each other again, if ever.     

   Never mind all that, thought Ray, to hell with tomorrow, make the most of today, for you never know when the curtain will fall, when the play comes to an end, when things change irrevocably, and the laughing has to stop. Make the most of it, of everything, for the final curtain’s shuddering for all of us. It always is.

That night Glen rewarded Gringo with two kisses on the lips. She figured he deserved a little bonus for insisting on bringing her along. She hadn’t enjoyed a weekend so much in ages, no pressure, no hassle, just scintillating company, buoyed by good food and wine. She’d decided she’d return any time he asked her.

   She yawned gently and settled into his chest and whispered: ‘Gringo, can I ask you something?’

   ‘Course you can.’

   ‘Your dad said you’re in love with me.’

   ‘Did he? He had no business in saying such a thing.’

   ‘Are you, Gringo?’

   ‘No, of course not.’

   ‘Thought not. You better not be, you’ll only end up getting hurt, and I don’t want that.’

   ‘That’s not going to happen.’

   ‘Well that’s all right then.’

   She kissed him again, on the cheek this time, and whispered ‘Goodnight GG,’ and wiggled her naked body closer to his, and fell asleep.

   He cupped his hand around her silky thigh, and sighed and kissed her shoulder and closed his eyes. He didn’t want the weekend to end, but more than that, he didn’t want her temporary stay at his house to end, and the following Friday was creeping ever closer. He shivered and tried hard to push that sad thought from his mind. Next Friday he would lose her. He kissed her gently one last time, and closed his eyes.       

Sunday morning brought scrambled eggs, Mrs Greene’s speciality. They sat around in the conservatory overlooking the carefully tended garden, as they ate their breakfast and devoured the Sunday papers.

   The big hand on the clock raced around as if it was on steroids, dragging the small hand with it, and none of them were looking forward to the departure scene.

   ‘Would you like me to make you some sandwiches?’ asked Gayle.

   ‘No ta,’ said Gringo.

   ‘Shouldn’t you ask your guest before you refuse such an offer?’ said Ray, winking at Glen.

   ‘Yes, I might fancy some sandwiches for the trip,’ said Glen, always eager to tease Gringo.

   ‘And you want sandwiches?’ he said, fixing her with his dark eyes.

   ‘No, I don’t,’ she smirked, ‘but it would have been nice to have been consulted.’

   Gringo shrugged his shoulders and grinned like a Mexican bandit. It was time to load up the car. He threw the bags in the boot as Glen and Gayle mwah-mwahed on the doorstep with real affection.

   ‘You will come again soon?’

   ‘Course I will, so long as he asks me.’

   ‘I’m sure he will.’

   Glen turned to Ray who leant over and kissed her on the cheek and as he did so he whispered: ‘You’re a corker, Glenda; you know that, a right corker. I can see what he sees in you.’

   ‘Thanks, Mister Greene.’

   ‘Call me Ray, and come back soon.’

   ‘I hope to,’ she said, and then she turned away and slipped into the car, anxious to leave the scene to the parents and their beloved son.

   He embraced his mother and whispered: ‘Thanks for everything, mum.’

   ‘You’ll have to fight for her, Kevin, if you truly love her.’

   ‘I know that, mum.’

   ‘Bring her back soon, promise me now.’

   ‘I will, for sure.’

   He tried to slip from her grasp, though she was reluctant to set him free. Ray moved in and took his son’s arm and eased his boy away.

   ‘You bring her back here or I’ll never forgive you.’

   Father and son exchanged a hard stare. They didn’t have to say any more. Gringo pursed his lips and nodded. In the next second he slipped into the car beside Glen, started the engine and buzzed down the glass. Gayle ran to the open window and leant down and kissed her son on the cheek, depositing a lipstick trace that would remain there for hours.

   After that everyone yelled: ‘Bye-eee!’ and finally Gringo eased his foot to the accelerator, and the car rolled gently away with: ‘Bye! Bye! Come back soon!’ still reverberating in their ears for as far as mature human voices will carry on a still Shropshire afternoon.

Back in the office on Monday morning Gringo’s phone rang. He let it ring before picking it up.

   ‘Hi Gringo,’ mumbled the caller.

   It was Paul, and he was not sounding his usual self.

   ‘What’s up, mate?’

   ‘Trouble at mill.’

   ‘Kay?’

   ‘Yep?’

   ‘What’s happening?’

   ‘Can I see you after work?’

   ‘Sure, Naughton’s at six?’

   ‘I’ll be there.’

He closed his office door and rang home, not forgetting the ring three times routine, to tell Glen he might be late.

   ‘Don’t be too long,’ she said, ‘I’m doing a curry.’

   ‘I won’t be late.’

   Later when he strolled into Naughton’s, Paul was already there, and that was unusual in itself. Paul bought him a pint and Gringo was beginning to fear the worst.

   ‘Is the wedding still on?’

   ‘Maybe.’

   ‘Maybe? That doesn’t sound so hot. What’s the problem?’

   ‘Shall we say it’s something of a delicate nature, something and nothing really.’

   ‘Like what?’

   ‘Just between you and me, right?’

   ‘Of course. That goes without saying.’

   ‘She doesn’t like the light on.’

   Gringo sipped his drink and smiled. ‘Is that all?’

   ‘It seems to have blown up into a major issue.’

   ‘And you do, I suppose?’

   ‘Yeah. Always have.’

   ‘There’s a simple answer to that.’

   ‘Oh yeah, like what?’

   Gringo opened his mouth to answer but noticed the barman standing close by, glass drying, grinning and earwigging on the conversation. Gringo paused and gave the guy his hostile look, and the bloke turned and scowled and wandered off to the far end of the bar. Gringo thought the guy could probably still hear so he leant across to Paul and whispered his wisdom into his ear.

   ‘And you think that might work?’ said Paul.

   ‘Does for me, every time.’

   ‘I might try it.’

   ‘You do that.’

   ‘So how’s the three headed love snake?’ said Paul, still half thinking of Gringo’s solution.

   Gringo laughed aloud.

   ‘We’re in a bit of trouble.’

   ‘How so?’

   ‘Sarah has been swept off to the Middle East by some hairy-arsed builder. Julie, that’s the VAT inspector, has been transferred to Newcastle-on-Tyne and won’t be back for at least five years; and as for Maria…’

   ‘Don’t tell me you’ve broken up with the Asian babe?’

   ‘No, not broken up exactly, she thinks I’m messing her around.’

   ‘You
are
messing her around!’

   ‘No I’m not! Not any more.’ Gringo sipped his drink and thought of Maria for a second. ‘Yeah, well, maybe a bit, but nothing she shouldn’t be able to cope with.’

   ‘Tarts aren’t like that,’ said Paul, eager to display his newfound expertise on the subject, as he emptied his glass and set it down on the bar. ‘They’re not into coping with infidelity.’

   Infidelity, good word. Gringo nodded the barman back into action, and a minute later there were two fresh pints displaying their charms before them.

   ‘Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I have another iron or two in the fire.’

   ‘You have restless feet, my friend.’

   ‘My trouble is I have restless everything.’

   They shared a laugh at that, and then Paul said: ‘True,’ as he swooped on the second pint, and after that they talked of Arsenal Football Club, apparently they were trying to sign some Brazilian called Marilion for fifteen million, surplus information that was sure to have Gringo yawning and glancing at the exits. Soon after that he made his excuses and left and drove home.

She’d made a fantastic curry, she was a far better cook than he’d imagined, and certainly in a different league to Maria. During the day Glen must have been out hunting supplies again, Gringo had slipped her a twenty the previous evening. He could imagine her skulking about under his pulled down, over-large baseball cap.

   Later that night when they went to bed, something quite different occurred. She never left his room all night, remaining curled up beside him right through to the morning when he woke and made her a coffee and left it on the bedside table.