The Whiskerly Sisters (17 page)

The Whiskerlies took up positions in the lounge. Alcohol was deemed unsuitable since this was a serious situation, deserving of everyone’s complete and sober attention. As a group, this would be their initial sortie into subversion, virgin territory you might say. It would take a great deal of thought, planning and discussion. There was a time and a place for alcohol, fits of feminine giggles and group hugs, but this was most definitely not it.

But it was. Of course it was and so Sly and Celia were despatched to the minimart around the corner in search of several bottles of wine and several packets of snacks. On their return, with full glasses to hand, everyone got down to a riotous game of how are we going to up Alex?

It was agreed to wait until Verity had been fully briefed since she had to agree to the plan. After all, this was her father, albeit, long time, absent father but, nevertheless, feelings were involved and, of these, Verity’s were paramount. In the meantime, though, the girls agreed that a little research and some furtive sleuthing wouldn’t hurt and might actually prove very entertaining.

Fresna was expecting a call from Alex the next day. They would take it from there.

It was agreed that Alex would be invited to dinner the following Friday evening. A meal in an impersonal restaurant simply wouldn’t cut it. He needed to be off guard for them to lure him in. The order of the day would be a well prepared, home cooked meal. Fresna readily agreed to this consensus, grateful for it, since she felt strongly that she needed to be on home turn to carry out ‘Phase One’. Since the buses were somewhat erratic, and to convey a false sense of security, it was agreed that Fresna would volunteer to drive over and collect him.

Everyone agreed that this was to be a regular meal; a little light poisoning a la Bex would be unsuitable at this juncture, although no one ruled out the possibility that it might be called into play further down the track. Given that Fresna was under orders to be seen tucking in with relish, she was relieved at the decision since she simply felt she was not up for a mild tummy upset the following morning.

Charley and Jax fretted over the menu. They agreed it could be nothing too up market or haute cuisine, but on the other hand, a quarter pounder and fries wouldn’t cut the mustard either. In the end, it was Sly, who gently took Fresna back down Memory Lane and planned a classic meal which cleverly incorporated some of Alex’s favourite tastes from way back when.

On the appointed day, the Whiskerlies turned up en masse to clean the house within an inch of its life and to set the table. Sly arrived with a home-made centrepiece of freesias and dwarf iris. Tiffany sighed at the sight. She felt he would make someone a wonderful wife one day. The meal had been cooked to Charley’s incredibly high standards (not that she had lifted a carefully manicured finger to prepare it), carefully wrapped in layers of foil and placed in Fresna’s American style fridge. All she needed to do when she got back home with Alex, was to sit him down with a glass of Frascati while she warmed the meal through and lit the candles, thereby offering a tiny hint at romance in a homely, inviting atmosphere for their first meal together in a very long time, and yet with a subtle whiff of maybe a whole lot more to follow. She was to offer Alex a place where he could unwind, a place where he felt at ease and where he might just try to put his feet under the table.

Although Fresna was nervous, she carried things off well enough. The prawn crostini went down well. Alex, with his Italian blood had always been partial to gamberini and fondly recalled the times when he and Fresna had driven down to the estuary in search of fresh shellfish. Alex, ever hungry, would polish off a huge plateful.

After a couple of glasses of his favourite, chilled white wine, Alex was beginning to relax. To Fresna, sitting opposite him, he seemed just like a perfectly ripe melon, eager to burst open and spill forth his juicy secrets. He sighed at the sight of the main course, his favourite Osso Bucco. She had remembered. Together they shared a fond smile at the memory of happier times.

Fresna, seemingly relaxed and at ease, watched her former lover like a hawk. One of her greatest advantages lay in the fact that she had always been a great observer of men. She felt confident in their company and she knew how to listen to them, how to converse with them and how to be interesting without ever giving away the slightest detail about herself. Tonight, she was captivating. Leaning forward, radiating maturity and interest in his tales, she listened to him. At one and the same time, Alex appeared to be full of humble gratitude for his warm welcome back into her life and unbearably arrogant, taking it for granted that he would still be wanted after all this time. During the first part of the evening, he took the opportunity to embroider the tale of his current, woeful situation, sure in the knowledge that Fresna was falling for it, which, of course, is exactly what she wanted him to believe.

It was over the cheese and biscuits that she made her move. After listening attentively to his pitiful story for the last hour and barely uttering a sentence other than the odd consoling phrase, she expressed her sympathy that Alex’s two sons had felt unable to help him out of his current situation. She expressed surprise at their ingratitude after all he had done for them and she shook her head at the wonder of modern family life.

Alex swallowed the bait. Despite being a dedicated parent, both his sons had abandoned him shortly after the death of their mother. He put it down to grief. He was still in touch with them both, but only by a thread. In fact, his oldest son, John, the one his wife had been carrying at the time of their short engagement (and here Alex paused, looked down at the floor, spread his hands out in a gesture of apology, and shrugged) was unaware that his own father was living within three miles of him.

Bingo! John was local.

Alex’s younger son, Ben, on the other hand, lived in the very north of Scotland and worked for an oil company on the rigs in the North Sea. Quite what he did up there was a mystery. Alex grew vague, but he was able to tell her that both boys were married; John to Katie and Ben to Lucie and that both were family men. He didn’t see much of his five grandchildren, but that was not because he himself was unwilling. It was unfortunate that both boys had chosen to marry stuck-up bitches, who didn’t seem to want anything to do with their father-in-law once the money had run out.

With dinner over, Fresna was eager to get Alex out of the house. She felt she needed time to reflect on all that had been said. Although, she had been assiduous to glean every small fact she could from Alex and had listened closely, she felt worried that if she didn’t write it all down quickly, she might forget.

Alex, on the other hand, well fed and cosier than he had been for several months, was in no hurry to move. He suggested to her that, after all the trouble she had gone to that evening, collecting him and cooking him such a wonderful meal, it would be wrong of him to expect her to drive him all the way home. Fresna was thrilled and rewarded the delighted Alex with an appreciative smile.
What a brilliant idea,
she thought to herself. She only had to drive him to the taxi rank and he would be out of her face, but she was wrong. Encouraged by the response he had received from his casual suggestion, he pressed home his advantage. Rising from the table, he moved to her side and took her hand in his. He pressed it to his mouth and then squeezed it tenderly. He told her that he would like to reward her for such a lovely evening by offering her a little something in return. During his life, he told her, he had often reflected on their short time together and, undoubtedly, they had been fantastic together in the sack. He asked if it would be wrong of him to suggest that they turn back the clock. Of course, if she wasn’t into all that these days, he was quite happy to stay in her spare room. She could drive him home in the morning.

Fresna listened to his proposal in astonishment, barely able to disguise her anger. Unbelievable! After all the trouble she’d gone to, he wasn’t intending to shift his arse, call a cab and sod off to his grotty, little flat under his own steam. Outrageous! Not only was he suggesting, and on only his second sighting of her in over forty years, that they take up where they had left off, but that she might also not actually have had much more than the sexual leavings from the table since he had buggered off. Did he really believe that she, who hadn’t slept with a man less than five years her junior in the last ten years and who had lovers coming out of her ears, might actually be in need of a pity fuck from the crumpled old man, ten years her senior and dressed like Hillory Hocker’s fucking tramp, smiling down at her warmly.

Luckily Fresna was quick to rally. Leaning back in her chair, she forced herself to look directly into his eyes and smiled an apology. It sounded like a wonderful idea, but she had a wickedly early start. She had booked a workshop in the West End the following morning so she needed to be up early. Could she possible take a rain check? Besides, at her age, he would understand that she needed all the beauty sleep she could get and, in any case, he was right. She had given up any thought of sexual activity a long time ago, never having found any man comparable to him in the bedroom. Reluctantly, she had surrendered herself to the life of the lonely celibate. It was surprising what you could get used to she told him. Mustering up every single one of her life skills, she smiled thinly at the man in front of her, forced herself to relax her jaw and slowly removed her fingers from the grasp of his waxy, veiny, old hand. Inwardly, she shivered with disgust as a boiling hot stream of anger surged through her blood.

If Alex noticed her undisguised hurry to get him out of her home and into her car, he didn’t mention it nor did he seem to think that her maniacal style of driving was out of the ordinary either. He appeared unaware of the almost militaristic manner in which Fresna drove him home, back ramrod straight, shoulders by her earlobes, knuckles white against the steering wheel and foot to the floor almost the whole journey through. Mercifully, he fell asleep in the passenger seat almost immediately, lulled no doubt by the myriad glasses of wine he had drunk at her expense, and so Fresna found she did not have to keep up the accepting little woman charade for too long. Alex was surprised at how quickly the return journey took and apologised for napping. They agreed that traffic was light at this time of night. Getting out of the car, he thanked her for a very pleasant evening and told her that he was so glad he had got in touch. He was very much looking forward to meeting Verity at some point in the future, but would leave it with Fresna to work out the details. He reached over to peck her on the cheek and left the car. Fresna watched as he walked up the path towards the utilitarian block of flats in which he lived. From his jaunty air, she deduced that he looked mighty satisfied with himself, secure in the knowledge that everything was going to plan.

But whose plan exactly?

It was long after midnight when Fresna arrived home. To dissipate her rage, she had taken herself for a very long, very fast drive and it had worked. The flood of anger she had been experiencing had abated and she now felt an icy calm glowing within her. It was just as well she hadn’t met any traffic cops, she reflected, and if she had been caught by the speed cameras, she felt it would have been a small price to pay. Still, the audacity of the man! He truly believed he was about to be welcomed back into her open arms; that the bad luck which had been dogging him was about to change and that his generation long absence in the lives of both Fresna and Verity was a mere blip in the scheme of things.

After the exertions of the evening, Fresna allowed herself the luxury of a long lie-in the following morning. When she finally dragged herself out of bed, around lunchtime, she felt decidedly unwell, which was unusual for her since she always asserted that she had the constitution of an ox. She decided she must be getting old or not dealing properly with stress, but keeping up the façade the evening before had definitely left her feeling wiped out. She hoped the payoff would be worth the effort. Taking the duvet with her, she made her way to the lounge, sat down in its warm embrace and dialled a number on her mobile phone.

“Thank Christ,” roared Celia. “We thought it must have gone tits up.” There was a muffled exclamation next to her. “Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker phone,” she said. Seconds later, she heard the voice of Jax.

“How did it go?” she enquired eagerly. Fresna gave her two friends the highlights and it was agreed they call a meeting of the Whiskerlies after class the following Tuesday. Putting down the phone, she hauled herself back to bed. She felt exhausted, in need of sleep, but her brain was whirling and she couldn’t settle.

Foregoing their regular trip to the bar, the girls opted for green tea at Jax’s as the venue for the general update. They gathered in the lounge with Celia and Sly sprawled on the floor and listened carefully to what Fresna had to report. Despite the stress, the clever woman had managed to skilfully extract a massive amount of information from the clueless Alex.

After Fresna had brought the group up to speed, Bex took the floor as unacknowledged leader of the pack. It might have seemed odd to choose the quietest of them all to take charge but, when all was said and done, she was the agreed expert. Phase Two would begin the following morning she told them, with Charley and Tiffany taking the lead for this part of the operation. The girls crowded together as Bex outlined her plan. After a little discussion, and a few small adjustments, the team reached consensus and the meeting broke up.

There were thirty-two people listed in the phone book with the same surname as Alex and with the initial ‘J’. One of them had to be John unless, god forbid, he had opted to be ex-directory in which case Tiffany would need to discreetly exercise her constabulary powers. Meeting together mid-morning at Tiffany’s, she and Charley agreed their approach. They were an independent market research organisation, undertaking a telephone survey on behalf of the council about the amenities offered in the town. At the end of the spoof interview, they were to casually ask for a few personal details – first name, age range, children – all routine stuff and nothing that wouldn’t normally be recorded by the Local Authority.