EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE
Frowning hard, Mike
leant forward across the breakfast bar and watched Maggie out of the corner of
his eye. She turned round suddenly and caught his severe expression.
‘What’s the problem?’ she demanded.
He shifted uncomfortably on his stool and cleared his throat before
speaking. ‘I don’t think it’s a good
idea to go back to work at the wine bar just yet.’
‘You afraid I’m going to start drinking again?’
She opened the fridge door and grabbed a yoghurt drink.
Mike shrugged apologetically. ‘Well, you must admit, it’s like a child left
alone in a sweetie shop.’
She peeled the top off the yoghurt drink, put it to her lips, tilted her head
back and drank it down in one. She stared at Mike, as if daring him to
contradict her.
‘The wine bar’s my business, Mike. I need to be there.’
‘Craig seems to be doing all right.’
She slammed the fridge door shut forcefully.
‘I just want to get back to running my own business,’ she snapped. ‘It’s
a challenge. I need to see if I can get through the night without touching a
drop.’
‘And what if you don’t rise to the challenge?’
Deliberately avoiding eye-contact with Mike, Maggie crossed the kitchen and
threw the empty carton into the bin.
‘That silly bitch said I will eventually have to face up to being with other
people who drink.’
Mike sighed deeply. ‘I just think it’s too soon.’
‘I don’t think it is. And it’ll soon be time to face the ultimate challenge.’
Mike’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he guessed what she was going to say. ‘And what is
the ultimate challenge, Maggs?’
‘Being able to enjoy the odd glass or two of wine without going back on to it
big time.’
*
After his mother’s worried telephone call, telling him about the charity worker
with the broken jaw, Ted Dorling came round during his lunch break.
Ruddy-complexioned, and in his mid-forties, with an enormous stomach he would
often shamefully rub as if he could make it disappear, he was out of breath
when he arrived. When his mother opened the door, he gave her his most earnest
professional expression, that of an athlete poised on the starting line. He was
worried about any legal implications about his mother’s proposed visit to the
hospital. Not that he could think of
any, but one couldn’t be too careful. He was a solicitor, after all.
He followed his mother into the kitchen and slumped, puffing heavily, into a
chair.
‘Can I make you a sandwich for lunch?’ his mother offered.
He shook his head and rubbed his stomach.
‘I’m trying to go easy on the carbs.’
Amy Dorling sniffed disparagingly. ‘You’d do better to cut down on the beer.’
Ted flushed a deeper red at this truth, and smacked a hand on top of the
table. Getting straight to the point.
‘Down to business,’ he began. ‘I don’t
think you ought to visit this woman in hospital...’
‘But,’ his mother broke in, ‘I’ve gone and bought the flowers now.’ She pointed to the sink, in which stood a
bunch of mixed spring flowers.
‘Get a vase, and think of it as a treat for yourself.’
Amy sighed and shook her head. ‘I still
don’t see what the problem is.’
He spoke to her slowly, as if she was a half-wit. ‘Don’t you see, Mum, you’ll
be admitting liability.’
‘But I didn’t hit her.’
Ted’s voice rose in exasperation. ‘I know that. But just suppose she blames you
and takes out a civil action.’
Amy’s voice took on a tone of strained incredulity. ‘Why should she do that?’
‘She might blame you for what happened. You told her to be on the look out for
this thug...this yobbo...and told her to call the police – which she attempted
to do. And she ended up with a broken jaw for her troubles. And I’m saying she might – I’m not saying she would – but
she might blame you. And even if she
hasn’t got a leg to stand on, you don’t want all the hassle of a court case.’
‘You’re missing the point, Teddy. I
didn’t do anything. All I did was tell
her to be on the lookout for this man and to call the police. I didn’t tell her to try and keep him in the
shop.’
Ted sucked in his breath through his teeth, as if his mother was getting into
something dangerous. ‘Well, I’m telling you. And if you won’t listen to
me...I’m telling you...it could have percussions. All I’m saying is: why make
trouble for yourself? It’s not as if you
know this person. And if you go round to see her, feeling that you’re
responsible, who knows what might happen.’
He glanced at his watch and stood up. ‘Sorry, but I have to get back. I’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes.’
He kissed his mother’s cheek quickly. ‘Now promise me you’ll drop the matter.’
Amy hesitated. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Her son walked to the door, turned and pointed his finger at her. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. On your
own head be it.’
*
An hour after Paul’s departure, after Vanessa had spent most of the time
brooding about his lies and deceit, the telephone rang. It was his mother. She sounded upset.
‘Hello, Vanessa.’ Her voice was tremulous. ‘Is Paul there?’
‘You missed him. He left just over an hour ago. He’s gone to Rome.’
Suddenly, like a river bursting its banks, Paul’s mother broke down. Vanessa heard the gasping, heaving sobs at
the other end.
‘Mrs. Farrow! What’s wrong?’
Through her shuddering sobs, Paul’s mother said, ‘His father stood guarantor
for him for his travel agency. Seventy thousand pounds. He didn’t mention the business was...was
ailing. He gave the impression it was
doing well. And the first thing Ron
discovers is the letter that’s just arrived.
The bank’s calling in the debt.
They want the seventy thousand.
And it’s all our savings.’
She sobbed and heaved, and Vanessa was at a loss for words.
IN EPISODE 142
Ivor returns from Bangkok