EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE
Mike could tell
Maggie was fighting her inner demons as she chewed her bottom lip, frowning
deeply, her eyes distant, probably imagining pouring the contents of a bottle
of chilled white wine down her throat.
She sat at the breakfast bar and winced as she sipped another
coffee. The coffee was a poor substitute
for what she really wanted to drink. It
had been almost a month now, and she still had a deep craving for alcohol. And
she knew Mike had the occasional beer and she resented it.
Mike slid a hand over hers, but she reacted as if she’d been violated, and
snatched her hand away.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘I hate the way you do that. Slide a hand too softly on mine. It’s disgusting. Creepy.’
‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to be supportive. I know what you’re going
through.’
Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘How can you?’
He knew she was deliberately trying to pick a fight with him, so he glanced at
his watch, got up from the table and moved towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’ she demanded.
‘Time to get down the wine bar.’
‘It’s only ten-thirty.’
‘I said I’d give Craig a hand with the stock.’
‘We need to talk.’
Mike stopped in the doorway, a puzzled frown on his face. ‘What about?’
‘Your house. What do you plan on doing with it?’
‘I hadn’t planned on doing anything.’
‘You’re entitled to half of it. It’ll have to be sold.’
‘I know that. But there’s no rush. I’m getting by at the moment with the
haircutting and the occasional stints in the wine bar.’
‘You’re not going to let your wife have it all, I hope.’
Mike felt cornered and started to raise his voice. ‘I’ve not made my mind up
about anything yet.’
Maggie climbed down from her stool and came over to him. Her eyes were hard as
they locked onto his.
‘The stupid bitch’ll give all her money to those religious freaks.’
‘That’s up to her.’
‘And you’re just going to let her?’
‘She can do what she likes with her share of the house. That’s up to her.
Anyway, why are you so keen on my getting half the house?’
‘I thought we could pool our resources. Sell up, and get somewhere really
fabulous in Spain...or Cyprus.’
Mike shivered deliberately, ‘I can’t think of anything worse than life with a
load of ex-pats. Sorry, that’s not my scene at all. Now I’d better get down to
the wine bar.’
As he walked away from her down the hall, he could feel the tension in the air.
‘I’m coming down the wine bar later on,’ she yelled. ‘And if I want just one
glass of wine, why shouldn’t I have one?’
He ignored her and closed the front door.
As he did, he could hear her shouting some obscenities, and he dreaded
the thoughts of her turning up at the wine bar.
*
Ted Dorling had some annual leave and decided to spend some time pottering
about in the garden. His wife, Sandy, called him to the telephone. He came through the French windows into the
living room, scowling bad temperedly, and asked, ‘What does she want?’
Sandy shrugged, ‘Why don’t you ask her? I’ve got to dash or
I’ll be late.’
She pecked him on the cheek and hurried out of the house.
Ted went into the hall and grabbed the telephone.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Paris was fabulous, Ted.
Really wonderful.’
‘Oh,’ said Ted, in a mournful tone. ‘You’ve already been, have you? With this
woman. Total stranger.’
His mother raised her voice. ‘Well you could sound pleasant about it. Don’t you
want me to have a good time?’
‘Of course I do, but...’
‘But what?’
He couldn’t admit to her what his objection was. He was fifty three years old,
and his mother was eighty-three. He thought she might not live to see ninety
and, as he was her only child, he thought his inheritance would enable him to
take early retirement. But if she
planned on gallivanting around the world, then his dream of days spent on the
golf course vanished rapidly.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered feebly. ‘I suppose I just feel it’s...well, Dad
never liked going abroad. And neither do I...very much.’
‘You’re just like your father,’ Amy Dorling snapped.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means I always had to do what he said. I always wanted to go abroad. See
all those wonderful places.’
‘Eat all that foreign food,’ Ted added.
‘What’s wring with that?’
‘We always enjoyed plain food.’
‘That was because your father wouldn’t eat anything else.’
‘Well, anyway,’ Ted grumbled, uanble to find any sensible protest.
‘Listen, Ted,’ Amy shrilled. ‘I’m going to go abroad whether you like it or
not. I’m going to eat a lot of foreign muck. And I’m going to enjoy it.’
‘All right, all right! Keep your hair on.’
‘Anyway,’ his mother went on, ‘you haven’t really told me what your objection
is.’
Ted thought it was time to change the subject.
‘So what sort of food did you and your friend eat in Paris?’
There was a slight pause before his mother answered...with some reluctance, he
thought.
‘One meal we had steak and French fries. And the next day we had Sole Meunier
and fries.
Ted pounced. ‘In other words, plain old fish and chips!’
IN EPISODE 150
Donald persuades his friend to see a solicitor.