EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN
Mike got off the bus, breathing a sigh of
relief. Next week he would get his driving license back. It meant no more
having to organise his haircutting all in one area on one day. But, he promised
himself, no more slipping into the pub for a quick pint in between jobs. But
for now, while he was using public transport, there was no need to worry about
being abstemious.
He slipped into the Cross Quays, which was quiet, and he had just bought his
first pint when who should come in but Ivor and his father; Ivor still in his
postman’s uniform.
‘Hi, Mike,’ Ivor greeted him, as the barmaid poured two pints, the
never-changing tipple of both father and son.
‘What news?’ Mike asked. ‘Getting a little Thai bride soon?’
Mike watched as Ivor’s father bristled, sniffing and wiping his nose with
finger and thumb.
‘He ain’t bringing her back to my house.’
Mike frowned, play-acting puzzlement for the father’s benefit. ‘Correct me if
I’m wrong, but I thought your son had bought the house. Paying the mortgage and
all that.’
Ivor’s father glowered at Mike and poked a finger in his chest. ‘Is that any
business of yours? Just keep your nose out of it. Understand?’
Mike nodded. ‘Yeah. Understood. Time to change the subject.’ He gave the father
a broad grin. ‘And how’s the Robin Reliant doing?’
*
Nigel sat in the conservatory, feeling the glow of the sun on his back, and
flicked through the “miracle” photographs.
Jackie came in with two mugs of coffee.
‘No biscuits?’ Nigel complained.
‘You were the one who complained your trousers were becoming tight.’
‘I know, I know. Still one little Jaffa Cake…’ He gazed at her with a childlike, pleading
expression.
‘I’ll get them in a minute,’ Jackie said, and sat down. ‘I wanted to talk to
you about something.’
Nigel sighed, knowing the Jaffa Cake would be overlooked.
‘You know I was telling you about Nicky’s boyfriend, Anthony – about the
conversation I had with him about my concerns about riding on the back of his
motor bike.’
‘What about it?’
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you – mainly because I’m not sure if I heard
correctly. He told me Nicky is old enough to make up her own mind, and he
called me an old bitch.’
Nigel, about to sip his coffee, almost spilt it. ‘He what?’
‘He was smiling as he was speaking, and in a very ordinary, conversational
tone, so I’m not sure I heard him correctly.’
‘Perhaps you didn’t.’
‘I think he did it deliberately, in a clever way. I really don’t trust him, and
I hope Nicky thinks twice about moving in with him.’
‘She’s only just got her own little flat, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think she’s very happy there. I think she’s finding it a bit
lonely.’
Nigel snorted. ‘As long as she’s not going to move back in here again.’
‘Nigel!’ Jackie admonished, and waved her finger at him, but she was only half
serious. Even she had to admit it was peaceful without both daughters present,
which always led to bickering.
‘And now,’ Nigel grumbled, ‘we’ve got an unmarried mother to look after.’
Jackie reached across and took Nigel’s hand. ‘I know, my darling, but we must
try to be Christian about this.’
Nigel nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’ll try my best. But even you have to admit, it
can be really difficult at times.’
No sooner had Nigel spoken, than a base beat from Vanessa’s bedroom began to
pound the peaceful autumn afternoon into submission.
‘You see what I mean!’ he said.
*
Anthony sat opposite Nicky on the patio outside the Guinea Butt. He topped up
their glasses from a bottle of rosé, and held his to the light.
‘I do love the colour,’ he said. ‘But the taste is always so disappointing. I
don’t know why. I suppose it’s because it doesn’t meet the expectations of such
an inviting and attractive look.’
Uncertain how to respond to this, Nicky decided to question her boyfriend on
the recent visit to her to see her mother.
‘What did you think of Mummy?’
Anthony frowned and toyed with his glass, and the silence stretched
uncomfortably.
‘Well?’ Nicky pursued.
He responded by placing a hand over hers. ‘Let’s not fall out over relatives. I
love you, Nicky. Suffice to say, I don’t have to have much to do with your
mother. I won’t be going round there again. You can go on your own.’
Nicky’s mouth opened. There was a slight pause as she recovered from the shock
of hearing this.
Anthony smiled and shrugged indolently, as if he couldn’t care less about her
feelings on the subject of her mother.‘But she’s my mother, Anthony!’
He smiled and stroked her cheek. ‘That lipstick you’re wearing. Dark red
doesn’t suit you. I much prefer you in something like light pink or the light
brown.’
Confused, Nicky stared into her drink, frowning, and wondering why Anthony was
so – what was the word – enigmatic, at times?
IN EPISODE 158
Paul contacts Vanessa.