EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-EIGHT
Nigel sat on the
fancy wrought-iron chair on the patio, dressed in his business suit, but had
removed his shoes and socks. Jackie joined him carrying a tray with two glasses
of cider. Placing the tray on the table, she glanced down at his feet.
‘Why didn’t you get changed out of your suit?’ she said. ‘It would have been
far more sensible.’ She giggled. ‘I know your feet get hot when you’re driving,
but to just remove your socks and shoes…’
Nigel leant over and picked up the discarded socks from the patio, and dangled
them accusingly in front of his wife.
‘Only one foot got hot,’ he complained, his voice stern like a teacher telling
off a pupil. ‘And guess why that was? Because I may have been wearing a sock I
had already worn. In other words, a dirty sock! What did I ask you to do for
me? Just sew little coloured bits of wool or cotton into each pair of socks, so
that this sort of thing doesn’t happen. Remember me telling you on countless
occasions about my sock stock rotation. Was that too much to ask?’
Vanessa came through the conservatory onto the patio and caught the last part
of Nigel’s grumble. She laughed harshly and said to her mother, ‘Oh, just tell
him to stuff it and do his own sewing.’
Nigel glared at her. ‘You keep out of this.’
Vanessa pulled an iron chair across the patio, which scraped jarringly across
the stone slabs, further annoying Nigel, whose glare intensified.
‘Well, the whole thing’s ridiculous,’ Vanessa went on. ‘Are we going back to
the good old days when women had to obey their men?’
Nigel threw his socks petulantly across the patio, and his face became sulky in
the extreme, which didn’t further his cause or complaint, because it was a look
which Jackie detested.
‘Don’t start all that feminism nonsense,’ he said, his lips pursed and his eyes
staring into the distance, perhaps dreaming of better days when women knew
their place.
‘You must admit, darling…’ Jackie began, timidly.
He rounded on her. ‘What! What must I admit?’
‘Things have changed.’
‘More’s the pity.’
Nigel cleared his throat noisily, and swallowed, causing both women to wince.
God! He’s got some disgusting habits, thought Jackie.
Vanessa was thinking how much she hated Nigel, and decided to dribble the ball
further into his area.
‘You really are worshipping in the wrong religion, Nigel. You’d be better off
as a Muslim.’ She stared pityingly at her mother. ‘So would you, Mummy. Then
you’d both be happy living in a man’s world.’
Nigel suddenly spluttered and his face creased into a mischievous smile, a
signal that he was going to retreat by turning the argument into a silly joke,
another trait of his that Vanessa detested.
‘You’d look good in one of those long black cloaks and hoods,’ he said to
Jackie. ‘With a little slit for us to post your letters.’
The last part of his joke he found hilarious and couldn’t contain himself.
Vanessa stared at him witheringly and Jackie smiled tentatively and looked
uncomfortably vague.
‘I think,’ Vanessa said, ‘that I’ve lost the will to live and I’m going back to
my room.’
Nigel, becoming serious again, sat bolt upright and said, ‘I’d appreciate it if
you could clear your mess up after you. You just leave things lying about for
your mother to pick up.’
‘It’s alright, darling,’ Jackie began, ‘Vanessa’s not been feeling well lately
and…’
Nigel shook his head vigorously. ‘Nonsense! She’s pregnant. So what! She’s
always been the same. And you damn well know it.’
‘I’ll see you later,’ Vanessa said as she swept through the conservatory to
escape Nigel’s indignation.
Nigel moved from the wrought-iron seat to a reclining chair, and sighed deeply
as he eased himself back, like a balloon deflating.
‘This can’t go on,’ he said.’
Jackie shrugged helplessly. ‘I don’t know what we can do about it. We can’t
turn her out onto the street, my own daughter; and in her state. That would be
un-Christian.’
‘No, but I have an idea. As a single mother, living on her own, she’d be
entitled to certain benefits. We’ll find her suitable accommodation.’
‘But, Nigel, those state benefits are meagre. They only provide for very basic
needs. I do know that.’
Nigel sighed contentedly as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face, soothing
his thoughts as his plan took shape. ‘I’ll make up any difference that she
needs in cash. The authorities will never know. I’ll give her a hundred pounds
a week. It’ll be worth every penny just to get rid of her.’
*
Penny wagged her finger at her stepson. ‘That’s the last of the Jaffa Cakes,
Donny. You’ve eaten the whole packet.’
‘I like Jaffa Cakes,’ he said, as if this excused his gluttony.
Penny smiled tolerantly and shook her head. It seemed unfair: Donny had not an
ounce of fat on him, whereas she only had to look at a single biscuit and…Must
be something to do with metabolism, she thought.
‘And I get bored,’ Donny added, his eyes a glimmer of crafty petulance. ‘If I
don’t get any exercise I’ll go mad. I need a walk.’
‘Someone might recognise you, son. You can’t go out there.’
He stared at her across the table with his little-boy-pleading expression.
‘Please. It’s early evening. It’ll be quite safe. There’ll be masses of people
walking back across the common, coming home from work.’
He pushed his chair back suddenly and stood up.
Penny’s intake of breath was loud and dramatic, because she guessed what his
next move was going to be. She knew that after hiding him for nearly three
months, cooped up without once venturing out, he was bound to feel
claustrophobic, like he was still in prison. Except, she thought, you probably
don’t get an unlimited supply of Jaffa Cakes in prison.
‘I’m going out,’ he announced. ‘Definitely. And you can’t stop me.’
She felt she was on the verge of tears and rose slowly and followed him to the
door. ‘Just promise me one thing,’ she began.
‘I won’t look at any girls,’ he snapped.
But the way he said it made her wary, and she crossed herself, even though she
had never been a churchgoer and wasn’t even batized.
*
When Mike arrived home he found Maggie lying in a heap on the kitchen floor,
fast asleep. He grabbed the cordless phone and dialled her parents’ number. Her
mother answered.
‘It’s Mike here,’ he said. ‘I’ve just found Maggie out-for-the-count on the
kitchen floor.’
Mike heard a gurgling sound and realised Maggie’s mother was crying. ‘Oh, Mike,
she’s in a bad way. We don’t know what to do.’
‘Where are the children?’
‘We’ve got them. They called us for help. Maggie was ranting and raving…and her
language in front of the children…’
Mike heard great heaving sobs as Maggie’s mother broke down again. He waited
for her to recover before asking, ‘Can you get them to school tomorrow?’
‘Yes, that won’t be a problem. Only, in the long term, we might have to
consider taking the children into care. They’d have to change schools. We
couldn’t drive over from Crowborough every day.’
‘Oh God!’ Mike grumbled. ‘This is such a mess. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.’
‘Can you come over here, Mike?’
‘I’ve got a few appointments in the early part of the morning, but I’ll try and
make it later.’
After he ended the phone call, he stared at Maggie’s slumped figure, her
breasts no longer firm, and her once-attractive face showing signs of ugly
debauchery, an unhealthy pastiness with red blotches.
Mike felt a sudden revulsion, and made up his mind that he would have to leave,
even if it meant just getting a room somewhere, until he could sort out his
half-share in his house.
*
Monika watched her husband as he slid his coat on at the front door.
‘You going out, dear, for a quick beer?’
He shook his head adamantly. ‘Market research, that’s what I’m doing.’
Monika looked blank. ‘You what?’
‘Doing a feasibility study of the Rusthall currency scheme.’
‘Oh that!’ she said, as if a child had just confided plans to travel in a time
machine.
Benny, annoyed by her lack of faith, said, ‘I also might have a beer while I’m
out. But that is not the sole purpose of my walk. I’m going across the common
to see Jessop down at Toad Rock. I’ll start with him.’
Determined to have the last word, Monika said, ‘Bit hot for that coat, I’d have
thought.’
Benny waved it aside and walked out the door. How was it Monika could never
understand his need – not matter how hot it was – to wear a coat? He needed his
pockets. Space to put things in. Things to be carried at all times. A notebook
in which to make notes.
So that he could have a bit of exercise, and think about his brilliant scheme,
he decided to take the long walk across the common. He was about halfway to
Toad Rock when he saw, about two hundred yards on the path ahead, a man pulling
a girl into the bushes. Had he imagined it? And was that a cry he heard? Were
they lovers, he wondered?
He had only caught a vague glimpse of the scene, but the girl had seemed
reluctant to go with the man. Benny quickened his pace to the spot in the
bushes where the two of them had vanished. Then he heard the terrified
scuffling sounds of a struggle, followed by her cries for mercy.
‘Please! No! Please don’t!’
And then the man’s voice, deranged and high-pitched: ‘Shut up, you whore, or
you’ll make me lose it. And once I lose it…’
Fortunately, Benny found a nice juicy, solid tree branch lying nearby. He picked
it up and went charging into the bushes with a roar like a bull elephant. The
man saw him coming and looked startled rather than frightened. Then Benny brought
the wood down hard on the man’s head. But it couldn’t have done that much
damage because the man took off like a hunted creature and vanished.
The girl, shaking and sobbing, looked up at Benny as if he was God himself.
‘Are you alright, miss?’ he said foolishly.
‘Oh, thank you. Thank you,’ she said, and threw her arms round him.
As he cuddled her, patting her back solicitously, he felt it was his lucky day;
although there was still a nagging disappointment that the police would have to
be called and statements taken, and his scheme to introduce the citizens of
Rusthall to their own currency would have to be put on hold for a while.
IN EPISODE 169
Mike decides to leave Maggie