As Dave drove out of the pub car
park, two drunks tapped on the nearside window and made obscene suggestions to
Mary, who shrank into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead.
‘Get
lost, you ignorant pillocks,’ Dave muttered, and swung the car dangerously
close to one of them.
‘Thanks,’
whispered Mary as they pulled out onto the main road.
‘What
for?’
‘Your
moral support. Just because I did a
striptease...’
‘I
don’t know why you’re thanking me. I
didn’t do owt. Unless you want me to go back and run over that wally’s foot.’
‘Why
stop at just his foot?’
Dave
chuckled. ‘You really hated them, didn’t
you?’
‘Did
it show that much?’
‘Well,
they were a bunch of prats. Professional
types skiving off for the afternoon; letting their hair down.
Under pressure at work, they think they’ve
earned the right to behave badly.’
Mary
fumbled in her handbag for a tissue.
‘Bloke
running that pub must’ve made a packet.
Thirty-five notes a head. Mind
you, the food didn’t look bad.’
He
glanced at Mary and noticed she was crying.
‘You
alright?’
‘Yes,’
she sniffed. ‘I’m just relieved it’s all over.’
‘You’ve
not...not done any stripping before, have you?’
‘Once.
And I swore I’d never do it again.’
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and stuffed
the tissue back in her bag.
‘Well,
I know one thing: I don’t think we’ll be
asked back. The feeling was mutual.
I think they hated us, an’ all.’
‘Your
act...your act was very good. I thought
it was funny.’
‘You
were the only one who did.’
‘No...really.
I mean it.’
‘Apart
from the four letter words.’
Well,
I suppose they weren’t really...’
‘Necessary?
No, that’s ‘cause I’m a family comedian.
Like Jimmy Cricket.
So when Harvey
asked me to do this stag afternoon, I
just did the same material with swear words.
Idiot!’
Dave
swerved to avoid a motor cyclist.
‘So
where d’you know the slimy Harvey Boyle from?’
‘I
used to go out with Harvey.’
‘I’m
sorry,’ said Dave, backtracking. ‘I didn’t mean...’
Mary
laughed. ‘No, you’re right.
He’s a slime ball.
I was young and naďve when I went out with
him. I was a dancer and he got me my
first job in a professional pantomime.’
‘What
made you quit dancing?’
‘I
got married, had a couple of kids, then my marriage broke up and...I haven’t
danced professionally for eleven years.’
‘Couldn’t
you take it up again?’
‘Nobody
loves a fairy over forty.’
Dave
snatched a look at her. ‘You’re not
forty, are you?’
‘I’m
thirty-six. It was a joke.’
‘Oh...but,
joking apart, from what I saw this afternoon, your figure’s very...um...and
your movement...’ He could feel himself blushing.
‘What I mean is...’
She
smiled, secretly pleased. ‘Thanks for
the compliment. But this isn’t the way
back to Tunbridge Wells, is it?’
‘I
thought we’d cut across...go back a different way.
Across AshdownForest.
Be very pleasant at this time of day.’
She
chewed her lip thoughtfully. She had
only met him this morning. He seemed
sincere, but...
As
if he could sense what she was thinking, Dave said, ‘I just thought it would
erase memories of leering slobs. Don’t
worry: I won’t run out of petrol.’
‘Oh,
I didn’t think...’ she began, feeling guilty for not trusting him.
She didn’t know what else to say, so she
opened her window. The smell of fresh
cut grass drifted into the car, for an instant blotting out the still
overpowering stench of stale cigarette smoke on their clothes.
After
driving in silence for a while, Dave cleared his throat delicately before
asking, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to come back to my place for a bite to eat,
would you?’
Then he added
hastily, ‘No strings attached.’
She turned to
him and smiled. ‘Thanks for the offer.
Maybe another time. If it’s all the same
to you, Dave, I’d like to get back and have a nice long soak in the bath.
I feel dirty.
Then a cuddle from my two boys should help.’
‘Oh.’
He sounded disappointed.
‘When you drop
me off, I’ll give you my phone number.
We’ll make it another time. I
promise.’
*
It was Nigel’s birthday.
He arrived at Jackie’s like a small boy, full
of eager anticipation. He was taken into
the sunny living room where a walnut cake (his favourite) awaited him, with a
bottle of chilled white Lambrusco.
His
face lit up with surprise and pleasure, although he was secretly expecting
it. Jackie handed Nicky a box of
matches.
‘Would
you light the candles for me?’
Nigel
chortled. ‘I’m glad you’ve only put six
on the cake.
‘It’s
all we had,’ said Vanessa.
She
and Nicky had reluctantly agreed to attend their future stepfather’s birthday
celebration after much badgering from their mother.
Nicky
lit the candles and Nigel blew them out, spraying the cake with a fine shower
of spit. After singing a limp Happy
Birthday, Jackie and the girls gave Nigel his presents.
They all watched as he pulled a BHS bathrobe
out of its wrapping. He grinned
impishly.
‘Thank
you, darling,’ he gushed. ‘Just the
thing for our honeymoon.’
Nicky
left the room, saying, ‘I’ll get a knife to cut the cake.’
‘None
for me,’ said Vanessa. ‘I’m on a diet.’
Jackie
handed Nigel a small parcel. ‘This is
from the girls. Nothing very exciting,
I’m afraid.’
‘Ooh!’
Nigel squealed, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Socks!
Thank you.
Perhaps now might be an opportune moment to explain about my unique sock
system.’
He
raised his right trouser leg.
‘Notice
a piece of red cotton sown into the top of the sock?
I have different colours for different
days. It’s because I only wear dark,
plain socks, you see. That way I never
get them muddled up. I call it my sock
stock rotation. So when we’re married,
this little gimmick of mine will help you when you’re sorting out the washing.’
Jackie
stared at him, open-mouthed.
‘Excuse
me,’ said Vanessa, ‘while I throw up!’
IN EPISODE TWENTY-THREE ON TUESDAY
Harvey Boyle is none too pleased
with Dave’s stag act, and Mary has a major housing problem.
