EPISODE SEVENTY-SIX
Sitting in his part time secretary’s swivel
chair, Nigel looked up at Mike and
smiled. ‘I owe you an apology.’
‘What for?’ Mike carefully snipped the
front of his client’s hair.
‘I had an interim cut at a barber shop.
I regret that now. That bit
sticking up at the back has driven me berserk.’
‘Don’t worry. I haven’t been cutting
hair for months.’
‘Oh. Why’s that then?’
Mike waved the hand with the scissors in front of Nigel’s face. ‘Hand’s just come out of plaster. Had all my fingers broken.’
Nigel frowned, acting concerned. ‘Oh
dear! Nasty!’ He sniggered suddenly.
‘Who did you upset?’
‘I think the bloke what done it was a professional breaker of bones.’
Nigel looked closely into Mike’s face for signs of a leg-pull. ‘You’re having me on.’
Deadpan, Mike said, ‘That’s right. I’m
pulling your plonker. I shut it in the
car door.’
Nigel winced with imaginary pain.
‘Ouch! So how have you
managed? I mean financially.’
Mike shrugged. ‘Had to dip into some
savings.’
‘Well, you’ll need to top them up again.
I’ve got just the thing if you’re interested. A nice little sideline. Selling pet food direct to the customer. My son got me onto it. He’s sold tons of it. And if a potential customer falters, guess
what he does. He opens a tin of cat or
dog food and eats it himself. Trouble
is, he’s putting on weight.’ Nigel
laughed uproariously. ‘So how about it?’
‘Thanks,’ said Mike. ‘But no thanks.’
*
‘Hi, Lisa,’ said Vanessa as she squeezed into the narrow gap between the fixed
table and chair in the college snack bar.
‘Anything to report?’
The girl seated opposite nodded gravely, but there was a glint in her eye. ‘Jason’s friend Paul was in the Sussex last night, slightly worse for wear. He told me everything.’
Vanessa leaned forward. ‘And?’
Lisa smiled, enjoying the moment. ‘Are
you ready for this?’
Vanessa drummed her fingers on the table.
‘Lisa!’ she warned. ‘Where
Jason’s concerned, I don’t have a lot of patience. And I don’t have much time. I’ve got to go in a minute. So come on.
Apart from working his way through all the female students at
West
Kent
College, what’s he up to?’
Lisa sniggered, tilting her head back.
‘It’s not just students. It’s any
girl he can get his dirty little paws on.’
‘What’s he trying to prove?’
‘Ah-hah!’
Vanessa glanced at her watch irritably. ‘Oh come on, Lisa. I know you’re dying to tell me.’
Lisa fiddled with her Marlboro packet, trying to resist the temptation to light
up another cigarette. ‘I like keeping
you in suspense,’ she teased.
‘Lisa! I don’t have the time. I’ve got to know before I get back.’
‘You’re still gunning for him then?’
‘Well, aren’t you?’
‘I’d like to see him get his come-uppance, but...’ Lisa tried to stifle a sudden giggle. ‘I could have chosen my words a bit better. Then, seeing Vanessa’s serious expression,
added, ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so obsessed with revenge. He’s not the first bloke who wants to screw
anything that moves.’
Vanessa dug her nails into her palms.
Lisa could be infuriating. ‘Just
tell me what this Paul said.’
‘If you ask me, Jason’s one digit short of a phone number. Apparently he wants to get into the Guinness
Book of Records as the bloke who can prove he’s had the most number of women in
a year.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I told you he had a screw loose.’
‘So that’s why he’s recording all his conquests. He needs the proof.’
Lisa grinned and shook her head. ‘If it
wasn’t so sad, it’d be funny.’
Vanessa’s nostrils flared angrily.
‘We’re the ones who are sad, letting him use us like that.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’m not sure yet. But by the time I’m
through with Jason, he’ll wish he was celibate.’
Lisa grinned. ‘Any help you need, you
can rely on me. Whatever you decide to
do to him.’
Vanessa looked at her watch, and stood up.
‘I’d better go...’
‘Another thing Paul told me,’ said Lisa hurriedly. ‘He said Jason had heard about that club
owner, Peter Stringfellow, having had thousands of women, and he wanted to go
one better.’
Lisa laughed and shook her head.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I don’t think I told you, Vanessa, but Tom and I went up to London a couple of weeks back, and we went to see this Stomp show. We were walking along the Strand, past the
theatre where Chicago is on, and Tom
spotted Peter Stringfellow going in to see it, accompanied by this young twenty
year old in a short skirt. She was all
over him, and he must be old enough to be her grandfather.’
Vanessa frowned thoughtfully. ‘If he
wanted to impress a young girl, why Chicago? It’s not
exactly a current show. It must have
been running for years.’
Lisa laughed delightedly. ‘Yes, it
probably opened before the girl he was with was born.’
*
Donald surveyed the damage in the hall.
The carpet was ruined.
Fortunately the water hadn’t spread as far as the living room, at least,
not to any great extent, so he would only need to replace the hall carpet. The de-humidifiers he had hired, one for
upstairs and one for downstairs, he would leave on, probably for the next three
weeks, if not longer, until there was no trace of damp.
He felt tired. Drained. He had spent
until the early hours with bucket and mop, attempting to soak up the worst of
the flooding. Then, after he’d gone to
bed, he spent hours tense and angry, cursing Bamber, and also cursing himself
for being so stupid as to underestimate him, treating him like an idiot. Eventually he decided it was his own stupid
fault, and he fell into a restless sleep.
More like a dose, really. And now
he was shattered, kept rubbing his eyes, and felt a strange buzzing in his
ears. He decided he would have another
strong espresso, then got down to the Pantiles shop and open up. There was nothing more he could do here.
The hall telephone rang and he picked it up.
As soon as he had given the number, he heard nothing. He thought it was the pause before a sales
call, was about to hang up, when he heard Bamber moaning.
‘Oh, Donald! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to...well, yes I did.
It’s just...I was so angry.
Jealous.’
‘You don’t like Shakespeare!’ Donald snapped incongruously. ‘I just needed a friend to go to the theatre
with, that’s all it was.’
Bamber gave a dry, ironic laugh. ‘Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Donald. I know there’s more between you two. Am I right?’
Donald left too long a pause before answering.
‘No, don’t be a silly boy.’
He realised it sounded weak and Bamber pounced on it.’
‘You’re lying. I know you are. I can tell.
Maybe at first, there was nothing in it.
Just the two of you going out to the theatre. But not now.
That’s why I got so angry. Why
didn’t you tell me, instead of deceiving me like that? That’s what I couldn’t take. The lies.
Treating me like an idiot. I’m
sure the three of us could have worked something out.’
Donald’s voice dropped to a whisper.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You know very well. I’d sooner the
three of us were having a bit of fun, instead of all that deception. So how about it?’
Donald cleared his throat softly.
‘Okay. Come back home and we’ll
talk about it.’
IN EPISODE SEVENY-SEVEN
Pran freaks out at work, and Marjorie discovers more of her husband’s dark
secret.