EPISODE SEVENTY-EIGHT
Marjorie had been silent all the way back from
the centre of Tunbridge Wells. Ted
waited for the explosion he knew was coming.
But Marjorie kept him waiting, allowing time for her anger to grow. Each silent minute that ticked by pulled
Ted’s nerve ends to breaking point as he watched her going through the mail at
the kitchen table.
‘Cup of tea?’ he offered in a hoarse whisper.
She stared at him without replying, so he plugged the kettle in anyway.
Marjorie suddenly slammed the letters onto the table. ‘Sit down!’
Almost cringing, as if expecting to be slapped across the face, Ted meekly slid
into a chair at the table, well out of Marjorie’s reach. She stared at him with repugnance, her mouth
swept downwards with loathing. And she
visibly shuddered before speaking.
‘You disgust me. Filthy disgusting
worm!’
Ted opened his mouth to protest but was incapable of speech. He saw Marjorie shiver again.
‘To think I let you...’ she began, shaking her head at the incredulity of such
a thought.
Ted cleared his throat hurriedly and found his voice. ‘I know I lied to you, but it’s not what you
think.’
Marjorie’s eyes narrowed into pinpricks of venomous hatred, a hooded cobra
poised to strike. ‘Go on then,’ she
hissed, ‘tell me what I think.
Well? Come on.’
‘You think Donald and I are...’ Ted was unable to complete the sentence.
‘Oh-hoh,’ she sneered. ‘Donald, is
it? Quite a little gathering that was in
the precinct. You and your Donald and
his fat friend.’
‘He’s not my Donald. We just happen to share the same interests,
that’s all.’
‘Shakespeare. Pull the other one. What d’you take me for? I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.’
‘It’s true. I told you before, we just
like going to the theatre together.’
‘If that’s all it was, what was he doing round here that time? You and him, pretending he was interviewing
you.’ Marjorie’s eyes widened with
shock. ‘You weren’t...’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘You and him wasn’t...not in my house...’
‘No!’ Ted protested. ‘Not here...I
mean...not anywhere. He just came round
here to arrange a trip to the theatre.’
Marjorie gave an elaborate shudder, an expression of her revulsion. ‘This is my
house. You can pack your bags and
go. Now!’
Ted stared at her, open-mouthed.
‘But...but what about our baby?’
‘It’s my baby, not yours. You’re not coming within a mile of it when
it’s born. You’re not fit to be its
father. And I want you out of this house.’
‘But w-where will I go?’ Ted stammered.
‘I couldn’t care less.’
*
‘Careful! Hold it still!’ warned Dave as
the stepladder moved a fraction.
Mary looked up and smiled. ‘I’ve got
it. Don’t be such a baby.’
Dave slid the loft hatch across, then came hurriedly down the ladder. Mary giggled at the visible signs of relief
showing on his face. ‘A big baby!’ she
added.
‘I never could stand heights.’
‘It’s not exactly Mount Everest.’
Dave looked serious. ‘Like most fears, it’s not rational. Why d’you think I didn’t put them in the loft
sooner? I had no one to hold the ladder
for me.’
‘And here was I just thinking you were holding on to your memories.’
‘I was always torn between wanting to bury the past or resuscitate it. As you can imagine, the lad was mixed
up.’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘How many kids d’you know who had a woman for
his father?’
Mary took his hand and squeezed. ‘I’m
sure your dad really loved you.’
‘Oh, I know he did. I’ve often tried to
put myself in his place, wondering what it must have been like. All the time he devoted to me and he couldn’t
say ‘owt about our relationship.’
‘I think it’s better this way.’ Mary glanced up at the loft. ‘Healthier.’
‘But it won’t go away. I wish I had the
guts to go public. What stops me is fear
of ridicule. And for a comedian that
should be a bonus.’
‘But you want people to laugh at you, not feel sorry for you.’
‘Comedy isn’t just about telling jokes – which is what I do – it’s about
something absurd that people can recognize in themselves. If I had courage to stand up on stage and...’
He stopped, his eyes becoming distant. A
moment passed. Mary gave his hand
another squeeze. He sighed deeply. ‘Ah well – maybe one day.’
As he folded the ladder up, they heard the rattle of the letter box downstairs.
Mary froze. Dave noticed her anxiety.
‘Don’t worry. It’s probably just a
bill. Mind you, they can be pretty
frightening sometimes.’
He leaned the ladder against the landing wall by the bathroom and went
downstairs. Mary followed. She watched as he picked up a brightly
coloured postcard from the front mat.
She watched closely as he read it, biting her lip. Then he looked into her eyes, frowning with
concern.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s from him.’
She took the card – a view of Disneyworld in Florida – and read it, her voice hoarse and tremulous. ‘“Hang out the bunting, baby, Ronnie’s on his
way home. Should arrive any day now.
Love from your ever loving ex”’ Her eyes
were moist as she looked at Dave. ‘This
is a rational fear. He’s a
slimeball. Dangerous. I’m going to dread that phone ringing.’
Then fate intruded. Bang on cue the
telephone rang, making them both jump.
IN EPISODE SEVENTY-NINE
A remorseful Craig thinks he ought to go to the police about Tony Rice