EPISODE EIGHTY
Maria lay with her feet up on the sofa, staring
at the telephone, willing it to ring.
She glanced at her watch and sighed.
‘He said he’d ring lunchtime.
Maybe he smells a rat.’
Vanessa, sitting in the easy chair opposite, said,’ He’ll ring.
But he likes to play games. Make
you think he’s going to ring, then...’
Before she could finish her sentence, the telephone rang. Maria resisted the temptation to pick it up
straight away and ran a hand over her bare midriff, toying with the ring in her
pierced belly button. She let it ring
three times before answering.
‘Hi! Maria speaking.’
‘Hi, Sweetheart. Jason.’
Maria smiled triumphantly at Vanessa.
‘You only just caught me, darling,’ she purred into the telephone. ‘I was just about to leave.’
‘Yeah. Sorry. Got held up on my last job. So how about it?’
She laughed, a throaty, sexy laugh.
Dirty, even. ‘Depends what you’re referring to.’
‘Dinner, of course,’ he said with mock innocence, but matching the sexiness in
his voice with hers.
‘Of course,’ she teased, I’d love to have a bite with you. I’ll cook us something special.’
‘But I’ve invited you out for dinner with me.’
‘I’d sooner stay in. More intimate. And – if I say so myself – I’m a brilliant
cook. So I’ll see you at half-eight
tomorrow. Okay? Oh, you don’t know where I live, do you?’
She gave him her address, then hung up and burst into laughter. ‘You don’t think I was over the top, do you?’
Vanessa shook her head and smiled.
‘Let’s face it, he’s got such a big ego, you could have been twice as
obvious and he wouldn’t have been suspicious.’
‘I can’t wait for tomorrow night. I’m
going to enjoy this.’
Vanessa’s eyes glinted. ‘Not half as
much as I am.’
*
Ted followed the man up the narrow staircase.
The man stopped suddenly as he ran out of breath, and coughed and
spluttered. ‘I ought to be in bed,’ he
complained. ‘There’s lots of bugs going
round.’
On the top landing, he unlocked one of the two doors and held it open for
Ted. ‘This is it.’
Afraid of catching the man’s germs, Ted squeezed past, holding his breath. The single room was depressingly small. And
squalid, containing a single bed with a grubby candlewick bedspread of
indeterminate colour, a cracked wash basin, an improvised wardrobe which was a
limp curtain on a rail, and a rickety bedside table with an ancient table
lamp. Beside the lamp lay an alternative
red light bulb.
‘Must have belonged to the other
tenant,’ the man explained.
Ted stared at it and frowned. Surely this
room could not have been used for...Ted drove the thought out of his mind. After all, this was Tunbridge Wells. That sort of thing didn’t go on here.
Seeing Ted hesitate, the man said, ‘I know it’s not exactly the Hilton Hotel,
but that’s reflected in the price.’
Ted felt nauseous. He wanted to get out
of here. But this was it. This was all he could afford. Hobson’s Choice.
‘I’ll...I’ll take it,’ he muttered reluctantly.
The man whipped out a filthy handkerchief and blew his nose copiously, before
using the same rag to wipe beads of sweat from his balding head. Ted tried to swallow and almost gagged.
‘What’s your work situation?’ the man asked as he closely examined the contents
of his handkerchief.
‘I work as a guard, on the railway.’
The man regarded Ted suspiciously. ‘I
see.’
‘I’ve just left the wife.’
There was a pause while the man thought about this. ‘Oh well, it happens. Not that it’s any of my business. Right!
Let’s get downstairs and I’ll do you up a rent book. I always give my tenants a rent book, just in
case they lose their jobs. That way
they’ve got something to give the unemployment benefits people.’
IN EPISODE EIGHTY-ONE
Marjorie has an unexpected guest.