EPISODE NINETY-ONE
Nigel Dropped Jackie off outside the Victoria Hall, Southborough. She waited for him to park the car in one of
the narrow streets opposite, frowning in concentration as she tried to remember
her opening lines, which had mysteriously been obliterated from her brain.
‘Nervous?’ Nigel asked as he approached her, grinning broadly.
Jackie shook her head. ‘I wish I’d never
become involved now.’
Teasingly, Nigel tittered and said, ‘Why?
You’re not nervous, are you?’
‘Of course I am,’ she snapped unintentionally.
Nigel squeezed her hand, kissed her cheek and said, ‘You’ll be all right.’
Then, looking at his watch added, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do for the
next hour. Why did you have to get here
so early?’
‘Because...oh, just because. Please try
to understand.’
A note of petulance crept into Nigel’s voice.
‘It’s a long time to hang around.’
‘There are pubs nearby. Go and have a
drink and a sandwich.’
‘Can’t you come with me?’
Jackie tutted. ‘No, I daren’t.’
Nigel’s face screwed up into a puzzled frown.
‘Daren’t?’
‘I daren’t have any alcohol. I’ll forget
my lines.’
Nigel shrugged. ‘Have a soft drink
then. What’s the problem?’
Jackie looked up at him, her eyes soft and appealing like a child’s. When she
spoke, it was with her helpless little girl’s voice. ‘I have to get backstage early, darling.
Please try and understand.’
‘Okay,’ he said, rather more abruptly than he intended. ‘I’ll see you afterwards.’
He turned and walked away. Slightly
hurt, Jackie called after him, ‘Aren’t you
going to wish me luck?’
He stopped and blew her a kiss. ‘I hope
it goes well. What is it they say?
Break your legs?’
Jackie giggled. ‘I think it’s just one
leg, actually. And don’t be late. It
starts at
seven-thirty.’
‘Don’t be daft. Why would I be late?’
‘It’s just that I know you.’
*
On his way home Mike rang Directory Enquiries to try to get the number of
Maggie’s
Wine Bar. But either it wasn’t listed
yet or it was in another name. He wanted
to warn
Maggie about turning up with Claire, but now it looked as if he was going to
have to
play everything by ear.
The wine bar was only a fifteen minute walk from their house, so they agreed to
walk there and catch a taxi home. As
they were halfway to the wine bar, Mike casually
mentioned that he might know Maggie.
‘You know that bloke Gary, who was killed in a car smash in
Ashdown
Forest?’
‘When was this?’
‘Nearly a year ago. I think it might be
his missus who’s running this wine bar.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I think her name was Maggie.’
‘It’s not an uncommon name. What makes
you think it’s her?’
‘I was round there once, cutting his hair, and I remember them talking about
opening a wine bar. It seems too much of
a coincidence.’
Claire, who had up until now only been half listening, walking with her eyes
fixed straight ahead, suddenly turned and looked at him, her eyes alert and
demanding.
‘Have you seen this Maggie since her husband died?’
Mike stared into the estate agent’s window as they passed, suddenly showing
great interest in house prices. Claire
repeated her question.
‘After her husband died, did you see this Maggie again?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you what happened? I
thought I did. It was embarrassing. I
turned up to cut Gary’s hair only a
week after the funeral. He had an
appointment...’
‘Well, you weren’t to know.’
‘All the same. It was awkward.’
‘So what happened?’
‘What d’you mean what happened?’
‘When you confronted the grieving widow like that.’
‘Well, what could I say? I just
apologised and went away.’
‘And did you see her again?’
Mike overdid a puzzled expression, frowning furiously, and laughed lightly.
‘Of course not. Why would I see her again?’
‘Well, Tunbridge Wells is not that big a town.
You could have bumped into her
on your travels.
‘Yes, well...I didn’t.’
Mike’s mouth felt dry. He realised he
had made a mistake. He should never
have mentioned Maggie in this way. He
had alerted his wife, aroused her suspicion,
and now it was too late to back-track.
He just hoped Maggie said all the right things.
And he prayed her body language didn’t give Claire any further clues.
‘Well, we’ll soon see,’ said Claire, ‘whether this is the same Maggie or not.’
Mike shivered. The way Claire had spoken
indicated that she was going to be
watching for every little look exchanged between him and Maggie.
*
Nigel was ten minutes late for the performance.
While at the Cross Keys pub, he’d
overheard a customer talking about the need for a new telephone switchboard,
and had
seized the opportunity to do some selling.
After an hour long discussion on the pros
and cons of various systems, Nigel stared at the pub clock and it suddenly hit
him that
he was late. He offered the potential
client a card, then ran all the way back up
the hill to Southborough, and caused an upheaval as he pushed his way to his
seat in the
third row of the Victoria Hall. He made
up for his lateness by laughing loudly at every
joke. He laughed so loudly at one of
Jackie’s lines that a woman sitting nearby stared at
him as if he was mad. It hadn’t been that funny.
Noticing her stare, Nigel gave her a wide grin.
‘It’s my fiancée,’ he explained
proudly.
*
When Alan got back from work, he found Pran lying on the sofa, staring at the
Richard
and Judy Show on Channel Four. His eyes
were distant, and he was clearly not taking
anything in. Alan summoned up all his
patience in an effort to be sympathetic and
understanding.
‘So how d’you feel?’
Pran rubbed at his forehead. ‘Bloody
awful.’
‘What did the doctor say?’
Alan noticed his partner was deliberately avoiding eye contact with him,
staring with a
fixed expression at the television screen.
Well?’ he demanded, the sympathy starting to
wither.
‘Not much really,’ said Pran, his voice deliberately monotone.
‘He must have said something.’
‘He said he couldn’t find anything wrong with me. He said the headaches could be caused by
depression.’
Alan tried to check his impatience by breathing out evenly. ‘And that’s it?’
‘Yeah, that’s about it.’
‘And did he sign you off?’
Pran didn’t answer, continued to stare at the TV screen, as if he had found an
item of interest.
‘Pran, I’m talking to you. What are you
doing about work? You’ve been off for
three days now. That’s why you need a
doctor’s certificate.’
‘I’ve already written to them at work.
I’ve handed in my notice.’
‘You what?’
Alan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
He felt the anger rising in his body, about to erupt like a
volcano. As he looked at his partner
stretched out on the sofa, he wanted nothing more than to smash the little
shit’s head in.
IN EPISODE NINETY-TWO
Is this the end of Pran and Alan’s relationship? And is Nigel likely to put his foot in it
again after his fiancee’s performance?