Flings and Arrows (11 page)

‘Yes!’ June was relieved Arnold understood.

‘So,’ Arnold furrowed his brow, ‘I’m presuming your friend doesn’t want to
get
active.’

‘Absolutely!’

‘Does your friend feel under pressure about this?’

‘Very much so.’

‘And how long has your friend known this gentleman?’

‘Not long. Not long at all.’

Arnold tutted. ‘Whatever happened to old-fashioned extended courtships?’

‘My friend’s boyfriend believes that if you’re drawing a pension, time is of the essence. You could be here today, but gone tomorrow. He thinks you should grab what you want with both hands before the Grim Reaper grabs you.’

Arnold chuckled. ‘Well that’s all well and good so long as two people are like-minded and want the same thing.’ He gave June a level look. ‘But I don’t think your friend’s chap is much of a gentleman. Because if he were, he would be more sensitive to her feelings. Not just his own.’

June opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it again. She had a sudden flashback. Being jammed against her letterbox. Harry’s mouth on hers. In front of the street and certainly in front of Tom and his friend. Had that been gentlemanly? Harry insisting on playing loud salsa music when June had told him to think of her neighbours. Was that gentlemanly? Harry trying to rush her into sharing his bed. Did a real gentleman only consider his own lusty goals in life? The answers were no, no and no. June felt misery wash over her. She so wanted Harry to be The One.

‘Well, he’s got a lot of good points. Apparently.’

‘And they are?’

‘He has a big house. And a posh car. And he took her out for a lovely meal. They watched the sun set while drinking champagne.’

‘Big houses and posh cars aren’t everything June. It’s the company that’s important. Not the trappings. Who drank the most champagne?’

‘My friend did. Her boyfriend had to drive.’

‘Ah. One could argue that he plied your friend with champagne. Did they become – er –
active
after consuming the fizz?’

‘A little active. And then my friend sobered up and asked him to go home.’

‘Well I’d probably be inclined to tell your friend to take things at a slower pace. If this chap is genuine, he’ll be happy to wait. For ever if necessary.’ Arnold reached down and patted Milly. Ralph immediately head butted Arnold’s hand for attention too. Arnold laughed. ‘There you are boy. There’s plenty of fuss to go round.’

June watched Arnold stroking Ralph. She could tell that her little terrier liked Arnold. She drained her cup and stood up.

‘I’d better make a move Arnold. I’ve been here far too long.’

‘It’s been a pleasure June. And hopefully our paths will cross again in the not too distant future.’

‘Thank you. That would be most pleasant.’

As June walked home with Ralph, she thought what a nice man Arnold was. A very nice man indeed.

Chapter Twenty Two

Si was not happy. He’d been stuck in Accident & Emergency for hours. Progress had been slow. First, the main waiting room. Second, a cubicle. Third, a trip to X-Ray with Dawn in a wheelchair. And now, having finally had the offending foot photographed, they were sitting in yet another grey waiting room.

Si rubbed his eyes. God he felt tired. For somebody who professed to be in terrible pain, Dawn had remained incredibly chipper. She’d prattled on and on all evening. Si knew her life story. Every bad boy she’d ever hooked up with. And he’d heard all about Melody, Dawn’s eighteen year old daughter. Melody, Melody, Melody. From cutting her first tooth to taking off to Blackpool for a few days with an ex-con. Si had nodded sympathetically and agreed that teenagers were indeed hell. But he was more concerned about the hell Steph was going to give him. Si kept thinking back to his wife standing on the doorstep. She’d looked a million dollars. All dressed up with nowhere to go.

A harassed registrar appeared. He was holding Dawn’s X-Ray. ‘Come with me please.’ Si pushed Dawn’s wheelchair into a side room. The registrar put the X-Ray on a light box. ‘Okay, this looks perfectly normal. No breaks. No hairline fractures.’

‘But I’m in agony,’ Dawn protested. ‘Look at my foot.’

The registrar knelt down. ‘Some local bruising and a bit of swelling.’ He gently rotated the ankle to the left and right. ‘Does that hurt?’

Dawn promptly burst into tears. Si felt wretched. If only he’d not flung the blasted wrench down. Stupid fool. Terry was right. He should have known better. Si patted Dawn’s hand awkwardly. She promptly grabbed it and clung on tight.

The registrar stood up. ‘Keep the foot elevated. Lots of Nurofen. Ice packs. Bags of frozen peas work wonders.’ He looked at Si. ‘You may take your wife home.’

Si had opened his mouth to correct the registrar, but then closed it again. The doctor wouldn’t care whether Dawn was his wife or not. And all Si really wanted was to get home to his real wife. Dawn was given a pair of crutches. Slow progress was made to the car park. Si stole a look at his watch. Nearly two in the morning.

He switched on his mobile. It lit up and tinkled a voicemail announcement. He clamped the phone to his ear. It was Steph.

‘It’s midnight and I’m going to bed. Hopefully you won’t be much longer.’

Very terse. You didn’t need to be Mystic Meg to work out Steph was hacked off. He helped Dawn into the van, tucking the crutches in beside her. Si slotted the phone into the hands-free and started the van up. He decided against returning Steph’s call. She wouldn’t thank him for being disturbed. He’d drive Dawn home and with a bit of luck be in his own bed in less than an hour.

‘Okay love, where do you live?’

‘Hurst Road. It’s not too far from here. I hope I’ll be able to get up the staircase,’ Dawn sniffed.

Ten minutes later Si pulled up outside a terraced house. Going ahead of Dawn, he opened the front door and flicked on lights.

‘Right. Let’s see about these stairs.’

‘I don’t feel confident Si. I’m worried I’ll fall.’

‘Well what about shuffling up and down on your bottom?’

‘No. I’d still have a problem getting myself upright. I’ll have to sleep downstairs. I have a sofa bed.’

Si went into the lounge. A three seater sofa filled one wall. There were no armchairs. He removed the sofa cushions, unfolded the mattress and fetched Dawn’s duvet and pillows.

‘Could you fetch me my wash bag pet?’ Dawn asked. ‘There’s a downstairs shower room so I’ll be all right for having a wash.’ Si puffed up the stairs again. ‘Oh, and could you bring my nightie?’ she called after him. ‘It’s in the drawer by the bed.’

Si grabbed the wash bag. He was taken aback by Dawn’s nightdress. It was little more than a scrap of lace. Steph wore cotton nightdresses. Sensible garments that came down to her knee. He hastened back to the lounge.

‘Thanks pet,’ said Dawn. ‘I’ll just have a quick wash. I’ll leave the door unlocked. If you hear a crash you’ll have to rescue me.’

Si wasn’t a religious man but he found himself praying.
Please God, let Dawn stay upright. Please God, let me go home. Please God, let me get some sleep.

A little while later Dawn hobbled out of the shower room in a cloud of perfume. The flimsy nightdress barely covered her modesty. Si studied a picture on the wall. The lounge seemed to shrink. The sofa bed dominated the room. He looked at his watch. Quarter to three. Oh for some sleep.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Si said.

‘Before you go, I’d be very grateful if you could bring me a glass of water and some Nurofen. They’re in the kitchen drawer.’

‘Of course.’

Si found the pills and filled a tumbler with water. When he returned, Dawn was propped up in bed. The duvet was tucked under her ample chest. Si averted his eyes. The nightdress left little to the imagination.

‘Here we are,’ Si handed her the water and tablets. ‘Right then,’ he hovered awkwardly. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Just one more thing pet.’

Oh God. What now?

‘I haven’t got any packs of frozen peas. Could you give my foot a massage? Just for five minutes. I think it would really help.’

Si hesitated. And then he remembered Terry’s grim face. The words
compensation claim
reverberated through his head. ‘Sure.’ He perched on the edge of the bed.

‘Let me move over,’ said Dawn, ‘and make a bit more room for you. That’s better.’

She placed her foot on Si’s lap. Si noticed that Dawn had very dainty feet. Her toenails were polished bright pink. They looked like pretty seashells. Carefully, Si began to massage. ‘I’m not hurting you?’

‘No pet. That’s lovely. Mm,’ she sighed. ‘Keep going. Ah. Ooh. You’re right on the spot. Ah. Ooh. Mmmm. Don’t stop. Oh yes. Oh my God. Ah. Ooh.’

As Si rhythmically worked his fingers on Dawn’s foot, his eyelids grew heavy. Dawn’s perfume soothed his senses. The sound of her soft gasps was hypnotic. He needed to close his eyes. Just for two minutes. Si’s kneading grew slower. He wasn’t aware of keeling over. Nor was he aware of two strong arms – used to lifting beer barrels – pulling him up the sofa bed. Seconds later the duvet was tucked under his chin. God had answered one of his prayers. Si was sound asleep.

Out in the van, his mobile phone began to ring.

Chapter Twenty Three

Steph hung up the phone. She’d rung Si’s mobile half a dozen times now. Each time it had gone to voicemail. Why wasn’t he answering? Surely he wasn’t
still
at the hospital! Steph telephoned Queen Mary’s and asked to be put through to Accident & Emergency.

‘Hello. Are you able to tell me if a Mr Simon Garvey is in your waiting room?’

‘Are you a family member?’

‘I’m Mrs Garvey.’

‘One moment.’

There was a pause while the receptionist liaised with a colleague. Steph heard mumbled voices.

‘There’s no Simon Garvey in the waiting room. Do you know why he came to Accident & Emergency? I might be able to re-direct your call.’

‘Oh it wasn’t Si needing a doctor. It was a lady. His work colleague. Dawn. I only know her Christian name.’

‘In that case I’m not allowed to give you any information. I’m very sorry.’

Steph put the phone down. It was gone three in the morning. Si had left Jessamine Terrace hours ago. Dawn must have seen a doctor by now. But without knowing her surname, Steph had no chance of locating Dawn’s whereabouts. Steph pondered. What if Dawn’s foot was smashed to smithereens? And she needed an operation? Maybe she was being gowned up for emergency surgery at this very moment. Steph frowned. But Dawn had not looked in any great pain to Steph. In fact, as she’d sat in the passenger seat of Si’s van, she’d looked pretty damn smug. So
where
was Si? Once again Steph experienced a feeling of unease. She made herself some hot milk and took it up to bed. Perhaps it might help her sleep.

Steph plumped the pillows up behind her. Comfortable, she drank the hot milk. The house was quiet. Unusually so. No blaring salsa music. No football chanting. In the room next door, Tom’s bed springs were silent. She wondered who he was staying the night with. He’d been very coy about sharing the details. All Steph knew was that Tom and Florrie were no longer an item. Well whoever this new girl was, she surely had to be an improvement on Tom’s last relationship.

The alarm clock screeched and Steph jolted awake. She hadn’t even been aware of dropping off. Half past seven. And still no sign of Si! She flung back the duvet and stomped into the bathroom. Her eyes felt gritty, her head heavy. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. Work beckoned. But Steph didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to find her husband. She rubbed a towel over her face. What if he’d had an accident on the way home from A&E? Steph’s blood ran cold. She sprinted to the phone.

‘Accident & Emergency please.’ Her heart was pounding. ‘Hello? I think my husband might have had an accident. Was a Mr Simon Garvey admitted in the early hours of this morning? Yes, I’ll wait.’ Steph tapped her foot. Hurry up. ‘No? Are you sure? Okay. Thank you.’ She hung up.

Who else might know Si’s whereabouts? Terry! But Steph didn’t have Terry’s telephone number. What was the name of that pub Si and Terry were working at? Steph chewed her lip thoughtfully. The Nut and Squirrel! The Landlord answered on the second ring.

‘Terry?’ he repeated. ‘Yes, he’s just arrived. Hang on a minute love and I’ll get him for you.’

When Terry came on the phone, his jollity sounded forced. ‘Steph! How are you?’

‘Annoyed Terry.’

‘Ha ha,’ Terry brayed. Steph knew she terrified the pants off him.

‘Where’s Si?’

‘He’s not in yet.’

‘Yes I’d worked that out for myself Terry,’ Steph enunciated. ‘Si isn’t at Queen Mary’s. And he’s not at work. So where do you think he might be, hmm?’

Steph heard Terry puff out his cheeks. ‘Gosh. Well. I would imagine he’s on his way here.’

‘I don’t think so Terry. If he were on his way to the pub, he’d be answering his phone. And he’s not picking up.’

‘How strange.’

‘No it isn’t. It’s quite obvious to me where Si is. He’s at Dawn’s house.’ There was a resounding silence. Steph was the first to break it. ‘I want Dawn’s address.’

‘Now look love,’ Steph could imagine Terry putting up his hands. He sounded desperate to end the call. ‘I don’t know where Dawn lives.’

‘I don’t doubt that Terry,’ said Steph patiently. ‘However, the landlord will know. I want you to find out Dawn’s address for me. I don’t care how you go about it. Just get it. Now. I’m waiting.’

There was a pause. ‘Hang on a minute.’

Steph waited. Her legs started to tremble. She didn’t know if it was from lack of sleep, or fear of what she was planning to do.

‘35 Hurst Road. I didn’t give you that information.’

‘And I didn’t ask,’ said Steph. She hung up without saying good-bye.

Steph made the bed and quickly dressed. She couldn’t be bothered with breakfast. Right now food would stick in her throat. Gathering up her mobile phone and handbag, she slipped out of the house.

‘Morning dear!’ It was June picking up her milk from the doorstep. She was probably the only person in the road who still had the milkman deliver. ‘I’m really looking forward to our little dinner party tonight.’