Flings and Arrows Read online

  ‘That’s very kind. However, I think the moment has gone. But thank you.’

  ‘Any time my lovely.’ The elderly gentleman leaned sideways and stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Arnold.’

  June had to shuffle a little closer in order to shake the proffered hand. ‘June.’

  ‘I’ve seen you here before, calling your terrier. That’s how I knew his name.’

  June nodded politely.

  ‘Well now June. Do you fancy a coffee? There’s a little pavement café down the road. The dogs can sit with us untroubled.’

  June swallowed. Good heavens. Arnold was doing the very thing she used to do. Stalking. ‘That’s very kind Arnold, but Ralph and I need to get home. I’ve, um, a salsa class in a little while.’

  ‘I’ll bet you cut a dashing sight on the dance floor,’ Arnold edged up the bench. ‘You still have a very fine figure for a woman of your years.’

  Flustered, June stood up. ‘Thank you Arnold. I must be going. See you again sometime.’ She whistled Ralph to heel and smartly clipped the lead into place.

  Arnold doffed his hat. ‘I shall look forward to our next rendezvous.’

  June smiled stiffly. Damn. She’d have to change parks for a bit now.

  As she walked back to Jessamine Terrace, June’s thoughts once again turned to Harry. Last night had been such fun. Harry had stood on her doorstep, arms full of chrysanthemums and fine wine. He’d raved about her stew and dumplings. Even joked that he’d have to marry her. And everybody knew the saying...many a true word said in jest. They’d drunk all the wine. By the time they’d staggered into the living room, June knew she’d been more than a little tipsy. Harry had produced a CD from the inside pocket of his jacket. Sexy Salsa Hits. He’d slotted it into June’s little hi-fi, whacked up the volume and swept her into his arms. Dropping her briefly backwards so that she almost swept against the floor, Harry had given her such a smouldering look June thought she might burst into flames. Things were definitely hotting up.

  June stopped briefly and clung on to a lamp post. Her knees trembled as she remembered the feeling of Harry’s body pressed up against hers. Salsa wasn’t called Dirty Dancing for nothing. And boy – had they danced dirty. Harry’s hips had ground against hers as they’d cha-cha-cha’d up and down the living room, his hand in the dip of her back, her tummy squashed flat against his – what was that? – and all the time, the whole whole time, Harry’s eyes had been locked on hers, savouring her soul, feasting on her, devouring–

  ‘Are you all right June?’

  June let go of the lamp post. Steph was staring at her.

  ‘Gosh! Yes! Just went a bit dizzy. Don’t know what came over me!’

  ‘Do you want me to call the doctor?’ Steph was all concern.

  June was mortified. ‘No really. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t let me make you late for work. You’ll miss your bus.’

  ‘If I miss the bus another will be along in ten minutes. Here, take my arm.’ Steph came over. ‘I’ll walk you up to your door.’

  June decided that the quickest way to get rid of Steph would be to let her help. So she allowed herself to be guided through the wrought iron gate and up the steps to the front door. Steph put June’s key in the front door and led her into the lounge, Ralph bringing up the rear.

  ‘I’ll get you some cold water.’ Steph disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with a large dripping tumbler.

  June sipped obediently. ‘That’s better!’ she said brightly. ‘I think the weather was too hot for me. Now off you go Steph,’ June stood up decisively. ‘Thank you very much but I am absolutely fine.’

  ‘Good.’ Steph eyed June beadily. She wasn’t going to be fobbed off so easily. ‘Did last night go well?’

  ‘Perfectly. We spent half the night dancing,’ June beamed.

  ‘Yes, we heard the music,’ Steph said drily.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ June edged Steph towards the door. ‘We’ll keep it down next time.’ The phone started to ring. ‘I’d better get that. See you later!’

  June shut the door after Steph, darted across the hall and snatched up the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that the delectable, utterly gorgeous, naughty salsa queen June?’ husked a male voice.

  ‘Harr-eeee!’ June squealed.

  Chapter Seven

  As Steph hopped on the bus, she saw Tom stepping off. He looked dreadful.

  ‘Tom! Are you all right?’ she called after her son.

  He turned and opened his mouth to say something, but the automatic doors slapped shut cutting off any words. The bus lurched forward. Steph clung on to a handy post, eyes scanning for somewhere to sit. She shuffled forward and swung into an aisle seat. Fidgeting, she adjusted her clothing and then sat cradling her handbag. Swivelling round Steph scanned the pavement for Tom, but he’d already turned the corner into Jessamine Terrace. Rummaging in her handbag, she pulled out a mobile phone. Tom answered on the second ring.

  ‘No Mum. I’m not making a mess, I won’t eat the entire contents of the fridge, I won’t forget to wash up after myself and I won’t be going out tonight.’

  ‘Why do you look so awful? What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing’s happened. I’m just shagged.’

  ‘Don’t use words like that.’

  ‘Well what would you prefer me to say – I’m fucked?’

  ‘Tom I do not like,’ Steph lowered her voice, ‘shagging or fucking.’ Despite whispering, Steph was aware that the person sitting next to her had heard.

  ‘Chill Mum. University beckons in a couple of months. Then I’ll have to knuckle down. For now I’d rather spend summer shagging Florrie.’

  ‘Is that all it is to you? A shag?’ The person next to Steph was sitting up very straight now, clearly ear-wigging.

  ‘Well that’s all it is to Florrie! She’s not bothered anyway. I think she’ll dump me soon. In fact, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘So you’re saying it’s over?’ Steph’s travelling companion had edged closer, trying to hear what Tom was saying. ‘Well I hope you’re happy.’

  ‘Happy enough. Anyways, I’m really knackered Mum. I’m going to hit the sack. Don’t disturb me when you come in. Love you.’

  ‘I love you,’ Steph said miserably.

  Steph tossed the phone back in her handbag. She felt fed up. What with June’s love life revving up and Tom behaving like an alley cat, both served to remind her that it was just she and Si who weren’t getting their rocks off every night. Steph rubbed the heels of her hands in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t cry!’ pleaded the woman sitting next to her. ‘Bloody men,’ she warmed to her task. ‘They’re all bastards. Shag us and dump us, leaving us bewildered but still loving them.’

  ‘N-no, you don’t understand,’ Steph put up a hand to stop the woman’s flow. The woman noticed Steph’s wedding ring and her eyes narrowed.

  ‘You’re married?’ she hissed.

  Steph blinked. ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘Good God!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘So you were shagging a married man, he’s just ended it and you’re pathetically whining down the phone about loving him. Women like you should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘And women like you should mind your own business and not get the wrong end of the stick,’ Steph snapped. She was aware that the whole bus had listened to this little exchange. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and a hot flush was starting at the same time. A scarlet woman in every sense. Mercifully her bus stop came into view. She stood up and, holding her head high, strode towards the exit doors. Two minutes later she stalked into Tesco inwardly fuming.

  ‘Ooh, somebody got out the wrong side of bed this morning,’ called a voice. ‘I can see that big black cloud over your head from here.’

  Steph swung round. Shirley was hastening after her. Steph relaxed and smiled.

  ‘What would I do without my friend and colleague to help me through crappy days?’

  ‘Come on, we have ten minutes be
fore our shift starts. We’ll have a really quick cuppa and you can tell me all about it.’ Shirley steered Steph toward Tesco’s canteen restaurant.

  That was what Steph loved about this job. It had given her Shirley and the girls, camaraderie and a haven. That said, she also happened to love working for a supermarket. She’d done nothing else since leaving school and the hustle and bustle of customers and the constant blip-blip of check-out scanners was now in her blood. She lived and breathed the ever changing display shelves and thrilled at getting that first glimpse of new fashion in Clothing. Steph didn’t care that she’d never progressed up the working ladder to become a Supervisor or Area Manager. She was one of life’s plodders. Mrs Average. And that suited her just fine.

  Eight hours later, Steph headed towards the bus stop feeling totally soothed. So what if a stranger had thought she’d been bonking a married man? So what if Tom and Florrie went their separate ways sooner rather than later? So what if Si cared more about Chelsea Football Club than her?

  When Steph walked into Jessamine Terrace, she was surprised to see Si’s van parked right outside the house. He must have arrived home quite early to have secured that prime position. Pushing open the front door, the smell of roast chicken and Yorkshire pudding hung in the air.

  ‘Hello love!’ Si appeared in the hallway. ‘Let me give you a hug.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Steph leaned into her husband. ‘What’s the bad news?’

  ‘No bad news. In fact, good news. I’m in on a long-running contract with Terry.’

  ‘That is indeed good news,’ Steph smiled. Although she wasn’t so chuffed to hear it was with Terry. She didn’t feel he was always a good influence. Always flirting and generally up to no good. ‘Can I smell cooking?’

  ‘You can indeed.’

  ‘Good heavens. Is this to celebrate the new contract?’

  ‘No. It’s because I love my wife,’ Si said simply.

  Steph then felt ashamed for thinking Si loved Chelsea Football Club more than her. ‘And I love you,’ she said.

  ‘Go and sit down. We’ll slum it in front of the telly before Tom appropriates it. Here,’ Si handed her a glass of wine. ‘Have this. You even have time to go on Facebook for five minutes while I dish up.’

  Steph grinned. She picked up her laptop and went into the lounge with it. Sinking down into an armchair, she took a sip of wine and fired up the machine. Moments later she was viewing her profile page. Her eyes scanned some of the new postings from classmates who had attended Blackfen Primary.

  Hiya Steph, how are you? was the brief posting from Amanda Carpenter. Steph resisted the urge to respond with naffed off – was humiliated by nutcase on bus, fed up with sex-mad son, worried about either self or husband (or both) having mid-life crisis. Instead she tapped out, Fab! And you? God, thirty-four years of not seeing each other and she was exchanging the sort of polite small talk she used with customers. Thirty-four years of lost conversation should be flowing right now...screen pages full of it. But then again, Steph and Amanda Carpenter had never been close. They’d certainly not been on first skipping-rope terms. Steph moved the cursor down. She knew what she was looking for, who was she trying to kid? And there it was. Her heart rate picked up as she read the words Steph Garvey and Barry Hastings are now friends. She looked up and down her profile page. No greeting. Disappointment flooded through her. And then she spied the tiny number 1 over the Messages tab. She clicked on the icon and the screen instantly changed. Well hello gorgeous! Steph’s heart rate increased. How ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t gorgeous. But it was nice of Barry to say so. He probably greeted all his friends similarly. Love the profile pic! You were cute at school but I can see that you’ve bloomed into a real babe. Steph grinned foolishly. Daft man. Have the years been kind to you? From the way you look, I would hazard yes. Are you married? Kids? Do tell! Are you still in the Blackfen area? I’m living in London. Got an apartment overlooking the Thames. Never married. Couldn’t find anybody who matched up to you! Fancy a meet up? Facebook is fun but there’s nothing like one to one.

  ‘Here you are love.’ Si came through the door, dishcloth slung over shoulder, two steaming plates in his hands. He saw Steph click off Facebook but didn’t catch the expression on her face. If he had, he might have questioned it. Guilt. And excitement.

  Chapter Eight

  Si had slept badly again. He sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of strong coffee. His mind wandered back to last night.

  Tossing and turning, he’d dreamt he was at The Nut and Squirrel plumbing a rest room the size of a cupboard. Labouring away, he’d gradually become aware of being watched. Thinking it was Terry, he’d turned around and instead found Dawn. She’d done that funny thing with her tongue before stepping into his cupboard-room. Sweat and desire had instantly engulfed him. He’d tried to put his hands up to shove her away but her massive chest had pushed into his face, smothering him. And then he’d been unable to breathe. He’d flailed around, calling for Terry as a mixture of panic and sexual arousal engulfed him. Si had awoken to find himself half way down the bed, the duvet stifling him. He’d also had a huge erection.

  Si stared at his coffee miserably. The actual job at The Nut and Squirrel started tomorrow. This morning he was meeting Terry on site to discuss what was what. He hoped Dawn wouldn’t be there. Maybe it would be her day off. Even better, maybe she’d have left – handed her notice in or even been sacked. Si felt so guilty. Why had this barmaid invaded his slumber? He didn’t even know her! His thoughts wandered back to last night.

  Irritably he’d punched the pillow a few times, plumped it up, and then flopped back down. He’d stared at the ceiling and willed himself to think sobering thoughts...terrible World Cup memories...the pressures Fabio Capello must have been under. The steepling under the sheets had subsided. Si had then focussed on Capello, deciding he wouldn’t mind the manager’s pressures for six million a year. He could stop being a plumber. And if he stopped being a plumber, he wouldn’t have to see Dawn anymore. The duvet had promptly tented again. Frustrated, Si had turned over and looked at his sleeping wife.

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘You awake?’

  Si had known that disturbing his wife from slumber to initiate sex was iffy. Romantic overtures were essential in order to secure a successful result. Like soft music. Violins maybe. Something stirring to set the scene. He’d reached over to the clock radio. There had to be a DJ somewhere in the world playing smoochy music at four in the morning. Touching the switch, Talk Sport had blasted forth. Steph had rocketed upright in shock.

  ‘For God’s sake Si, what are you doing?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Hastily he’d hit the off button.

  ‘Why can’t you sleep?’

  ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘What?’ Steph had snapped irritably.

  ‘Do you fancy a bonk?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about a grope?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can we settle on a snog?’

  Steph had then seized the duvet with both hands, shaken it vigorously before presenting him with her back. ‘You have such a romantic way with words Si.’

  ‘Is that a no then?’

  She hadn’t bothered to reply.

  Si swirled his coffee around. Hearing a footstep he looked up. His wife came into the kitchen. She looked exactly how he felt. Si leapt to his feet.

  ‘Sit down love. I’ll make you breakfast. Sorry about last night.’

  Steph flopped down at the kitchen table. ‘That’s okay. Well it’s not okay really, but I won’t go on about it.’

  Si smiled and put a mug of steaming coffee in front of her. The toaster sprang up. Charred bread catapulted across the worktop. Si buttered it deftly before setting the plate before his wife. ‘Look Steph, I know I’m not very good with words and that but–’

  Steph took a bite of toast and glanced up at Si’s hesitation. ‘But what?’

  ‘W
e should make more time for one another. I feel like we’re drifting apart.’

  Steph immediately put the toast down. She looked shocked. ‘You’re voicing the very thoughts I’ve recently been trying to ignore.’

  Si gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘You’re always on Facebook.’

  ‘And you’re always watching football,’ Steph countered.

  Si spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Touché. You like your social networking. I like my footie. We can still do these things. But we shouldn’t be doing just these things. We should make an effort to have some special time together. How about we go on a proper date?’

  ‘What – you mean get all dressed up for each other? That sort of thing?’

  ‘Why not?’ Si looked animated. ‘In fact,’ he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed the cash from Mrs Johnson’s shower job, ‘I want you to go to the hairdressers and get some of those fancy highlights you’ve been hankering after. And here’s a bit extra for a new frock.’

  Steph got up from the table, a lump the size of a golf ball in her throat. She put her arms around Si and hugged him tight. ‘Just when I think you’re an emotionless pillock, you go and do something lovely,’ she sniffed.

  ‘That’s because I am lovely!’ Si grinned. He bent his head to kiss her.

  ‘Oh yuck!’ said Tom walking into the kitchen. ‘There’s nothing worse than seeing your parents getting slushy with each other.’ He picked up Steph’s untouched toast and took an enormous bite. Si released Steph, lips unkissed. There was nothing like a teenager killing the moment.

  ‘Where shall we go?’ asked Steph. Her eyes were shining with a light Si hadn’t seen in a long time. Something expanded inside his chest and burst forth. Joy!

  ‘I’ll leave the details to you Mrs Garvey,’ he winked. ‘Surprise me. Meanwhile, I’d better get myself to work. Bye love.’ Ignoring Tom, he pulled Steph back into his arms and this time kissed her full on the mouth.

  Feeling happier than he had in a very long time, Si grabbed the keys to the van. Whistling jauntily, he loaded his tools up and set off to The Nut and Squirrel. Things between him and Steph were back on track. He loved his wife. And nothing and nobody was going to change that.