EPISODE FORTY-NINE

While Marjorie was soaking in the bath, Ted dialled Donald’s number and waited, tense and alert. As soon as Donald answered, he spoke quickly and quietly.
‘It’s me – Ted. I’ll have to be quick. Marjorie’s in the bath.’
Donald chuckled. ‘I had a feeling you were going to ring tonight. How was the holiday? Rekindled any old amorous feelings towards wifie?’
‘I’ll tell you about it later.’
Donald exaggerated the eagerness in his voice. ‘Really!’
‘I mean about the holiday.’
Flatly, Donald replied, ‘Yes, that’s what I thought you meant. So can we meet later?’
‘No, I can’t. Not tonight. I was phoning to see how Bamber is.’
‘I haven’t escaped the assault of Heavy Metal on my eardrums.’
‘What?’
‘Bamber’s fine. It wasn’t malignant. He’s recuperating at his mother’s in Lewes.’
The news was slow to hit Ted. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the right words.
‘Hello? You still there, Ted?’
Ted panicked. ‘I’ve got to go. Marjorie’s coming. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
He hung up. It was a lie. Marjorie was still soaking in the bath. Why had he hung up so suddenly? Was it because he was disappointed? Had he been expecting news of Bamber’s death, and was now disappointed because he was going to have to share Donald’s friendship again?


*

As Dave drove down Yew Tree Road his depression lifted a bit. Okay, he was flat broke, but at least he now had someone to share his problems. His credit cards were already stretched to breaking point, but what the hell! Soon he would find some solace in the arms of Mary. He glanced at his watch. It was just gone half-twelve. They would have a few hours in bed together before the kids were due home from school.
As luck would have it, he found a parking space near his house, and noticed his neighbour opposite had taken to putting a cone outside his house when they were out. Trying to stop the High Brooms to London commuters from parking. Dave found this annoying. After all, the man had no right. It was all very well stopping the commuters from parking, but...
As he opened the front door, he heard the pounding beat of music coming from the kitchen. He didn’t want to make Mary jump, so he called out:
‘Hello! It’s me. I’m home.’
The radio was switched off. Mary looked startled as he entered.
‘Dave! What are you doing home? I thought you’d be performing tonight.’
‘The management have gone bust. It’s all gone belly up.’
Mary opened her mouth wide before speaking, pantomiming alarm. ‘Oh, what! I hope they paid you off.’
‘A big fat nothing. Sod all. The management went into receivership before anyone got a penny. What a washout.’

*

‘It’s for you,’ said Vanessa, handing her mother the phone. ‘Lover boy.’
Jackie tutted and scowled at Vanessa as she took it. She heard Nigel’s braying laugh at the other end of the phone.
‘I heard that,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry...’ Jackie began.
‘So am I,’ he purred. ‘I know I’m not the easiest person to live with but I intend to mend my ways.’ He dropped his voice to an affectionate whisper. ‘Sugar-pie?’
‘Y-e-s?’ Jackie answered cautiously.
‘Wedding bells will still ring out in the Autumn, won’t they?’
‘I still love you, Nigel. But I think it would be better if I lived here with the girls until then.’
She pressed the telephone closer to her ear.  Nothing. A wall of petulant silence.  ‘Hello? Nigel? You still there?’
‘It’s about the open air concert I said I’d take you to next week. It’s a bit tricky. I’ve got to go away on business. A C.T.I. course.’
‘A what?’
Computer Telephone Integration. Must keep abreast of the latest technological developments, you know.’
Jackie sighed understandingly. ‘Oh well, not to worry. You mustn’t let a concert stand in the way of work. It’s your livelihood, after all.’
She was so understanding, Nigel began to feel guilty. They said their goodbyes, blowing kisses down the line, then gently clicked down their telephones.
Nigel sat at his office desk, thoughtfully chewing his lip. On the desktop lay his Bible. He picked it up and tears swam into his eyes.
‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t ever lie like that again. I promise. But it’s not as though we’re married yet. And I could do with a little...’
He searched hard to find the right words, not wishing to offend the Almighty, or whoever might be listening. Eventually he found the least offensive euphemism.
‘A little break,’ he said. ‘After all, I’ve worked hard this year.’
Then he opened the bottom drawer, tucked the Bible out of mind, and telephoned his lonely heart contact.

IN EPISODE FIFTY

Mike has words with Andrew and the worm begins to turn on Marjorie.


Episode Fifty  Homepage