Flings and Arrows (16 page)

Si had a sneaking suspicion that Harry already knew what he was driving. However, he went along with the conversation. It was, after all, the first time Harry had actually engaged him in any. Si also knew that June was anxious for his approval of Harry.

‘Well in my line of work it’s more practical for me to have a van.’

‘Oh, poor you,’ Harry feigned sympathy. ‘What line of work would that be?’

Si popped a second tin of lager. ‘I’m a plumber.’

Harry pulled a face. ‘Suppose somebody has to do it.’

‘He’s a very good plumber too,’ said Steph sounding both pissed and pissed off.

‘I’m sure he is my dear girl.’

Steph gave another series of squeaks and jerks. She settled down when June re-appeared with the uncorked wine.

‘Come on folks,’ June wobbled on her killer heels. ‘Drink up!’

There was a moment’s silence while cold liquid soothed hot mouths.

‘Forgive me but I’m absolutely full,’ said Si. His stomach gave a loud rumble of hunger. ‘Fabulous meal love.’

Harry and Steph noisily agreed.

‘Gosh there’s an awful lot left over,’ said June in dismay.

‘Perhaps sweet little Ralph would like it,’ Harry suggested unkindly.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Steph. ‘The chicken might be too hot for him.’

Si swigged his lager and looked across at his wife. She was pink from too much wine and not enough dinner. She also looked unspeakably beautiful. Si felt a rush of love. Smiling to himself, he levered off a shoe. Extending his foot under the table, he walked his toes up Steph’s leg. Wouldn’t she be surprised at him playing footie-footie! But the surprise was all Si’s. Two seconds later his big toe had been speared by Steph’s fork.

Chapter Thirty Three

June was squiffy. But not so squiffy as to recognise that something somewhere and somehow had gone wrong. One minute Si had been smiling and sipping his lager, the next he’d given a blood curdling cry and fallen off his chair, lager slopping everywhere. Steph’s hands had fluttered to her mouth. She’d rocketed upwards, her chair crashing backwards. Ralph had instantly abandoned sentry patrol and was now rushing around the living room barking hysterically. Only Harry remained calm. He nonchalantly poured himself more wine, seemingly oblivious to the mayhem around him.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ June lurched forward. Ralph got under her feet. He gave an ear-splitting shriek as June’s stiletto connected with a paw. ‘Oh no. Ralphie! My poor darling! Show Mummy your paw-paw.’ June swept the little dog into her arms. Harry looked at the terrier with disdain.

‘And you can’t bring that dog to Brighton Juney. The hotel doesn’t allow it.’

June gave Harry a look of immense irritation. She rubbed Ralph’s paw and kissed the top of the little dog’s head. Si was back in his seat. His eyes were watering. But then again, they’d been streaming more or less all evening. Poor man. ‘Are you all right Si?’

Si nodded. ‘Never better June. Bit my cheek.’

‘Ooh nasty. I’ll get pudding. It’s ice-cream. That will help your cheek.’

‘Great. I’ll look forward to it,’ said Si.

June didn’t see Si press a fork into Steph’s hand. Or the enquiring look he gave his wife.

‘Here we are.’ June put the ice-cream container on the table along with a bowl of fruit cocktail. She looked at Steph. ‘Why are you sitting so far back from the table dear?’

‘My legs are feeling restless. They need to stretch,’ said Steph. She gave her legs a feeble kick by way of demonstration.

‘Ooh I used to suffer restless legs,’ nodded June. ‘But that was before I took up salsa. You should try it Steph. You’d love it.’

‘Definitely,’ said Harry. ‘In fact, why don’t you pop that ice-cream back in the freezer for a moment Juney and I’ll give Steph a twirl. Have her legs feeling ticketty boo in no time.’

‘Steph used to be quite a mover when we were dating,’ said Si proudly.

‘Well that’s sorted then,’ said Harry. ‘Come on lovely lady. Let’s put you through your paces.’

‘Oh I don’t think so,’ protested Steph.

‘Go on!’ said Si.

June was puzzled by Steph shooting her husband a murderous look. Si recoiled, clearly bewildered.

‘My legs are feeling much better now,’ Steph assured.

‘Well let’s dance anyway,’ Harry insisted, ‘and maybe you’ll teach an old dog some new tricks.’

June watched as Harry took a very reluctant Steph by the hand. Steph was glaring at Harry as though he was something Ralph had sicked up. June wondered why. Didn’t Steph like Harry?

‘Music Juney!’ commanded Harry.

‘Well I was just going to put the ice-cream back in the–’

June stared at the plastic tub. The ice-cream was already melting. This evening wasn’t going the way she’d hoped at all. She sighed. Oh let it melt. They’d have fruit cocktail and cream instead. She went over to the stereo and pressed the on button.
Sexy Salsa Hits
burst forth. June was fed up listening to the same tracks.

‘Okay Steph. Left, right left. Right, left, right. Got it?’

Steph’s jaw appeared to have set in concrete. As Harry pushed her backward and forward, this way and that, June noted Harry’s expression. His eyes were alight. He was in his element. June felt slightly put out. It was almost as if Harry was flirting. June tried to analyse her feelings. Did she mind Harry flirting? The answer was yes. Did she regard Harry as
her
boyfriend? Well, yes. So why wasn’t she over the moon that Harry had gone ahead and booked this romantic weekend to Brighton? Well, probably because Ralph wasn’t included. And then June found herself thinking about the weekend where Ralph
was
included. The weekend with Arnold. June was willing to bet her last pound that Arnold wouldn’t be dancing with her neighbour in such a lascivious fashion. Harry was running his hands up and down Steph’s back quite unnecessarily. June looked at Si. He seemed oblivious to the way Harry was handling his wife. Perhaps he was having trouble seeing through his black eye. Now Harry’s hand was lingering on Steph’s bottom. Or was June imagining it? She mentally chastised herself. Stupid woman. It wasn’t known as
dirty dancing
for nothing. Of course Harry wasn’t flirting. He was just a jolly good dancer. Giving it his all. Managing to make it look really erotic. Which meant – June’s heart sank – that she was a jealous, possessive woman. June flopped back in her chair. Annoyed with herself, she picked up her wine glass and drained it in one. She hated women who were possessive. And now it turned out she was one of them. Miserably she spooned some fruit cocktail into her pudding bowl. Seconds later she nearly choked on a grape.

‘Argh!’ Harry shrieked. He was hopping about on one foot.

‘I am
so
sorry,’ said Steph. She sounded anything but.

June jumped up and rushed over to Harry. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No I’m not all right!’ Harry bellowed. ‘I’ve just been stabbed by a stiletto.’

‘Now you know how Ralph felt,’ said June tightly.

Si turned the stereo off. ‘Let me help you sit down.’

Harry shoved Si’s hand away. ‘I might be drawing my pension but I’m not disabled.’

June was embarrassed for Si. He’d only been trying to help. Harry seemed to be charm personified with the ladies but sorely lacking with men. She stood back and watched as Harry hobbled over to his chair.

‘June, if you don’t mind I’m going to go home,’ said Steph. ‘I seem to have a dreadful headache.’

‘Oh dear,’ said June. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock. Her evening had turned to ashes. She felt like crying.

‘I’m sorry to leave you with all this washing up.’

‘It couldn’t matter less,’ June assured. ‘Harry can help me.’

‘I can’t possibly help you,’ spluttered Harry. ‘I’m not sure I will be able to drive. I might have to stay the night Juney.’

June ignored Harry’s comment. Instead she went to the door to see her guests out.

‘I hope you feel better in the morning dear,’ June hugged Steph. ‘Bye-bye Si. See you both soon.’

June shut the door with a sigh. Now to dispatch Harry.

Chapter Thirty Four

Steph stalked down June’s garden path. She couldn’t wait to get home. That ghastly man!

‘Wait for me love,’ Si called after her. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘Do you truly have no idea what’s wrong?’ Steph snapped.

‘Yes. You have a headache and don’t feel good. And do you mind telling me why you stabbed my foot with a fork?’

Steph stopped by June’s gate. ‘Because I thought your foot was Harry’s. He was playing footsie under the table. I’ve had his horrible sweaty socks nudging my legs all evening.’

‘Steph, the man is in his sixties. He probably brushed your ankles a few times by accident.’

‘I don’t think so. And then I had to suffer dancing with him. Hips grinding against mine.’

‘It’s
meant
to be sexy dancing. Don’t you remember mooning over Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey? At times they looked like they were making love on the dance floor!’

‘Well I’ll bet Patrick Swayze wasn’t groping Jennifer Grey’s bottom!’ said Steph indignantly. Si was shaking his head in that annoying way that indicated he thought her mistaken. Steph could feel herself getting crosser than ever. ‘Well thanks Si. It’s quite something when your own husband doesn’t believe you.’

‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you love. I’m just saying you might have misjudged the situation. The guy’s a pensioner. Not a sexual predator.’

Steph paused to wait for Si. ‘Whatever.’ She sounded like Tom when he was having the strops. But she didn’t care. She was annoyed. Turning, she walked up her own garden path, and then stopped again to look at Si. ‘I don’t know what June sees in that man.’

‘I suspect,’ said Si catching Steph up, ‘that June sees a BMW, vast pension and detached house. I think our neighbour is looking at the trappings rather than the man himself.’

‘I know she sometimes struggles to make ends meet,’ said Steph opening the front door, ‘but she’d be mad to saddle herself with that pompous twit just because he has a few quid.’ She flicked on the hall light. Why was the house in darkness? Where was Tom?

‘Do you want me to have a word with June?’ asked Si. ‘Express our concern.’

‘Not for the moment.’ Steph went through to the kitchen. She reached for the kettle and put it under the tap. ‘June might think we are interfering.’

‘Well she must be pretty keen on Harry. They’re going to Brighton together.’

‘Harry booked that without her agreement. I think June is being pushed into a corner.’

‘Well she didn’t look too put out at Harry saying he might have to stay the night,’ countered Si.

‘On the contrary!’ Steph switched the kettle on and swung round to face Si. ‘I thought she looked totally dismayed.’

‘And what about the other night?’

‘What?’ Steph frowned.

‘June and Harry snogging for England. On her doorstep no less. Nothing shy or retiring about that little display!’ Si nodded knowingly.

Steph had to admit she’d forgotten about that. Maybe Si had a point. But Steph still disliked Harry. Intensely.

‘Well we’ll keep an eye on her,’ she said, ‘just to be on the safe side.’

‘Sure. Meanwhile, is there any chance of a sandwich? I’m starving.’

‘Yes. I’ll have one with you.’ Steph went to the fridge. ‘Do me a favour Si. Go and see if Tom is in his room. He didn’t tell us he was going out. I don’t want to be worrying.’

Steph began buttering bread. She heard her husband going up the stairs and the familiar creak on the landing outside Tom’s bedroom. Her thoughts travelled back to June. At least the salsa music wasn’t blaring. She’d stamped hard on Harry’s foot. Hopefully hard enough to curtail his dancing for a bit. Steph could hear Si knocking on their son’s bedroom door. There was a pause before it squeaked back on its hinges.

‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’ Si was asking Tom. ‘Speak up. I can’t hear you. What? Have you lost your voice or something?’

Steph put down the butter knife and listened. Was Tom ill? She heard mumbling.

‘It’s only half past nine son. Not like you to be in bed at this hour.’

Oh no. Tom must be poorly. Steph hastened up the stairs and made her way to Tom’s room. She flicked on his bedroom light. Tom stared at her bug-eyed.

‘Why was the light off?’

‘Because I’m going to sleep.’ Tom whispered.

‘But you’re still fully clothed,’ Steph pointed out.

‘Well I was about to get undressed and go to bed. So,’ Tom spread his hands wide, ‘night folks.’

Steph stared at her son. He was behaving very oddly. ‘Let me feel your forehead.’

‘Get off Mum! I’m fine.’

‘And why’s your window wide open? You can’t go to sleep with it like that. Somebody could climb up the drainpipe and get in.’ Steph made to shut the window.

‘Leave it!’ Tom grabbed his mother’s arm. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I do feel a bit hot. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in the morning.’

The doorbell rang. Tom went pale.

‘I wonder who that can be?’ said Steph. ‘Go and see who it is Si. I’ll look after Tom.’ As Si went off to answer the door, Steph hurried along to the bathroom. She opened the medicine cabinet. ‘Do you want paracetamol or ibuprofen?’ she called over her shoulder. No reply. ‘Tom? Can you hear me?’ Anxious, Steph trotted back to her son’s room. But Tom had vanished. His curtains billowed in the evening breeze. The sound of the front door opening filtered up to her.

‘Yes?’ she heard Si say.

‘Si Garvey?’ asked an aggressive male voice.

‘That’s me.’

‘Good. I’m Amanda’s husband. If you come within sniffing distance of my wife again, I’ll kill you. Understand? Meanwhile, take this.’

There was the sound of a punch being thrown followed by an almighty crash. Steph charged out of Tom’s bedroom just in time to see Si flying down the hallway on his back.

Chapter Thirty Five

Si lay on the floor of the hallway. He was staring up at the ceiling. A cobweb was hanging off the light fitting. It was strange how you noticed such trivial things in times of crisis. He heard Steph clattering down the stairs.