A Little Bit on the Side (35 page)

He stretched out his hand to stroke her thigh, but she slipped out of bed before he could go any further.

‘That’s enough Jack: time to get dressed and go about our business now. And I do wish you would move that great lump of a bear out to some other room. I have the feeling that he’s always watching us when we’re together like this. It’s most off-putting.’

‘Move Buckingham? My other self. Oh I couldn’t do that Josie. He’s the very soul of discretion. I tell him everything, and we talk over my problems when I can’t sleep at night.’

‘I really don’t know how you can be so silly about a collection of old bears Jack.’

It was the first time they’d been together since his meeting with Mrs Davenport, and Josie’s question had come when they woke up from an overlong post-coital slumber with barely time to shower and dress before going to The Pump, where Josie had booked a table for dinner. Dinner at The Pump with Josie was not a choice Jack would have made: it had too many memories. When they’d eaten out on previous occasions he’d made the booking, but this time he’d been pre-empted. Josie had said that she wanted to give him a treat for a change, so there was nothing he could do about it.

After coffee, when he was relaxing with a brandy and a cigarette, Josie sprung her surprise.

‘I thought we might perhaps pop up to London again and take in a show. I’ve got tickets for
Cats
at the New Theatre. It only opened a few weeks ago, and its getting pretty good reviews.’

Jack knew Josie well enough to understand that it was only their meal at The Pump that was the treat. She wasn’t including the London trip, when they would be going Dutch, as they did for
Otello
and Venice. He didn’t know the show, and now that he was sleeping regularly with Josie in Barlow, he didn’t fancy stumping up for his share of another two nights in Le Rendezvous, if that was what she had in mind. She seemed to understand his hesitancy and perhaps the reason for it, and spoke again before he answered.

‘I thought we’d make it just the night after the show this time. Perhaps Arran House in Gower Street. It’s a simple little place, but comfortable and clean.’

‘And what’s the show about. It’s an odd title. Not a modern opera is it?’

Beyond the fact that it was a new musical about cats and by Lloyd Webber, Josie couldn’t tell him much, and that was enough to give him pause. He’d once gone with Kate to see a production of
Jesus Christ Superstar
at the Wolverton Hippodrome, and they’d left at the interval unimpressed with the production and blasted out of their seats by gross over-amplification. He wasn’t eager to expose himself to another dose of the same, but he didn’t want to disappoint Josie either, and after satisfying himself on the dates it was agreed.

At least Josie was right about Arran House. Clean, simple and comfortable, their double room (not even a King Size bed he noted) wasn’t going to break the bank, and the Turkish restaurant around the corner looked reasonably priced. For someone whose Krugerrands were now worth almost £70,000 Jack was still a remarkably careful man, but he had stuck religiously to his resolve not to attempt any encashment until he was well clear of the Revenue.

They ate lightly before the theatre, where they had good seats towards the front of the second block of stalls with easy access to the bar at the interval, where Jack topped up a glass of champagne (Josie’s treat she said) with a large whisky, which after the first half, he felt he needed. They exited to a fine night, and a short stroll back to the Turkish restaurant for a late supper.

‘Wasn’t that wonderful Jack?’ said Josie, giving him a squeeze around the waist.

‘You enjoyed it did you Josie?’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Not really my cup of tea, and I’m wondering what they thought poor old Elliot had done to deserve that.’

‘Elliot?’ said Josie, clearly puzzled by the name.

‘Yes T S,’ said Jack.

‘What’s he got to do with it?’

Jack stopped walking and looked at her, before giving her a hug and a kiss.

‘Josie, you’re absolutely priceless. You haven’t even read the programme notes.’

She bridled a bit at that.

‘Well what’s that got to do with enjoying it?’

‘Absolutely nothing. You’re quite right. I was being tedious. Forget it. I’m glad you enjoyed the evening: now let’s have a nice pleasant supper together.’

As it was late they contented themselves with a selection of mezes and a dessert, and were enjoying a coffee and liqueur when Josie, clearly not content to let the matter drop, took up the cudgels once again on behalf of
Cats.

‘But why didn’t you enjoy it Jack. Everybody else there seemed to think it was terrific’

‘But that’s hardly an argument. Perhaps they all went knowing what to expect and looking forward to it. If you were to take me to a football match, though God forbid that you ever should, you’d find forty-odd thousand roaring their heads off, and me bored to tears. It’s horses for courses Josie. Can’t we just leave it at that and not spoil the rest of the evening.’

She pouted and sipped at her liqueur for a few moments before speaking again.

‘But you must have your reasons.’

‘I do, but are you sure you want to hear them.’

‘I can’t see why not.’

‘Well then overall I thought that it was ghastly, meretricious poshlost. The plot line was almost nonexistent. The melodies, if you can call them that, were a cheap, naive and sentimental tug at the heart strings which even Puccini would have been ashamed of. And it was all epitomised by the ghastly, tear-jerking caterwauling in
Memories.
I was bored silly.’

‘Well to be honest Jack, I felt much the same when you insisted that I should sit down and listen to … Oh what was it called? Winter something or the other.’

‘Josie. You mean
Winterreise!
How could you? You’re a bloody Philistine, a lovely one, but still a Philistine.’

Their conversations from then on were fairly terse and matter-of-fact, and had it not been for the fact that nightclothes had never featured in their preparation for bed, and that the bed was only a standard double, things might have stayed that way until morning.

But inevitably flesh touched on flesh, and in Jack flesh began to stir, but he remained on his side of the bed with his back to Josie, until he felt her arm stealing round his chest, and heard her singing softly into his ear. She’d chosen
Memories.

‘If you touch me,

You’ll understand what happiness is,

Look, a new day has begun.’

By then Jack wasn’t at all reluctant to surrender once again to Josie and the old imperative, but when they turned aside to sleep he found himself remembering that when he’d first played Schubert to Kate, she had cried.

Early visitors to Barlow’s open market were already out on the streets as Jack set off from his office for Eastgate and his meeting with Mrs Davenport, who had now returned from Athens. The town was busier than usual, it being one of only two days in the month devoted to a genuine local market, when fresh produce brought in from the countryside and villages around drew shoppers from all over the county for a day out: a wander around the town, an early lunch at Bosewell’s or The Pump, and then a visit to the ranks of stalls before returning home laden with pies and cakes, fresh fruit and vegetables, dairy produce and perhaps a couple of bottles of local wine or cider.

To avoid the crowds he turned into the gates of All Saints’ and worked his way diagonally across the churchyard and on to the cobbles of Shady Lane that ran parallel to the market square, and then dropped down to Eastgate, the only surviving postern gate in one of the best preserved sections of the town walls.

If Noddy had set out to find a safe and secluded location from which Marilita and Barlow’s frail sisters could pleasure their gentlemen friends, after his untimely departure from such earthly delights himself, he could hardly have chosen a house in a better location. Tucked away from common view outside the town walls, and overlooked by only one other property, Eastgate Villa could be approached by car along a winding drive off a country lane, and yet was easy of access on foot from the town through the old postern gate and a secluded side entrance, through which Jack now made his way to the front door.

Stepping back a little to get a better overall view of the house, it stuck Jack that in buying such a property not only must Noddy have been very conscious of the sort of social status to which he ultimately aspired, but also hoping that Marilita might perhaps give him one or even two little Noddies to follow in his footsteps. It would have been the perfect house in a perfect location for a large family. Built around the eighteen-nineties, he would have guessed: large, solid and well-proportioned, but not particularly handsome.

His ring at the door bell was answered by Marilita looking as elegant and beautiful as ever, but now lightly tanned after six weeks of Mediterranean sunshine.

‘Do come in Mr Manning,’ she said, stepping back into a roomy entrance vestibule, where the patterned tiles of the floor were faintly coloured by the last of the morning light through two stained glass side windows.

Even in the vestibule Jack was impressed by the quality of workmanship and materials employed, but much more so as Marilita led him through double stained-glass doors into a spacious high-ceilinged inner hall, where a handsome staircase led up to a galleried landing, and off which three doors gave access to the rooms of the ground floor. The quality of the few pieces of furniture, of the prints on the walls and the decoration he took in at a glance. My word, Noddy did it in style, he thought. Must have had a hell of a mortgage.

‘Mr Manning,’ said Marilita. ‘I’d just like to be absolutely clear on one thing before we go any further. Anything you hear today will be held in absolute confidence, will it?’

‘I can give you my complete assurance on that,’ said Jack.

‘Very well. Would you follow me please?’

She opened a door from the hall and led him into a large sitting room comfortably, almost certainly expensively, furnished and full of light. At one end an arched bay window looked out on to the front garden, at the other double doors opened into a old-fashioned, vineshaded conservatory where a dark-haired young lady stood alone gazing into the garden. As soon as she was aware of their presence she turned and came towards them.

‘This is Marilyn, one of the other ladies, who I should add are always known only by their first names,’ said Marilita. ‘I asked her to join us in case you wished to have anything I say confirmed. I’ll just go and pour the coffee, and then be right with you again.’

With that she departed for the kitchen leaving Jack and Marilyn standing a few feet apart. A deliberate ploy, to embarrass him he suspected, just to show him that she was now on her patch and held all the cards. What the hell did he say now? ‘Do you come her often?’ His technical training had never prepared him for this.

‘I suppose we might as well sit down.’ That was all he was able to muster.

Marilyn said nothing, but with a smile eased herself into a chair, and crossed her legs with the same discreet exposure of thigh that Marilita had employed in his office: standard operating procedure he imagined. What next? ‘Lovely weather for it?’ Fortunately Marilyn came to his relief.

‘I understand that Marilita has told you all about us?’

He nodded in reply, and was a little taken aback at the ladies’ willingness to talk about their activities quite openly.

‘And what do you think about it?’

He needed to give some consideration to his answer to that.

‘Well, if you are asking for a personal opinion.’ He paused, thinking ahead a little, ‘I should say that I see it as a very useful social service, and one for which there is quite a demand I understand.’

‘Well we enjoy it,’ she said. ‘And professionally?’

‘Oh I think it’s a little too early for me to express an opinion on that. Ask me again when I’m leaving.’

Their conversation was interrupted when Marilita returned with the coffee and took up the baton.

‘Firstly Mr Manning, can I take it that you will not be embarrassed as we go around the house if we speak absolutely frankly on these matters?’

‘Well I hope I’m broad-minded enough not to be shocked, but you do have the advantage of me remember, in that you know where we are going.’

‘Perhaps I should deal first with the housekeeping arrangements which may be of more interest to you from a professional point of view. This room and the rest of the ground floor is mine alone, and quite private. If one of my gentlemen calls then we go to one of the upstairs rooms to which we all have access. When I’m away, as I was recently, the ground floor can be closed off, but as all the ladies have a key to the front door the upper part of the house is always open to them.

Contributions to the overhead expenses of that part of the house are made by all of us on a pro rata basis, and we keep a separate floating fund for what I could call operational expenses: laundry bills, oils and sex aids, costumes and make-up, wine and little tit-bits.’

‘She means eatables Mr Manning,’ said Marilyn with a smile.

‘Don’t be a tease Marilyn,’ said Marilita, and continued. ‘Well, as I said when we met last, we are all quite experienced ladies of course, married or formerly married, and looking for a little something extra in our sex lives that we might otherwise be missing.

And if I can turn to the pleasures that we enjoy, and of course the gentlemen with us, well I think I can say that although we all have our own little specialities and preferences, I don’t believe that any of us go in for anything too bizarre, do we Marilyn?’

Marilyn pursed her lips and shook her head, but gave Jack such a meaningful look that he was left with the very firm impression that she might be offering her visitors a rather more extensive menu of fare than Marilita.

‘More the conventional ways of enjoying sex, if I can put it that way,’ continued Marilita. ‘Although I do realise that conventions have varied in time and place. Certainly none of us would entertain any of the nastier perversions. Not that any of our gentlemen would be interested in that sort of thing, although we do offer role playing, a little spanking if wanted and perhaps some modest bondage if they insist. I suppose it’s really a question of how far the lady is happy to go.’