It Always Rains on Sundays (46 page)

BOOK: It Always Rains on Sundays
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Fatty Aussie Bland I'm meaning, I just happened to bump into him at lunchtime. Luckily for him he was on the other side of the street. You should've seen him, slimy toad, he was soon sliding off, trying to hide between a line of parked cars (he looked like the class snitch), how pathetic is that. Guilt-ridden to the hilt I expect. Say what you like, if there was any justice left in the world he'd be back in his office right now, thumbing through law books – he'd be working for me. Instead, there he is middle of the afternoon, swanning around, window-shopping. Stuffing his fat freaky face into a Timothy Bishop's prize-winning pork pie, as if he hadn't a care in the whole world.

I waved both arms to attract his attention:

‘I ONLY HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED FATTY' I yelled out.

You'd laugh, next thing he got waylaid by a big gang of kids (belatedly collecting contributions for Guy Fawkes). They grouped around him in a rather threatening semi-circle – you could tell he'd got a bit flustered. He began slapping wildly at his pockets, searching for loose-change. Somebody pinched his pie – serves the bastard right I thought. I cupped my mouth with both hands. ‘G'wan, give them a note you tight-arsed sod' I yelled at the top of my voice.

*
*
*

11:00pm. (BLACK FRIDAY). Don't ask – I've just got back from dropping off the kids over at DeLacey Street. They were having a big party to celebrate re-modelling the house I expect. One thing for sure they both know how to spend money. That's something else nobody mentioned is the swimming pool. (I just stood there amazed.) It's Cyn I'm worried about, rows of noughts on bank statements, dancing zeroes printed in red I'm meaning. Don't say I didn't warn her that's all. Just as we arrived they had this big fireworks display. Both kids were really excited, they're dying to show me everything. The first thing that hits you is this huge flood-lit, green and white striped marquee. They'd made this big patio in front of the house linked by this kind've long pagoda, the whole thing centred around this steaming hot-tub under a conical-shaped thatched roof. All you could hear is this loud twangy-music.

No signs of Cynthia, knowing her no doubt she'd still be stuck in front of a mirror, getting herself all titivated up ready to make her grand entrance I expect. You feel really stupid – I'm surrounded by total strangers, everybody having a good time, having drinks, (laughing v.loudly), going by accents quite a few were over from the States (friends of
you know who
is my guess) hard to tell, more Stetson hats than a Calgary parade. Cyn's line-dancing crowd mostly I expect.

However I did happen to know one face in the crowd at least – old Fe-Fo, the red-giant. Let's face it he'd be pretty hard to miss, I'd know that big mop of Day-Glo hair a mile off. He's surrounded by quite a crowd. You
should've seen him – he'd rigged-up a hoop over the garage lobbing long-shots (HE NEVER MISSES) – this is from about ninety-feet, the guys a freak. Boy, what a preener, right – showing off for all his worth.

Everyone clapped (including my own son), they're yelling like morons. That's something else that worries me too, you never hardly ever see him without a ball. Either he's throwing it, patting it or spinning it between his fingers – he bounces like most people talk. Oh wait, tell a lie. Odd times, all of a sudden, without any warning he'll make a ridiculously hard shot, aimed directly right at my sons head. ‘Haw, haw. Haw, haw' he goes, he thinks it's really funny. Mind you Jamie's as bad, he just stands there like a dope. They're both doubled in two, killing themselves. What a hoot kind've.

This is what I'm up against.

Don't try telling me that's normal.

All Cynthia can do is shake her head, gazing at him in that ‘my guyish' way she always does. Maybe it's me, say what you like, the man is a bad influence. Something else too (they think I don't know), according to Lucy, now the latest is, they've all started doing these exceptionally long bicycle rides. Deep into the forest I'm meaning through impenetrable wood trails – (no doubt be crossing main roads), LOUD TRAFFIC I'M MEANING. Wind, rain – you name it. Every waking hour I'm halfway expecting the phone to ring, telling me something tragic has happened. Its Lucy I'm worried about, take my word she is the worst balancing-act in the whole world – stabilizers till she's thirty-five years old
I'm saying, that's at least (vinegar and brown paper – accidents I'm meaning). Lucy is very small for her age, she's really puny, she has an inverted chest almost – she's very vulnerable. I only hope I'm wrong.

This is what I can't understand, Cynthia I'm meaning – everything's changed, normally she really hates the cold weather intensely, or wetness in any shape or form. Even a bad forecast – I've known it frizz her hair for a whole week.

Don't worry I didn't plan on hanging around.

Then, just when I'm leaving somebodies wet hand grabbed hold of my foot, then when I looked, there's Avril, (TOPLESS?) she's alongside the pool. We both looked as surprised as each other (she just kind've appeared like a mermaid). Let's face it, women-folk locally aren't all that famous for displaying their chest all that much, not socially – not in my experience at least.

‘HIIIIIIII. HOW – ARE – YOOOOOO, great party!'

More for something to say, I said ‘We've been to the bowling-alley. I've been dropping off the kids' I told her. Next thing we were joined by husband Clyde, doggie-paddling furiously in her wake. He made a grab for the side, gasping for air. No wonder he looked worried – me too, he was wearing enough gold to sink a Spanish galleon. He didn't know me from Adam you could tell. ‘Hey, how y'all doing?' he spluttered, he patted his moustache as if checking to see if it was still there.

We both stared,
‘the dope that used to live here'
, maybe I should've said. Finally Avril came to his rescue ‘You know Colin surely – Cyn's husband?'

‘Hell yes' he exploded.

He grinned widely, displaying a single gold tooth, he patted his moustache for the third time. ‘How y'all doing – good to see you.' Everybody laughed, nodding to each other. They charged off, making wild yells, racing each other, amid a flurry of frantic splashing in the direction of the hot-tub. This is when Cynthia finally decided to show up, she was over the other side of the pool. She looked amazing, wearing a slinky red gown that showed off her tan. People crowded around her, (she loved to be the centre of attention you could tell). She tilted her head and laughed. I waved (not that she noticed me). I tried keeping the pain out of my smile. I sighed – this is the part that kills, her looking so radiantly happy,
without me I'm meaning
.

Trust drunky Avril to say something really stupid, ‘Cyn, Cyn, look who's here' she yelped, bubbling over with excitement from the far end of the pool. ‘Look who's here! Colin's come to your party – isn't that wonderful?' she exlaimed.

Cyn glared, she threw daggers with her eyes. She had a frown you could sit on. ‘Um. How wonderful' she called out in a flat voice, turning it into a ‘that's all I need' tight smile.

Too late I was already here. I waved ‘Hi – I've just been dropping off the kids' I offered. I waited for her to come over.

Taking her own sweet time as usual, every step of the way she's hugging and kissing everybody in sight. You'd've thought she was some kind of royalty. Nobody knows that many people, not even the damned Queen
I'll bet. That's something else too, she has this fake persona she always puts on (putting on airs I'm meaning). Her voice goes higher too, next thing her head goes over to one side, making out she's really interested – kind've.

How corny is that?

We shook hands awkwardly. She gave me a lukewarm smile, I leaned over to kiss her cheek (I ended up kissing her ear). Then more for something to say, I said ‘Great party.' She practically ignored me. Instead somebody else grabbed her attention – (why didn't I just go). Too late, all of a sudden you could hear this distant thumping noise, and getting closer by the second. Eeek! Oh no – Lookout, here comes the red-giant, bouncing his stupid ball. You can hear him coming a mile off, b, dum, b, dum, b, dum. BE-DUM BE-DUM. That's all I need – there's no escape.

Next thing he's giving me high-fives (you'd think we were long lost brothers or something). Even worse, he's making me shake hands. Trying to push a big Bacardi into my damned hand.

I shook my head – I showed him my full glass.

Beware geeks bearing gifts that's my motto.

He wandered off, bouncing the ball one-handed.

Later on (don't ask) we all ended up sitting by the pool having drinks, making small-talk. No wonder I felt depressed, (I hardly even recognised the place). Hard to imagine I know, two years running I'd won the Silver Trowel prize for the bonniest garden in the whole cul-de-sac – now look at it, it reminded me of some kind of mini theme park.

Talking was awkward to say the least. Meantime Cyn kept shooting hard glances across the table. She blamed me for letting the kids railroad me into inviting myself to her party you could tell. Meantime drunky Avril drank off her (v.large) vodka-martini, then leaned on me, suggesting we all group hug. Just to show we were all friends.

After that we'd hit a lull (this is another), you can tell how bad it was, even dull as hell, slow-talking Kevin thought up something to say for a change. He broke off from spinning the ball, ‘Y'all hevin a good tem honey-bell?' he drawled.

Cyn rolled her eyes ‘Sure, I'm having a ball' she told him without much joy, chugging ice around her glass. She gave me a look, she swigged off her third (that's to my knowledge) vodka-martini in a row. Next thing just to get at me if she didn't start flirting with the home-wrecker – right there in front of me. She grabbed his chunky arm, trying to squeeze her hands around his bulging bi-cep ‘Glory be – how about that' she squealed. ‘Kevvy can lift a whole sofa right above his head in one go' she exclaimed, still using this extra high voice.

Kevvy nodded, he flexed his arm-muscle, then grinned sheepishly. How pathetic is that. ‘Next time I move I'll give him a call' I said.

Cynthia took a big slug out of her re-filled glass (she's out of control) – drunk already I thought. After that it's Kevvy's turn, all of a sudden he grabs hold of her. Cyn squealed. ‘Boy, are you a dish' he says, next thing you know the big palooka starts nuzzling her damn neck. I'm amazed – this is my own wife don't forget.

Everybody laughed. ‘You're a real peach' he says.

No wonder I stared. One thing for sure, if he'd've kissed her I'd've jumped right on his friggin head.

Next thing you know, then the idiots scooping her up in his arms, he's swinging her round and round, out over the pool, faster and faster, Cyn's squealing out, kicking her legs in the air. You could tell, underneath it all she's really enjoying the whole thing (he must swing her around a lot). Again everybody laughed, then cheered, the whole gang – they're all clapping like mad things. Somehow or other you get the feeling it's some kind of a game they all play. Maybe they're all on something – you tell me.

Mind you nothing surprises me, it was that kind of party.

Finally he slows to a stop, then stands her back onto her feet. Next thing the big galoot, he's all over her, nuzzling her damned neck – (trying to make me jealous I expect). Finally Cyn pushes him away kind've, she stands there, arms akimbo, she throws back her head and laughs – ‘Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hah' – she goes. No wonder I'm angry – it's like hating somebody only worse.

Her mocking laugh arched like a spear – it went right into my heart.

That did it for me. Time to make a move (I'm surprised I lasted that long). Rightaway Cyn's eyes glinted as if she'd won something, ‘Oh Colin – are you leaving already?' she lied. Red-top frowned ‘Aw gee, too bed' he drawls.

They both walked me to the car. Suddenly Cynthia
grabbed hold of my arm, (now that she knows I'm going, she's perked up no end) – she's all over me. Her head went over to one side, ready to ask me a question ‘Oh, by the way' she said chattily ‘Kevvy could do with some information on old guns.' She turned ‘It's one of his pet hobbies – isn't that right honey?' (
Honey
– she never called me honey). Red-top nodded like a donkey ‘Sure is' he agreed affably, breaking off bouncing his ball.

Why, is he planning to shoot himself in the head? I sincerely hope so. (Ha, ha, ha, ha–)

We stood by the car. ‘Something from the reference library, that's what we thought, right hon?' We both looked at Red-top. A pause, Red gulped, ‘Nantin twenny-one single-action Colt for-er-tee fav' he chanted in a slow, tomorrow will do drawly voice, then added ‘Fan gun, fan gun' he repeated. (Fan gun?) What's that?

They were waiting for me. So, the bastard wants something from me does he? Oh sure – five minutes ago he's molesting my wife right there in front of me. I shook my head, then tutted ‘Doubtful' I said.

They both stared. ‘Fraid not squire, sorry chief – not much call for that kind of thing around this neck of the woods' I lied easily. That's because we are a civilised country this side of the pond,
that's why ducky
, I was sorely tempted to say.

That's how it got left. They went back inside to rejoin the party (‘to mingle') Cynthia said.

5:30am. Can't sleep – I got woke up by the storm, thunder, lightning, lighting up the whole sky. Omens
galore – curiously enough, in my dreams it's a beautiful summery day. We're strolling hand in hand through a sunny meadow, filled with butter-cups and daisies. Cynthia and me, strolling through fields of high summery grass.. She looked deep into my eyes ‘This time it's for keeps' she whispered. We both looked really happy – we're just about to kiss. Next thing, Alison and Thelma come onto the scene of things, grabbing my hands, they're pulling me all over the place – this is when I woke up. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

BOOK: It Always Rains on Sundays
13.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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