Authors: T J Price
Tags: #romance, #recession, #social satire, #surrogate birth, #broad comedy, #british farce
At the very last moment
she took her finger off the trigger and stole through into the
kitchen.
Gwynne was slouched at
the table and a big-boned young woman was poking through the
cupboards, emitting a simpering burble as she went.
‘Alright, Carl!’ Gwynne
yelled when he saw her, breaking out into a sottish grin. The woman
turned with the least-rapid surprise Carla had ever seen, and
presented a large, dozy face.
‘Hi!’ She whinnied.
Carla put the safety on
the rifle. ‘Evening.’
‘This is Louisa, Carl,’
Gwynne slurred with a shapeless grin.
Carla sighed and leaned
the rifle against the fridge. ‘Gwynne’s told me all about you.’ She
stepped up to Louisa with her hand extended. ‘I’m Carla, pleased to
meet you.’
Louisa dragged her eyes
away from the rifle, examined Carla’s hand and put her own into it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Pumping her hand, Carla
answered, ‘Don’t mention it . . . what for?’
‘We obviously disturbed
you. And you must think I’m mooching through your cupboards.’
Louisa said.
‘Yeah, Carl,’ Gwynne
hollered from all away across the other end of the kitchen,
‘where’s the coffee?’
Carla let go of
Louisa’s hand and took a step back to look her up and down.
So, this was the idiot
who had Gwynne for a new boyfriend. Without turning to him she
said, ‘It was your turn to buy some more and that’s why there isn’t
any here.’ She smiled at Louisa. ‘But I’ll brew you some tea, if
you want. I fancy a cuppa myself.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Go on,
sit down.’
Carla grabbed the
kettle and started to fill it at the sink. ‘So, Gwynne tells me
your father makes aeroplanes,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘Daddy is an
aeronautical engineer,’ Louisa tittered from the table. Greater
proximity to Gwynne had reduced her IQ still further.
Carla connected the
kettle. A depressing reality was dawning upon her now as she set
the cups out and dropped a tea bag into each of them. Louisa had
that air of brainlessness and that cut-glass accent that
characterised the typical customer of
Romance
.
Gwynne had gone
native.
She took the milk from
the fridge and poured some in each cup and then, steeling herself,
she turned to face the happy pair.
They weren’t
smooching.
Thank God!
Gwynne already had his
hands full, propping his head up off the table, while Louisa sat
adjacent, demure in a rock-solid sort of way and watched Carla with
benign curiosity.
‘Tea will be better for
him than coffee. It’ll stop him dehydrating in the night. You don’t
want that,’ Carla said. She frowned. ‘You
are
staying over,
aren’t you, Louisa?’
‘The train at Thames
Ditton – ’ Louisa began, but Carla halted her with a raised hand.
She understood and sympathised.
‘Say no more.’
A silence developed,
broken only by the singing of the kettle.
Without warning Louisa
broke out, ‘I like your rifle!’
‘It’s mine, Lou,’
Gwynne splattered, full of pride.
‘I thought you might be
burglars,’ Carla explained, stifling a yawn.
‘Is it a legal rifle?’
Louisa asked.
‘It’s only an air gun,
not a proper rifle, lover,’ Gwynne confessed bitterly. He dragged
his arms back, setting the ugly head they were supporting into a
more upright position. ‘Though the fact is, it isn’t legal,’ he
added, rallying a little. ‘Because it’s fitted with an extra
powerful spring.’
‘Ah,’ Louisa said.
‘It can kill at close
range,’ Carla chipped in. Then she scowled at Gwynne, her voice
heavy with suspicion. ‘It can, can’t it?’
‘Yeah!’ He protested in
defence of his impeccable honesty.
‘Have you been burgled
often?’ Louisa asked.
‘Never!’ Carla spat
with disgust. ‘We’ve got nothing worth nicking, have we? A load of
plants, that’s all.’
‘I was thinking of the
takings.’
‘Huh, some hope. This
place is dead on its feet. That’s why the burglars don’t come. They
can smell failure a mile off.’
‘But it’s so lovely,’
Louisa neighed in distress. ‘
Romance!
’
The kettle boiled as
Carla and Gwynne guffawed.
‘Trust her, she
knows
,’ Gwynne confided to Louisa. ‘This place is a dog.’
Smiling, Carla turned away and attended to the tea. She heard
Gwynne add, in a loud, loud whisper, ‘Carla’s going for a hardware
franchise in Milton Keynes.’
There was no verbal
response to this from Louisa.
When the tea was ready
Carla took the cups to the table and set them out.
‘Sugar, Louisa?’
Louisa’s face was still
clouded. ‘No, thank you.’
Carla fetched the sugar
bowl and spoon from the work top and placed them in the middle of
the table. Gwynne lurched into action, grabbing the spoon and
heaping sugar into his tea.
‘Leave some for me,
pig!’ Carla yelled as she sat down. Then she giggled and smiled at
Louisa. ‘We’ve both got a bit of a sweet tooth.’
Louisa’s expression
brightened. ‘Sweet by nature.’
‘I’ll get another
packet when I get the coffee,’ Gwynne slopped and slurred, giving
Carla the spoon.
‘You already sound like
you ain’t got no teeth left,’ she observed happily as she spooned
sugar into her tea. ‘Never mind, that lets the beer sluice through
quicker, doesn’t it?’ She beamed at Louisa. ‘You’re not a drinker,
are you?’
‘Hardly at all.’
‘Me neither,’ Carla
said. She picked her tea up and slurped. Gwynne began to slurp too.
Carla gave him a dirty look and then exchanged a covert smile of
female camaraderie with Louisa.
Louisa responded with,
‘But I can’t believe you want to sell
Romance
.’
Carla stopped mid
slurp. Hadn’t she already covered that subject from every angle?
‘Maybe it is a mistake,’ she said, to be nice, ‘but events have
taken over. I’ll be finalising a franchise tomorrow, and then I’ll
have to put this place on the market soon. Of course, you’re
right,’ she added with perfect equanimity, ‘it might be the worst
mistake of my life.’
‘Oh, I don’t think it
will be,’ Louisa gushed, ‘though, I have heard that some people do
get robbed by some franchises.’
Gwynne rinsed his mouth
out with more tea and leered. ‘Carl’ll be okay. She’s got her very
own financial advisor.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s a top-notch
lawyer too,’ Carla said with an almost girlish pride. It sounded
odd to her, this girlish pride of hers. Unnatural.
‘Oh, super,’ Louisa
said.
‘Yeah,’ Carla cleared
her throat and spoke more gruffly. ‘He’s making sure I get the best
deal. Like I’ll be able to buy out the new shop after a certain
time. The franchise companies didn’t like that, but David drives a
hard bargain.’
‘David sounds nice,’
Louisa tittered, provoking a double-take from Carla. But Louisa’s
smirk was already gone. ‘So anyway, if you asked him, couldn’t
David give you some good advice on making
Romance
more
profitable?’
‘I said he was a
top-notch lawyer, I didn’t say he was Jesus Christ.’
‘But surely you don’t
need Jesus Christ,’ Louisa persevered. ‘I mean, Kew is a wonderful
location for a florist’s shop.’
‘Milton Keynes is an
even better location for an ironmonger’s.’
‘Yes, but you’re
already here. You have to move to Milton Keynes and that costs
money, I should think.’
Carla considered this.
‘Yes, you have a point there – except, getting out of this dump
will be worth every penny. On the other hand, I like what you’re
saying about Kew being a good location. See, I’ll have to start
talking this place up when the buyers come round. Okay, every
word’s going to stick in my throat, but I’ve got to try.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t mind
buying it, for a start,’ Louisa panted.
Gwynne, who had
powered-down for a while, was now thrashing about like he was about
to drown. ‘Lou! Lou! No!’ He gasped.
‘Hey,’ Louisa murmured,
stroking his arm. ‘Be careful.’
‘Are you choking?’
Carla enquired, before taking a delicate sip of tea.
Gwynne gulped and
flopped about like a stranded fish, but in the end he managed to
draw breath again. ‘Lou,’ he coughed and wheezed, ‘you mustn’t say
things like that. This place
sucks
.’
Carla broke out into a
hearty laugh.
Louisa kept petting
Gwynne. ‘But why don’t we talk to Carla’s financial advisor? See
what he thinks?’
Carla started. ‘No you
won’t
!’ At that, Louisa stopped petting Gwynne and settled
her steady, bovine gaze upon Carla, causing the blood to tingle in
her cheeks. ‘What I mean is,’ she muttered in confusion, ‘it’d be a
conflict of interest.’
Louisa began to smile –
very, very slowly.
Gwynne said, ‘That’s
right. Carla and this guy have got a thing going on. Deep shit I
can’t even talk about.’
Louisa’s brows arched
and the smile became more knowing.
Carla’s toes curled in
her slippers. ‘What he means is,’ she explained, biting the words
out, ‘David’s a family friend.’ Carla glared at Gwynne, willing him
to open his big fat mouth. ‘He only helps family.
Our
family.’
‘But that’s not going
to be a problem for me, is it?’ Louisa simpered at Gwynne.
Gwynne’s two-inch brow
corrugated for a moment. Then he erupted. ‘Yo, that’s right! Carl,
we’re getting married!’
Carla hadn’t been
drinking her tea, but she almost choked to death anyway. ‘Come off
it!’
‘Straight up, it’s
true! Ain’t it, Lou?’
Louisa laughed, ‘Of
course it is, silly.’
Carla gaped at her.
Then she managed to speak. Her tone was mechanical, like a robot’s
– the old fashioned kind of robot that works off gears and valves.
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ Louisa
mewed with pleasure.
‘No, you’re welcome,’
Carla added, floundering. Beyond expletives, was there really
anything else to add?
Hell’s bells – there
was something!
‘But if you’re getting
married, Gwynne, you can’t both of you live with me in Milton
Keynes.’
‘That’s what I thought
– thank fucking God!’
‘Never mind,’ Carla
commiserated, ‘you’ll find it so much easier to buy something
around here with a partner, won’t you?’
Gwynne’s soused grin
vanished. He quivered with emotion. ‘But we’re not buying this
place!’ He turned to Louisa, and more calmly reiterated his
reasoning. ‘Because, sweetie, we’d be cutting our own throats,
see?’
Carla wasn’t so anxious
about them cutting their own throats, but having realised this
marriage was the ideal way of getting shut of Gwynne, the last
thing she wanted was for them to argue and break up. Not yet.
‘That’s right, Louisa,’
she assured her. ‘And you being a part of the family now, like you
say, I wouldn’t advise you wrong, would I? This place would be a
total liability for you.’
Louisa’s docile gaze
softened. ‘Of course, you would know that better than I would. Even
so, it’s
such
a pity.’
‘Yes, it is a pity,’
Carla said, ‘but on the positive side, Louisa, as you are going to
be a member of the family now, I can speak to David and ask him to
find you the best deal on a mortgage, and arrange the legal stuff
for you too. He’s so great like that, you know.’
‘Is he?’ Louisa asked,
her knowing smile was back.
‘But you have to get
married. I mean to Gwynne. Anyone else and the deal’s off.’
‘Oh, for sure,’ Louisa
hastened to agree.
Carla glared at Gwynne,
who was frowning at his tea, troubled by this talk of David. She
barked, ‘So you’re going to be nice and friendly with David, aren’t
you?’
Gwynne glared back.
‘Why friendly?’
‘Gwynne!’ Louisa mooed.
‘It’s a really
fantastic
idea. Free financial advice saves
us money twice over.’
Instead of provoking
him to louder petulance and greater obstinacy, which was Carla’s
experience over the past twenty-five years of trying to reason with
her brother, Gwynne’s reaction was all meek agreement. ‘Yeah, go on
then.’
Carla could have
slapped him.
‘It’s so good of you to
help us like this, Carla,’ Louisa said.
‘Well, I’m just
relieved to be gaining a sister . . . it’s got to be better than
gaining a brother.’ She wondered at this new and sentimental side
to her personality – such is the transforming power of love!
Louisa was filling up.
‘Thank you.’
Gwynne, who had been
filled to overflowing hours ago, now arrived at the maudlin
stage.
‘Carl’s a great girl,’
he spattered. ‘And I tell you this, babe,’ he clamped a huge, bony,
comforting hand over Louisa’s shoulder, partly to support himself,
‘if there’s some problem down the line with the old tubes and
stuff, then don’t worry – Carl here will stand in. She’s done it
before. Only for us it won’t cost no five thousand, will it, Carl?
. . . Carl? . . . Carl!’
Carla was rising to her
feet. Gwynne fell silent with awe as she leaned forward and drew
back her right arm. Way, way back, at the shoulder, so she could
give Gwynne the almightiest clout across the chops. And most
obligingly, Gwynne’s chops went all slack as he gawped up at
her.
Time became suspended.
Tension drenched the air.
And then Carla brought
her left hand forward and gave Louisa’s arm a gentle squeeze.
She spoke woman to
woman. ‘Louisa, dear, he’s started to ramble and lose the plot.
Best get him tucked up now, eh?’
Louisa’s bust hitched
up a notch with motherly responsibility. ‘I will, Carla.’
Carla nodded, turned,
picked her rifle up and went to the kitchen door. She paused to
look back. ‘Nighty night.’
‘Nightly night,’ Louisa
breathed.