Rory's Proposal (5 page)

‘Sorry if I said some hurtful things,’ he says, climbing in beside me. ‘But it was a shock. It’s not every day I get Biofreeze on my cock is it?’

‘Perhaps you should have the tube on your side of the bed,’ I say, refusing to take the blame.

‘Perhaps you should be more responsible.’

‘Are you saying it’s my fault?’

‘I’m in too much pain to argue,’ he says. ‘By the way, have you gained some weight?’

‘What?’

‘Your stomach looks bigger in that thing.’

I lift the duvet and study my stomach.

‘I don’t think so.’

I pull my stomach in and watch as my breasts push out.

‘Luke, about the salon …’

‘Do you have some painkillers, I’m in agony.’

I lean into my bag and pass him a foil.

‘Can we talk about that tomorrow, that’s done me in,’ he says swallowing the pills and turning off the lamp.

‘Fine,’ I say, turning over.

I turn off the bedside lamp and find myself thinking of Tom and wonder how he would have reacted if I’d stroked Biofreeze on his penis and have to throw off the duvet as I come over all hot. Ten minutes later and Luke is snoring. I sigh, so much for Devon’s great idea. I creep out of bed and lock the bathroom door behind me. I quietly remove the Tampax box and sit on the loo eating a Crunchie bar. Honestly what am I doing? This isn’t right is it? Seriously who sits on the loo eating a Crunchie that they’ve hidden in a Tampax box? Something’s wrong. If only Luke wasn’t so fanatical about healthy eating and exercise. More importantly, if only he wasn’t so fanatical about
my
healthy eating and exercise. I fold the Crunchie wrapper and hide it in my dressing gown pocket and slide back into bed.

‘Devon and Mark got engaged,’ I say, mixing water to a Nescafe sachet.

‘What’s that?’ Luke asks, pointing at my mug.

‘
Nescafe Three in One
,’ I say, adding extra milk.

‘That stuff is so bad Flora, I’m always telling you,’ he says in that tone that makes me feel like a child.

‘The decaf doesn’t hit the spot
first thing in the morning and anyway, I’m out of it,’ I lie.

The truth is the decaf doesn’t hit the spot at any time of the day.

‘That proves you’re addicted to caffeine,’ he says, shaking his head.

Oh well it could be worse, I could be a crackhead couldn’t I? He stares disapprovingly as I sprinkle a spoonful of sugar on my cornflakes.

‘It’s just cornflakes Luke,’ I say.

‘Sugar is so bad for you only last week I read in …’

‘I’m not going to shoot up half a ton of sugar Luke. It’s a teaspoon on my cornflakes.’

He sighs.

‘Luke, I said Devon …’

‘Why have we got a duck in the fridge? When did we start eating duck, and Bernard Matthew’s sausages? I mean for Christ’s sake Flo. How can you expect your body to function if you feed it crap?’

For God’s sake.

‘They were substitutes,’ I say.

‘Substitutes for what?’

‘Quorn,’ I say indifferently.

‘Don’t you know that meat and Quorn are two different things? If you want to eat meat just say so.’

I exhale. Luke can be so patronising.

‘Rory’s substituted them,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t me.’

He sips his herbal tea.

‘Luke, did you hear me, Devon and Mark have got engaged?’

‘Yes, I know. Mark mentioned it. You know he felt pressured?’

I shake my head.

‘He did?’

He waves a hand dismissively.

‘It’s not our business any more than their sex life is our business. I sometimes think Devon is a bad influence.’

I sip my coffee.

‘How is your …?’

He waves a hand.

‘Fortunately it is okay. I’d prefer you didn’t share this with Devon.’

‘Of course not.’

‘By the way, I’m going to Dublin next Friday.’

‘I thought you would be. I was thinking I could come too; it’s
my birthday. We could celebrate in Dublin,’ I say hopefully.

‘You hate golf. You’ll be bored to death. We can have a big celebration for your birthday when I get back. After all, you’re not thirty every day,’ he smiles.

I wish I wasn’t going to be thirty any day.

‘I’ve never been to Dublin,’ I say. ‘It would be romantic.’

‘It’s Dublin Flora, not Venice. It’s also extravagant and besides, it’s connected to a conference so the trip is on expenses,’ he says, always the practical one. ‘And you need to be at the salon don’t you?’

‘Do you have to go away? I really need a legal mind.’

‘I don’t see as there is anything you can do legally. Either you agree to sell or you don’t. Personally I think you should get rid of that place, it’s nothing but a headache. If you can’t make a success of it in three years, you never will. You can be a hairdresser anywhere can’t you? Personally I would prefer it if you got a proper job.’

‘I have a proper job.’

‘You know what I mean. A job where people can see you’re a success.’

Is he trying to say I’m not a success?

‘But I like having my own business.’

He
grabs his briefcase.

‘A shame you don’t make much money from it, anyway I’ve got to get going. And what happened to your car? The brake light’s broken, did you know? You should get that fixed; you don’t want to get pulled up. It won’t look very good for me if you do.’

He pops a vitamin pill into his mouth and reaches for
the glass of water on the kitchen counter.

‘No,’ I yell.

I wince.

‘Shit Flora, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your contact lenses in the kitchen? Why don’t you have them by the bed like everyone else?

‘Sorry, it’s just easier. Did you swallow them?’

That’s all I need. He studies the contents of the glass.

‘Fortunately not,’ he says, handing it to me. I sigh with relief. ‘But I really don’t need this kind of drama in the mornings. You need to be more responsible.’

Drama? Christ, if the only drama in our lives is Luke drinking my contact lens and getting Biofreeze on his cock maybe we should get out more.

‘So, what happened to your car?’

‘Someone reversed into me. I’m taking it to the garage this morning.’

I pop in the contacts, relieved they have not been swallowed.

‘You haven’t forgotten we’re going to the Jacksons’ fundraiser on Friday have you? There will be some prospective clients there.’

Shit, I had forgotten. I really don’t care for the Jacksons and their posh legal set. But, you never know, there may be someone there who can give me some advice about this Rory business.

‘Clients for hairdressing?’ I say.

‘Legal work, silly. Can you meet me there at seven? I know it’s usually your late night at the salon but it won’t look good if I go alone.’

‘But …’ I begin

‘I’ll go straight from work. Wear something nice won’t you. Right I’m off. Take your vitamins, you look peaky.’

He kisses me hurriedly on the cheek, scoops up his briefcase and marches out of the door.

‘You could get a cab to the Jacksons,’ he calls. ‘Better that way. We can both drink, unsociable not to.’

Ooh lovely, permission to drink, maybe it will be worth going after all.

I climb into my car, start it up, sound like a boy racer and zoom off. My exhaust bangs so much it sounds like I have a pneumatic drill bolted to the back of the car. I pull up outside Lois’s teashop. I’ve a craving for something sweet. Maybe Luke is right, I’m a sugar addict. He’ll be booking me in for rehab at The Priory if I’m not careful. I hurry in and buy half a dozen cupcakes.

‘For the staff,’ I say.

‘Yeah right,’ she smiles.

A chocolate cake
in the window catches my eye.

‘I’ll take that too,’ I say.

‘Someone fell off the wagon?’

I don’t think I was ever really on it to fall off, but hey. I climb back into my car and drill my way into the garage to the amused stares of the mechanics, all who seem to be on their tea break. One swaggers towards me as I open the car door.

‘Could hear you coming miles away,’ he says.

Yes, right. After last night I don’t think anyone is going to hear me coming for a while. Mind you, it would be awful if you could hear me
coming
from miles away.

‘Got the handbrake on love,’ he asks through my open window. ‘Don’t want it rolling away now do we?’

Over your patronising foot might not be a bad idea.

‘It doesn’t sound too healthy does it?’ he says.

Yes, well if it was healthy it wouldn’t be in the garage would it? After all, the whole thing is going to cost me an arm and leg no doubt and by the look on his face most likely a few other body parts too.

‘Sounds like your rear end’s blowing,’ he says bluntly, walking to the back of my car.

He must have heard about my colonic clean out diet.

‘Rear end?’ I say.

‘Yeah, or as we say in the trade, your exhaust is knackered. Did that sound like the rear end to you Dan?’ he asks the other mechanic who is stuffing a doughnut into his mouth.

That’s a bit worrying if he has to ask Dan for confirmation isn’t it?

‘Could be her back end,’ he replies with a snigger. ‘Won’t know without a good look.’

Blimey doesn’t he know either? Either my rear end has gone or it hasn’t. Whichever way it goes a rear end sounds worrying doesn’t it? Honestly why is it when you bring your car in for one thing they find a hundred other things to repair?

Don’t you just hate car mechanics? He bends down to study the brake light and I swing my handbag onto my shoulder deliberately walloping his rear end.

‘Do you know you’ve got a hole in your exhaust darling?’ he asks with a wink.

‘That’s why I’ve booked it in. I’ve got a broken brake light and a faulty exhaust.’

‘Lucky you haven’t been done darling,’ the other mechanic sniggers.

I’ll do him in a minute. The mechanic studying my rear end stands up and says.

‘You want servicing?’

Now there’s an offer I can easily refuse. Greasy haired, dirty fingernailed mechanics in dirty blue overalls surprisingly enough aren’t a sexual turn on for me, odd as that may seem.

‘Just the brake light and exhaust please.’

‘Your tyres are illegal,’ he says without looking at them. ‘We can do you reconditioned for half the normal price.’

‘Are you absolutely sure they need changing?’

‘Only needs a wet road,’ he says ominously with a click of his fingers, ‘and it’s all over.’

I sigh. I’ll need to take out a mortgage at this rate. As it is the car isn’t worth much.

‘Your other back light looks a bit dodgy, best to change them both.’

I look at the brake light which looks perfectly fine to me.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Will it be ready later today?’

They look at each other for what seems an eternity. The workshop radio pipes in the background.

‘Did we say today?’ asks the one called Dan through white sugar-dusted lips.

‘I never asked.’

‘Oh well, if you never asked,’ says Dan, like that clinches it.

‘We’ve a lot on,’ says my mechanic kicking my tyre.

Yes, I can see that. Maybe if they stopped stuffing their faces with doughnuts and actually worked on the cars, maybe, just maybe, my car would be ready by this afternoon.

‘When will it be ready?’

They both look thoughtful.

‘Well we can’t guarantee but we’ll try and get it ready by tomorrow for you,’ says sugar-lips Dan in the manner of a superhero.

‘Right, thank you,’ I say.

‘You want a courtesy car?’

At an exorbitant price, I don’t think so. I pull the baker’s bags from the car and hail a cab. Before entering the salon I drop into Mr Patel’s. Mr Patel is serving a customer so I hover around the
Hello
magazine and stare enviously at the celebs’ perfect figures.

‘Hi Flora.’

I turn and hand him the chocolate cake.

‘For the boys,’ I say.

‘That’s nice of you,’ he says cautiously.

‘I came to erm …’ I grab the
Hello
magazine, ‘to buy this for the salon.’

He nods.

‘You know you don’t have to sell to Rory’s,’ I blurt out.

He smiles.

‘No it’s fine. Don’t feel bad about it. I will be fine. No more worry about cracks in the wall now.’

Oh well, if that’s all it is.

‘You don’t have to worry about those, it isn’t substance. I was worried about that too. I had a guy come and everything,’ I say eagerly, seeing an opportunity to get him to change his mind.

He looks at me curiously.

‘I don’t know about your guy but Mr Grant Richards, very nice man from Rory’s looked at the cracks and said he would send their own surveyor, no charge and he confirmed subsidence. I’m relieved to sell and they give me good job in the store in Holland Park.’

‘They said the cracks were subsidence?’ I say puzzled.

He nods.

‘Nice people the Rory family.’

Nice people my arse. Well, I’ve made my mind up; I’m not going to sell. I’ve done some research on Rory’s, and Mr Rory in particular. It’s not been easy. He was harder to find than Saddam Hussein with his weapons of mass destruction and in the same category as far as I’m concerned. He certainly keeps everything close to his chest. John Rory started with a little market stall in 1964 and slowly grew his supermarket empire, shop by shop and town by town. He is probably aiming to take over the world. Well, this is how it starts right? After all, Hitler started small didn’t he? A country here, a country there and then the whole world, I’m right aren’t I? I detest the old man even though I’ve never met him, but you didn’t have to meet Hitler to hate him did you? I take the
Hello
magazine and fumble in my purse for some money.

‘On the house,’ Mr Patel smiles, ‘for the punters.’

I force a smile and make my way to the salon. Ryan is waiting outside.

‘You’re keen,’ I say.

‘I want to leave early, I’ve got a date with the most gorgeous man and I’ll need plenty of time to get ready. I bought a new silk shirt, salmon pink, it’s divine.’

‘You’re such a poof,’ I say, unlocking the door. ‘In my next life I’m going to come back as a gay man so I can eat whatever I like and not have to worry about getting married.’

‘Yes darling, like that’s all being gay means. You don’t want to take into account queer bashing do you or the agonies of coming out to everyone and …’

‘Alright, keep your hair on. By the way the guy who came to look at the cracks wasn’t a cowboy by any chance was he?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so love. Mrs Willis recommended him. He’s a retired cousin of hers, remember. That’s why we got him cheap.’

‘Rory’s told Mr Patel he had substance.’

‘Subsidence, it’s subsidence.’

‘Do you think he does?’

‘What?’

‘Have subsidence?’

‘I don’t know, but we certainly don’t.’

I don’t believe it. Rory’s scared Mr Patel into selling. I wonder if I should go to the newspapers. But then Mr Patel seemed so happy about his new job. Oh, sod Rory’s. They can’t even get a bloody carrot order right. I turn on the lights and Ryan fills the kettle. I throw a Nescafe sachet at him and place the cakes on the table by our reception desk as a breathless Sandy walks in.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ she says.

‘Christ, I’m surprised you didn’t need to take a week off work,’ quips Ryan.

‘We could get the oldies prescriptions for them. Have them here for them to collect. It’s much nearer than the doctor isn’t it? Rory’s don’t offer that do they? It will strengthen our case. What do you think?’ she looks at us both hopefully.

‘She’s a genius,’ smiles Ryan.

‘Play dirty with dirty,’ I say feeling myself getting excited. ‘It’s a brilliant idea.’

‘I’ll pop to Heroes shall I? Cappuccinos all round to celebrate,’ smiles Ryan

I throw him some money before dashing out the back to phone Devon.

‘Well, are congratulations in order?’ she asks excitedly.

‘Sandy came up with a great plan.’

‘Better than my flogger and basque?’ she asks surprised.

‘I mean about the salon.’

‘Sod the salon; I’m talking about your love life. So … are you getting engaged?’

‘No, I Biofreezed his cock. I mistook it for K-Y Jelly.’

There is a short silence.

‘You did what?’ she asks finally.

‘It was an accident. But it rather threw a chill over everything to say the least.’

‘God Flo, only you.’

She’s quite right of course. Do you know anyone else who has Biofreezed their future fiancé’s cock? I rest my case.

‘What now?’ I ask, hopefully.

‘I’m afraid to suggest anything.’

I exhale.

‘I might phone him. You know have a bit of phone sex. Warm him up for later.’

She chuckles.

‘Good idea.’

‘Oh, and I haven’t told you okay? He was mortified about the flogger and he doesn’t want you knowing about the Biofreeze.’

‘Who am I going to tell?’ she asks, fighting back a giggle.

‘It’s not funny,’ I admonish.

‘I’m just picturing Luke with Biofreeze on his whatsit.’

I hang up after making her promise that she wouldn’t mention anything to Mark. I’ve just put the towels out when Chloe walks in for her eight-thirty appointment.

‘I hear Rory’s are buying you out?’ she says before
taking off her coat.

Oh great.

‘Where did you hear that?’ I ask, throwing a wrap around her.

‘It’s in the local paper. Everyone has seen it.’

How dare they? My God, these people are devious.

‘Will you be doing hair at home?’

Hair at home? I can just see Luke agreeing to that. A flat full of chattering women with shampoo and hair dye all over the place is not his idea of heaven. He’ll be telling me it’s a health hazard.

‘Creeps,’ says Sandy her lip starting to quiver.

‘Not today Sandy, have a cupcake,’ I say, ‘and you can do Chloe’s nails if there is time.’

‘I’m not selling,’ I repeat.

‘But you’re sandwiched darling … hello,’ says Ryan. ‘It might be good to be sandwiched but not in this case.’

‘No, I’m not going to give in,’ I say sipping from my cappuccino.

‘But you have to,’ says Chloe, almost gagging as Sandy ties the robe around her throat.

I don’t have to do anything the way I see it. Not unless Mr Rory is also the Godfather and is making me an offer I can’t refuse.

‘I don’t have to,’ I reply.

‘I think it’s nice what they did for Terence in the video shop. When they found out his mum was poorly they offered to pay for her treatment, you know, private and everything.’

I don’t bloody believe this. The way she talks you’d think Rory’s was a sodding charity instead of a giant corporation bent on putting hard-working honest people out of business and destroying the community. Chloe leans her head back into the basin and Sandy stands over her menacingly with the shower head. For a second she hesitates with the water jet. Christ, she’s not thinking of drowning her is she?

‘My job is on the line,’ says Sandy in a strangled voice.

‘Yes they’re putting people out of work,’ I argue.

‘I was hoping to put an offer in on the video shop,’ sniffs Sandy. ‘I thought I had a year to save. That’s what Terence said wasn’t it, that he would sell up in a year and then I could have had my own beauty salon right next door to the hairdressers.’

I hand her a tissue.

‘At least I wouldn’t have to get headaches from your awful oils and earache from frigging Enya,’ moans Ryan. ‘Talking of which, she isn’t being very helpful today, is she darling? Some Black Eyed Peas, maybe?’

‘Perhaps you should start a petition,’ he suggests, changing the music.