The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene (14 page)

   ‘Well, that’s the point,’ whispered Maria, leaning forward. ‘I’ve never really gone in for any of that how’s your father. That’s what I wanted to ask you. What do you think I should get? What do you recommend? And what colour?’

   Christ, the girl was backward, thought Vicky.

   ‘I’ve got loads. Everything you can think of. Do you want to borrow some of mine?’

   Maria thought better than to tell Vicky that any of her garments would be way too big for her.

   ‘No thanks, Vick. I think I should get something new. But what colour? White do you think? I thought with my darkish complexion white might be best.’

   ‘Yuck no! Not white! It’ll remind him of his mother, all milky and mush, no, definitely not white! Black or red, for sure.’

   ‘Do you think black would suit me?’

   Vicky leant closer and patted her shoulder.

   ‘Course it will, kid. Your bronzed complexion framed in black lace would get any man excited, trust me, I know what I’m talking about.’

   ‘What do they see in all that frilly stuff? I just don’t get the idea of dressing up like something off the Christmas tree.’

   ‘Ah well, if we knew that we’d all bottle it, love, wouldn’t we. Who knows what goes through the minds of men when they are in that frame of mind? In that mood. When they are aroused? Jesus! Not me that’s for sure, but just take it from me, it works every time, black lace, you can’t go wrong with it, well, almost every time.’

   ‘A Basque, do you think?’

   ‘Certainly not! Far too complicated. Just too much. Over the top. No, slinky and slight, easy to slip off, that’s what men like.’

   ‘Knickers or thong?’

   ‘Knicks for sure.’

   Maria didn’t say another word for a moment or two as she wondered where best to shop for such things, and when she looked up Vicky’s eyes were still hurtling along the lines.
 

  
I hope you have been behaving yourself in my absence, (you better had be!) and not going out with any strange men, that would not be advisable, and remember, you are not too big or too old to be put over my knee and given a thorough spanking, which is exactly what will happen if and when you misbehave.

  
Vicky giggled raucously. ‘He’s a spanker, is he?’

   ‘Shush!’ said Maria again, glancing across the bar at Naomi who promptly smiled back. ‘No, not that I know of, or at least he’s never…’

   ‘Don’t tell me any more! I don’t want to know! I have to admit I don’t mind a little bit of the old spanking myself, just so long as it doesn’t get out of hand.’

   ‘You are terrible, Vicky Williams.’

  I hope you have been thinking of me in my absence, as I have clearly been thinking about you. One word of advice, Maria: I strongly recommend you go to bed early on the Friday night and get plenty of beauty sleep, not that you need much beauty sleep particularly, but because I can guarantee that you will not be getting much sleep on the Saturday night, and that’s a fact.

   You can most definitely say, in modern parlance, that you are on a promise this coming weekend, big time, and there will be no stopping either. So there we
are, hopefully that will have given you something to look forward to.

   I will call for you at eight. Try and be ready.

   Till then,

   I still am,

   Gringo Greene

 
XXX

   ‘On a promise, eh? Lucky bitch.’

   ‘I may be on a promise, but more to the point, is he?’

   Vicky gulped her drink and blurted out: ‘Go on with you. You know you can’t wait! What did he mean when he said
there will be no stopping either?’

  
Maria rolled her eyes and looked away.

   ‘What? Go on, tell.’

   ‘He just wants to go on and on and on, you know.’

   ‘Lucky you. It’s usually the other way round.’

   ‘No, more than that, he is insatiable. Long after I want to stop he is only just getting going. You’d never think it to look at him. He’s no Arnie Schwarzenegger, but boy, he’s got some stamina, I’ll give him that. I’ve never come across anyone quite like him.’

   ‘Let out a few horny moans and groans, that usually fixes them.’

   ‘I’ve tried that.’

   ‘Step it up a degree.’

   ‘How do you mean.’

   ‘Start yelping.’

   ‘Yelping?’

   ‘Yeah, you know like a dog being whipped mercilessly, and keep on doing it until he stops, ratchet it up if need be. That’s sure to do the trick.’

   ‘You are a mine of weird information, Vicky Williams.’

   Vicky smiled, revelling in her reputation.

   ‘Perhaps you should pass him on to me when you’ve finished,’ she said, half jokingly.

   ‘Funny you should say that.’

   Vicky shot a glance at Maria’s face, and saw that childish, mischievous look was back.

   ‘What do you mean?’

   ‘Well, I know you haven’t anyone on the go at the moment, it’s just a pity that I like him so much, I want to keep him all to myself, or otherwise I wouldn’t have minded…’

   Vicky butted in. ‘You mean a threesome?’

   ‘Shush! Good God no! I don’t think I could ever do that. Sometimes I’m embarrassed enough with just a twosome, never mind three.’

   Vicky slurped her wine, her mind racing, and then said: ‘I’m game, girl, if you ever change your mind.’

   Maria didn’t answer, but thoughtfully sipped her drink.

   ‘Have you ever, you know, with more than one?’

   Vicky glanced around the bar. Naomi was serving a whole gang of people who’d just come in together.  Even Vicky lowered her voice this time.

   ‘I have as it happens. A foursome if you must know, in
Ayia Nappa, a few years ago.’

   ‘Two boys and two girls?’

   ‘No-ooo, don’t be daft.’

   ‘What! Three fellas… at the same time?’

   Vicky nodded and couldn’t stop a look of achievement edging across her pink face.

   ‘What did they all do?’

   ‘Maria! What the hell do you think they all did?’

   Maria could picture it now. Some small and scruffy hotel room, the grubby windows wide open because of the heat, and Vicky, with three mismatched squabbling guys.

   ‘God! How could you?’

   ‘Dunno. Course I was well pissed at the time, and so were they, so far as I recall. I wouldn’t ever do it again. I was so sore in the morning, you wouldn’t believe, but it was one of those
Hundred Things To Do Before You Die
, so that one’s well and truly crossed off.’

   ‘Vicky Williams, I’m shocked! You are terrible!’

   Maria glanced at her watch.

   ‘Oh hell, look at the time. Old Julip will be having a heart attack.’

   They drained their glasses and made their way back through the busy bar.

   ‘Bye Maria,’ cooed Naomi, through the crowd.

   Maria kept walking. Didn’t say a word.

On Saturday morning the Greene family stirred at nine o’clock. Gringo’s mother made him scrambled eggs just the way he liked them. It had always been his favourite meal as a child, and still was, and she hadn’t lost the knack for his mother made the best scrambled eggs in the world.

   It was half past ten by the time he lumped his case into the car. It was a sunny morning and Gringo was looking forward to the long drive home. His parents came and stood by the car, Felix dashing about their feet, before reminding the browning marigolds in the front garden of who was the master.

   ‘Don’t leave it so long next time, son,’ whispered his mother as he hugged her by the old wooden gate.

   ‘I won’t, mum.’

   Her body felt frail, so vulnerable.

   ‘I love you so very much,’ she whispered.

   ‘I love you too, mum.’

   She was reluctant to leave his embrace, yet knew she must. She wondered how long it would be before she felt her son’s strong arms around her again. In his turn father stepped forward and offered his hand. He’d never been much of a huggy type of guy.

   Gringo grasped the crooked, cold hand. There was no strength within it. He squeezed it gently. His father peered out through his rheumy eyes and looked his only son square in the face.

   ‘You find yourself a nice girl, Kevin, and settle down.’

   ‘I’m working on it, dad.’

   ‘Don’t work on it! Just do it!’

   Even then he hadn’t been able to keep the irritability from his voice.

   ‘I’m trying, dad, I really am.’

   ‘We won’t be here forever, you now.’

   ‘Get away with you. You’ve twenty years left in you yet.’

   He saw the guilty glance his parents shared. Life can be fragile, they were fragile.

   ‘Come back soon,’ urged his mother, fighting back a tear.

   ‘Come for Christmas, why don’t you? Bring someone. We’ll have the guest room done out for you, it’ll be lovely,’ said father.

   ‘Come whenever you like,’ added his mother, as Gringo jumped into the car. He buzzed down the windows and waved and shouted a final goodbye, started the car and eased away from the cottage, and as he did so, he couldn’t take his eyes from the rear view mirror. They were still waving all the way down the lane until he was out of sight around the bend. Perhaps they were still waving now. He could picture that well enough, the pair of them waving at an empty and cold lane, at the swathes of golden oak leaves blowing in the wind.

   ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said aloud, as he found himself wiping away a tear that had become damned in his moustache. As always he was torn between not visiting often enough, and not visiting at all. He tried to think of other things. He flipped the talking book CD into the player. It was the latest John Grisham lawfest. Gringo was a lazy reader. He preferred someone else to do his reading for him. The narrator had a typical American voice, an unnaturally deep sound that somehow seemed unworldly. Gringo couldn’t get into it and turned it off.

   He forced his mind to think of other things, specifically Maria Almeida. Yes, that would keep him occupied for most of the way home. He pondered on what she might look like. He wondered what she would wear. Tonight, certain things would be decided. If she turned up in trousers he would dump her. It was as simple as that, and probably before he had gone to the expense of the meal. It was her last chance. His father’s words flooded back into his mind.

  
You find yourself a nice girl, Kevin, and settle down.

  
Maria Almeida? Not a chance. Never.

   But who? And where? And when? Fact was, he seemed further away than ever.

The journey home was uneventful and he arrived back in the close at half past four. There was a huge pile of mail on the mat. He grabbed it and flicked through it. There had been plenty of time for his letter to reach New York and for it to have been answered, but there was no airmail envelope, no handwritten letter, just bills and brochures and all the other postal detritus that falls to the bottom of the hall.

   He tossed the lot on the kitchen worktop and sprinted up the stairs to take a shower. He threw his clothes on the bed, headed for the en suite and stepped into the waterfall.

   He hadn’t been under for two minutes when the telephone rang. He heard it well enough, but had no intention of leaving a trail of wet footprints across the expensive beige carpet. Whoever it was could ring back. If it wasn’t important, they wouldn’t ring.

   His mind pondered on who it might be. Probably some salesperson trying to catch the householder in at the weekend. No, I don’t want any bloody double-glazing! Or a new kitchen; or burglar alarm. Of course it could be Maria. Perhaps she had picked up a cold and was calling to reschedule, perhaps his letter had upset her in some way and she was cancelling, even blowing him out altogether. It was possible, though he doubted it. He thought it was Maria, and if it was, he was quite happy to keep her sweating, guessing, waiting a little longer, as to where he was and what he was doing. That was always par for the course. He’d just finished drying and dressing when the phone rang again.

   ‘Nineteen sixty-six,’ he yelled down the phone as he was wont to do.