Chapter Twenty-Seven
On Wednesday evening – after a quick shower and change of clothes – Lisa left the maisonette to meet Juan, who’d checked into a B&B.
‘See you,’ she cooed.
‘Laters,’ I trilled. After the front door clicked shut, I turned to Cindy with a sigh of relief. ‘Phew. Thank goodness Juan the One isn’t coming here.’
Why’s that?
‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Lisa doesn’t want you and me overhearing them in the bedroom. I mean, when you’re in the first flush of lust, you want to yodel a bit. You know. Make a bit of noise. Presumably Juan has booked a hotel for the two of them to stay in.’
Cindy regarded me silently.
‘Ah,’ I nodded. ‘Agreed. This is not an appropriate conversation. It’s blurring the parenting boundaries.’
Indeed. Can I have a biscuit?
‘Okay.’
Later, Lisa returned home looking like a woman who’d not only died and gone to heaven, but also astral travelled around the universe.
However, there had been no romantic hotel. Instead, the pair of them had been in Juan’s lorry in a layby off the A2.
By the weekend, there was a shift in Lisa’s mood. I could tell she needed to get something off her chest.
‘Listen, Tilly. And please don’t be offended.’ I was sitting in front of her little television working my way through a plate of cookies. Despite the relaxed setting, Lisa’s vibe was making me tense. ‘I know I said you could stay here forever – and that still stands – but the thing is…’
‘Yes?’
‘My romantic trysts with Juan have been taking place in the cab of his lorry. The landlady of his B&B is from the dark ages and doesn’t permit overnight visitors. His lorry is cold and uncomfortable. I’d like to bring him back here. You know’ – she gave me a meaningful look – ‘to entertain.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ll keep a low profile. I’ll make sure the telly’s volume is loud, so I don’t hear the two of you at it.’
‘Ah.’ She made a face. ‘I’d rather you go out.’ She made another face. One that was horribly apologetic but, at the same time, told me she wasn’t going to back down. ‘Perhaps you could take Cindy for a long walk.’
‘Um, okay,’ I said uncertainly. Lately, the February weather had been one of cold driving rain. This had been punctuated with strong winds. ‘We can make ourselves absent for an hour or two.’
‘Make it three,’ she said quickly.
‘Right,’ I quavered, telling myself that it was only for a few more days.
After all, Juan’s annual leave would soon come to an end. Even though he was changing his contract, he still had to return to Barcelona to give notice on his accommodation and pack up his belongings.
The die was then cast for the remainder of Juan’s stay. However, there’s only so much walking one can do in wind and rain on a dark winter’s night.
Instead, I spent much of the time driving around with Cindy. Together, we checked out the locations of houses to potentially view. I would turn into various side streets, pull over, then try and get a feel for the area.
One such evening I allowed myself to feel a ripple of enthusiasm. I was discreetly parked outside a pleasant, terraced property in an attractive residential road.
‘At last,’ I said to Cindy. ‘We might be getting somewhere.’ I nodded at the little house in our view. ‘What do you think?’
But Cindy’s focus was elsewhere. A gang of youths had materialised, seemingly from nowhere. Despite the horrible weather, they stood on the street corner drinking beer. Every now and again they pushed and shoved each other. Presumably this was meant to be joshing. Their conversation was loud and peppered with swearing.
Eventually a man opened his front door and asked them to move. He said their noise had disturbed his baby son and upset his exhausted wife.
The youths retaliated with more expletives and lots of finger action. They eventually moved on, but not until they’d thrown their empty tins across the man’s garden.
‘Prats,’ I muttered.
Did I want to buy a house where these lads liked to hang out? The answer was no. No doubt these yobs would one day grow up and go away, but there were always younger versions ready to pick up the mantle.
Disheartened, I checked out other areas. And then, one night, I found myself back in my old road.
Aye, aye. What are we doing here? said Cindy.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I sighed.
I do. You’re tormenting yourself, that’s what.
I sighed again.
‘You could be right. I wonder what Robin and Sexy Samantha are up to?’
I peered into the darkness. The curtains in my old home were drawn against the night. Samantha hadn’t got her own way about those shutters. I wondered if she’d succeeded elsewhere. Had she persuaded Robin to dump the old marital bed in favour of something bespoke, or whatever it was that she’d wittered on about when I’d shown her around. I pondered if they were both happy and glad of the decisions they’d respectively made. She to shack up with a much older man. One who self-consciously combed his hair a certain way to cover a bald spot. And whether Robin was tolerant of his young partner applying fake tan then getting it all over the pristine white linen he’d always favoured.
I looked up. There was a glow behind the bedroom curtains. The light was on. Perhaps Robin and Samantha were doing it right now. Like Lisa and Juan.
And then I found myself thinking about Polly the barmaid. Whether she’d finally bagged Milo. And, if so, were the two of them currently shagging for England at Starlight Cottage?
Everyone seemed to be at it. Apart from me.