50 Shades of Grey Power

Breakfast Club wasn’t happening every week, however we still invariably spent time together. Our relationships had deepened and we were sharing more of our lives. Real life got in the way of a decadent weekly club dedicated to the first and most important meal of the day. Lil expected us to reserve the time to join her in more pressing pursuits and today was no different. I’d received a call during he week to confirm that my services, and those of Armando, were required at the community centre. The spoils of a year’s worth of patchwork crochet were being sold and the received funds going to charity. Armando wasn’t available due to a staff crisis at the café; news I would have to deliver to Lil.

The Christmas charity sale wasn’t as grand as the recent craft fair and restricted to a smaller section of the hall. There were five or six tables packed with various handmade items, and a general brick-a-brack stall. A couple of gentlemen, I recognised from previous events, were standing at the door as a public relations’ committee – drumming up passing trade.  Lil cooed me as soon as I entered.

‘Ah there you are Wayne, could you get me a tea please. I don’t want to leave my station.’

‘Sure does Cyril want anything?’

Cyril shook his head.

As always tea and cake were being served through the kitchen hatch. I purchased two polystyrene cups of nondescript tea – I had learned not to ask for Assam at these events – and two slices of walnut cake. At 10.15am it was, strictly speaking, a little early for cake, but after forgoing a full vegetarian breakfast with a sausage on the side I thought I deserved a treat. And if Cyril changed his mind when he saw my wares I would venture back to purchase an additional sweet goodie. As my order was being prepared I surveyed the room and felt awash with pride. Lil’s stall was outstanding. There must have been more than 10 crocheted blankets in a variety of sizes and colours being marketed perfectly; spread across three tables and pegged over boards at the back. I recognised a certain grey and pink blanket at the centre of the display as I’d not only seen Lil working on it but felt like I’d lived the birth of every square. The hall was filling up nicely and I had to dodge several prams and buggies on my way back. Lil was chatting to a potential customer.

‘See anything you like?’ she asked as the man fingered one or two of the blankets.

‘They’re lovely,’ he responded as he picked up a toy his child had flung from the perambulator.

‘Thank you. I made this one,’ said Lil lifting the top fold of her personal produce in a tantalising fashion. I did hope I had misjudged her selling technique and glanced at Cyril who rolled his eyes. Was she really flirting with this man, 35 years her junior, with a child in tow? I held my lips tightly together and observed further.

‘It’s great quality, but the colours would clash with our sitting room,’ the man said and smiled apologetically.

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‘I can guarantee there are 50 shades of grey in this design,’ said Lil with a wink. Cyril disappeared behind the back boards. The potential customer didn’t know where to look, fumbled in his pocket for change, and selected a small black and yellow blanket directly in front of him.

‘That one looks like a wasp,’ Lil said through gritted teeth as she took the patron’s payment. He moved on quickly.

‘Bloody prude,’ Lil said as he walked away – hopefully too quiet for him to hear.

‘Lil.’ I placed the morning refreshments down with a start.

‘Cake – delicious.’ She accepted the napkin-wrapped item in front of her. ‘I was building up a good appetite.’

‘For what?’ asked Cyril as he emerged from his hiding place. Lil let out an enormous hall filling cackle. I noticed her customer scrambling for the door with his buggy taking the corner on two wheels.

‘Not you as well.’

‘Have you read 50 shades?’ I asked.

‘No, but I’ve heard it’s a bit saucy which I added to my sales’ banter.’

‘I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard enough to know that it’s more than saucy. It’s blue in a deviant sort of way…’ I said.

‘What sort of way?’ Lil asked as her cheeks starting to flush deeper than the already existing rouge.

‘In an S & M way,’ Cyril said.

‘Bondage?’ announced Lil loud enough to elicit odd looks from a number of others in our vicinity. Cyril and I nodded.

‘Well I never.’ She took a large bite from the cake and sat down.

‘Crochet and bondage and all before luncheon,’ Cyril said.

‘Where’s Armando?’ Lil asked swiftly changing the subject.

‘Staffing problems I’m afraid. He said to nip in this afternoon for a cuppa.’

‘Hmmm – I thought he’d support our event.’ Lil thrust the last piece of sponge into her mouth and dabbed the crumbs stuck to her face with the napkin.

‘Do you think you’ll sell your piece?’ I asked moving on from disappointment and unjust criticism aimed at Armando.

‘I bloody hope so. I’ve been working on it for eight months.’

‘It is rather special,’ I said as I ran my hand over its woollen yarn.

‘Don’t you get it all messy with your sticky cake fingers.’

Our conversation was stunted by another customer, a middle aged woman this time, who chose a navy blue blanket.

‘Any news from Gisela?’ I asked.

‘Yes, we received a note confirming she would be back in time for our Christmas lunch next week,’ Cyril said.

‘Fantastic. How is she?’

‘Don’t know. It was a short note – typical Gi,’ Lil said.

‘Let’s hope the trip hasn’t been too trying,’ I said.

‘She was supposed to be here today to help me.’

‘I think we should forgive her in the circumstances, don’t you?’

‘Hear, hear,’ added Cyril.

‘Yes of course, but I did have to interact with that Bellamy woman. She wanted me to switch to this afternoon and I told her in Gisela’s absence I wouldn’t.’

‘Why didn’t you take advantage of the offer? We could have enjoyed Breakfast Club with Armando at the café.’

‘The only reason she wanted me to change is to clean up. The sale finishes at 1pm and the hall has to be left in the same condition it’s found in. I’m not scrubbing for that two-faced hussy. I haven’t decided how to deal with her yet, but deal I will.’

‘Hello,’ came a familiar voice, ‘isn’t this all grand?’

‘Morning Nelly, how are you?’

‘Yes, I’m fine – Marty’s behind me somewhere and I’ve told him to behave himself.’ Nelly shrugged her shoulders and moved along.

‘Poor Mrs McAleen. She is saddled with her brother’s misdeeds,’ Cyril said as he folded his arms across his diamond-patterned sweater. ‘I’m going to take her for tea,’ he added as he deserted his position, linked arms with Nelly and steered her towards the refreshments.

‘Don’t,’ I said to Lil as she was about to complain. ‘You’re lucky he’s here to help you. You could have ended up with Mavis, and then there wouldn’t be anything left to sell after you two had ripped it to shreds.’

Lil laughed and I was just about to confirm my proposed purchase when she stiffened and spoke.

‘Good morning Mr McGuire, your sister’s taking tea with Cyril.’

‘Don’t be like that princess. I was thinking how cosy it would be if we snuggled under one of these blankets together.’

Lil tried to keep her demeanour and lips pursed but it was futile and another cackle erupted. ‘Now get along with yourself Marty McGuire and don’t be so forward.’

Marty winked and moved along happy that relations were defrosting.

‘Is he forgiven?’ I asked.

‘Not exactly but I do enjoy spending time with him. He makes me laugh and I miss that.’

‘I’m glad you’re feeling more positive, but be careful please.’

‘I will, I will.’ She held up her hand, letting me know that the conversation was over. I was impressed she’d let me make a supportive comment.

‘It doesn’t look as if this old thing is going to sell…’ I said holding the corner of Lil’s throw.

‘Early days yet.’

‘I thought I’d put it out of its misery. It would look beautiful thrown over our sofa.’

Lil beamed as we completed our transaction. Lil leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled and hoped no shade of grey reference would follow.

 

 

Adventures in Shopping

After the events of the last couple of weeks I was looking forward to a Christmas shopping trip to Brent Cross with Armando, Lil and Cyril – Gisela was still in Germany. I wanted us to have a jolly day full of early Christmas cheer even if we had to address the Mavis and Marty issue. After a quick and uneventful Assam we walked the short distance to my car.

‘It’s a bit small isn’t it?’ Lil said of my Lexus.

‘It’s a hybrid,’ I said proudly.

Armando had assumed passenger position, and Cyril and Lil were to be in the back. However, Lil was fussing, and tapped her umbrella against the window.

‘It’s electric, I can’t open it yet,’ Armando said.

‘What? Open the window, I can’t hear you.’ Lil tapped harder with the brolly, and rather than have the glass smashed I got out again to see what was wrong.

‘I can’t sit in the back. It makes me feel sick.’ I did understand as I too suffer from motion sickness but wished she’d said before everyone was in. After a shuffling around we were off.

‘Stop,’ Lil screamed before we were even halfway up Shepherds Hill.

‘What’s wrong?’ I said swerving to the side of the road and slamming on the brakes.

‘You were too close to the car approaching from the opposite direction, and going far too fast, and now you’ve nearly knocked that poor woman over on the pavement.’ Lil  clutched her scarf in a dramatic fashion.

‘Errrr I wasn’t and that woman is fifty feet away.’

‘Can we get on please,’ Cyril said.

‘I can’t stop every two seconds for a passenger seat driver,’ I said.

‘Fine – switch up the wireless and I’ll close my eyes,’ Lil said and with that folded her arms, and gripped her patented handbag, complete with gold clasp, tightly.

‘What shops do you need?’ Armando asked, changing the subject.

‘I need a number of items from John Lewis, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford them all,’ Cyril said.

‘Come to Boots with me,’ Lil said.

‘I don’t think they have the kind of gifts I’m looking for’, he said

‘Come on, they do Old Spice box sets.’ Lil released a splintering cackle. Her second attempt this morning to shatter the glass in my car windows and we were barely even out of Crouch End. ‘At least we’re no longer suffering from Black Friday, which I haven’t got the foggiest idea about by the way.’

‘It’s one of those dreadful Americanisms that we can do without. We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, and I don’t see why we have to have their Black Friday,’ Cyril said.

‘I’m afraid with the growth of multinational companies and online shopping it was always going to come,’ I said.

‘I don’t give a shit about that. I just want to get to Brent Cross safely – watch out for those traffic lights,’ Lil said.

Fortunately Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer came on the radio and we all sang along together, which improved the cheer in the atmosphere. Lil sang loudest, of course.

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‘Can’t we park any closer?’ Lil asked after I’d spent several minutes trying to be as proximate to the centre as possible.

‘No,’ I said curtly and pulled up the handbrake.

We shuffled inside and were infected by the piped Christmas jingle from the centre’s speakers.

‘Now that’s a lovely tree,’ Lil said.

‘Have you got your decorations up?’ Armando asked.

‘A fake tree, some tinsel and a few ornaments, but that’s good enough for me,’ Lil said.

‘I try,’ Cyril said as he gazed up at the massive tree, ‘but nothing matches the decorations we had at home when I was young, and a lot of them home-made.’

We parted and agreed to meet in an hour at the John Lewis café for coffee and cake. I didn’t have that much specific Christmas shopping to do. I find it such a stressful chore to seek out and procure items which you hope the recipients will love and value. I much prefer to buy presents when someone has expressed a need. And to add to my woes most of those I buy for already have ‘everything’ or have the financial stability to buy what they need or want when they need or want it. I pushed gift purchasing from my mind and nipped along to Zara to peruse their winter sweater range. This was unsuccessful as my overindulgence in Sherry and Battenberg has rendered Zara clothing unbefitting – literally; and I was in no mood for hats, hankies and socks. I meandered back towards John Lewis and was drawn into All Saints; their sizing being more forgiving.

‘What you going in there for?’ came a familiar voice. I turned to see Lil laden with Boots’ bags and a new tinsel scarf.

‘I’m having a quick look at sweaters and t shirts. You want to join me?’

‘I suppose. I am trying to be more with it,’ Lil said with essence of sarcasm.

‘You’re well on your way with a tinselled neckerchief.’

We were approaching the heart of the store where I’d spotted a gun metal grey sweater with leather patches, which I liked. My inspection was interrupted.

‘It’s too bloody dark in here to see anything,’ Lil said. One of the size zero male assistants sauntered passed with an acerbic grimace.

‘It’s for the ambience,’ I said in a discreet tone.

‘You’ll have to speak up – I can’t hear you over this bloody music. What’s the point of shopping if you can’t see or hear each other?’

Lil’s nerves were fraying and I ceased my sweater inspection, took Lil’s arm and guided her to the sanctity of the sanitised John Lewis café. We were 15 minutes early and first there. We selected a vacant table and awaited the other members of our party.

‘Have you seen Marty?’ I asked.

‘Yes we had tea.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘It was tea Boulevardier.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

‘I don’t know. I enjoy his company. He makes me laugh, but I’m still not comfortable with him and Mavis.’

‘Are they still spending time together?’

‘I don’t think so, but who knows without Gisela and her eagle eyes.’

‘Armando and I met with Marty.’

‘I know,’ Lil said and pursed her lips. Her face folded into a cross frown, ‘and I don’t understand why it’s taken you two weeks to tell me.’

‘Sorry Lil but I wasn’t sure what to say or do. He isn’t exactly as I expected but I’m not sure he is capable of being what you want him to be either.’

‘You know a lot for someone so young,’ Lil said.

‘He did say that Mavis approached him.’

‘I’m not surprised in the slightest. That one has never been satisfied. She’s always coveted what I have.’

Armando arrived at the table with the necessary refreshments.

‘I saw you two, thick as thieves and got coffee and cake.’

‘Good. I think we’ve finished this conversation. Yummy chocolate cake,’ Lil said.

I shrugged my shoulders. Armando looked confused. Cyril joined us taxed with John Lewis bags.

‘Beautiful ornaments and decorations,’ Cyril said.

‘They don’t make Yardley gift sets like they used to’ Lil said as she extracted a box from one of her carrier bags. She proceeded to remove several other pre-packed gift sets, a bottle of eau de toilette for Gisela, and finally a super-sized can of Elnett.

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‘Who’s getting the hairspray?’ I asked.

‘Ha, it’s for me you silly sod.’

Lil and Cyril were on a mission and departed together in the direction of Marks and Spencer leaving Armando and me holding their purchased spoils. This was fortunate as it provided a good opportunity to pursue an update from Armando.

‘I think I’ve met someone decent, early days, but in my age group, he works normal hours and speaks English,’ he informed me grinning from ear to ear.

‘I’m pleased. What does he do?’

‘Media and marketing in the West End.’

It looked as if Christmas was all around us and the good spirits were soaring. Now, if we could only have some resolution in Lil’s life, we could hit the festivities head on.

‘Come on Armando, let’s get after the kids before they run amok.’

Armando patted me on the shoulder before we picked up the many festively decorated plastic bags and moved to locate our wards.

 

 

Humbug Hamburgers

I’d had an emotionally conflicting week. I supported Lil utterly, but having heard Marty’s story I had come to the conclusion that the situation wasn’t as one sided as I’d previously thought. He had to be accountable for his actions, true. However, he deserved to be given some latitude as his own life course had moulded his person and his behaviour protected his own heart from further wounds. It’s never too late to make changes and grow, but I did wonder whether these two pensioners should give it another go. Lil was keen on him, and nothing ventured and all that, yet I couldn’t predict the level of hurt which existed in the future. I was certain, however, that it would be a bumpy ride. They were both adults and would make their own decisions, but Lil looked on us as her supporters, her roots, and I wouldn’t let her down.

The second and more pressing unexploded bomb was that Mavis had orchestrated the date(s) with Lil’s beau. Marty had been sensible and sensitive enough not to appraise Lil of this fact and only Armando and I knew. We had brought Cyril into our confidence but could rely upon his discretion. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to relay this intelligence, and if so, when. Lil deserved to know but it would definitely add additional stress to an already rocky relationship. I had misjudged Marty’s behaviour and had been trying to convince myself that he’d misunderstood a hand of friendship, but it wasn’t sitting comfortably. I was struggling to keep an open mind where Mavis was concerned. The worst case would be that Lil found out that we already knew, and held back, and I couldn’t trust Marty to not set the wheels in motion, whether inadvertently or not. If Mavis became aware that we knew I am thoroughly persuaded that she would stab Lil with the knife of knowledge.

Lil had, thankfully, decided to leave the sanctity of her block and attend Breakfast Club this week with Gisela. I couldn’t quite understand from the garbled message, but there was news from the German member of our clique.

Armando was standing by one of the café front windows with his arms folded as I arrived. His eyes were as red as the sky on a summer’s evening.

‘Good morning Armando. Are you burning the candle at both ends again?’

‘Morning Wayne, and yes café is busy and I might have another bulletin,’ Armando answered with a cheeky grin. I was about to request additional and immediate information when a familiar polka-dotted shopping trolley appeared ahead of Lil and Gisela.

‘This conversation isn’t over,’ I said to Armando as I waved to the girls.

‘Who are you waving at? Silly sod,’ said Lil as she poked the door open with her umbrella which doubled as her stick. It was dotted too and coordinated perfectly with her shopping cart. ‘Now lift my trolley in would you Boulevardier.’

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The activity of getting to our table created a fuss. I wasn’t as adept a navigator as Lil and struck several chairs en route to the back of the café. I was glad to see the returned trolley in one sense, as it aided Lil to keep her balance. However, it was also her security blanket which had all but disappeared in recent times. I cleared the thought that Marty associated shopping trollies with old women from my brain before it had a chance to germinate. Gisela looked distant and sad.

‘Now, I have to tell you that I’ve had some upsetting news,’ she said as she adjusted her spectacles to sit higher on her nose.

‘Hang on Gi,’ said Lil, ‘let’s get the tea order in first. I’m parched.’

‘Already in progress,’ said Armando and huffed.

‘My name is Gisela. We all have preferred designations Lillian.’

Lil pursed her lips – her mood was truculent today.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘One of my school friends has passed away. She was so healthy until the last few months.’

‘I’m so sorry for your loss. Were you close?’ I asked.

‘We have written every week since I left Germany.’ Gisela removed her glasses and wiped the moisture from the corner of her eyes.

‘Are you planning to attend the funeral?’ asked Armando.

‘I am. I am flying to Bonn tomorrow. I’m terrified. I haven’t been home in over 30 years. I feel very emotional. I don’t know what to expect and here is my home now and I don’t want to confuse that.’

Judith was by our side with an extra-large floral pot. We took the opportunity to place our orders. Lil never wavered from her Full English – Armando joined her, which was a surprise and I wondered why he needed refuelling? I had a vegetarian with a sausage, and Gisela a bacon sandwich.

‘I have to keep my strength up. I’m not one of those people who makes a fuss about eating when upset,’ said Gisela. Lil pursed her lips and folded her arms. I poured the tea to alleviate any growing tensions.

‘I think you’re doing the right thing. Hopefully you can cherish some memories of youth again, and celebrate change. I mean Germany wasn’t united when you were last there.’

‘Yes, I’m trying but I’m scared too.’

The door opened and there stood Marty and Mrs McAleen. Nelly approached us first and greeted the table – nervously.

‘Take a seat Nelly,’ said Lil.

‘Sorry for your loss Gisela,’ said Nelly. Marty was hanging back.

‘Pull up a chair Marty,’ said Armando.

Our breakfasts arrived and there was a kerfuffle as space was made for the plates, and condiments were shuffled along.

‘Thank you Nelly. It’s been a hard week.’

‘What’s up?’ Nelly elbowed Marty for asking a question he already knew the answer to. She’d briefed him that morning on their way. The grapevine always wheedled its way through the community.

‘Gisela has lost an old friend in Germany and has to go there tomorrow,’ said Lil through gritted teeth as she tore open her egg and plonked a mushroom into its yellow innards.

‘I always thought she was a bit of a Hamburger,’ said Marty.

Burger-Hamburger

Gisela started to cry.

‘What did you say that for?’ said Lil.

‘I think he was trying to lighten the mood,’ I said.

‘Why are you sticking up for him?’

Cyril walked in and straight back out again.

‘You are a saucy baggage when you get cross,’ said Marty.

‘Who are you calling an old bag?’ said Lil and tutted.

‘We’ll go,’ said Nelly glaring at Marty. ‘Shame as I was just in the mood for a Coca-Cola. Sorry Gisela.’ Nelly leant over and planted a comforting kiss.

I hadn’t seen this side of Nelly before. She’d always seemed to be at her brother’s beck and call. Marty pushed his chair back and walked out with a passing ‘See you all when I’m looking at ya.’

‘It’s not him. Any mention of Germany at the moment is hard, and my husband used to call me his little Hamburger, even though I was from Bonn.’

I understood. The emotions associated with the past intensify the more past there is. I recently went to a reunion in the village where I grew up. I walked into the pub which had once been my local, and it looked similar but the people who were now the locals looked at me as if an outsider. I should have felt completely at ease but I didn’t until the flood of old friends appeared. I settled down but the nostalgia of memory didn’t sync with the surroundings that day.

Lil tore tigerishly at a piece of bacon before thrusting it into the baked beans dispelling tomato sauce over the edge of her plate.

‘You are the messy pup today,’ said Gisela.

‘What do you expect when my breakfast is spoiled and I’m given indigestion?’ Lil slammed her cup on its mismatched saucer.

‘Careful please,’ said Armando.

Lil tutted.

‘How long will you stay in Germany?’ I asked.

‘I have an open return. If I feel good then I might spend a few weeks there and see my childhood home one more time.’

‘And I’m abandoned,’ said Lil.

I started to remind Lil that not everything revolved around her drama but decided better of it. She was responding to more than Gisela disappearing for a few weeks.

‘We’re still here, and your Cyril is only across the hall.’

‘Yeah I suppose – although I saw him come in earlier and vanish straight away.’

Who could blame him I thought as I nodded and refilled our cups.

Marty’s Pad

‘Good morning Mrs McAleen,’ I’d said as I greeted Nelly standing below the clock tower.

‘Ah morning Wayne, how are you?’ she’d replied clutching her Crouch End tote bag against her body.

‘Much better for seeing you on this cold morning. Are you with your brother?’

‘I’m waiting for him. We’ve having a morning coffee and I had to finish some shopping first, although I might have a Coca-Cola.’

I was about to clarify the obsession with the dark fizzy drink when Marty appeared looking sheepish as he eyed me. At least he was alone. I needed to play it safe and not launch into a Mavis inquisition.

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‘Morning Marty – Armando and I wondered if we could meet with you and talk about the current and unfortunate situation.’

‘Errrrr, yeah I guess. Do you want Nelly to be there too?’

‘No, let’s keep it to the boys for now.’

‘I don’t want Cyril to come.’

I took a breath and tried to keep my tone neutral and said, ‘It will just be the three of us.’

After jotting his address in my phone we parted. I wasn’t going to tell Lil or anyone else what had just occurred. I wasn’t sure how Marty would respond to our interference and didn’t want to cause any additional difficulties, but equally he’d upset Lil and we were looking out for her. We were walking the knife-edge of pensioner drama.

Armando and I had agreed to meet separately at Marty’s so as not to arrive threateningly en masse. I didn’t realise the tall Victorian building contained local authority housing as I buzzed on number 12 of 15, and wondered at so many dwellings packed inside. Marty granted entry. The communal hallway was a mess, and I could hear children crying in one of the flats. The carpet on the stairs was worn and filthy. There were three brown doors on the second floor hallway; one opened and Marty welcomed me in. Armando was already sitting on the arm of a battered wingchair, next to the stained and rickety wooden dining table. As I looked left I saw the kitchenette; Marty lived in a bedsit. There was a second older armchair – no sofa, and a small double bed in the corner. An old TV, and a small table, and a black wireless were the only other features of note.

‘Tea?’ asked Marty, pointing to the blemished pot on the table.

‘Yes please,’ I said, hoping for a clean cup. The sugar bowl was cracked and protected by a once white plastic cover.

‘I am in the middle of explaining to Marty that we want to help him sort out the situation with Lil,’ said Armando. I sat down on one of the dining chairs, and Marty followed suit.

‘Things weren’t this complicated in Ireland. I long for those days,’ said Marty.

I bit my lip and was glad I’d sipped a preparatory Sherry before I left home. It was going to be difficult to refrain from blasting him with both barrels, such was my affection and spirit for Lil.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Armando.

‘I wasn’t one for going out when I was young. I used to spend a lot of my time bird catching. You could sell them for a few bob at the market. We had a net as tall as this room, which we would secure with pulleys, and release when there were a number of birds feeding on the field. I could catch 10 to 15 at a time. They were mostly green plover, but sometimes we had golden plover, which went for more. It isn’t legal anymore.’

‘Was it legal then?’ I asked. His going into so much detail with his story was irritating.

‘I suppose not,’ said Marty.

‘You lived here long?’ asked Armando.

‘I’ve moved around a fair bit since my divorce – ’

‘You were married?’ I interrupted.

‘Yeah for close on twenty years, to Janet. Janet Loos as she was, and a beauty queen of Tewkesbury.’ Marty paused and looked distant. I was not surprised in the slightest that his marriage had failed if his current morals were a barometer. I also noticed the pile of racing papers on the floor and wondered if his gambling had also contributed to the demise of his relationship.

‘I came to England when I was 23. A fella from home had some building work here, in Swindon and the surrounding area, and it was more money than I could make in Cork. I couldn’t believe the weekends in Cheltenham; all the girls flocked to the American servicemen who were stationed there. Me and my mates used to wait and see who was left at the end of the night. Easy pickings. That’s where I met Janet. She was actually dating one of the American soldiers at the time, but her mother didn’t approve. I loved her so much but it was difficult to keep her happy. She was never satisfied. She didn’t want children, and as hard as I worked it was never enough. The more hours I worked, the more she spent and the more men she had. When we split up Nelly joined me in England with her daughter, and we relocated to London.’

‘Where’s Nelly’s husband?’ I asked. I was taken aback by Marty’s sudden outpouring of revelation. I was definite that he was a ne’er do well, but he had heartbreak of his own, and judging by his current living situation, wasn’t having an easy time of it now either.

‘He had an accident on the railways, where he worked. He was never the same and died. Nelly looked after him until the end, but in those days no one wanted to take on a woman with a child. We lived together for a while but that didn’t work. Nelly said my comings and goings didn’t provide a stable environment for the girl.’

‘I didn’t know Nelly had a daughter,’ I said.

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me and my family Wayne. She married and is back in Ireland. She’s happy enough.’

‘Do you have any idea of the trouble that already exists between Mavis and Lil?’ Armando asked.

‘I’m getting the picture. Listen fellas I know why you’re here, and it’s not that simple. I wasn’t one for settling, and always take a number of outings with a multitude of women, but Lil is different and I’ve struggled with that. I like spending time with her more than most, but I still want to keep my other female friends.’

‘But why Mavis?’ asked Armando.

‘She approached me, and I never turn down chance for a chat and some female company.’ I knew it. Marty was far from innocent but Mavis had injected herself in the middle.

‘Why didn’t you go to the fair with Lil?’ I asked.

‘We’d had a row and she put the phone down.’ This wasn’t exactly how Lil had presented it, but I tried to keep an open mind.

‘What did you row about?’

‘She was unhappy and feeling frumpy and took offence at my suggestion to shop for some modern garments. I joked, “I can tell that you’re square by the clothes that you wear, so why not get with it, and pay me a visit”. It used to be the advertisement on the wall of the tailor’s back home.’

‘And what about Cyril?’

‘What about him?’ asked Marty.

‘I’m not sure you’ve been welcoming to him,’ Armando said politely.

‘He’s got Lil eating out of the palm of his hand, and yes he might say he prefers men, but I’m not so sure. They’re always round his posh flat.’

‘I can assure you. He isn’t interested in a romantic relationship with Lil,’ I said.

‘Told you that has he?’ asked Marty.

‘Not in so many words, but I know.’

‘I agree,’ said Armando.

This wasn’t as straightforward as I thought. Before today I was convinced that Marty was the villain, however, I wasn’t certain now. I was still convinced he wasn’t right for Lil. She needed someone she could feel secure with and that wasn’t Marty. He was in fact a sad character and tainted by his own life experiences and lack of acceptance of getting older.

‘Thanks for explaining,’ said Armando.

‘Are you going to help me sort it out?’ asked Marty.

‘We’ll see what we can do, but you have to understand that we have to make sure it’s right for Lil,’ said Armando.

‘Yes of course. She sees you two as her sons and I can see why,’ said Marty.

‘One question before we go,’ I said. Marty nodded.

‘Why is your sister always talking about Coke?’

Marty let out a belly laugh. ‘She’s always loved the stuff, and it was a bit special when we were younger. A real treat. It could be worse, she could have followed in our Gran’s footsteps.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Armando.

‘She lived to 95 and swore it was because of half a pint of Guinness and some snuff, daily,’ said Marty.

‘What does snuff taste like?’ I asked.

‘Suppose it tastes like snuff,’ said Marty. And after that useful response we thanked Marty for his hospitality and departed. How to address this with Lil would occupy significant cerebral space over the coming days.

 

 

 

Cyril’s Inner Sanctum

Unfortunately I had been away with work most of the week, and busy into the evenings, which meant that I couldn’t check in with Lil as often as I’d have liked. Armando, as ever, stepped up to the plate and corroborated her mental and emotional condition and Cyril had become Lil’s garde-malade as he lived across the hallway. Lil hadn’t left the flat, aside from a Remembrance Day service, for fear of bumping into the interlopers. By all accounts she had barely responded to Gisela. I suspect the latter for her previously cited views on Marty.

Breakfast Club had been supplanted by a late lunch at Cyril’s. I collected Armando from the café at 1.45, who was, for once, empty handed. Cyril had everything under control.

‘How are you?’ I asked Armando as we made the short walk to Lil and Cyril’s block.

‘Doing fine I think. I have focused on increasing events at the café.’

‘That’s excellent. Who knows you might even meet someone at one of the events.’

‘Maybe, but not the purpose. It seems that Lil and I are in, and out, of relationships in sync.’

I pressed the familiar buzzer but knew that once granted permission to enter we would take a different direction at the top of the first staircase.

‘She’s flopped out in the sitting room,’ whispered Cyril as he opened his front door. The floor plan was a mirror image of Lil’s flat, but with a different ambience.  A wonderful aroma emanated from the kitchen. It was indeed a late lunch and my appetite needed no whetting. The hallway was lined with gilt-framed photos. The pictures were mostly black and white, and the faces perhaps people from Cyril’s past. Today wasn’t the day but I hoped I would have the opportunity to seek an explanation for each. I didn’t spot Lil when we first entered the sitting room as she was lost amid the rich tapestry of fur (I assume fake) throws by which the sofa was swathed. She looked small and fragile. Lil had shattered my illusions regarding the elderly. She lived with extreme emotions, high highs and low lows as an everyday part of her life. It wasn’t all lavender and Countdown. However, there was an aroma of lavender which I assumed came from one of the oil burners situated on the sideboard. Next to Lil was a small occasional table with a slim glass containing a dark liquid, and a lamp with a red velvet tasselled shade that wouldn’t look out of place in a bordello. After greeting Lil with an affectionate peck I sat in one of the two upright arms chairs filled with brocade cushions. Sherry wafted from her breath. Cyril appeared carrying a tasteful gold-coloured tray with two additional small Sherry glasses.

‘Oloroso Wayne, I hope you approve,’ said Cyril as he bowed to offer his wares. It was incredibly sweet of him to remember my preferred tipple.

‘I’ll have a top up please,’ said Lil.

‘Just the one Sherry before luncheon,’ answered Cyril.

‘Stop gawping Wayne,’ said Lil.

‘I wasn’t dear, I’m lost for words. It’s like I’m in the middle of a Greek tragedy with Medea at the centre.’

Lil snorted in appreciation of an attempt at a lighter comment.

‘There is nothing as dead as a dead love affair,’ said Lil informatively.

‘Honestly Lil, you don’t seem to be doing too badly, lying there, wrapped in fur, eating bon bons and drinking Sherry – rather sybaritic if you ask me,’ I said.

‘Has he still been pestering you?’ asked Armando moving the conversation along.

‘I have to keep taking my phone off the hook, and thank goodness we have the security downstairs otherwise he’d be knocking down my door. He has got into the building a couple of times, and pleaded at my door. I can’t face him yet.’

‘It’s shameful, Irish barbarity,’ said Cyril and then disappeared to put the finishing touches to lunch.

‘It’s Nelly I feel sorry for. He’s got her to call a few times too,’ said Lil.

‘It’s probably not the first time,’ I said before biting my lip to stop any further vitriol escaping. Armando glared at me to stunt additional inflammatory comments.

‘I didn’t see Nelly there last week Lil. Was she?’ I asked.

‘No, she came later, and was mortified according to Gisela,’ said Lil.

‘Is Gisela joining us today?’ Armando asked.

‘No, she had a meeting which would run into the start of lunch.’

‘I’m sure Cyril wouldn’t mind her coming late. It’s only lunch,’ I said as I polished off the remainder of my Oloroso.

‘You haven’t been to Cyril’s before. It’s more formal than you’d expect and it wouldn’t be appropriate to arrive mid-way through an event. You’ll see,’ said Lil.

‘Please come into the dining room, lunch is ready,’ said Cyril.

‘Can’t we eat here?’ implored Lil.

‘No,’ said Cyril but lamented and added, ‘but you can bring a fur if it would make you happy.’ Lil wrapped a mink-coloured throw around her shoulders and led the charge to the dining room. A formal table was laid, without cloth, but with stunning, shining silverware and an ornate candelabra at the centre. A Rococo glass mirror hung on the wall, beneath which was a delicious arrangement of pussy willow and gladioli in a vase atop a dark wooden bookcase. I spotted novels by Willa Carther and Nancy Mitford before turning my attention to the table where devilled eggs were set out; name place cards guided us to our appointed position.

‘Would you pour the wine please?’ Cyril asked Armando.

‘Yes please,’ said Lil before she was asked, although as the only lady present she would have been served first in any event.

‘You have a lovely home,’ I said.

‘Thank you. I try to keep it decent and comfortable. The mirror there came from my family home.’ It was like being in an aristocratic council flat. Decadence oozed from every pore but with frayed and faded edges.

‘The fish is in the oven, so please eat up,’ said Cyril.

‘Anything from Mavis?’ I ventured to enquire.

‘Nothing,’ answered Lil with such finality in her voice I dared not pursue it further.

‘Look, I know this has hit me hard and it has and I feel bloody humiliated, but I’ve been worse. I knew that Marty had wandering eyes, but that was part of his charm.’

Armando and I eyed each other in a way which agreed that we would have to meet with Marty, establish his true intentions and aid this affair to reach its conclusion one way or another.

‘Shall I tell you something of the outside?’ I asked.

‘Yes please,’ said Cyril welcoming new life into the discussion.

‘Last Sunday I went for a power walk with my friend Marina to Alexandra Palace –’

‘Power walk?’ interrupted Lil with a cackle.

I glanced at her in an overtly dramatic manner and continued, ‘an unusual, well unusual for Ally Pally, smell hit our nostrils, and Marina said she could smell cheese. I recognised the smell from childhood and it wasn’t cheese. Let’s call it a farmyard smell. I took a deep breath and declared that it was muck. I further tried to isolate the aroma, and pronounced it was most likely pig. Well Marina almost fell on the floor laughing. ‘Trust you, she’d said to be able to know whose backside it came from. It was a perfect country boy meets city girl moment.’

‘Silly sod,’ said Lil looking slightly cheered.

‘Country gents don’t have to analyse muck,’ said Cyril, ‘especially during a civilised luncheon.’

‘You’re a sillier sod than he is,’ said Lil waving her fork at Cyril.

Cyril took this as a cue to remove the plates and attend to the stuffed and roasting haddock in the oven.

‘I know whose face I’d like to push into that muck,’ said Lil.

‘Now,’ said Armando as he topped up the wine glasses. We used to drink Assam tea, and were devolving (or evolving I can’t make my mind up) into lunchtime drinkers.

‘When do you think you’ll return to society?’ I asked Lil.

‘I don’t have to leave the block and I have Cyril here, and Gisela is visiting regularly, but I know that moment will come. I feel ashamed,’ said Lil with water forming in the corner of her eye.

‘You have nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Armando and rested a comforting hand on Lil’s thin arm.

‘Exactly,’ I echoed, ‘Marty and Mavis should be mortified.’

Cyril reappeared carrying antique gilt-edged white plates loaded with roast fish, sautéed potatoes and spinach. As we started to tuck in the door buzzer rang – urgently.

‘Ignore it,’ said Cyril. He feared it was Marty.

The buzzer rang again and it did sound pressing.

‘Excuse me,’ said Cyril as he stood with irritation and slapped his napkin on the back of his chair. We listened intently and heard Cyril grant the caller entry. Lil looked suddenly ashen. We heard a recognisable voice, and an out of breath Gisela joined us in the dining room.

‘Sorry to disturb but I had to come and tell you immediately,’ said Gisela and welcomed the wine glugging into a glass in front of her. After taking a sip she continued, ‘I was walking home from the community centre and I bumped into Mavis with three or four children, presumably relations. She greeted me sheepishly and I returned the greeting with a polite but formal attitude and carried on my way. However, hiding and poking his head from the very next corner was Marty. It was no coincidence in my opinion. He is not sorry for behaviour.’

‘I never trust a woman draped in children,’ said Lil with pursed lips.

Whatever she said, Lil didn’t blame Marty anywhere near as much as she did Mavis. History and past hurt leaned heavy on her views but she was dangerously close to allowing that to cloud her contemplations. I glanced from Gisela to Armando and Cyril and knew we were united in purpose. Armando and I would meet with this Irish Don Juan.

 

An (Un)civilised Craft Fair

Today there was to be no Breakfast Club. I would be catching up with Armando for coffee only. My week was supposed to be filled with days off, fireworks, writing and other artsy activities. However, I had inadvertently become embroiled in the latest pension war.

Lil had telephoned on Tuesday evening and she wasn’t happy.

‘I can’t believe him Wayne. He’s a bloody law unto himself,’ she’d said as I answered the call.

‘Who? What’s happened Lil?’

‘Marty – who else and don’t pretend you like him,’ said Lil.

‘What’s he done now?’ I said adding irritation to my tone.

‘He told me to update my look.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Apparently a few “with it” items of clothing wouldn’t go amiss. He said my dresses are more suited to old ladies. I told him I was an old lady and he was an old man.’

‘Good for you Lil. He is too much – really.’

‘He didn’t take kindly to that and added that if I wanted to go with him to the craft fair at the community centre tomorrow I’d better get with the programme. I told him to sod off. That was this morning, and I’ve waited in for either him to call or visit with an apology – and he hasn’t.’

‘Oh Lil, you should have called earlier.’

‘I didn’t want to busy the line. I’ve barely even been to the loo.’

Now probably wasn’t the best time to sell the merits of call-waiting. ‘Do you want to go to the craft fair?’ I asked.

‘Aren’t you listening? I said he won’t go with me.’

‘When have you ever done what you’re told? Why don’t I take you?’

The line went silent. I could hear the brain cogs whirling.

‘Don’t you work on a Wednesday?’

‘No, I’ve some time off this week to write.’

‘OK, yes, let’s go, you can pick me up at 1.45.’

Our plan was in place. I hoped that I was going to be there when Lil informed Marty she’d managed to make it solo, the world didn’t revolve around him, and his denial of the ageing process.

I’d collected Lil as directed and complimented her on her M&S inspired outfit of tailored black trousers and a cream wool sweater. She added a head scarf around her neck secured by a diamanté ring. Her hair had a vibrant blue hue – she’d been at the rinse again.

‘Are you looking for anything today?’ I asked.

‘Not really, it’s mostly overpriced doilies but they always have good cake. I might look for a new tea cosy but it depends on the cost. I remember when you could pick one up at a jumble sale for 5p.’

‘But this isn’t a jumble sale,’ I said.

‘Same difference,’ said Lil closing the conversation.

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The community centre wasn’t busy when we arrived. Tables had been set out around the side, behind which sat expectant ware sellers. The crafts available were not the overpriced variety one finds at contemporary fairs, but what some might consider more down to earth. It reminded me of similar affairs I’d attended in the village where I’d grown up; tombolas and raffles aplenty. I usually ended up winning a soap-on-a-rope or items of that ilk. At the time I’d felt sophisticated and longed to don the soap around my neck. We paraded along the left hand side of the hall and Lil introduced me with pride to each of the stallholders she knew, as she fingered their merchandise. Her lips pursed at some of the prices. I could see the tea and cake stand getting ever closer, and my appetite rose. I shouldn’t have been hungry after a delicious mushroom omelette for luncheon, but cake passion tends to create hunger pains.

‘Shall we stop for tea?’ I asked Lil.

‘Yes, it’s starting to pack out, and I don’t want to miss out. I’ll have a cuppa, I doubt they have Assam; and a slice of walnut and date madeira please.’

I sat Lil at a vacant bistro style table and attended the serving hatch. The Battenberg called to me from its display plate.

‘You going to buy anything?’ Lil asked as I delivered our tray.

I shrugged my uncertainty as I set the table.

‘You should support the community,’ said Lil.

‘I don’t see you buying much.’

‘I am the community.’

‘And who do you think exchanged coins for your current repast?’

We laughed affectionately.

‘Actually prices are much higher than last year, but I must buy something to flaunt in front of that man,’ said Lil.

‘I’m not sure one-upmanship is a worthy occupation, although on the other hand it is Marty.’

Lil grabbed my arm and I feared I’d gone too far. She pushed the chair back and stood up. I followed her eye line and saw that Marty and Mavis had entered the hall, arm in arm, like royalty.

‘Sit down Lil,’ I implored. She sat and took my hand. She was shaking and I didn’t know whether through anger or shock. She followed her prey as they move along a couple of stalls.

‘I’ve had enough of this. I won’t be made a fool of,’ said Lil as she rose again and moved with purpose across the hall. I popped the last bite into my cake hole and followed.

‘Hey princess,’ said Marty as we approached, unfazed as ever.

‘What do you think you’re doing,’ said Lil looking directly at Mavis as she held her palm up to Marty.

‘Why, I’m attending the fair,’ said Mavis as she released Marty’s arm and put her hands on her hips.

‘Don’t mess with me – harridan,’ exclaimed Lil.

‘Attending a local event with an old friend is hardly cause for an accusation of that magnitude,’ said Mavis calmly. Her facetiousness was in full working order.

‘Don’t give me that twaddle. I never saw you anywhere near Marty until we started courting –’

‘Princess,’ interrupted Marty intending to pacify.

‘Don’t you princess me – I’ll deal with you later.’

‘And don’t call her princess when we’re together,’ said Mavis her pitch elevating.

‘Ha, so you do think you’re with him – floosy,’ said Lil in a louder tone.                              Attentions had been diverted from the tables full of produce, to the central floor show. Marty took his cue and snaked backwards and out of the firing line.

‘Lillian stop being so immature. You’re always so common, shouting and screaming in the streets, and I have no interest in your name-calling,’ said Mavis.

‘We’re not in the streets. You always have to go after my men. Let’s face it, you could never hang on to your own,’ said Lil sneeringly.

Mavis gasped before regaining composure and saying, ‘you’ve normally so many on the go Lillian it’s difficult to tell who your actual man is.’

Lil raised her arm as if she was going to strike Mavis but thought better of it. I was standing close enough to assist or restrain, dependent upon the need, but I didn’t think it was correct, or safe to get in the middle.

‘Listen Bellamy,’ said Lil in a lower but vicious tone, ‘hasn’t anyone told you that less is more with lip-rouge. You tend to trowel it on. Once a tart always a tart.’ And with that blow Lil flounced and spun on her heels. I thought she was going to topple over and I took her arm and led her away. Mavis gathered herself and marched off in the opposite direction. Marty was also in the wrong, but he seemed to have got away scot free. I couldn’t believe the argument ended with maquillage insults.

‘What is it with you two?’ I asked Lil as we rapidly left the building.

‘Hmm – one day I might tell you, but not yet. She is, as you know, a piece of work.’

‘You do seem to go from being as thick as thieves to screaming at each other in public. It’s odd.’

Lil didn’t answer and we walked on in silence. She wore a pensive expression.

‘And what about Marty?’ I asked.

‘What about him?’ asked Lil rhetorically.

‘Do you want to get a drink?’ I asked. I craved a Sherry – large.

‘No thank you Wayne. I’m tired and going straight home.’

Lil said she was unlikely to be at Breakfast Club when I’d dropped her at her door, and added that she’d rather have no surprise visitors this week.

I called into the café to update Armando on the latest spat. We were midway through when in walked Cyril. He joined us and we all three commiserated with dense hot chocolate.

BestHotChocolateEver

‘You’ll be glad to have missed it,’ I said to Cyril.

‘Goodness yes. I’ve been at a church meeting and stayed for a slice of gooseberry pie.’

‘Sounds like you’d all have been better eating cake here,’ said Armando. I have to say that I admired his marketing spirit, never missing an opportunity to advertise.

‘Marty is unfortunately an insecure piece of work,’ said Cyril.

We picked up our mugs of congealing, sweet, goo and agreed. Marty and his playboyesque behaviour had to leave our little group alone, or minimally fade into the background.

 

Revolving Relationships

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a Halloween party – last year I was dressed as a gothic vampire with slicked-back hair drinking blood-coloured cocktails, with Michael dressed as a ghost. However, the persistent popping of bangers outside in the streets and the relentless flow of premature Trick-or-treaters is wearisome. My living space is at the back of the apartment and I can therefore appear not at home, which is a saving grace. Goodness only knows what it’s like for our senior residents, but as it was Thursday I’m sure I was about to hear.

I dressed very anti-Halloween in a Madonna T shirt, and after adding a light jacket, I made my way to the café.

Lil was already sitting at our table with Gisela. Their teacups were already three-quarters empty and I therefore surmised they’d been in residence for a while.

‘Trick or treat?’ I asked as I greeted them. Lil backed away from my affection.

‘Don’t you fu-…’

‘I mean don’t start all that bloody nonsense Wayne. I’ve had enough of it already,’ said Lil after making us blush at her first stunted repost, containing additional colourful language I hadn’t heard from her before.

‘The noise of the banging, and into the night. Don’t the parents make the children come into the home at a reasonable hour?’ asked Gisela.

I poured myself a cup of stewed tea, and nodded to Armando behind the counter.

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‘Standards have slipped. In my day you’ve have got a clip around the ear for such behaviour, and not just from your family. Most of the community had licence to do so. And respect for your elders reigned,’ said Lil.

Gisela tutted and added, ‘same in Deutschland.’

‘Marty says that at our age we’re lucky to get any banging,’ said Lil and started cackling.

‘Excuse me,’ said Gisela as she got up and moved towards the ladies.

Lil tutted.

‘Everything OK with Gisela?’ asked Armando as he joined us armed with a fresh pot of Assam.

‘She’s not happy that Marty has stayed over. She said it’s not very ladylike.’ Lil pursed her lips. I was shocked.

‘I had no idea your relationship had progressed,’ I said trying to keep a judgemental tone from my words.

‘Don’t you start too Wayne,’ said Lil.

‘What about Bill?’ I asked. Armando put his hand firmly on my arm which I took as an indicator that I was overstepping boundaries.

‘He’s not here and life goes on,’ said Lil starting to look a little teary.

‘We don’t want you to get hurt,’ said Armando just as Gisela returned from the bathroom closely followed by our waitress.

‘Full English please,’ said Lil.

‘I’ve a strange request and wondered whether henceforth you’d consider having scrambled eggs Lil,’ I asked.

‘Errr why? I like a nice runny fried egg,’ said Lil.

‘It’s my mum – ’

‘What’s it got to do with her?’

‘She reads my blog and hearing about runny yolks makes her feel queasy.’

‘I’ve nothing against your mother, I’ve never met the woman, but no. Why don’t you stop writing about it?’

‘A key part of Breakfast Club is breakfast.’

‘In that case, I’ll have an extra runny egg please Judith.’ Lil let out an explosive laugh as she delivered this last line. I’m afraid Mum is going to have to stiffen her upper lip and endure trickling yellow centres.

I ordered porridge with blueberries, Gisela a pain au chocolat and Armando an orange muffin.

‘Think of all the non-meat eaters you offend Boulevardier with your vegetarian breakfast and a pork sausage on the side eh,’ said Lil. Everyone giggled. Lil was on point with her sharp banter today. I suspect it was to keep the discussion away from her and Marty. She must realise he wasn’t as rosy as she painted him. I couldn’t see the appeal.

‘Have you seen Mavis this week?’ I asked.

‘Goodness please don’t mention her,’ said Gisela firmly.

‘Yes I saw that quarrelsome cow on Tuesday at Age Club,’ said Lil ignoring Gisela’s protestations.

‘Oh no, not more arguments,’ said Armando.

Lil pursed her lips and demurely picked up her teacup.

‘She can not help herself Armando. She is snide and I will not be walked over.’

‘Dare I ask what happened?’ I enquired.

‘Yes you may. She was standing with her gaggle of followers when I arrived. I smiled vaguely and walked towards Gisela and the tea urn. As I passed I heard Mavis say that it was unfortunate that some people take Marty too seriously and try to tame him. And what’s more, apparently he’s interested in anything in a skirt. I honestly did think twice Wayne whether to ignore her and carry on but I couldn’t. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned and said to her that he wasn’t interested in her and her polyester trousers and added that if I had her legs I’d wear long pants too. Her followers didn’t know where to look. She added something but I had spun on my heels and reassumed my victory step to Gisela. She hurled something further but I only heard the ‘Lillian’ at the end. There was no tittering from her posse. They know better than to get involved.’

‘What is it with you two?’ asked Armando.

‘History, dear boy.’ And before we could press further, breakfasts arrived. One day I was determined to find out their history. They sparred at the slightest crossing of words, but when the chips were down, had each other’s backs. It was as if there was a blood bond. Were they related? I didn’t ask.

‘Judith,’ Lil called after the waitress, ‘I asked for a runny egg and this is solid.’

‘Oh gawd,’ said Armando under his breath.

‘Sorry I thought you said not runny, let me change it,’ said Judith and started to remove the plate.

‘No, no I’m too hungry to wait,’ said Lil holding onto her plate for dear life.

I sat back and watched Lil tug-o-war, and report battles, as I stirred the blueberries into my steaming porridge.

‘Sorry Lil, you sure you don’t want me to change?’ asked Armando.

‘No it’s fine. At least it will keep Wayne’s mum happy for today. Every cloud and all that,’ said Lil as she sliced a segment of white and pushed it against a mushroom, lifted her fork and masticated.

‘How’s your Brazilian?’ asked Gisela.

‘Gone,’ said Armando. Our cutlery clanked simultaneously on the table and all eyes fell on Armando.

‘It’s fine. It wasn’t working. Dating is too much effort at the moment. I’m going to focus on the café and see what comes along.’

‘Good plan,’ said Lil and returned her knife and fork to her respective hands.

‘Quatsch,’ exclaimed Gisela as a blob of chocolate escaped from her pastry onto her lap.

‘I don’t know why you eat those things Gisela, you always get in a mess,’ said Lil.

‘I don’t, thank you. They are delicious but dangerous.’

Lil huffed as she thrust a corner of toast into her mouth.

We all jumped, as a banger exploded right outside the café followed by a stampede of youth.

‘Bloody hell – Why oh why is half-term the same time as banger season,’ said Lil.

‘Don’t worry, it’ll be bonfire night next week,’ I said.

‘Don’t just don’t,’ said Lil waggling her finger in my direction. She rested her napkin on the table after daubing the corners of her mouth. ‘Perhaps we should have a little Sherry to settle our nerves,’ she added.

‘Didn’t you have enough of that at the funeral?’ asked Armando.

‘You can never have enough Sherry,’ said Lil as she extracted a new bottle of Bristol Cream from her trolley. ‘Got any glasses Armando?’

I have to say I agree with her last pronouncement and felt quite decadent sipping Sherry at 11am. The only improvement I would suggest would be to have Oloroso. I prefer its dark chocolate taste.

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