Snippets

'You Can Make Somebody Buy Your Book!'

  Angela’s claim to literary fame was a slim volume of moralist poetry in the style of George Eliot. “For the guidance of the young and immature, on the advent of great adventures in life”. Pompous cow!’

  Phyllis slapped the steering wheel to emphasise her words.  She was not ordinarily vindictive, but Angela had got under her skin that day.

  ‘I’ll show her,’ she vowed, unsure of exactly how, as she drove into their short gravelled drive and parked alongside her husband’s white van.  Seeing Ralph’s van at home at this time of day swept all thoughts of the meeting and Angela from her mind; a sense of anxiety replaced them.  Ralph was a self-employed plasterer.  He had found work scarce to come by of late, so that any time during the working day that he was at home, was a cause of concern to them both.  She hurried inside hoping that nothing was wrong.

  She found Ralph standing in the hall in his boots and stained overalls talking animatedly on the telephone.  During his conversation he mouthed  ‘Ron’ and placed his finger across his lips to forestall her forthcoming rebuke for him being there in working clothes.  Phyllis said nothing, but brushed into him to show her displeasure while passing to go through to her tiny kitchen and make wraps for their lunch.

  Ralph sauntered into the kitchen shortly afterwards. Her eyes went directly to his feet and then to the schoolboy smile on his face.  Ralph now stood in his socks and had also taken off his overalls.

  ‘How’d the meeting go then? Any blockbusters come out of it.’ He pulled out a chair and sat at the little kitchen table where they took their meals when their two children were at school or elsewhere

  Phyllis wriggled her shoulders as if to shake away a discomfort.

  ‘All right really, some good things came out of it.  Not bad.’

  Phyllis turned to continue preparing their lunch, but Ralph grasped her elbow and held her back.

  ‘Come on Phyll.  I know you all too well.  What went wrong?’ He spoke warmly, with concern. His voice calmed her fears. His love came to her through his words. She felt secure once more.  She brushed away a loose strand of hair from her forehead before sitting down with him at the table. ‘It was nothing really.’ 

  Over the next few minutes she told him about her encounter with Angela and of her upset.  When she had finished, Ralph chuckled.  He patted her hand to give her reassurance.

  ‘Don’t let it get to you, love.  Damn stone age fossil, what does she know; written a book of rubbish, what did she call it  “Etiquette for young ladies at times when they are unable to avoid using somebody else’s loo”?’ 

  Ralph knew what he was doing and it broke his wife’s introspection. They both laughed it off. Phyllis felt better and began to defend Angela.

  ‘She’s a dear really and works damned hard for the group She means well, but we all wish she wasn’t so damnably bossy.’  Phyllis pulled out a tiny handkerchief from her sleeve, wiped away her sniffles before taking a deep breath.  ‘Anyway, what was the call to Ron all about and why are you here at this time of day? Are we still going to England at the weekend?’

   Ralph held his arms above his head as if in surrender to her barrage of questions.

  ‘Hold on there, old thing. I’m only a bloke. One question at a time please; I’m here ‘cos I got a text from Ron to call him urgently.  I wasn’t far away so I came home to do it.  Next.  Yes, we are going to England.  He wants me to finish plastering the utility room extension so he can get on and finish the rest of it.’