Under My Skin

Part Three

Part Three

Isobel tried not to work Saturdays, some she had to, but she tried to avoid as much as she could so that she could spend the weekend with Taylor, and this week she took her to a nearby town shopping. Taylor was constantly growing, and the list of things she needed was endless. After shoes, a few new t-shirts and a summer jacket, Isobel was seventy pounds lighter, and when they got home they were both shattered. She’d just bathed Taylor and was reading her a story in bed when the phone rang, it was Orla.

                “We’re all meeting in the Plough, can Elsie babysit for you? Sorry it’s short notice, I’ve only just heard, it’ll be a laugh, Jess just called to say they’re coming out…but she’s not bringing too many photos.”

Jessica and Nigel were another young couple from town who had just got back from their two week honeymoon in Borneo, so they were anticipating lots of Orang-utan photos, and of course the wedding photos. They’d all been too drunk to remember the end of the night.

Isobel smiled, “I’ll call in and ask her in a minute.”

Elsie loved the chance to watch old movies on Sky, along with Desperate Housewives and anything else that wasn’t on her few free channels. So by eight o’clock, Isobel clad in tight dark blue jeans and a white tunic was walking into the busy pub. It was full, but gathered loudly in the centre of the bar were her group of friends. She was embraced by the swarm they were all so good, looking out for her as the token single woman amongst them. The lead singer of the band worked with Tim Orla’s husband, but they were decidedly average, and the girls left the men chatting at the bar and headed outside to sit around a patio heater in the cooling night air gassing, gossiping and catching up in a way that only women could.

                “So Jess how was it?” Orla asked and they all turned towards the newlywed, “I can’t believe how brown Nigel is!”

Jess sighed, “don’t rub it in, I know I’m as white as when I left, but there are no redheads with tans, it’s a physical impossibility.”

Giggling they glanced through the selection of photos she’d brought, mainly idyllic beaches and cute baby apes. Then Mona disappeared into the pub to restock their glasses.

                “Well!” said Orla, the voice of the town gossip. “I had a Mrs Edwards in today. A cut and blow dry.” She quantified despite it being non-essential to her story. “She’s the new housekeeper at the old McCabe place!”

                “Wow,” Jess offered, “I thought no one would ever move in there.”

Old Mac McGabe was almost a legend around those parts, a cantankerous and grouchy old man he’d lived in the town as long as anyone could remember, in a huge house. Well it was more than that; his house was more like a mansion, a huge pale brick house overlooking the village at the end of a long winding driveway. Every villager had been desperate to look around the place, but he’d been so unfriendly that no one got anywhere near an invite. So the whole place became elusive and almost magical in its distance from them all. When the old man died the place never went on the market but was boarded up with a regular security team guarding it, so it wasn’t even possible to sneak in late at night.

                “So did I!” Orla continued. “Apparently his grandson has finally inherited it. There are builders everywhere, Mrs Edwards was glad to get out of there! Apparently it’s a ‘warzone’!”

                “Hey!” Jess nudged Isobel, “this could be the ideal man for you. Is he single?”

They all turned to stare at Orla who was suddenly quiet, “I didn’t get that far! She’s coming back next week I’ll ask her then.”