She leaned across the bar, polishing the glass till it gleamed.
‘Not that again. Who gives a monkey’s what he did when he was eighteen?’
Her yellow teeth glinted in the glow from the optic lamp as she twisted another smile in his direction. He smiled back and told her to keep the change like he always did.
“Thanks Ron,” she said, “You’re a darlin’.”
He turned the white and yellow gold lattice ring on his wedding finger round and round, like he always did.
Another bottle clanked its way into the empties bin.
Ron looked up from his five hundredth examination of the intriguingly shaped burn mark that sat on the counter just opposite his usual bar stool. Tonight it was the same shape as her hair he decided. He smiled at Bob as the landlord made ready to toss away another dead one and then turning his head slightly to the left he winked at Anne.
She smiled another smile at him but it was different from the last smile. This was the one she had perfected that started as a smile but ended as a giggle.
The old man turned his gaze back toward Bob and beckoned him with a crook of his finger.
‘God, he’s been going through his collection of Christmas cracker jokes again.’
She spat the words out in her mind, all the while smiling and making her way along the bar to where Bob was just putting his empty beer glass down. Digging through a pile of new beer mats she watched as her husband made his way obediently over to the beckoning finger.
“ Now then darlin, nothing too naughty you know. I don’t want you corrupting my hubby!”
The new beer mat slid across the shiny wood of the bar and stopped precisely next to Ron’s nearly full glass.
“ Drink up darlin. There’s a new mat for you to be goin on with.”
Anne beamed at Ron.
He reached into his back pocket and began pulling out a crisp new twenty.
“You must join me - -what’ll you have?”
He always said that.
She ran back and took the proffered note.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She laughed, tossing her shoulders and tossing out another one of her repertoire of smiles. This one included the flirty peeping out from underneath her fringe and the fluttering eyelashes.
“Mines a Johnny Walkers.”
Bob’s eyes flicked for an instant to connect with his wife’s.
“That’s very good of you my old son - -I’ll have something similar.”
While the two full whiskey glasses kept each other company on the bar, Anne squeezed past Bob, brushing his bottom lightly with her hand.
“Just goin upstairs for a minute darlin” she whispered.
She paused at the door marked ‘Private’, turning lightly on the balls of her feet to glance back at Bob as he lowered his head confidentially to listen to Ron’s joke. As she made her way up the twisting staircase she heard the deep chuckles of her husband in the bar below.
“Silly old fool.” she hissed.
Moments later, as Bob rebroadcast the joke to the entire bar, she heard the roar as everyone joined in. Patting herself quickly, she pulled the chain and ambled downstairs to the whiskey.
Ron picked up the padlock once more and tried to fit it through the stupid little hole on the garage door. He leaned heavily on the metal panels so as to catch his breath before walking down the road to number thirty three. It was a good job that there were rails now next to the steps that led down to the front door. God his emphysema was bad tonight. He missed the peg and his coat landed on the floor again.
‘Time for cocoa.’
The familiar sweet smell of the oiled teak tables in the room greeted his nostrils as he carried the drink to his chair. Carelessly brushing away some of the ash that had tumbled from the overflowing ashtray, he sipped the hot sweet drink and flicked on the tv. He stared at the news, still sipping.
“Good crowd there tonight. You should have come.”
The cocoa was good.
His feet ached.He stared at the green phone. Don’t know why - it never rang.
‘Must clean my glasses.’
His thoughts were interrupted by the news report about soccer violence.
“Bring back national Service - that’ll sort em out.”
He snorted into the mug, shaking his head at the screen. He always did that.
“Bloody yobbos.”
The cocoa was all gone now. As he carefully placed the empty mug on the circular brown stains he remembered the pub.
“You should have come.”
The Ronson wouldn’t light so he picked up hers. It fired instantly, lighting up the ‘low tar’.
He took a drag and blew smoke rings towards the newsman. Coughing racked him, a liquid rattling that almost shook him to pieces. When it finished the weather was already on and he needed his spray.
“I know I should stop.”
There was nothing on the other channels but he kept flicking round and round. It was something to do besides cough.
He awoke with a sudden jerk.
“I know I should stop.”
“I will stop.”
This last statement was directed at the empty chair next to him. Beside the chair was a black fake leather pouffe with a patchwork woollen blanket neatly folded on it.
“But you should have been there tonight. You really should. You would have enjoyed it. You know you always enjoy chatting to Anne.”
He looked at the chair and smiled. She was still beautiful.
“That mark - you know - the one on the counter that I tell you about.”
The clock ticked.It was twelve o’clock already. Time flies.
“It looked just like your hair tonight, you know, the shape.”
She smiled back. The ticking of the clock irritated him. He didn’t know why it just did. Any way, time to get ready for bed now.
‘Mmm, they’re still quite white. Whiter than Anne’s anyhow, still she can’t help it, poor old thing.’
The face in the mirror grinned back, aping every move, every crease, and every tear. After spitting in to the sink he drank three mouthfuls of water. He always did that.
‘Front door’s locked. Back door’s locked’
He glanced up the stairs but he didn’t go up. He never slept up there any more, not in their bed.
Satisfied that the recliner was fully back, he reached over to zip up the sleeping bag when he remembered Peggy. He hadn’t tucked her in.
But tonight she seemed to want to tuck him in instead. He watched fascinated as she got up out of her recliner. She hadn’t done that in two years now. Not since...
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
She always did that.
***
The green phone sat at the edge of the glass topped carved teak table. It was three forty in the afternoon. The funeral had been at three. People were drinking. People were recalling Ron.
How he had always been the life and soul of the party.
Good old Ron.
The phone rang. Ron’s son picked it up.
“I was so sorry to hear about Ron. I couldn’t believe it. Were you thinking of selling his car at all?”
“No? Oh OK.”
Ron was one of a kind all right. The neighbour’s grandson used to love bouncing on his knee.
Apparently.
The green phone rang again.
“Oh hello. We were SO upset to hear what happened to Ron. We couldn’t believe it. He was the life and soul…oh, yes…this is Anne from the Crown and Anchor. He was a regular here and we got very close. I think he was a bit lonely…you know. He used to confide in me a lot…needed someone to talk to…what with his wife dying two years ago and him being on his own. Only he did promise me that when he died I could have his gold lattice eternity ring.”
Yeah right!
Ron would have laughed.
He always did that.
(c) Cain Michaels 2008