“I’m not some lovesick teenager, I’m a mature woman,” I said waiting for the riposte.

It wasn’t long in coming. “So mature women go around assaulting complete strangers with bowls of trifle?”
“Absolutely,” I replied trying not to start laughing. It was a vain exercise. She gave me a little snort and we both fell about laughing. This time I had to rush to the loo, the tea I had drunk at lunch was seeking egress.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
By Angharad
Part 204.

I had fled the little café with the noises of laughter behind me, I had to snigger as I trotted to the antiques shop, especially when I thought Ken had trifled with me, or was it the other way round? It didn’t matter, justice had been done.

Now to get the mirror and get back to Tom’s house. The price for the mirror was more than I’d have happily paid, but without it, I didn’t have a second option. I did manage to beat him down a tenner, but it was still over two hundred quid.

He wrapped it up for me in brown paper and cardboard. While he was doing it, I saw the victim of my custard attack, walk past with his friend. I managed to duck behind a Victorian screen. Five minutes later, I was out of the shop, had carefully stowed the mirror and was driving home to Tom’s.

I managed to get the garage key and hide the mirror before Stella came to see what I was doing. I suppose under my bed would have been another place, but there was more risk of someone seeing it there than in the garage. I had also labelled it, ‘Stella’s Christmas present from Cathy’ in case Tom did enter the garage.

When I got in, she was a bit cross because I was so late. I had to tell her about my encounter with the man mountain from the paper. She laughed so hard I thought she was in danger of busting something, like a gut or her lungs. She was nearly sick, the giggles really got her.

Then she made me tell her again, and once more she was seized with paroxysms of laughter. This time she was sick, but she did make it to the cloakroom, just about in time.

I looked at my watch it was half past three, too late to do much in the way of shopping. I suggested I took her tomorrow and we could spend much longer at her favourite pastime.

“That depends on what happens between Simon and you tonight,” she said.

“I don’t see why, Simon should be working, so I don’t see how that’s going to have an effect.”

“If he keeps you up all night talking or snogging, it will.”

“I’m not some lovesick teenager, I’m a mature woman,” I said waiting for the riposte.

It wasn’t long in coming. “So mature women go around assaulting complete strangers with bowls of trifle?”

“Absolutely,” I replied trying not to start laughing. It was a vain exercise. She gave me a little snort and we both fell about laughing. This time I had to rush to the loo, the tea I had drunk at lunch was seeking egress.

“Okay, we’ll go tomorrow. It’s about time you had something done to your hair, Cathy.”

“Is it, I thought it looked okay.”

“I’d have thought you want something special for tonight.”

“Why, why should I go trying to impress him? I’m going to talk not seduce him.”

“I’d have thought you’d want to remind him what he was missing.”

“Hadn’t really thought about it. I tried to decide what to wear but couldn’t.”

“I know just the outfit, but to make the total impact, you need something done with your hair, and as I’m not going out, I could do it for you.”

“Did you bring your hair dressing stuff then?”

“If I hadn’t, I’d hardly be offering to do yours would I?”

“I suppose not.”

She washed my hair over the bath and sat me in a kitchen chair while she trimmed it. She didn’t actually do much cutting except to tidy it all round. Then she began playing with it, putting in highlights.

Last time it was blonde streaks, this time as I found out later, it was more blonde streaks with some auburn ones as well. Then she put my hair in rollers and took me off to my bedroom and pulled out the outfit she wanted me to wear.

It was an apricot plunge neck dress in cashmere. It was one she had donated and I had never worn before, except for try ons. I thought it made my stomach look too big.

But she made me try it again and with a booster bra, it did look rather nice. A loose belt hid the slight bulge from my tummy and made me look as if I actually had some hips. It was rather a nice effect. With it I wore a dark red velvet jacket and my red boots, which I had to polish with a scuff cover polish.

Then she did my nails. I never paint my nails, well hardly ever. They probably needed a trim, but she added the acrylic stuff and made them all longer and more elegant then she painted them a rust-red colour. I did wonder about the suitability of this with the red jacket, but she hushed my questions.

“If I do you red nails, you’ll look like an old tart.”

“Gee thanks Stella, that’s really made my day.”

“Believe me, this will be okay, use your black jacket if you want.”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

The nails felt so strange. Apart from the length, I could actually feel the plastic on my fingers, my own nails seemed thicker as well as more clumsy. How can women really wear these things? I mean I could quite easily impale a dormouse!

She produced the matching lip gloss from L’oreal and sent me off to change properly and do my make up. I almost curtseyed, being dismissed like the maid.

I came back to her about an hour later, and she undid the rollers and combed my hair through. It was very different, the colour went well with the dress and the curls in my hair seemed to increase it’s volume significantly. I had to admit, Stella knew what she was doing.

Some hairspray and I was finished except for my jewellery. I chose some pearl drop earrings that were my mum’s and a matching necklace. It looked really effective, plus a good squirt of Opium in all the usual nooks and crannies. If Simon did get to explore any of them, he’d enjoy the smell as well as the view.

But before we got to that, he had a lot of smooth talking to do to convince me to give him a second chance. I still loved him, what I didn’t know was if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

Why the change of heart? I wondered if I was simply outgrowing him, moving on. There was some attraction in the safety of his knowing my situation, so I didn’t have to go through all the bother of telling someone else, but then at times the idea of being unattached, was equally attractive.

Then there was his drinking. It worried me. I knew that bankers and insurance people did drink too much, it was a way of doing business, but I didn’t like it and I would mention it to him. If he gets angry, I’ll call a cab and come home. If he agrees to cut down then I’ll think about getting back together. I did miss his ring on my finger.

At half past seven I called a cab. Stella was pretending to be domesticated and cooking bacon and egg for Tom and herself. I almost felt like cancelling my dinner and sitting down with them to eat the bacon. The smell was making my tummy growl.

Sadly, they wouldn’t give me any and sent me off to meet Simon, wishing me luck. Stella also added, “Get the ring back, you can always pawn it!”

I doubted any pawn shop would appreciate the real value of the ring, being a designer made item. Besides, I could never get that mercenary however low my finances got.

I arrived at the pub and failed to see Simon’s Saab anywhere in the car park. I entered the lounge bar, but he wasn’t there. He’d said eight, it was ten to. I bought myself a diet coke and went into the restaurant. I asked the waiter if they had a table booked in the name of Cameron. He replied that they did, a table for four.

I sent the following text.
‘Where R U? Who else is coming?
C!’

A few minutes later, he replied. ‘Where R U? This table is just 4 2. Me n U. Si.’

I went to the bar man, “Is there another Antelope Inn?” He just shrugged his shoulders.

This time I called Simon. “Look I’m at this bloody pub, where are you?”

“I’m at the Antelope Inn.”

“So am I, are there two of them?”

“Dunno, this one is down by the harbour, where’s yours?”

“Out towards Cosham.”

“You have the wrong pub. I’ll organise a taxi, wait there.”

I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t pay any attention to where the taxi was going, I assumed there was only one pub. Oops!

Fifteen minutes later a large Saab arrived, Simon was too mean to pay for a cab. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi, thanks for coming to get me. I asked the taxi driver to bring me to the Antelope Inn, this was what happened. I’m sorry it will have made you late.”

“No problem. They’re holding the table for us, but I did order for you.”

This immediately irritated me. “Why?”

“So they could start preparing it.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“I don’t, it’s a wild guess, but I thought you’d love suckling pig stuffed with olives and chillies.”

“Oh gross, and to think I missed out on bacon and egg. You can cancel that pig thingy, I don’t want it.”

“I’m only joking, I wouldn’t dare try to second guess you.”

I pouted feeling a bit silly and very irritable. If he wanted reconciliation, he wasn’t exactly making progress.

We parked up and went straight to the dining room. “Lord and Lady Cameron, how nice to see you.”

I was going to say something but I didn’t. Not for a moment I didn’t, then I got my own back. The waiter brought the wine list. I sent it away saying Simon would have a pint of Guinness and I’d have a still water. Simon’s face went puce.

“We need to talk about your drinking.”

“Oh do we?” he said quite aggressively.

“Yes, unless of course you don’t want to get back together. Then you can drink yourself into oblivion for all I care.” It wasn’t true, I just wanted to hurt him.

“If we don’t get back together, I will, don’t you worry.”

“Give me your car keys.”

“No.”

“Then call me a cab.”

“I will when we’ve finished.”

“We have.”

“You might have, I haven’t.”

“Goodnight,” I started to get up from the table.

“Please sit down, I have some things I need to say to you.”

“I don’t know if I want to hear them.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I need to say them to you, so I’d be much obliged if you would sit down and hear me out. I’ll happily call you a cab afterwards.”

“Do I have to eat?”

“No, but I think it’s a shame to waste a tuna salad, especially fresh tuna steak.”

“Oh!” I sat down.

“You look really nice, if I may say so. I love your hair.”

“Thank you.”

“The red in your hair and the dress makes the green of your eyes sparkle.”

“Simon that is absolute bullshit.”

“True, but it sounded good, and I do like the way you look tonight.”

“What is it that I have to hear?”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Not especially, but I don’t intend to get caught in a campaign of attrition.”

“For a scientist, you have a healthy vocabulary.”

“You mean for a grammar school kid?”

“No I mean for a scientist, many of them are into their jargon but little else.”

“I don’t think Tom is.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Nor are most doctors I know.” Hell! I thought, I had an appointment with Dr Thomas tomorrow and I’d promised to take Stella out shopping.

“You okay, you look a bit worried?”

“I have a clash of appointments tomorrow, will need to sort them out.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s have dinner and then we’ll talk, agreed.”

“Reluctantly, yes.”

We made small talk until the food arrived. Amazingly, he had ordered the same for himself. It was delicious too. Tuna steak, fresh salad with new potatoes and a dessert of profiteroles. If he was after something, he was going about it the right way.

Finally the coffee and once this was drunk, the talking would begin. I had missed him.