A Flash in the Pan (7 page)

Police Constable.

The second letter was unsigned.

My Dear Lady,

Thank you so much for choosing to wear my gift on your special day. I am happy that it pleases you.

It is with regret, however, that I must decline your kind invitation to attend the celebrations. I could offer a barrage of insincere excuses, but the truth of it is I haven’t a thing to wear.

23. What are the odds?

“This is daft! I don’t know the first thing about horses.”

“I’ll explain it. Then you pick four.”

“But you’re going to bet on them. That costs money. We don’t have much.”

“It’s only a quid, well £1.10 if we include the roll-up.”

“What does that mean? You’re talking gibberish now.”

With as much patience as he could muster, Jim tried to explain.

“We’re going to choose four horses, in four different races. Then we place a bet. We need at least two of them to win because we’re doing a Yankee.”

“What?”

“A Yankee involves picking four horses in multiple bets: doubles, trebles and a roll-up (or four-timer). All the combinations are covered. So it’s actually eleven bets at ten pence each.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. Just pick the bloody horses.”

“How do I know which ones to pick?”

Taking a deep breath, Jim explained how the letters and numbers that followed the horse’s name on the race card indicated its previous form and preferences. After ten minutes Lucy’s eyes had glazed over. This wasn’t going to work. He stood up.

“Leave it to me, then. I’m going down to the bookies. I might get a tip from one of the lads if I’m lucky.”

Lucy picked up the ‘Racing Post’ again and tried to make sense of it all. It just wasn’t happening. None of it made sense to her.

Later, they watched the racing together. Jim’s selections didn’t win, of course. They seldom did. He hadn’t bet on the last race of the day and as they watched the runners and riders parading before the race he said:

“I should have gone for ‘Crying Wolf’ in this one. It’s got good odds.”

“I’d have gone for ‘Breathless Kiss’. It’s going to win.”

“It’s got no chance! That’s why it’s priced at 100 /1.”

“I bet you ten pence it wins!”

“You’re on. That means when it doesn’t win you have to pay me ten pence.”

“And when it does? How much do you have to pay me?”

Jim was too busy laughing to work it out.

The race started and Crying Wolf took the lead, but in the last furlong Breathless Kiss came from nowhere and won by a short head. Lucy leapt up from the sofa.

“I won! I won! How much do you owe me?”

Jim was gobsmacked. He reached into his pocket and handed over his last £10.

“How did you do that?” he asked. Lucy blushed slightly.

“Well, er …”

“Come on, if you’ve got inside knowledge all bets are off and I’ll have my tenner back!”

“Well, I liked the name and …”

“And what?”

“Did you see the rider? He was gorgeous!”

“He’s called a jockey, damn it! You can’t pick a winner because you fancy the jockey.

“Oh?” said Lucy. “I thought I just did.”

24. Internet Security!

I think it’s time I started to share your interests.

That’s nice, love. Do you want to read my story?

No, I want to learn Facebook.

O
kay
, shall I help you set up an account?

No. You can show me yours and I’ll see if I like it. How do you ‘talk’ to people?

It tells me over here which of my friends are online, and I click on their name to open a chat window. Then we type messages in the box.

So who’s online now?

(She scans the list and makes a ‘safe’ choice.)

Here’s Sue. Now I type in my message. (She types
‘hi!’
)

Now what happens?

We wait to see if she answers. Oh, she’s gone offline.

What does that mean? Is it broken?

Either she’s logged out or she doesn’t want to talk to me at the moment, so she’s appearing offline.

Bitch! I bet she’s pretending.

We all do it sometimes.

You do? Why would you do that? I’d be mad if you did that to me. Who’s this guy, in the new window box? Do I know him?

Er, he’s someone from church. I don’t think you’ve met him.

Well, he says ‘hello’
–
aren’t you going to answer?

Not at the moment. (She minimises the chat window) So that’s Facebook for you, what time’s the football on? (She starts to close the laptop.)

Hang on! What does this mean? (He’s clicked info on her profile)

What?

‘Relationship status: it’s complicated’? What’s complicated about it?

It’s just an expression. I don’t want to give too much personal information away on the World Wide Web.

You mean you don’t want people to know you’re married, but you’re happy to have your mobile number listed? I’m beginning to understand Facebook a little better now. Look – the thing’s gone blue under that box. I think that church guy’s trying to talk to you again.

Yeah, maybe. (She shuffles on her seat.)

Don’t be rude. Answer him. Here, let me open the window box for you. (He clicks on Sam’s name. The window springs to life.) Say hello to Sam.

(She types:
‘Hello Sam,’
and holds her breath) I’ll tell him you’re here, you can talk to him. (She starts to type. He holds her wrist to stop her.)

Let’s just see what Sam has to say first, shall we? What’s this? ‘Hi, Sweet Lips. What u wearing?’

Sam loves his little jokes. (She laughs unconvincingly.) Let me introduce you ...

NO! I’ll answer his message for you first. (He types:
‘Not a lot. LOL’
)

What are you doing? I thought you didn’t know about this stuff?

I know more than you think. (A smiley face appears in Sam’s window) Ah
–
look
,
he likes that. Have you ever met this guy or is he a total stranger? No more lies, this has gone on long enough.

I haven’t met him. (She’s so uncomfortable.) Please don’t spoil it.

How old is he?

What difference does it make?

If it makes no difference, tell me. How old is he?

Thirty-five.

Yeah, right. He claims to be thirty-five and how old does he think you are? Don’t mumble. I asked you a question. (The blue bar flashes indicating that Sam has sent another message.
‘When r u gonna get that webcam?’
) Webcam? Oh dear, now that would be a disaster, wouldn’t it?

Please, just close the window. You’ve made your point.

Not quite! I have one last message for Sam. (He types:
‘Please don’t talk to my mother like that. At 93 it’s very bad for her heart.’
) Now it’s time to get you back to your room. Really, Mum, I thought you’d have known better.

25. Eleven

Emma hated being eleven. She was on the verge of everything, but not part of anything. More than she hated her age, she was beginning to loathe her little brother Jamie. He was a constant source of embarrassment and his latest escapade was by far the worst. As usual, Emma had to put everything right after the little monster had screwed it up. She was convinced she’d never live this one down. If only it hadn’t involved John, she might have seen the funny side. As it was, she thought she could never go back to school again.

Emma sat across the aisle from John for most of their lessons at St. Joseph’s Primary School. It had been that way since they were five years old, and it meant that she could steal a glance at him every now and then. Sometimes she would deliberately drop her pencil and he would bend to pick it up for her. Then their eyes would meet and she would feel all tingly as her tummy seemed to melt a little. There was no doubt that she had the most enormous crush, and it was her secret. She hadn’t even told Lucy and they were best friends! Now it had all turned horrible and it was Jamie’s fault. The little brat had taken Mum’s favourite necklace to school and given it to a little girl in his class. Well, seven year-olds don’t always know the value of stuff, do they? Anyway, she’d been very generous and given him a whole packet of Smarties in return. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the little girl in question was John’s sister, Miriam.

No-one would have known about it at all if Mum hadn’t missed the necklace and run screaming through the house.

“We’ve been robbed! My diamonds have gone! They were the only thing of value your dad ever gave me and now they’ve gone.”

Jamie was unusually quiet, curled up in an armchair with his head buried in his comic book. When Mum went upstairs, he raised his head sheepishly.

“Em, I need your help.”

“What have you done?”

That was when he told her about the necklace. Emma was mad at him, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling a little sympathy when he smiled wistfully through his tears.

“Miriam’s got these great big blue eyes, and … and she smiled and said she liked the way diamonds sparkle in the sunlight, and then she said I could have the Smarties and that was it. You’ve got to get it back, sis. You could ask John to get it.”

Blue eyes and Smarties
–
it doesn’t take a lot to turn a small boy into a criminal, does it? He’d taken Mum’s necklace and sold it for a smile and Emma had to get it back.

So Emma had to talk to John and there had to be no-one else around when she did. Her opportunity came when Miss Gordon asked the two of them to take the book box down to the library. On the way back, she swallowed and cleared her throat, but John spoke first.

“Your little brother’s going to end up in jail.” He was laughing.

“What do you mean?” Emma felt the blush rising from lower than she cared to admit. “What do you know?”

John put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the diamond necklace.

“Where did he get this? He gave it to my sister.”

“It’s Mum’s. She’s been going mad looking for it. Can I have it back, please?”

John closed his hand around the jewellery.

“What? Just like that? Miriam gave your brother a packet of Smarties for it and you expect me to give it to you for nothing?”

Emma rummaged in her pockets to look for something to exchange.

“I’ve only got ten pence and a stick of chewing-gum.” She said miserably.

John was grinning, clearly enjoying Emma’s discomfort.

“Aw, come on, Emma. We’re not seven-year olds. You can’t buy me off with pennies and sweets. Make me a proper offer.”

Emma was close to tears. So many times she had daydreamed about being alone with him, but it was never meant to be like this.

“What do you want? I haven’t got much of anything.”

John took her hand and placed the necklace into it.

“Right now, I’d be happy if you’d just stop snivelling before we get back to class or Miss Gordon will think I’ve been bullying you!” He stomped off and Emma pocketed the necklace and followed him into the classroom.

That evening, Mum found her diamonds under the bed. Emma sat in her room staring out of the window. The doorbell rang, and then Mum was shouting up the stairs.

“Emma, come down here now!”

John was standing in the hallway with a pile of books and a mischievous grin on his face. Mum looked put out as she ushered the two of them into the front room. Before leaving them to it, she hissed at Emma.

“You, young lady, are far too young for ‘study dates’!”

26. The Storyteller’s Handmaid

Every week when the Storytellers’ Circle met in the back room at the Old Crown, Lee was the star of the show. He would stand in the centre of the room and spin his tales to the group who willingly lost themselves in his words. Others stood up and took their turns and all were greeted with polite applause, but Lee would take the audience on a journey to distant lands and play with their emotions in a way no other performer could. You could almost say that he was worshipped in this tight-knit group of story addicts.

One night, as Lee was telling his most enthralling story, he noticed that a woman had crept forward and was sitting at his feet, gazing up at him in awe. He smiled at her and continued with his tale. When he had finished and the sound of the applause was thundering around him, he stooped to pick up his glass of beer from the floor. The woman took his hand.