Gilliflowers (27 page)

It was a cool morning. I decided to make porridge for breakfast followed by toasted muffins. I set the table and laid out preserves, pate and cream cheese to go with the muffins before seeing to juice and coffee. I love the combined scents of citrus fruits and fresh ground coffee. It can make any morning a fragrant pleasure to participate in.

Shane usually gets up soon after I do on workdays, going for a quick shower before coming down for breakfast. I glanced at the clock. The porridge was about ready to serve, but there was no sign of him. It was unusual for him to be tardy and I set the pan aside and went to see what was keeping him, wondering if he’d fallen back asleep. I ran upstairs, calling his name. He hadn’t fallen asleep. He was up and had obviously showered. His hair was still damp. He was dressing, tucking his shirt into his trousers. Dick was also awake and sitting up in bed.

“Breakfast’s ready, Shane. I’ve made porridge, it’ll skin over if you don’t come soon.”

“It will soon skim off. I’ll be down in a moment.” He fastened his trousers. Even without his suit jacket on he looked striking. The trousers were tailor made, superbly cut with side tabs instead of belt loops, emphasising his toned body.

I turned to Dick. “You’re awake early.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond. Shane spoke again, his voice brusque, but not unkind. “Go downstairs, now. Go on. Don’t fret, cub. I won’t be long.”

He clearly wanted me out of the way. I returned to the kitchen, reassured by his use of the ‘cub’ endearment. It didn’t seem I was in any bother. He was probably discussing details of the meeting. He and Dick have separate businesses, but they’re also linked in various ways as board members and directors of this and that. Shane is a sleeping partner in Dick and Reny’s company. He’s also an outside director of some business owned by Leo. I can’t keep up with the intricacies of it all. It holds no great interest for me. I’m more shop floor worker than office management. They do what they need to do without any wit and wisdom from me.

I dished up porridge, putting Shane’s portion in the microwave ready to re-heat and then sat down to eat mine. He came downstairs just as I finished. I warmed his oats up, sans skin, and then got on with toasting and racking muffins. He thanked me as I set them on the table and then freshened his coffee, but otherwise seemed disinclined towards conversation. His eyes had distance to them and I guessed he was mulling over details of the impending meeting.

To my surprise Dick came downstairs, showered and dressed. Wrapping his arms around my waist he nuzzled my neck and asked if the sexy headwaiter could squeeze him into the early sitting. I laughed and said I reckoned a place could be found for him at the table. After the stress of the day before it was good to have his gentle loving again. I got him a bowl of cereal, made tea and toasted extra muffins.

I sat down at the table with them, helping myself to a muffin and spreading it liberally with butter. “Have you got an early golf game, Dick?”

He shook his head. “I’m not playing today. I’m going to tag along with Shane.

We’ve got things to discuss.”

“Like what?” I asked, peeved because they were swanning off together for the day leaving me home alone.

“When it becomes your business we’ll let you know,” said Shane mildly. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and stood up, cupping a hand to my face. “It’s a long drive. I’ll be tired when we get back, so we’ll have dinner in this evening.”

“Why don’t I tag along too, we could have lunch together?”

“It’s a business trip, Gilli, not a daytrip to the seaside. I’m not driving a pleasure bus.”

“Fine!” I scowled. “Sod off to Hexham like a pair of turtledoves, see if I care. I’ll find someone else to lunch with. I’ll ask Jay at the hair salon. He fancies me rotten.”

“Of course he does.” Dick winked at Shane and then grinned and ruffled my hair.

“You’re adorable, when the wind is in the right direction and you’ve got a smile on your face.”

“I’ll ask him then. I’ll go into the salon this morning. I’ll wear my black low riders and crop top. He won’t be able to resist me. He’s dying for a chance to flash his prick art at me.”

“You wouldn’t really forsake us for a flighty hair crimper with a patterned penis would you, honey?”

“Yes. He’ll treat me nicer than you two do and I’ll get free haircuts into the bargain.”

“Come on, Dick. We need to be making tracks.” Shane turned to me. “We’ll see you later. Behave yourself. Lunch out by all means, but make sure you’re decently attired. If I discover you really have stepped out of this house wearing those clothes I’ll whip your arse until the skin peels. I’m not having you parading around the streets looking like you’re in search of a client.”

I glared at him. “You are a pig sometimes.”

“Yes.” Grasping my chin he tilted my head up and placed a rough kiss on my lips.

Dick added a gentler kiss and then they were gone, leaving me with a sink full of pots.

After fulfilling my domestic duties I got changed and went out for a brisk run, mulling over what it was they were discussing. Maybe Reny was getting on Dick’s tits again and he was hoping to persuade Shane to wake up from being a sleeping partner and challenge Reny to a duel, the survivor to have sole charge of the company.

I wasn’t too upset about not going out for dinner. The Saturday night ritual had lost a little of its glamour since the booze ban. Having a few glasses of wine was a pleasant part of the process and not being able to partake hacked me right off.

After my run I had a quick sluice under the arms and around the groin, changed into a fresh top and jeans and sloped over to see if Eileen fancied going out for lunch with me. She had a visitor, a man from her church, Reginald. He had been passing and had decided to drop in. Eileen, being a polite lady, naturally invited him to partake of refreshments. She invited me to partake too, but I caught a look in Reg’s eye that clearly stated he didn’t want his cosy cake tête-à-tête gate crashing by a third party.

I thanked Eileen, but declined, saying I’d call in later. She saw me to the door and I grinned and whispered, “you’ll be all right there, Eileen, I think he fancies you.” She wagged a finger and told me to behave, but there was a pretty blush to her cheeks that told me she wasn’t adverse to the idea. Everyone, no matter what their age, needs a little romance in their lives.

Eileen’s neighbour, the one I had the door row with, was backing his car off his drive as I left her house and I waited for him to complete the manoeuvre before attempting to cross the road to go home. Before driving off he wound down his window and spat out the words ‘fucking queer’ before driving on. Rumours had reached him then.

Mindful of Shane’s threats about what he’d do if I engaged in hostilities I resisted an urge to give the bastard’s rear view a two-finger salute. I satisfied my ire by muttering bad words under my breath as I crossed the road.

It was an okay if rather dull day. I read a little, watched a bit of telly and played on the computer for a while. I made fish finger sandwiches for lunch, dousing them in tomato ketchup and lots of salt. Delicious. Afterwards I called mum, but no one answered the house phone, which made me feel panicky. What if something had happened? I called her mobile. She answered, much to my relief.

She was in Scarborough with Frank, and, I pulled a face, Kelly and her boyfriend.

They were having a lovely day. I didn’t engage her in conversation. Her time is precious and every moment of loveliness has to be soaked up and savoured. I caught the mewling sound of seagull cries just before ending the call. They left an acoustic impression in my brain, a mournful note echoing round and round. Seagulls don’t make happy or tuneful sounds. They make horror film noises, sad mews and foreboding wails, menacing screeches and harsh shrieks. There’s no softness to them.

They’re the strident brass and percussion to the string and woodwind melody of seaside days.

I got on with preparing dinner, opting to make a cottage pie. My mood dipped. I felt restless and irritable, my mind flicking through the events of the day, such as they were. I wondered what the men folk were doing. When I thought about it there’d been a conspiratorial air about them in the bedroom earlier on. Maybe the meeting was a ruse, a decoy for a get away from the junior partner day. They were probably booked into some secluded hotel having a sexy liaison without me. Rotten sods.

My thoughts turned to Eileen, bringing a smile at the thought of her having a boyfriend. Reggie boy had had a keen look in his eye. The smile was quickly drowned in a scowl as I recalled the insult spat from a car window. I tried to think of some stunning rejoinder I could use to abuse him with if an appropriate occasion ever arose.

I could come up with nothing more scathing than the
fucking fucker!
I viciously stabbed the potato I was peeling and then recoiled in shock as it shrieked and began to bleed. Bastard! I dropped the wounded spud into the sink and sucked at the nick on my left palm. “Idiot.” I chided myself aloud for being stupid enough to stab a tuber while holding it. The tip of the knife had plunged straight through into my hand. It wasn’t a bad cut by any means, just a nick, but it soured me further, plunging me into what Dick calls a bolshy northerner frame of mind.

I was in the kitchen, washing up pots and pans when the front door opened and Dick called his signature greeting. I yelled I was in the kitchen. He came through, sniffing the air like an actor in an advert for Oxo cubes, asking what was for dinner.

Unlike an Oxo actor he showed no sign of enthusiasm, pulling a face when I said it was cottage pie.

“Oh!” I parodied the look on his mug and mimicked his accent. “What’s the matter? Is cottage pie far too common for one? Does one fear that one might turn into a pleb after the first mouthful and be drummed out of one’s posh golf club for not having the correct credentials? Is one afraid it might flatten one’s vowels?”

“You smart-alecky little bugger. I don’t look or sound like that.” Grabbing me in a headlock he applied the palm of his hand to my hair, roughing it up in the way I hate before releasing me and applying the same palm to my bottom, delivering a hefty slap that made my eyes water.

“That bloody hurt, Dick.” I clutched my bum and glared at him. “I’m still tender thanks to you.”

“Your sore bottom is your own doing and well deserved. Surely you could have come up with something more exotic than cottage pie for Saturday evening dinner.

What have you been doing all day?”

“Saturday is supposed to be my day off.” I crossly finger combed my hair.

“Anyway, I thought you’d have had your share of posh nosh at lunchtime. I bet you and Shane dined in style.”

“We had fiddling little stale ham sandwiches and tepid coffee, they were laid on at the board meeting. I was looking forward to a good dinner.”

“Cottage pie is a good dinner the way I make it.”

“It’s mince and mashed potato. It reminds me of school fare. I hope you aren’t serving cabbage with it.”

“If my food isn’t good enough then order a fucking takeaway.”

“Temper, temper.” He wagged a stern finger. “What’s the matter? Tell Daddy.”

“It’s been a long dull day and then you land home and start complaining. Where’s Shane? I didn’t hear him come in.”

“He didn’t. He’s popped over to see Leo, to drop off some papers. He won’t be long.” He held out his arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m sure dinner will be delicious.”

“I didn’t think you’d be out so long.” I moved into his embrace. “Were you really at a meeting all this time?”

“It’s a long drive to Hexham, Gilli, and the meeting lasted for over two hours. I promise we haven’t been living it up while you dallied lonely at home. The highlight was having a decent cup of coffee and a scone in a teashop before setting off home.”

I tilted my head back to gaze at him. “Why did you tag along if you knew it was going to be boring?”

“It was an opportunity for us to discuss a matter of some importance on the drive.”

“What matter?” I asked suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you and him are getting a divorce and I’m about to be the child of a broken home. Daddies never get granted custody, who will I live with?”

“Lunatic.” He kissed me, a tender affectionate kiss. “I’m going to have a shower and get changed. Come with me. I want to play with you.” He held out his hand. I smiled and took it, loving the way his long artistic fingers curled around mine.

After showering we lay naked together on the bed, our damp skin aromatising the air with Issy Miyaki shower gel. I felt pleasantly warm and drowsy. Dick had played with me gently, pleasuring me with his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue, kissing and teasing, making me lose myself in his touch. There was no penetrative intercourse. In my turn I pleasured him as he had pleasured me, using my tongue to lick and kiss before taking his cock in my mouth and slowly sliding and sucking until his seed spilled over my tongue. I swallowed it, every drop, as he had swallowed mine. It would have spoiled the ambience to spit it out. It was sweet sex rather than heat sex, full of sighs and soft moans to a backdrop of running water.

“That was good.” I draped across his body, tucking my head under his chin, enjoying the skin-to-skin feel.

He smoothed a hand down my back resting it on my buttocks, rolling his palm over them in a soothing massage motion. “You’re such a bad boy sometimes, Gilli,”

he murmured, “reckless and pig-headed. Shane and I need a bad boy in our lives, we enjoy you, but there are times when we need you to be good, to do as you’re told to the letter, even if you don’t like it. Remember that.” He gave me a hug. “Come on, baby, get dressed. I can hear Shane’s car on the drive.”

Dinner was pleasant. My un-glamorous choice of menu proved a winner in the end. It was tasty comforting food for a cold damp spring evening. The men folk were hungry after their Spartan lunch and tucked into the cottage pie and accompanying green beans and roast carrots. The pie wasn’t as humble as it sounded. It was made with prime steak mince, sweet red onions, herbs and best beef stock, crowned with a cloud of creamy mash. Dick paid me back in kind for my mocking of his accent with a mock up of mine. Holding out his plate he faked a burp and said, “slap us another dollop on there, luv. I don’t care if it flattens me vowels.”