Lettuces and Cream (9 page)

‘I’ll get the room ready tomorrow, there no rush yet for that. And then as soon as I finish breakfast, I’ll do a bit more work on the stairway, and then this afternoon, back to getting the tunnels ready. Sometime this week we’ve got to see about getting an overdraft or a loan.’

‘Okay love, I’ll come with you. I could do that extra shopping while we’re in town - save on petrol.’ Jan still wasn’t happy about getting into debt but she was encouraged by Keith’s comment that pigs were paying well – they certainly seemed to be doing alright financially.

‘Of course,’ Mike added, ‘could get a job - just until the money comes in from the crops

‘But how would you have time to do the work here and work in a job? You work from dawn to dusk as it is.’

‘We’ll sort something out, lets see what the bank says first,’ he sensed that Jan was worried, he got up from the table and gave her a kiss on the cheek, ‘it will be okay love, cheer up, you’ve got a night out tonight.’

‘Oh yes, so I have.’ Jan perked up, she was looking forward to it, and it was a chance to dress up a bit for the first time in weeks. Nothing to over the top though, just in case all the members were farming types and turned up in wellies. Back home in town it would have been a case of, dress up or die of shame. Not too much make -up though, but then she never did. She didn’t think she needed it and Mike didn’t like the smell of make-up - or the taste of lipstick. He would joke that he liked to smell real woman, not powder and stuff.

‘And a chauffeur to drive you there, mind you, that van of theirs is a bit mucky if you’ re dressed up.’

‘They do have a tidy car as well, we’ll be going in that - I hope.’

‘Oo posh eh?’ Mike joked.

The day, once again, passed in a busy blur of activity and with great speed Jan’s evening out was upon her.

‘What time is Chris calling for you?’

‘Not sure really, about seven, I think.’

‘I’ll sort the kids out, you go and get ready, you don’t want to be late.’

‘Thanks love, you’re so good to me,’ Jan mocked.

‘You can pay me back – later,’ Mike gave a suggestive leer.

‘Uh, typical,’ knowing what he meant, she a gave weak and rather sad little smile.

That evening, with Jan out and the children settled, Mike sat by the fire having a leisurely cigarette and a cup of coffee –he drank a lot of coffee. He opened one of the boxes of books that were still unpacked and browsed through the contents. He missed the library of back home, and bookshops, the nearest for both was now twenty miles away and anyway he just didn’t have the time. Freud, Jung, Adler and others, had all been, and still were, grist to his mill. His reading was an attempt to rationalize his need for sex – with other women if Jan wasn’t interested, just like those ‘professional’ wife swappers in California that he had read about - and yet keep the love he had for Jan and the kids. At quiet moments such thoughts would unexpectedly pop into his mind and yet another analysis of their relationship would begin in his head. And despite all the other practical things he now had to consider in his new life, including the extremely unsexy emptying of the chemical toilet, he often returned to asking the same question. How could sex and love could be accommodated in a ‘nice’ and civilised way? He certainly wasn’t the sort of confident, indifferent man that would pay for sex, impersonal sex of that sort just wasn’t for him. But he didn’t think that he and Jan were so very different from other couples -like Keith and Chris for instance, and he assumed all couples had similar problems at some time or other.

Perhaps what made Mike and Jan different was that the love element of their lives, the concern for each other’s well-being was stronger than the sexual side. Or was it that they were both too lazy to do anything so disruptive as permanently seek fresh horizons? He just wished that he could clarify his ideas once and for all. To file them, get them out of his mind. Either that, or have enough sex to satisfy him. The trouble with this idea was that his interest in the topic was continually being called up, as it were, into consciousness by the fact sex is an ongoing need, although maybe changing in some manner or another as time passes by. So it seemed that a perfect formula - a safe justification for having sex with other women and still having the same close loving relationship with Jan was a pipe dream. However, he would not stop trying to find some logic to a seemingly illogical problem.

‘Daad,’ Mandy called from upstairs, breaking Mikes train of thought.

‘Hello sweetheart, what is it?’

‘Will you read us a story?’

Mike got up, stubbed his cigarette and headed upstairs calling out as he did so.

‘Coming up – it’s not going to be Bleep and Booster again is it?’

‘Oh yes, it’s our favourite.’

Don’t I know it, Mike thought good naturedly, though somewhat sick of the same story, and he wondered how much longer the tattered book would last.

‘Bleep and Booster it is then, kids.’

Chris stopped the car some way from the house, but Jan hadn’t really noticed because they were so engrossed discussing the ins and outs of the Drama group members. After the meeting they had all trooped along to a nearby old village pub, where Jan had, exceptionally, imbibed a few vodkas and orange and was a little tipsy. With the engine now silent the car, with the soft greenish glow of the dashboard lights, was warm, cosy and womb like, Jan felt comfortable and relaxed.

…’ Oh, her - Agnes - yes she’s a bit odd, but she’s good behind stage, a really good help with the props.’

‘Colin seems pretty good as a producer and director.’

‘God, and doesn’t he know it, the way he struts around with his cigarette holder –thinks he’s Noel Coward,’ they both laugh at this picture.

‘Mind you, you’re pretty good yourself. You’re great at accents and we all liked your old Scottish lady impression. Really good.’ Her hand patted Jan lightly on the knee, coming to a stop on her thigh. Jan hadn’t really noticed this either, particularly through the fabric of her skirt.

‘So, what do you think Janice, will you be coming along? They’re a really good crowd, and we get good audiences too. And you’ve done big scale Shows before in the big city, you’re the expert.’ As she spoke, her hand moved with gently stroking movements on Jan’s leg.

‘Big city? Barey? It’s only a little town,’ Jan tittered.

‘Mike won’t mind you being out at rehearsals will he?’

‘God no-he’s used to it.’

‘That’s great Janice.’ Chris said quietly, her hand continuing to stroke Jan’s leg.

‘It’s a brilliant little theatre, yes, I like it, but,’ she tittered again, ‘I don’t know about me being an expert.’ Jan was basking in the glow of the Vodka and reliving the pleasant evening, seeing the theatre and the people in her minds eye and realizing she had been missing the fun of acting and singing. She hadn’t thought she would have, and she certainly had plenty of work at home-but woman cannot live by bread alone.

‘Say you will, Janice. The Panto this year is Cinderella-you’d be great as Prince Charming.’

‘Oh yes. One of the ugly sisters, more like,’ Jan replied with cheerful scorn. The hand had now begun to lift Jan’s skirt as it travelled slowly up Jan’s leg. And although the atmosphere in the car was warm she suddenly noticed the cooler air on her naked legs and realized for the first time what Chris was doing, and a rush of confusion came to her mind.

‘Proper dressing rooms as well, that’s more than we used to have back in Baray. The changing rooms were more like cupboards.’ What she was saying seemed totally silly under the circumstances, and her own voice sounded odd, distant somehow. Maybe she was beguiled by Chris’s soft voice and intriguing accent. Chris too continued chatting nonchalantly; the hand still moving - she was quite a seducer.

‘Well, it’s quite a new place, I think it’s only about ten years old. The Council built it as a training facility and the local schools use it during the day, and on some nights the Welsh drama group. The Pantomime is our big thing, we get all the kiddies in and the place is full. They must make quite a bit of money from it.’

The hand was now on the warm skin of inner thigh and Jan could feel a hot, pink flush erupting on her face and breasts. Was it from desire, or embarrassment, or what else? Do I want her to go on with this - just to see what happens? Do I want to touch her? Why is she doing this? Why am I letting her? Jan had learnt long ago that unpredictable dangerous men, interested and excited, even stimulated her. But she wouldn’t want to live with one let alone have sex with them. But surely this isn’t dangerous or so wrong, she’s just another woman. The fingers of the hand were now at the edge of Jan’s knickers, touching hair and sensuous, secret lips. She didn’t want to appear as though she was aiding Chris’s actions in any way, but couldn’t stop herself from lifting her hips, and moving ever so slightly to give those fingers access. Jan couldn’t believe how excited she was, and she wanted to touch, to bring herself to climax, now, now, a voice in her head was shouting, do it, do it, touch me, rub me now, now, please Chris, please. But Chris’s actions were slow and teasing and she continued fondling the warm moistness. Then, she lent forward and kissed Jan full on the lips, this surprised her even more than the hand, touching, feeling. The tongue, a woman’s tongue, gently probing her mouth, licking her lips, the softness of female skin, the smell of Chris’s perfume, completed Jan’s excited confusion. And Chris’s hand soon had Jan gasping, groaning, with an intense shuddering orgasm.

He couldn’t believe his good luck. There was some moonlight and something he hadn’t expected. A car with two dirty queer tarts – at it. He edged nearer to improve his view and maybe who they were. Closer and closer, he could see and hear them clearly now, he recognised them and was surprised. He undid his trouser zip, his eyes fixed on the arousing scene before him…

‘Morning sweetheart, you were back late night. I was knackered, so I went up about eleven. I think I heard you come in, but I don’t remember you coming up, I must have slept really well. Good night was it - with the Am Dram mob?’ Mike was in cheerful mood because the weather was dry and a weak sun hung in the sky.

‘Oh, it was a really nice theatre, with proper lights, and, a real stage manger. We were a bit late because they all go for a drink afterwards. But it was great. A real break. Would you like cooked breakfast today? I’ve got some bacon here that needs using up.’ Jan was trying to be as normal as possible but she was still dazed by what had happened in Chris’s car.

‘Yum, yum, I could cope with that.’

The kids had just left on their trek to school and the house was quiet, except for a cheerful Terry Wogan, ‘fighting the flab,’ on Radio two, with his early morning show. The bacon eventually began sizzling on the extremely slow camping cooker and the air was filled with an appetizing aroma.

‘That smells good, I’m starving. Talking about nosh, what did you find out about that potato week business?’

‘Oh yeah, it’s quite interesting really. It seems that during the war they used to grow a lot of potatoes around here, and round about the middle of October-half term- they used to dig them up, and all the farmers used to help each other with the harvest. They use a machine to lift them out of the ground, but they have to be picked up by hand. Apparently the kids helped pick them up and they would all go from farm to farm until the harvest was over. Chris says there are only a few farms growing them now, mostly for cattle feed. So, there’s a bit of history for you. Ann, you know, Smiley Bear, Ann, well, her husband Emlyn still does it. And Chris said if you help to pick them up they give you a sack full or two in payment.’

‘Bloody hell, I might have a go at that. We could do with some spuds for the winter, and it would save us some money.’

‘I think you’ve got enough to do, Mike’

‘Yeah well, we’ll see. Mind you, I’m a bit disappointed – no dancing naked around a potato at midnight.’

Jan gave a polite little laugh at his joke, and then changed the subject. ‘Talking about Ann, she called here the other day wanting to know if I wanted to go to the W. I., on Thursday night, down in the village. I said I might, if I have time. It‘s only once a month, unless there’s something special going on. At least I would get to know more people.’

‘At this rate you’ll have to start a social diary, love,’ Mike grinned.

‘Ha, bloomin ha,’ Jan retorted and gave the bacon a vigorous prodding, sending sizzling fat sparking and splattering over the stove. Sometimes she didn’t know whether Mike was getting at her, or only joking, which added to his fun. Perhaps she was being rather over sensitive on this particular day. Mind you, on the odd occasion Jan tried a new recipe for something or other, and it didn’t turn out quite right, the children would follow Mike’s lead and join in with the food ‘disaster’ jokes. Jan would eventually see the funny side of it and join in the mirth. The chilli and rice had been an especially classic disaster, in which she had put far to much chilli and every one had dashed for water.

‘What’s on the cards for today Mike?’

‘Well I had thought of going to look at that van Keith told us about. Then I could finish the pig pen floors. But I think I had better go the bank first, see what they have to say about a loan or something. It’s going to be a bit of a waste of the morning but it has to be done. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’