MAKING UP
Roger Noons
a bottle of Beaujolais Villages
‘So
what’s his name?’
‘Shan’t
tell you.’
‘Don’t
be childish, I only asked his name, the chap in the silver BMW.’
‘It’s
none of your business.’
Susie
paused for thought, and until her daughter looked her in the eye. ‘I’m only
being polite. It would be nice to know his name, so that when I meet him …’
‘You’re
not going to meet him.’
‘Oh
Jess, grow up.’
‘I
am not going to invite him in mother; I don’t want you putting on your usual
act and …’
‘What
on earth are you talking about? I won’t eat him, or ask him if his intentions
are … What do you mean my usual act?’
‘Your
gushing greeting, your blouse open at the front and your skirt up around your
bum. ‘Oh nice to meet you Colin, I‘ve so looked forward to Jess bringing you
home, I’m Susie, she‘s told me all about you. Then two weeks later, he‘s
dumping me for you.’
‘That
was just the one time, and I was …’
‘Mother,
you must be losing your memory. You’ve done that with the last three guys I’ve
been out with.’
‘I’m
sorry love, but I can’t help it if they find me attractive, can I?’
‘They
don’t find you attractive; they find you easy to get into bed.’
‘Jess
that was a horrible thing to say.’
‘I’m
sorry, but if you want a bloke, go out and get your own, don’t steal mine.’
Susie
sulked, looked hurt, turned away from her daughter then quietly said. ‘What
chance do I have to meet men? I’m stuck at that Home twelve hours a day, six
days a week.’
‘Go
out in the evening, that’s what I do. Don’t forget I work as well.’
‘I’m
too knackered to go out. You’ve no idea what it’s like looking after old folks
all day.’
‘Don’t
you meet anyone at work?’
‘Oh
yeah, there’s Leslie, I get to put his willie back in his trousers half a dozen
times a day, and Bert, he keeps promising to give me one, if he could only
remember how. They’re both eighty six, for God’s sake.’
‘Well
advertise, use your imagination, join a club, or a group. The local amateur
dramatic society’s appealing for new members, which would be a good place.
You‘d make a terrific barmaid, or tart.’
Jess
swept out of the room, not realizing that she had left her mother in tears.
*
When
Jess arrived home on the following evening, she found a message propped up
against the microwave.
‘I’ve
gone out, should be back around ten.’
In
fact it was almost eleven o’ clock, when Jess heard the front door of their
semi detached house open, and her mother walk along the laminate floor into the
kitchen. She threw down her magazine and joined Susie.
‘Well?’
‘Well
what?’
‘Where
have you been?’
‘None
of your business.’
‘Mother
…
‘What?
That’s how you treat me.’
‘Sorry,’
she looked away, then quietly added, ‘please tell me where you’ve been, I was
worried, you said ten, and it‘s gone eleven.’
‘I
went for a drink … after the meeting.’
‘What
meeting?’
‘The
Amateur Dramatic Society, I’ve joined the Stockbridge Players. In fact I’ve got
a part in their next production.’ Susie smiled.
‘What’s
the play?’
‘It’s
a French farce … and … I play Monique, a prostitute.’
Mother
and daughter hugged each other as they burst out laughing.
Bio
Having spent the best part of thirty five years
writing reports on such subjects as ‘Provision of Caravan Sites for Travellers’
and ’Aspects of Pest Control in the Urban Environment’, Roger Noons began even
more creative writing in 2006, when he completed a screenplay for a friend who
is an amateur film maker. After the film was made, he wrote further scripts and
having become addicted, began to pen short stories and poems. He occasionally
produces memoirs and other non fiction. He has begun to perform his poems, and
has just published ’An A to Z by RLN’, an anthology of 26 short stories. He
intends by the end of the year to have followed that up with a novella.
He is a member of two Writers Groups and tries his
hardest to write something every day. As well as CafeLit, he has had credits in
West Midlands newspapers, The Daily Telegraph, Paragraph Planet, Raw Edge and a
number of Anthologies.
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