by Robin Wrigley
black coffee
‘Hey Lillian’
‘What now Ted you really are
becoming quite tiresome with your whining you know, don’t you?’ Ever since
lockdown started their conversations began more like petty arguments conducted
between Edward’s study and the kitchen.
‘That pair in number twenty-one
haven’t paid their bloody rent again.’
‘What’s the
date?’
‘It’s the fifth already and this
is the second time they’ve been late in a row.’
‘Well give them a call. They
probably just forgot. You know what they’re like. To be honest I’m amazed
they’ve stayed this long.’
‘I did naturally, several times
and there is no reply.’
‘Now that doesn’t surprise me,’
Lillian had joined him in the study doorway wiping her hands on a tea-towel. ‘I
hope they haven’t done a moon-lighter. That’s all we need, to lose a thousand
quid at this time, not to mention the problem of finding new tenants. I’ll make a
cup of tea and we’d better go round there, and by the
way.’
‘What?’ Ted looked up trying his
best to keep his temper under control.
‘Do try and remember to take the
key when we go darling,’ she said over her shoulder on her way back to the
kitchen.
‘Course you never forget
anything, do you, little Miss perfect?’ he muttered under his breath at the
computer screen.
‘I heard
that.’
Later that afternoon, having
drunk their afternoon tea and Edward had dunked his two allotted digestive
biscuits, (never enough as far as he was concerned but none the less Lillian
religiously limited him to just two fearing he was putting on weight), they put
on their coats and went outside to their car.
It was only a fifteen-minute
drive to the cottage they had rented out ever since they inherited it from
Lillian’s parents when her mother died. It was a pretty little cottage sitting
quite isolated up a short track on the edge of a wood on one side and open
farmland on the other.
The place looked eerily quiet
and the curtains were still drawn even though it was only the middle of the
afternoon. Having wrestled with the garden gate and walked up to front door
Edward commented quietly to his wife that they would have to mention the state
of the front garden again.
‘Bloody untidy isn’t it?’ he
hissed hoping they might hear via the upstairs bedroom window which was wide
open as he rang the doorbell with his latex-gloved finger. Having waited a
reasonable amount of time he rang it again.
‘Don’t think they can be in,’ he
turned and said to his Lillian, ‘so I think we’d better go in,’ retrieving the
door key from his jacket pocket and inserting it into the lock he opened the
door.
‘Anyone home? Freddie? Laura? It’s only us, Mr and Mrs Jackson.’ His request was met with
silence.
‘Jesus, it stinks in here Lil,
more than it ever did before. I don’t know what the heck they’ve been doing in
here.’ They both walked into the lounge and started to look around. The couple
had never been very tidy and today it looked no different. Fred and Laura
Jackson were an old couple who had sold their flat in the town and rented the
house because they wanted to be in the country, or so they
said.
‘You’re right Ted it is a bloody
awful smell,’ Lillian said while pulling a mask out of her pocket and clipping
it in place. ‘I’d suggest you put yours on too Ted,’ which he promptly did even
though always with great reluctance.
Leaving the front door open they
carried on into the kitchen which again was very untidy with unwashed plates and
cutlery in the sink. They both looked out of the rear window over the sink into
the garden. The grass was overgrown and a several old towels were hanging on the
washing line.
‘This pair are no better than
those new-age travellers we're plagued with every summer Lil,’ Edward turned
away from the window and started back into the lounge.
‘C’mon let’s get on upstairs.
Hello! Anyone up there Freddie? Laura? It’s Mr Jackson, I’m coming
up.’
As the couple advanced up the
stairs he turned to Lillian and gasped, ’God the stink is even worse up here
Lil, like a rat crawled up here and died.’
Reaching the top of the stairs
Edward tapped on the front bedroom door and gingerly opened it. He put his head
around the door, gasped and instantly pulled it shut behind
him.
‘Go back down Lil for Christ
sake.’ He started to turn and face his wife. ‘Go on, quickly for pity’s sake
Lil.’
‘Why? What’s
wrong?
‘Just get down and get that back
door open, quickly unless you want me to throw up over you.’
Once they were both outside in
the garden Edward ripped his mask off and wretched. 'They’ve only gone and
croaked it Lil. The pair are still in bed dead as dodos, have been for several
days as far as I can see.’
Lillian searched into her pocket
and pulled out her mobile phone and started to open it.
‘What are you doing now
Lil?’
‘Phoning the police of course. We have to report this straight away Ted.’ She looked at her husband with a
quizzical look on her face. ‘Don’t you agree?
‘Whoa, whoa girl just hold your
horses. We’ve got to think this one out before we jump to any hasty actions that
we might regret later.’
‘What on earth do you mean?
Don’t start one of your games Ted. I know what your mind is like and I wouldn’t
mind a quid for every time one of your hair-brained schemes landed us either in
debt or worse.’
‘Look Lillian if we involve the
police and the health authorities who will be close on their heels you can kiss
six month’s rent goodbye on this place my darling. Mark my
words.’
‘You can’t be serious Edward. ’
It was quite interesting how when contentious issues surfaced the pair always
addressed each other with full unabbreviated Christian
names.
‘I’m not saying that it is the
way we will end up going but I’m sure as hell not going to invite policemen plod
in here to mess up our retirement pension without some serious
consideration.’
Lillian sat down on one of the
garden chairs and went into deep concentration chewing on the corner of the
phone, an unfortunate habit of hers.
‘Yes, you do have a point. Those health and safety blokes probably would tie us up forever the way they go about
things darling.’ Lillian was being manoeuvred around to Edward’s way of thinking
which usually required some flattery and the odd
endearment.
‘C’mon, Lil, let’s get this
stink-hole locked up and go home for another cuppa. We have got a lot of
planning to do if we are going to get rid of this pair and get this
re-let.
About the author
Robin is a regular contributor to
CafeLit both on line and in the published annual anthologies. He is a member of
the Wimborne Writers’ Group
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