Playing Around by Gilda O'Neill Page A

his great barrel chest. ‘Bobby Sykes, that is not going to happen, now is it?’
    ‘No, course not, babe. Take no notice of me. It’s just, well , I can’t imagine what’s going to happen with them two. Something’s got to blow.’
    ‘She must be completely stupid.’
    ‘You ought to have seen her the other night at the flat. When they had that party thing. No one said nothing, but I reckon she showed him right up.’
    Maureen shook her head. ‘I’ve changed my mind, Bob, she’s not stupid, she’s stark, raving bonkers. No one in their right mind would mess with Dave Fuller.’
    ‘There’s gonna be ructions tonight, I reckon. Dave and that Burman bloke – the one he’s doing business with – are meeting up later on. At the Canvas. A crowd of them, there’s gonna be. All with their old women and that. But I can’t see Sonia trotting along and behaving like a good little girl. Not the way she’s carrying on.’
    ‘God help her. That’s all I can say.’
    Bobby stroked Maureen’s cheek. ‘Make sure the door’s shut properly behind me, babe, and I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.’
    ‘Go on, get going, you big chump.’ Maureen punched him playfully on his bulging arm. ‘And make sure you clean them dog hairs out of the car when you get home.’
    As Bobby carefully spread a tartan travelling rug over the back seat of the Humber, he smiled proudly to himself. He was a lucky man. There weren’t many fellers who could say they had a little diamond like Maureen for a wife. Spotlessly clean; a good cook; never nagged him for money; and – he turned and winked at her as she stood, arms folded in the street doorway – she knew how to keep a man happy in more places than in the kitchen.
    He felt sorry for Dave, stuck with Sonia.
    ‘Chas,’ Violet whined, ‘why don’t we ever go out?’
    ‘We do.’ He was lying on his back in Vi’s rumpled double bed, smoking a cigarette. ‘We go to the pub.’
    ‘Yeah, that little place right out in the bloody sticks, full of yokels and their stinky dogs.’
    ‘It’s nice in the country. And we go for something to eat.’
    ‘Yeah, the Chinese in Barking.’ Her whining had turned to sarcasm. ‘Great.’
    ‘I took you out to Colchester last Sunday morning.’
    ‘You had to go to Colchester to see that bloke about them pick-up trucks.’
    ‘It was still out.’
    Vi stroked her hand down his naked thigh, letting her bare breast brush against his chest. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere nice, Chas? Don’t you like being seen with me?’
    ‘Course I do. I just don’t want me old woman seeing us.’
    Vi slapped the flat of her palm down – smack! – on his stomach.
    ‘Oi!’
    ‘Well, don’t be so horrible.’
    ‘You know I’m married.’
    ‘You don’t have to keep reminding me.’
    ‘And I don’t have to put up with this either.’ Chas looked at the chunky gold watch on his tanned wrist – the watch that had Vi picking Chas out for special treatment, above all the other clientele of the supposedly smart Chigwell pub, even before she had noticed his dark good looks.
    ‘Don’t be like that, Chas.’
    ‘Sorry. Got a Masons’ do tonight. A Ladies’ Night. She’d kill me if I was late.’ He threw back the covers, stood up on the bedside rug and stretched.
    ‘But I’ll be all by myself.’ Vi ran the tip of her finger across his bare, taut behind. ‘You wouldn’t want that, would you, Chas?’
    He stepped out of her reach and began getting dressed. ‘Maybe if you was a bit nicer to people, that kid of yours for starters, a bit less selfish, you wouldn’t be so lonely. I ain’t seen her around in weeks.’
    ‘Sod you.’ Vi rolled over and closed her eyes. ‘Don’t think you’re coming round here for a screw, then running out on me. You can go and bugger yourself.’
    ‘That’d be a neat trick,’ he said, pulling his sweater over his head. ‘People’d buy tickets to see that.’
    ‘You can’t get round me by making me