celebrating the big five-oh next year.
I pointed out that if she's only forty-nine, then she was sixteen when she had me. 'I was a child bride, darling.'
'It means Dad was only thirteen.'
'Who?' She smiled absently.
'Dad. My father. The man you married.'
'Oh,' she gave a little wave of her hand, which managed to be dismissive and pitying of Dad.
11
TO: [email protected]
FROM: Gemma 343@h o tmail.com
SUBJECT: I'm living in a fantasy world
I've written a little story. I thought you might like to read it.
Noel Hogan was quietly watching the golf when another almighty crash in the room overhead made the fake chandelier sway. Geri and Robbie were wrecking the place above but he was too tired to go up and give out to them. Not that it would make any difference, they'd only laugh at him. He turned his attention back to the golf and told himself it was normal for children to hurl television sets off their bunkbeds.
Colette had left him babysitting while she went into town. She'd said it was a good opportunity for him to build bridges with the psychotic little bastards (his words, not hers), but he couldn't shake a suspicion that she just wanted to go round the shops without having children hanging out of her.
After a while he noticed that the crashing noises had stopped. Feck it. Now what? His heart sank as the door opened and Robbie and Geri slid into the room, each as evil-looking as the other. Funny how they were both the image of their mother and she wasn't evil-looking at all. Was she… ?
Geri picked up the remote and idly changed the station.
'I was watching that,' Noel said.
'Tough bananas. It's not your flat.'
Geri flicked through the channels, discarding anything of interest until she found what seemed to be a state funeral of a cardinal; slow moving and dirgy.
They sat in silence, listening to the tuneless chanting, until Robbie remarked, 'We hate you.'
'Yeah, you're not our dad.'
'More like our grandad. Except older.'
More silence. Noel couldn't tell them that he hated them too. He was still trying to win them over.
'She's out there spending your money,' Geri said. 'It's the only reason she's with you. She's going to buy lovely things for her and me and Robbie and our dad, then when she's spent it all, she's going to break it off with you. If you're still alive.'
Geri's spiteful remarks struck a chord. Colette was going through the greenbacks at a ferocious rate.
'Have some chocolate.' Children loved chocolate.
'Nah, that stuff's shit. We only like Ferrero Rochers.'
Eventually he heard Colette's key in the door. Thank God. She came in and threw what looked like dozens of Marks and Spencer carrier bags on the table.
'Hello, love.' She kissed Noel on the nose. 'I,' she teased, 'have a little present for you.'
Pork pies! Noel thought. Marks and Spencer full-fat ones, the nicest you could get. What a woman! He'd been right to leave his lovely, loyal wife of thirty-five years for her.
Colette reached into the bag and slowly pulled out something. It crackled like the wrapping on a packet of pork pies - but it wasn't pork pies. It was a bra. Black and turquoise nylon. Fancy. Then the hand went in again and out came matching knickers.
'Nice pants,' he said gamely.
'Not pants.' Playfully Colette threw the scrap of lace at him and it draped itself on his head, disturbing his comb-over and making his wispy hairs all staticy. 'A thong!'
A thong. Noel knew what a thong meant. It meant she'd be looking for the ride tonight. Again. But first they'd have to have the fashion show, her parading up and down in her fancy pants, shoving her bottom at him, doing the dance she did around the trouser press, in the absence of a pole. Every bloody night.
She was insatiable and he was exhausted.
'Anything else in the bag?' he asked, still hoping for the pork pies.
'There certainly is!' She slid out a matching suspender belt.
Noel nodded miserably. He was mad to have thought she'd get him pork pies. She'd
I pointed out that if she's only forty-nine, then she was sixteen when she had me. 'I was a child bride, darling.'
'It means Dad was only thirteen.'
'Who?' She smiled absently.
'Dad. My father. The man you married.'
'Oh,' she gave a little wave of her hand, which managed to be dismissive and pitying of Dad.
11
TO: [email protected]
FROM: Gemma 343@h o tmail.com
SUBJECT: I'm living in a fantasy world
I've written a little story. I thought you might like to read it.
Noel Hogan was quietly watching the golf when another almighty crash in the room overhead made the fake chandelier sway. Geri and Robbie were wrecking the place above but he was too tired to go up and give out to them. Not that it would make any difference, they'd only laugh at him. He turned his attention back to the golf and told himself it was normal for children to hurl television sets off their bunkbeds.
Colette had left him babysitting while she went into town. She'd said it was a good opportunity for him to build bridges with the psychotic little bastards (his words, not hers), but he couldn't shake a suspicion that she just wanted to go round the shops without having children hanging out of her.
After a while he noticed that the crashing noises had stopped. Feck it. Now what? His heart sank as the door opened and Robbie and Geri slid into the room, each as evil-looking as the other. Funny how they were both the image of their mother and she wasn't evil-looking at all. Was she… ?
Geri picked up the remote and idly changed the station.
'I was watching that,' Noel said.
'Tough bananas. It's not your flat.'
Geri flicked through the channels, discarding anything of interest until she found what seemed to be a state funeral of a cardinal; slow moving and dirgy.
They sat in silence, listening to the tuneless chanting, until Robbie remarked, 'We hate you.'
'Yeah, you're not our dad.'
'More like our grandad. Except older.'
More silence. Noel couldn't tell them that he hated them too. He was still trying to win them over.
'She's out there spending your money,' Geri said. 'It's the only reason she's with you. She's going to buy lovely things for her and me and Robbie and our dad, then when she's spent it all, she's going to break it off with you. If you're still alive.'
Geri's spiteful remarks struck a chord. Colette was going through the greenbacks at a ferocious rate.
'Have some chocolate.' Children loved chocolate.
'Nah, that stuff's shit. We only like Ferrero Rochers.'
Eventually he heard Colette's key in the door. Thank God. She came in and threw what looked like dozens of Marks and Spencer carrier bags on the table.
'Hello, love.' She kissed Noel on the nose. 'I,' she teased, 'have a little present for you.'
Pork pies! Noel thought. Marks and Spencer full-fat ones, the nicest you could get. What a woman! He'd been right to leave his lovely, loyal wife of thirty-five years for her.
Colette reached into the bag and slowly pulled out something. It crackled like the wrapping on a packet of pork pies - but it wasn't pork pies. It was a bra. Black and turquoise nylon. Fancy. Then the hand went in again and out came matching knickers.
'Nice pants,' he said gamely.
'Not pants.' Playfully Colette threw the scrap of lace at him and it draped itself on his head, disturbing his comb-over and making his wispy hairs all staticy. 'A thong!'
A thong. Noel knew what a thong meant. It meant she'd be looking for the ride tonight. Again. But first they'd have to have the fashion show, her parading up and down in her fancy pants, shoving her bottom at him, doing the dance she did around the trouser press, in the absence of a pole. Every bloody night.
She was insatiable and he was exhausted.
'Anything else in the bag?' he asked, still hoping for the pork pies.
'There certainly is!' She slid out a matching suspender belt.
Noel nodded miserably. He was mad to have thought she'd get him pork pies. She'd
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