Wednesdays.
Betty sat in front of her
dressing table and surveyed her reflection in the mirror while the cat eyed her
from the bed. Leathered, she decided. Her skin had the same look of weathered
leather that the old sofa wore. All patterned with gentle creases. The make-up
that she’d taken such care with emphasised the great deep gorges that tracked from
nose to mouth and across the bridge of the nose, spreading from the corners of
her eyes to spill down her cheeks. Jack hadn’t liked her to wear much make-up
but she enjoyed it. She blamed their Amateur Dramatics days when they’d both be
coated in the stuff. Every Wednesday evening for all those years. She missed
it. All that excitement and drama seemed
a long time ago now.
She paused
for a moment in the silent house, hearing echoes of old laughter before
returning to her preparations. Practicing a smile she saw a smear of red lipstick
on her teeth. The shocking scarlet looked garish against her pale powdered skin
and her hair which was completely white now. No trace of the rich brown of her
youth. And it was thin. She brushed the permed curls into a soft fuzz and
considered the vulnerable effect of her pink scalp showing around her ears and
along the parting. Eye-brows. That was what she needed. From the case she withdrew
a pencil and traced a dark line unsteadily above each eye. She quite liked the
surprised look it gave her.
Next she
stood and scrutinised her appearance in the full length mirror. The cashmere cardigan
had an old tea stain on the front and she had buttoned it up wrong, leaving an
extra button at the bottom so it lay crumpled on one side and stretched on the
other. Checking her watch she realised she was late, put on a string of
cultured pearls, dabbed on some perfume and hastily made her way down the stairs,
the cat trotting at her heels. As she passed the umberella stand in the hall
she pulled out her walking stick and went into the sitting room to wait.
The
BMW pulled smoothly into the driveway of the cottage and Steve checked his
appearance in the driving mirror. He angled it down and grinned into it,
ensuring there were no remnants of lunch between his teeth. Yeah. He looked
great. He smoothed his hair, winked at himself and reached for his clipboard,
reminding himself of the details. Mrs Beckwith. A seventy-six year old widow.
All the way out here with no neighbours. This would be a pushover. He’d be in,
out and home in time for a round of golf.
He pulled on
his jacket, straightened his tie and headed for the front door. He had to wait
a couple of minutes and through the frosted glass he could see an outline
moving slowly. He curbed his impatience and reminded himself of the benefits to
come. The door opened to reveal an old woman leaning on a walking stick and
wearing outlandish make-up. Why did they do that? They clearly had no idea how
ridiculous they looked. She wore pearls. Steve gave his best smile and held out
his hand.
‘Mrs
Beckwith? Steve Lagan. What a beautiful place you have here!’ She seemed a
little flustered so he showed her his I.D. and stepped into the small entrance
hall, guiding her in with a hand on her shoulder. ‘From Impact Windows’ he
clarified loudly.
‘Oh
yes, I was expecting you’ she nodded although she’d obviously forgotten. This
looked promising. ‘Come in, come in’. Her yellowed horse teeth were covered in
lipstick, like some grotesque vampire and he suppressed a shudder as he
followed her into the living room. It was cluttered, like many of the pensioner
homes he’d been in and crammed with furniture. Totally at odds with his own minimalist
loft apartment.
‘This
is nice,’ he remained standing. The Olds approved of manners. As he expected
she invited him to sit down and offered him a cup of tea. He preferred a decent
coffee but experience had taught him to avoid pensioners’ idea of coffee. ‘That
would be lovely. Thanks.’ Another wait while she fumbled about the kitchen. He
got up again and stood in the doorway, lounging casually against the frame.
‘Can I help?’ he smiled, careful not to imply that help might be needed. She
turned and looked up at him from her hunched over stance. What did they call
it? Dowagers Hump? That was it. God she was ugly. But the furniture whispered
to him of money and at least she didn’t smell like some of the others. He flashed his best smile at her. She studied
him for a second and then almost simpered.
‘No, no,
dear. You sit down you’ve had a long journey. All the way from Glasgow they
said. Just to see me. I don’t get visitors these days’.
Her words
registered and he wasn’t surprised that even an old crone like her wasn’t
immune to his looks. His disgust was tempered by the thought of how easy this
would be. Wait until he turned on the charm. As he sat down a cat appeared and
tried to rub against his legs. Why did people keep stinking animals that
covered everything in hair? He was about to shove it away when Mrs Beckwith
appeared in the doorway and he had to pretend he was reaching for it, gushing
about how beautiful it was. After that the damned thing jumped up on him,
sticking its claws into his suit, dribbling on him and shoving its arse in his
face. Christ, the things he had to put up with.
They drank
the tea and chatted for a while until Steve asked where the bathroom was and
excused him-self. In the bathroom he looked in the wall cabinet and examined
the bottles and products around the bath. Returning to the living room he
settled once again into the chair.
‘I
see you use Imperial Leather soap’ he began, ‘that’s what my Gran used. She
used to swear by it…’ his voice caught and he looked away. ‘I miss her,’ his
jaw muscles clenched as he struggled
with his emotions. ‘I’m sorry Mrs Beckwith, it’s just that you remind me of her
so much.’ He almost managed a tear. Betty leaned forward and took hold of his
hand.
‘Oh
love, was it recent?’
‘Last
year. We were so close’
‘I
understand love, you get used to it after a while though. I wouldn’t say you
get over it but you get used it.’ She patted his hand.
‘Thanks
Mrs Beckwith…’
‘Call
me Betty.’
‘Thanks
Betty. Sorry I’ve made a fool of myself now,’
‘Not
at all love, not at all.’
Steve made an
obvious effort to compose himself, withdrew his hand and stood up. ‘Well we’d
best get on, I’ve been here nearly an hour, I’ll have out-stayed my welcome if
I’m not careful’, he noted the old lady’s crestfallen face and smiled to
himself. So what if the golf was off the menu. The Chanel perfume in the
bathroom, the expensive clothes and pearls, the antique furniture. The old
bird’s pathetic attempts to be what she used to be. This was a hole-in-one.
Betty
showed Steve around the little cottage as he measured each window and tutted,
shaking his head as he made notes on his clip board. He was certainly good
looking with the confidence and attitude that only youthful good looks and
success can bring. She thought back to
when she’d first met Jack. He couldn’t have been more different from this young
man. Eventually they made their way back to the living room.
‘I
don’t suppose there’s any more of that lovely tea is there Betty?’
She made some
more and brought through the sponge cake she’d made yesterday, knowing she
would have a guest today.
‘Are you sure you won’t get into trouble,
being here so long?’
‘No,
no, don’t worry about me, the office will re-arrange my other appointments.
Let’s get you sorted, that’s the important thing. That cake looks good Betty, I’m starving, I missed lunch to get here on time’.
‘Oh
that’s kind of you love. You’re a credit to the company.’
‘I’d
say it’s all part of the service Betty but you know, sometimes you meet someone
and…anyway.’ They settled down again with tea and cake and the clock on the
mantelpiece tick-tocked as they chatted. Almost reluctantly Steve sighed and
stood up.
‘I just need
to pop to the car, I’ll be back in a minute.’ He returned with his brief-case
and a sample that consisted of the cut off corner of a window. ‘I’ll show you how good our windows are
compared with the competition’ he bragged, adding ‘I’ve even got them in my own
place.’
Betty was
impressed. He talked about the importance of triple glazing, low emissivity
metallic coatings, U values and composites so assuredly that she agreed with
him even though she’d been lost at the first sentence.
‘I just thought new windows would be nice,’
she stammered. ‘I’ve never understood about technical things. Jack always
looked after that for me.’
‘Sorry
Betty, I get carried away with the science sometimes, but really it’s the
science that makes them so good. Jack?’ he queried, ‘Your son? Son-in-law?’
‘My
husband’ Betty corrected him. ‘My late husband, Jack. He used to look after all the business side
of things. It’s all foreign to me’.
‘Oh
I’m sorry Betty, but don’t worry, I can look after this for you, you don’t have
to worry about any of it. I noticed the photo by your bed. It must be hard
finding yourself all alone. How long were you married?’
‘Forty-nine
years,’ for a moment her sadness was palpable, ‘he died two years ago’.
‘But
I bet he looked after you well? And made sure you were comfortable and
financially secure hey? He sounds that kind of a man.’
‘Oh
yes he did. I don’t have to worry on that score. It’s the loneliness that’s the
hardest,’ she knew she sounded frail and sad.
‘So
you don’t have any family then? he asked, ‘ You don’t have anyone to keep you
right?’
‘Not
really’ she replied. ‘Our daughter, Allison, emigrated to New Zealand. She
tries but she’s so far away. We talk on the phone but she’s busy. She’s got her own life, you
know how it is.’ Even to herself it sounded like she was making excuses for her
daughter.
‘Any
photo’s?’ asked Steve
‘But you don’t want to be looking at photo’s
of my family, surely?’
They spent the
next half hour leafing through an old
photograph album from the eighties with the young man complimenting everything.
Eventually,
having ascertained that the daughter was not going to interfere here, Steve
suggested that they get back to business. Immediately the old lady tensed and
he hastened to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry
about the science Betty, let’s look at the facts shall we?’ Reaching into his
brief-case he pulled out a file and began to peruse it. ‘Just remind me what
your post code is?’
‘It’s
BD12…er..yes BD12 6AR. Or is it 6AT?
BD12 6AT, or AR. Oh dear…’ Jesus, she was worse than he’d thought.
‘Not
to worry Betty I’ve got it here, BD12 6RA, right then let’s see. Oh.’ he
frowned. ‘You know this is a high crime area Betty?’ Betty’s alarm showed in
her creased face. ‘You’ve been lucky to avoid a break in so far. Your Jack
would be happy that we’re making your house nice and secure now that you’re all
alone’. She was so gullible it was almost unfair.
Finally he worked out some calculations and
beamed at her. She was definitely worth a punt. ‘Right Betty with everything
taken into consideration we can get you safe, warm and secure for twenty-two
thousand six hundred and forty two pounds. How does that sound?’ The shock
appeared to have stunned the old hag into silence and she stared into his eyes.
‘This is quality equipment Betty. There’s no-one else who makes windows to this
standard. Remember the science?’ Betty closed her mouth and nodded, apparently
still unable to speak as Steve smoothly continued. ‘I think, given the crime
rate in this area that we should press on and get it done sooner rather than
later Betty, so if you just sign here we can get everything started’ he treated
her to his most dazzling smile and showed her where to sign. She hesitated. ‘You
can’t put a price on safety Betty, but I know it does sound a lot.’ He mused
over the papers for a moment then said ‘You know what Betty, I wonder if we can
get any discounts applied’. He rummaged
in the briefcase again and withdrew a questionnaire. ‘Let’s see if any of these
can be ‘juggled’ for you.’ he grinned and Betty nodded.
‘Juggled?’
‘Let’s see. Is there a gym or fitness centre
nearby Betty?’ The old lady looked blank.
‘But
it’s six miles to the village,’ she began ‘there’s nothing like that here.’
Steve winked at her ‘Ah but I
saw a sign for a golf course on the road, that’s a sports facility isn’t it?
Great that qualifies for a discount. What about a bus service?’
‘Once
a week’ she was doubtful, ‘will that count?’
‘It
counts to me and that’s what matters,’ he added another tick to the sheet.
‘I’ve added a couple of other things as well. My prerogative Betty, my
prerogative. Now what have we got?’
He
noticed she held her breath and actually crossed her fingers as he adjusted the
calculations. He whistled, shook his head and muttered ‘that can’t be right,’
then smiled at her. ‘We’ve got it down to just over twenty thousand Betty. That’s
a discount of over two and a half thousand pounds. Isn’t that great?’
‘Two
and a half thousand pounds!’ she was excited now. Again he pushed the contract
towards her but pulled it back as she reached for it.
‘Wait
a minute Betty. I’ve had an idea.’ He looked intently into her watery blue eyes
and nodded.
‘What?’
gasped Betty ‘what?’
‘Bear
with me Betty’. God he loved this. Check and check-mate.
Betty watched
as he reached into his jacket, withdrew a mobile phone and dialled.
‘I’m phoning my boss’ he informed her. ‘Pete?
Hi, it’s Steve. I’m with Mrs Beckwith. Yeah I know. OK but I’ll catch up, I
know I’m behind.’ He shook his head and pulled a face at Betty to indicate that
he was in trouble. She listened to him apologising to his boss then heard him
say ‘I wondered if I could use my bonus to get her a further discount?’ There
was a pause then he grinned at her. ‘Excellent, see you later Pete, thanks.
Bye.’ He put the phone down with a flourish. ‘Bingo! Now I’ve got you a real
discount’.
‘But surely
not your bonus?’ her chin wobbled, ‘Are you sure?’
‘I want to
Betty. I want to help.’
Grabbing the
papers once more he calculated and scribbled.
‘The sum total is eighteen thousand seven hundred and twenty-seven
ponds,’ he announced. ‘That’s nearly five thousand pounds discount!’
‘Five
thousand!’ she echoed as he pushed the contact towards her again. ‘My goodness,
five thousand pounds discount! Imagine!’ she took the silver pen and paused
with her hand just above the signature box. She noted the look of triumph on
his face, his anticipation. She smiled up at him as he leaned towards her. ‘But
it’s still much more than the others.’ She laid the pen on the contract and
gazed at Steve.
‘The others?’
‘Yes,
the other window companies’.
‘The
other window companies?’ Now he was looking stupid and she was disappointed in
him. He’d been doing so well.
‘Oh
yes. Jack always got a few quotes for a job.’ He looked dazed.
‘Quotes.Yes.
Of course. Quotes. How many?’
‘You’re
number seven,’ she smiled and recited a list of companies.
Steve was
reeling. The old bat’s eyes no longer looked watery and weak. In fact he could
see a steely glint. The feeling of desperation was new to him. He could hear
her talking. About how she’d had a lovely afternoon and really enjoyed his
company. How nice it was to have visitors. Steve shook his head as he saw the
vast commission slipping away. No. He must be mistaken.
‘What
can I do Betty? What will it take for you to sign the contract today?’
Still she prattled on. He
begged. She was resolute.
‘Oh no dear.
Those awful upvc doors haven’t got half the character of my old oak door and
I’m fond of the sash windows, which is just as well,’ she played her trump card
‘because the cottage is listed.’ She chuckled. ‘ I’m not allowed to change
them. Anyway I’m leaving in a couple of months.’
‘Leaving?’ He was stupefied.
‘Emigrating. I’m off to live with my daughter in New Zealand. Would
you like to see some more photos? It’s a beautiful place.’
‘Photos! I’ve been here all afternoon! Why would I want to look at
photos!’ ‘Cake?’ asked Betty.
Four hours after arriving Steve
departed. Betty followed him to his car and waved as he drove away. He didn’t
wave back. She strode back to the house swinging the walking stick like a
majorette. As she settled down with a gin and tonic the phone rang.
Telemarketing. They had bothered her since Jack had died. She’d stopped
wondering how they knew. The salesman was aggressively pushy and Betty conceded
to a home visit the following Wednesday.
Later in the evening Allison
phoned as usual.
‘Hi Mum’.
‘Hello darling, I’ve had a lovely
afternoon with a handsome young man called Steve, from Impact Double Glazing’.
She heard Allison laughing.
‘Mum
you’re a disgrace. Who did you play this time?’
‘Oh no
specific character, I just reacted to his cues. I got four hours out of him.’
‘I could
almost feel sorry for them.’
‘I’ve got
Solar panels coming next week. I might break out that blonde wig.’
‘Mum!’ scolded Allison. ‘Anyway if you get
online I’ll Skype you. ’
‘Ok love,
will do.
They laughed
together over the wires then hung up. Putting her G&T aside Betty took her
i-mac from the Queen Anne Bureau, flipped it open and logged on.
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