CHAPTER 31

Matt was delighted that the fling with Cass had lasted and that now they were definitely an item.  Maxine’s body language and terseness showed her displeasure at this development.  She thought she had Matt under her thumb because of the dog incident in the kitchen but now that the dog had gone, her power had weakened considerably.  Her biggest problem was jealousy.  On those occasions when she saw Matt coming out of Cass’s room, dressed only in boxer shorts and tee-shirt, or when Cass tip-toed barefoot out of Matt’s room looking a little sheepish and coy, she wanted to scream at both of them but she could not rationalize why she wanted to scream or what she really wanted to scream about.  The whole chemistry of the flat had changed and it was not clear how things would develop.

“I haven’t even got Billy Bob to talk to,” she said out loud, lying on her bed one day.  “I need to clear my head.”  Her collection of teddy bears and other soft toys seemed to understand and one, a pink cat, fell over slightly as if nodding in a sympathetic way. 

“Did you say something, Max,” called Matt.

“Oh, I was just talking to myself,” answered Maxine as she walked into the lounge.  Matt was sitting in an armchair, coffee mug in hand.  “Coffee?” he asked.

“No, thanks.”  Maxine sat down on the sofa.  She looked at Matt.

“What?”  he asked.  Maxine smiled at him.

“Oh, I want to ask you something but I’m not sure how to or if I should.”

“I feel like I’m in a cryptic crossword,” laughed Matt.  “Ask me anything?”

“It’s about you and Cass.  Is it serious?  I mean I know you two are…..you know….sleeping together but is it a fling or is it longer term than that?”

“Blimey,” gasped Matt.  “There’s a lot of things in there that I’m not sure about and certainly not sure if it is any of your business, Max.  I mean, we like each other and we like doing, er, things together.  I can’t even begin to put a time limit on it.  At the moment, everything is cool.  Why are you asking?”

“I’m sorry if it sounds like an intrusion but I just need to know in case you both decide to get a place of your own and I want to be prepared for that.”

“I can’t answer that but we should all be aware that circumstances change and at some point one or more of us will move on.  But, right now, moving is not on the agenda.”

“But it could be?”  Maxine stared at him.

“Yes, it could be but it isn’t.”  Matt returned a quizzical look, got up and went to the kitchen.  Maxine followed him.

“So, now that you two are an item, you won’t mind if I bring boyfriends back for…….”  She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Max, you can do what you want.  We’re all adults here.  If you want to sleep with someone in this flat, then fine.  Go ahead.  No one’s stopping you.”

“I was only asking.  You’ve changed since you got all lovey-dovey with Cass,” said Maxine in a tantrum as she spun on her heels and went back to her room.  Matt looked out of the window and shook his head at life, the universe and everything.  In minutes, Maxine walked back into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of red wine and left the flat without saying anything else.  He could smell a blast of strong perfume.

Maxine bounded downstairs and knocked on Angie’s and Chico’s door.  She waited and was about to turn away when the door opened.  Chico was standing there with a towel wrapped round his waist.

“Oh, hi,” he said, reddening a little.  “I’ve just had a shower.”

“Oh that’s okay,” said Maxine, “you’ve got to keep a body like that in good shape, haven’t you?”  Chico reddened a little more.

“Can I help you?” he asked.  Maxine felt a tiny bit of confidence leave her but took a deep breath and carried on with her semi-impulsive plan.  “Is your wife in?”

“My wife?”  Chico looked perplexed.  “Oh, you mean my lady, Angie.”

“Yes,” said Maxine.  She was mesmerized by Chico’s tight body.

“No,” she gone to a spa for the day and won’t be back until later tonight.  Why?”

In a not very coordinated movement, Maxine grabbed Chico by the arms and kissed him full on the lips.  He backed away, then looked her in the eyes and launched forward again on the doorstep and kissed her back.  He pulled her inside the flat, slammed the door and started to undress her.  Maxine had very little to do to Chico except whisk away his towel.  They continued to kiss passionately as Chico steered her towards the bedroom.  For the next couple of hours, a new foxier Maxine was born, sassy, sexy, adventurous and enjoying every kiss, touch and sensation.  Chico was dynamic in bed, tender and romantic, a tiger unleashed and fully experienced in the geography of a woman’s body.

“No regrets?” she asked as they lay on the royal blue sheets.  Chico balanced himself on his elbow and stroked her face.

“Not a single one,” he cooed.

“Can we do this again?”  Maxine ran her hand across his chest.

“What, now?” he smiled.

“No, I mean sometime in the future.”  She kissed him.

“Sure, but it needs to be our secret.”  He put a finger to his lips in a kind of “omerta” contract.  He kissed her back.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom and then I must go.  We didn’t even have time to drink the wine.”  Maxine bounded out of bed and headed for the toilet.  Chico watched her naked body as it left the room.  He knew he was playing a dangerous game by cheating on Angie but when a woman offers herself on a plate, how is a man supposed to resist.

Maxine tidied her make-up, liked her reborn self in the bathroom mirror, winked at her reflection and made a silent vow not to be such a wimp in future.

CHAPTER 30

Tom was at work.  He was spending longer hours at the hypermarket to stay out of Jennifer’s way.  The night of the party, after everyone else had left, was one of the most fraught he could remember.  Jennifer let him have it with both barrels for not stopping the trouble.  Tom had begun to argue back but Jennifer was furious and he decided not to add fuel to the flames by trying to defend or rationalize the debacle.

Jennifer was curled up in the armchair.  She chose to ignore the door knocking and just wanted to keep herself to herself.  She had phoned in sick because she could not face all the small talk and stuff and nonsense from her fellow nurses, and certainly could not face all that illness and trauma around her..  Had she gone, she would have been expected to gossip and laugh at stupid jokes and get involved in the team spirit thing but she was sick of all of that false camaraderie.  The boss of the hospital she worked in was heavily into American-style culture and mission statements and values, with everyone expected to be upbeat, supportive and smiley to each other, and it was so wearing at times that it was easier either to snap back at someone to get things done or keep quiet and be seen as a loner, in other words, a potential troublemaker.  A nurse was all she had wanted to be when she was a young girl and now she was one, she realized that, like a lot of dreams and ambitions, the reality was not what she anticipated.  As she grew older, she loved the idea of a happy marriage and when Tom proposed, she thought another dream had come true.  But, very quickly, something switched inside her and it did not seem to be the right thing to have done.  She felt terrible about it because she loved Tom to bits, but a little voice inside her was nagging away, telling her that she did not love marriage.  How could that make sense, she thought.  How could she love a man so much and not want to marry him, not want the relationship to last forever and ever amen?  She curled up in the chair and waited for the answer to come to her.

Her mobile bleeped.  She read Tom’s text.  “How are you?”  Jennifer help the phone close to her chest and stifled a sob.  Either she could answer and say the usual, old boring “fine” or not reply at all.  She chose the latter option, got up from the chair and walked to the bedroom to pack a suitcase.

Later, about 9.30, Tom arrived home with a Chinese takeaway for two.  He thought the flat seemed cold and strange that the lights were off.

“Jen,” he called.  There was no reply.  He switched on the light and looked in every room.  As he stood in the bedroom doorway, he noticed an envelope on his bedside table.  He sat on the bed, lifted the envelope, breathed in and out heavily, twirled the envelope around his fingers before opening it.

“Tom, I am so sorry to be doing this to you.  I cannot think clearly enough to write what I really think and feel, but one thing is certain, I love you very much and you do not deserve a silly cow like me to be messing up your life.  I loved the thought of our marriage and our future together but as soon as it happened, something inside me did not feel right.  It’s not you, please believe that, it’s not you.  It’s me but I need time to understand it all.  So I have decided to go back to Mum and Dad for a while to work this out.  I know this will hurt you so much but I need this space.  I will contact you at some point but, even though you probably hate me for this stupidity, please remember that I care about you and partly because of that, I need to do the right thing for both of us.  It would be wrong to subject you to a moody wife and a life of misery.  It might work out eventually, but that’s up to you as well as me.  Take care of yourself.  Love, Jen.”

Tom lay down on the bed with the scrunched letter in his hand.  His head was spinning.  He was exhausted after a busy day at work and before long he was fast asleep.  Some time later, he sat up with a jolt, his heart racing, and a cold sweat chilling beneath him his shirt.  The reality of the letter and the empty flat came racing back to him.

He poured himself a glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table.  The carrier bag of Chinese food was sitting on the draining board, untouched and unwanted.  Tom gazed out of the window across the tops of the silhouetted city buildings, through the smattering of urban early morning lights, and on out to the semi-darkness of that pre-dawn world.  He had never felt as sad in his life, never felt so empty.  He blamed his own failure to see that Jennifer was clearly not completely happy with things.  He was so besotted with her and their marriage and the thought of a bright future that he did not see the signs.  But, he berated himself, what was so wrong with him that Jennifer could not stay and explain or try again?  He finished the wine and undressed to get back into bed for a few hours before getting up again for work.  He slept fitfully, haunted by all kinds of thoughts and doubts. 

He went to work that morning determined to get on with his life, a life, he concluded, in which his wife had made her choice to leave him, a life that he had to start living all over again.  He was once again a single man, enforced by circumstances, and he was determined to make the most of it.

CHAPTER 29

A few days after the party, Dot had plucked up the courage to knock on Tom and Jennifer’s door.  She was a bundle of nerves and shame as she could not convince herself that she was anything other than the initiator of the trouble.  As she waited outside the flat, she shuffled from one foot to the other, let out a little cough and adjusted the collar of her blouse.  After a couple of minutes and another knock, it was apparent to her that no one was at home, or they were at home and aware than she was on the other side of the door, choosing to hide behind the sofa like television licence dodgers.  She did not blame them for ignoring her if they were inside but, at some point, she was determined to make contact and clear the air if possible or, at the very least, apologise and never speak to them again, if that’s what they wanted.  One final knock, another wait of a few minutes and Dot decided to go to Jonathan’s flat instead.  She climbed the stairs slowly, her head a-jumble with thoughts and regrets.  She hoped that Jonathan was in.  She wanted him to be there.  She needed to offload to someone and he was always a shoulder to lean on, to cry on, always a friendly ear when someone needed support.

“Oh, hello Dot, come in.”  Jonathan was as polite, charming and friendly as ever.

“Are you sure?” asked a contrite Dot.  Jonathan beckoned her in.

“I’ve just made a pot of tea and it would be nice to share it and have a bit of conversation with someone,” said Jonathan.  “I’ve kept myself to myself a bit since Molly died.  Do you know, I still can’t believe she’s gone.  It was all so sudden, but then I suppose all death is sudden, in a way.”

“I suppose it is,” said Dot, sipping her tea.  “Jonathan, I feel so awful about all of this.  What if my stupid reactions to the party food and all that trouble triggered something in Molly’s heart or whatever and she died because of me.”  Dot’s hands were shaking and her tea was spilling.  Jonathan took the cup from her and held her hands.  Instinctively, he gave Dot a reassuring hug.

“You are not to blame.  Don’t be silly.  It was Molly’s time.  I know that might sound a bit hard but I don’t mean it that way.  I mean it comes to us all whether we are young, middle-aged or old.  Molly died peacefully, even with a food fight going on.  I know it. I feel it.  So, don’t be silly, don’t blame yourself.  It’s not your fault.”  Jonathan released the hug and Dot took a tissue from her sleeve to dry her eyes.

“Feel better?” asked Jonathan.  Dot made an effort to smile.  She nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, not really knowing what else to say.

“Jonathan,” said Dot eventually, “I’ve been thinking.  I don’t know if you know but most nights, I stay up late and wander around the flat thinking, looking out of the window and just trying to make sense of my life, especially where I’m heading.  Sometimes, I sit on the landing stairs just for a change of scenery, not that it’s much to look at, but I feel that the flat, or maybe my life, is like a prison sometimes and I just have to get out of it every now and then.”

“But you’re out of it most of the day anyway, at the deli,” said Jonathan.

“I know that,” Dot responded, “but it’s when I’m in my own time away from customers that I feel, well, lonely, very lonely.  When I was younger, I never believed or even thought about loneliness.  I remember my Gran saying that it is possible to feel all alone in a crowded room, but I just thought that was old rubbish.  But now, I think, no I know she was right.  I can stand in that shop watching customers browsing or be running up and down serving a queue and still feel that isolated.”

“It’s not all about customers.  You’ve got friends and neighbours too, Dot.  There’s no need to feel alone.” Jonathan knew that this kind of platitude was okay for agony aunts and meant nothing.  Dot smiled at him and he knew that she could see that he was both helpful and shallow at the same time.

“After Molly’s death and all my guilt about what happened, I realized that I have to take more control of where my life is going and in order to do that properly, I need to ask you a question.”  Dot’s eyes were locked on Jonathan’s face.  He looked puzzled, half-dreading what was coming but intrigued nonetheless.  He knew Dot well enough to realize that she was unpredictable.  He knew she fancied him and that he frustrated her by not reciprocating romantically.

“Of course,” he stumbled, anything, anything at all.  Just ask.”  He put his cup down on the table and sat back in his chair.  Dot stood up and paced to the window and back to the sofa twice.  Jonathan was about to stand up too but Dot waved him to stay seated. He obeyed and settled back into the chair again. She was wringing her hands but stopped suddenly, turned round to face Jonathan, inhaled an audible, deep breath, looked to the ceiling, looked to the floor, then looked him straight in the eyes.  She spoke clearly and precisely, enunciating every word like a United Nations interpreter..

“Jonathan, will you marry me?”

CHAPTER 28

The dog’s great escape on the night of the party was still causing friction between Maxine and Matt.  Matt had found an ally in Cass.  After the party, back at her flat, Maxine had blasted Matt for being stupid and careless.  Matt trued to argue back but too much beer and too little will brought on the inertia of a sponge.  Cass, on the other hand, equally well-fuelled, used her booze-booster to fight back on his behalf calling Maxine selfish, annoying, animal-obsessed to the point of soppy lunacy and boring.  It’s not certain which of these insults hurt the most, but Maxine eventually stormed off in tears to her room.  Cass had shouted “good riddance” as the door slammed, and then collapsed on the sofa in a fit of giggles next to Matt.  How it happened, why it happened and who made the first move is not clear, but within seconds Matt and Cass were kissing passionately, hands all over each other and in a clinch to rival Rodin’s lovers.  Unknown to them, Maxine was watching through the faintly open door of her room.  The kissing and fondling lasted a few minutes before Cass stood up, disheveled, reached out her hand to a tousle-haired Matt and lead him to her room.  Maxine closed her door, got into bed and stared at the ceiling for hours.  In the distance, she thought she could hear a dog barking, and thought of her beloved Billy Bob.  Closer, with only a wall as an obstacle, she could hear the creaking bed and groans of two people making love.  She was annoyed and jealous that neither person was her.

One week later and Maxine was still spending any spare time she had looking for Billy Bob.  She was becoming a familiar figure in all the shops, cafes and offices in the town, asking if anyone had seen her dog.  She toured parks, alleys and anywhere else she could think of but it seemed that due to Matt’s mistake, Billy Bob had vanished.  She chastised herself for not taking any photographs of the dog because at least one would have been ideal for a poster. 

After a couple of hours searching, she went into a café, sat in a booth with high wooden benches, and ordered a cup of tea and an iced bun.  She was staring out of the window into the street, always hoping that Billy Bob would appear, but alas, not on this day.  The café wasn’t busy but she was aware of a conversation in the next booth behind her.  She thought she recognized the voices, a man and a woman, but could not be sure.  As she had nothing better to do, she started to listen more carefully.  Maybe, she thought, somebody else’s life would be far more interesting and exciting than her own, and God knows, she mused, that would not be a difficult discovery.

“I know, I know it’s an opportunity, but shouldn’t we wait a little bit longer out of respect,” said the man.  The woman sighed.

“My darling boy, you have no idea how life really works, do you.  You are so handsome but lack so much experience.  If we don’t start acting on our plans now, we will miss our chance for a better life.”  There was the smack-sound of a loud kiss.

“You’re the boss, Angelica, and I am at your service.”  Both of them giggled like teenagers for a few minutes.

“Chico,” said the woman, “I want a share of my former husband’s cash and I think I know how to get it, now that his old lady friend has passed away.  He is vulnerable.  I heard he is writing a book about her and because of all the meetings and research, he must have become very close to her I’ll bet he feels a bit emotional and empty right now.  Enter the woman he spent years with and with a bit of charm and canoodling, contrite old me has a chance to manipulate him.  I know him.  He’s putty in my hands.  His greatest weakness is that he is very forgiving, once he gets all his anger and frustration out of his system.”

Maxine realized that this was Angelica and Chico, her newest neighbours in Maple Court.  She had some idea of the relationship between Sophie, her Dad, the dog attacker and this Chico stick-insect of a gigolo.  They were planning to take advantage of a tragic situation and no matter what she really thought of Jonathan Montague and his cruel intentions towards dogs, she couldn’t let this pair take advantage of him.  With rare bravado on her part, she decided on the spot to do something rash but exciting, morally suspect but adventurous, dangerous but thrilling.  She would disrupt this pair of schemers by seducing Chico and throwing his and Angelica’s cosy little plot into disarray.  On top of that, she loved the thought of a little illicit sex to jump-start her life, in more ways than one.

Angelica and Chico got up from their booth and walked towards the door.  “Oh, I left my phone on the table,” said Chico.  As he returned to the booth, he looked at Maxine who gave him a wink and the broadest smile she could muster, trying to look natural and alluring, rather than maniacal and sinister.  To her delight, he smiled back, winked and pursed his lips.  Maxine looked away, feigning coyness, and then glanced back.

“Hurry up, Chico,” called Angie. 

“Ciao,” mouthed Chico to Maxine.

She fluttered her eyes, he blushed, Angie huffed and puffed at the door and Maxine had more than an inkling that her own scheme was now off and running.

CHAPTER 27

Jonathan couldn’t sleep.  Every once in a while he would have bouts of insomnia and no matter how much he tossed and turned and tried to blank worries and concerns out of his mind, sleep failed to overtake him.  He had developed a system though, his alternative version to counting sheep.  So, with his head pressed into the pillow, Jonathan, lying on his back, flat out, legs straight, breathed in very deeply and exhaled, relaxing himself as much as he could.  Then he began reciting his list quietly to himself.

“The Kirkoff Case, The Dark and Bloody Ground, The Countess, Exit Prentiss Carr, Tall Woman in Red Wagon, This Case Is Closed, The Big Rip-off, Find Me If You Can, In Pursuit of Carol Thorne, The Dexter Crisis, Caledonia - It's Worth a Fortune, Profit and Loss, Aura Lee, Farewell, Sleight of Hand, Counter Gambit, Claire, Say Goodbye to Jennifer, Charlie Harris at Large, The Four Pound Brick, Just by Accident, Roundabout.”  Jonathan yawned and could feel himself getting drowsy.  He continued.

“The Aaron Ironwood School of Success, The Farnsworth Stratagem, Gearjammers, . The Deep Blue Sleep, The Great Blue Lake Land and Development Company, The Real Easy Red Dog, Resurrection in Black & White, Chicken Little Is a Little Chicken, 2 Into 5.56 Won't Go, Pastoria Prime Pick, The Reincarnation of Angie, The Girl in the Bay City Boys Club, The Hammer of C Block, The No-Cut Contract, A Portrait of Elizabeth, Joey Blue Eyes, In Hazard, The Italian Bird Fiasco, Where's Houston?, Foul on the First Play, A Bad Deal in the Valley.”  A speeding car outside destroyed completely any meditative state that Jonathan had created.  He stretched out again, relaxed and carried on.

“The Fourth Man, The Oracle Wore a Cashmere Suit, The Family Hour, Feeding Frenzy, Drought at Indianhead River, Coulter City Wildcat, So Help Me God, Rattlers' Class of '63, Return to the 38th Parallel, Piece Work, The Trouble with Warren, There's One in Every Port, Sticks and Stones May Break Your Bones, But Waterbury Will Bury You, The Trees, the Bees and T.T. Flowers, The Becker Connection, Just Another Polish Wedding, New Life, Old Dragons, To Protect and Serve, Crack Back, Dirty Money, Black Light.”  His drowsiness was beginning to feel pleasant again.  Jonathan could feel himself almost floating into the comfort of sleep in a warm bed. He was nearly there.

“Beamer's Last Case, Trouble in Chapter, The Battle of Canoga Park, Second Chance, The Dog and Pony Show, Requiem for a Funny Box, Quickie Nirvana, Irving the Explainer, The Mayor's Committee From Deer Lick Falls, Hotel of Fear, Forced Retirement, The Queen of Peru, A Deadly Maze, The Attractive Nuisance, The Gang at Don's Drive-In, The Paper Palace, Dwarf in a Helium Hat, South by Southeast, The Competitive Edge, The Prisoner of Rosemont Hall, The House on Willis Avenue.”

In the morning, Jonathan opened his eyes slowly and smiled to himself.  He had managed to sleep soundly in the end and was very pleased with himself that he could remember the episode titles of “The RockFord Files” in order.  He reckoned he had dropped off with “The House on Willis Avenue”, the end of the fourth season.

But the thought of Molly’s death wiped the smile from his face.  He felt sadder than he had done in a long, long time.  The party, just one week earlier, had been an opportunity for the Maple Court residents to get to know each other but all that remained now was a collection of neighbours at war or ignoring each other.  He had arranged Molly’s funeral and despite many telephone calls, internet searches and death notices in some local and national newspapers, he could not locate a single relative or friend from the past to attend and pay their last respects.  For someone like Molly with her long life and career in showbusiness, it was a dismal and ironic way to end her life, no family, no friends and in the middle of a trivial domestic fracas.

Jonathan had gone to the cemetery with Sophie, as much to be there because he wanted to be and because he felt a personal responsibility to Molly.  He was conscious at certain emotional moments that Sophie was squeezing his hand in reassurance.  He wanted his daughter to become independent of him but, at the same time, he wanted her close by because she was the most precious part of his life.

Dot had looked forlorn, still embarrassed by her part in the party fracas.  She had stared at Molly’s coffin and seemed to match the despair etched on her face with the chagrin in her heart at the death of this lovely lady, a person she envied because she had attracted the attention of Jonathan, but a person she admired because her life seem fulfilled.  Unlike Dot’s which seemed devoid of any chance of a lasting meaningful relationship.

Annie and Chico stood side by side, with Annie in full Alexis Carrington “Dynasty” pose, big black hat and all the trimmings.  Chico rested his arm on her shoulder and, to complete strangers, they looked like a Z-list celebrity couple desperate for a front cover of Hello magazine.  They were an emotion-free zone, only attending because they liked to pose at any occasion, no matter how sombre.

Maxine came to the funeral and she brought the dog with her.  She was oblivious to the glares of the other mourners.  At one sensitive moment, the dog cocked its leg and relived itself on another grave.

Matt had his arm round Cass’s shoulder for much of the time because she was sobbing, distraught for some reason.  She wasn’t particularly close to Molly, as far as anybody knew but she looked distressed.

Tom and Jennifer had at least two feet of grass between them and their body language confirmed that something was wrong.

Whatever the troubles and traumas of the assembled group, their common bond was sadness at the death of a lovely lady, one of their neighbours, one of their friends.  It was the end of another chapter for Maple Court and the beginning of another.  Each time a new resident arrived, the chemistry changed, life moved on in a new direction, for better, for worse.

Maple Court seemed to operate like a static bus with residents as passengers getting on and off as the years rolled by.  It kept life interesting but Jonathan was at the stage of his life where he wanted stability, and a little piece and quiet.  He would continue to work on Molly’s story but, perhaps now as a novel rather than a biography.  He wanted to do a good job for her.

CHAPTERS 25 & 26

25

A wire fox is one of many breeds of terrier.  They are full of energy and display intelligence not seen in many fellow dogs.  They love attention and without it boredom sets in and the lack of company, stimulation, attention and the room to run around starts to affect their behaviour.  Billy Bob was a sturdy dog, alert to events around him, even if he was caught off guard outside the café.  Normally, he would have been quicker to get out of the way but the stumbling man came out of nowhere.  Now, he was alone.  His mistress had gone away along with her companions.  Billy Bob was restless.  This was the first time he had been left alone since coming to this new home.  There was always someone around.  He checked each room repeatedly, listening for any sound, trying to detect any movement.  He ran to the front door and sniffed for any trace of a human being.  He began to jump up to the knob in a useless attempt to open the door.  He scratched at the paintwork and began to simper.  The simpering was accompanied by faster and faster, heavier and heavier breathing.  The sniffing and whining developed into short, subdued yelps and then into loud rapid barks.  This was a lonely dog becoming more and more distressed.

26

Dot decided to check out the buffet food.  She was a trained caterer and she liked things like this to be done well, not thrown together.  She was taught that a great buffet contributes to the atmosphere of a party by becoming a talking point for guests.  It was also a statement, a kind of appraisal of the hosts and from her first glance, Dot summed up that Tom and Jennifer had just put dishes of stuff out without any thought of sequence, blending, centre-piece arrangement or any degree of organization at all.   Her trained eye knew that the ideal way to plan a buffet display is to work from left to right, starting off with the plates, cutlery and napkins.  Here the plates were in the right place, the napkins, boring, white and cheap, were in a pile in the middle of the table and the cutlery was on the right, at the end of the natural flow of party people, rather like a down-market café. 

“Amateurs,” she whispered to herself, “who couldn’t organize a penguin competition in a convent.”

“Sorry,” said Jonathan behind her, did you say something, Dot?”  Dot coughed a little.

“No, no, just singing along to Stevie Wonder.”

“Marvin Gaye,” corrected Jonathan, “you know, I heard it through the grapevine, classic, classic, classic.”

“Yeah, right, whatever,” said Dot still looking over the food.

“Wait a minute.  I know what you are doing Madam.  You’re being sniffy about the food because they didn’t buy anything from your deli.”  Jonathan laughed as he said it.

“Well, what do you think of it?  It’s crap in choice and presentation.  I could have done something wonderful here on the same budget as this supermarket junk.  I mean, look at the potato salad, just a pale bland dish of slop.  My potato salad is homemade and delicious.”  Dot became aware of someone close behind her.

“What did you just say?”  Jennifer was furious.  “What did you just say?”, she repeated.  Dot’s face was a mixture of shock and fear.  Jennifer’s shouting had silenced the room, except for The Four Tops’s “Reach Out, I’ll Be There”.

“Oh, oh, I was just commenting…..,on…on..the…food.”   Dot was spluttering and looking to Jonathan for some support to get her out of this embarrassment.  Jonathan was smiling a tight-lipped smirk.  Dot gave him a death-glare.  Jennifer squared up to Dot.

“You called my food crap.  How dare you come here with your high and mighty attitude?  You’re a guest, for God’s sake, and you don’t come into people’s houses with sneers and insults.”  Jennifer was blazing.  Tom rushed over.  Everyone else gawped.  The Four Tops faded out and Sophie hit the stop button on the CD player.

“Now, now, let’s all calm down a bit,” said Tom as he positioned himself between Dot and Jennifer.  Jonathan continued to smirk.  Chico took advantage of the distractions to plant a lingering kiss on Annie’s lips.  Sophie spotted them and locked eyes with her mother before making a sick sign with her fingers in her mouth.  Her mother winked at her daughter, who looked away in disgust.  Cass retreated to the kitchen in search of more wine.  Matt followed her.  Maxine walked over to the argument corner and watched Tom in action as the crisis negotiator.  Molly’s view was blocked by Maxine but she could hear the exchanges.

“Oh here comes Henry Kissinger,” spat Jennifer.

“Henry who?” Chico, “and who was he kissing?”  He started giggling and before long Annie had joined in.

“Henry Kissinger,” said Sophie, “an American politician, but that’s serious news and what would you know about anything remotely serious?  Annie stuck her tongue out at Sophie and blew a raspberry.  Sophie tutted and turned away.

“Sssssssh,” hissed someone.  Jennifer looked round.

“Who said sssssssh?  It’s my bloody flat and no one tells me to be quiet and no one calls my food crap.”  And with that she picked up the bowl of potato salad and tipped it over Dot’s head.  The bowl teetered like a wobbly hat for a few moments before sliding off and falling onto Jonathan’s shoes.

“How’s that for a bowl of crap?”  Jennifer turned to walk away but Dot grabbed her sleeve and swung her back round, hitting her in the face with a handful of iceberg lettuce.  Tom tried to step in between them again but was met by a swinging punch to the cheek.  He regained some composure and realized that his assailant was his wife.  Cass and Matt appeared at the kitchen door and looked on in amazement at the angry scene that was slowly evolving into a slapstick fight worthy of Laurel and Hardy.  A couple hours into a planned happy event and all hell was breaking loose.  It is difficult to separate the several things that happened next but there was much pushing, pulling, shouting, arms in the air and enough negative and aggressive body language to keep a psychologist occupied for decades.  In a short time, the buffet table a disaster area, food was flying all over the flat. Punches were being thrown and, thankfully, only connecting with fresh air.  It was a mixture of warmongers and peacemakers.

Jonathan stood in the corner looking at this collective group of residents, in an apartment in the rather peacefully named Maple Court.  He reflected that this was a microcosm of world disorder and sighed at how trivial things done and said could start conflicts.  The flat and some of the people in it looked like the aftermath of a Laurel and Hardy custard pie battle.  He put his wine glass on the table and glanced over at Molly.  She was the only one without splashes of food anywhere near her.  She was an example of elegance, placid in the armchair.  He reckoned she had seen more than she would ever tell.  He walked over to see that she was okay in this melee.  He touched her shoulder and realized immediately that something was wrong.

Matt came into the flat.  Maxine had ordered him to go upstairs to check on the dog.  He looked shell-shocked.  “Billy Bob’s escaped,” he whimpered.  Maxine was about let him have it with all her fury, but Jonathan butted in.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you all, but dear old Molly is dead.”

CHAPTER 24

By 8.30, everyone had arrived.  The soundtrack to the early part of the evening was the best of Tamla Motown, too loud for Molly’s taste but ideal for a party atmosphere.  Tom and Jennifer were the ever-smiling, warm-welcoming, newly-married couple. 

“Could I have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen,” called Tom.  The room’s noise ebbed into a hush, then silence as Jennifer turned down the volume on the CD player.  Everyone looked at Tom.

“I just wanted to say a few words before we get into serious drinking, eating, dancing and whatever else we all like to do at parties, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, to welcome you all to our humble home and to say hello officially, it’s great to meet you all, thanks for coming and we both hope to get to know you better as the weeks and months go on.  So, have a great time and cheers.”  Everyone raised their glasses and shouted cheers in return.  Jennifer looked down at the carpet throughout Tom’s speech.  Molly had raised her eyebrows at the “whatever else we all like to do at parties” bit but she sat in an armchair, happily sipping from a small glass of white wine and was enjoying watching her neighbours.  Sophie and the students had already established themselves as a little group near the kitchen door.  One of the students seemed to have a bruised face, Molly thought, but it might just be a trick of the light.  Another one of them had a face like fizz, as the old dancers used to say about sourpuss audiences.  Something had gone on there.  The young lad looked timid in amongst three girls but they were all young and, no doubt with the help of a few drinks, they would have a good time.  Jonathan was talking to Dot but keeping his eye on his wife Annie and her pencil-thin young man.  Dot’s eyes seemed to be fixed on Jonathan’s face, locked like a laser beam from an old James Bond film.  Every time he looked away, her head would alter position to try to maintain a connection.  Molly sensed a smitten woman and an uncertain man.  Tom and Jennifer seemed like a nice couple but after a couple of hours, Molly had not seen them look at each other, touch hands, kiss or do anything that young lovers do naturally even in the company of strangers.  Molly thought of herself not as a gossip out loud but she stored away little nuggets of information in her head, things that would keep her occupied when she was alone, jigsaw pieces of people’s lives to stop her wasting away staring at blank walls and, worse, daytime television.  The other day she had thrown a slipper at Churchill the insurance dog in frustration at the number of advertisements about personal finances, compensation claims and mortgages.  But, it was nice just to sit and relax in company for a change.

“Oh, Jonathan,” cooed Dot, “Diana Ross and the Supremes, Baby Love, let’s dance.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” said a horrified Jonathan.  Dot grabbed his hand.

“Looks like you’ve got great hips to me.  Let’s see you shake them.”  Jonathan moved with Dot to the centre of the room.

“Oh my God,” said Sophie to her friends, “a daughter’s worst nightmare, seeing her father in close proximity looking like an epileptic ape.  And he’s doing it with the devil woman, a double embarrassment.”

“You mean the deli woman,” corrected Matt.

“I know what I mean,” she sneered back.  Matt looked at the others, shrugged his shoulders and asked if anyone would like a drink.  He took the order and sidled over to the makeshift bar.  Jennifer was pouring herself some red wine.

“Thanks for inviting us Jennifer,” said Matt, “it must have taken a lot of work to put it all together.”  Jennifer sipped from her glass as Matt poured rinks for the girls.

“Tom did most of it.  He’s a supermarket manager and it seemed to make sense that he bought most of the food and drink.  It was just a matter of putting it out, and Tom did most of that too.  He’s great like that, takes on most of the household chores and never complains.”  Jennifer wiped her eyes.

“Is there anything wrong,” asked Matt.  Jennifer composed herself.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine.  It was just something in my eye.”  Matt touched her arm.

“Thanks again.  We’re really enjoying the party.”  Jennifer smiled as Matt returned to his friends.  He noticed a brief but serious look from Tom who was on the other side of the room choosing more music.

Tom saw the young student touching Jennifer’s arm and wondered what he was up to.  Jennifer didn’t pull away and she looked concerned.  He would keep an eye on things as the night wore on in case anyone else fancied their chances with his wife, the woman who was still his wife, his not-yet-divorced-from-each-other wife.  In his irritation, Tom dropped several CDs, attracting attention from the others in the room.

“Sorry, clumsy me,” said Tom, “my mind’s mixed up and my hands wouldn’t reach the first round of Strictly Come Clapping.”  Everyone laughed, except Jennifer, who managed a slight smile more for her guests than her husband.  She dreaded him drinking too much and then trying to be sarcastic or funny with cryptic or none too subtle clues about their private business.  Westlife replaced Tamla Motown provoking a few good-natured groans from around the room.  Tom looked at Jennifer.  She looked away immediately.  Maxine witnessed Jenifer’s body language and then looked at Tom.  Their eyes locked for a few moments.  Tom smiled.  Maxine smiled back.  They looked away from each other but a message had been sent and responded to.  She detected a weakness in this relationship and she fancied Tom.   She reckoned that he would be an easy touch, but needed to observe and listen for other signs and signals to be sure of her ground.  She would be playing with fire, trying to attract a married man, but she was fed up being fuddy-duddy boring Maxine.  Excitement beckoned.