Undergrowth

20th February 1989
She pushed her way through twigs and branches and stumbled toward the darkness. Stinging welts and scratches crossing her exposed skin were a minor irritation to the woman who seemed to be focused on arriving at an unknown destination. She badly needed assistance but as soon as she came into sight of someone who may help, she disappeared into the undergrowth.


'Never did like whisky' chuckled Bert. With each tremor he slid a centimetre to the left on the bar stool.
'Why yer drinkin it then?' Indulged his friend, awaiting the inevitable giggles. Bert was trying hard not to dethrone his considerable bulk from the shiny leather as he laughed.
'Cos I'm just checking!' roared Bert. His friend indulged him with a laugh for a joke he had heard many times before.
The Railway Tavern was a small pub near a disused railway. On the left side was a hatch where you could get a packet of fags, where kiddies would get crisps or chocolate and the more bolder teenagers would try unsuccessfully to get some alcohol. Next to the hatch was the entrance to the snug, a throwback from a more civilised era where the rowdy men would stay with their skittles team, away from the ladies and couples in the main bar.
Tonight if you looked in the snug you would find Bert and Yellow (prior to a bout of childhood jaundice, Yellow was called Paul). The main bar was warm and housed Anna and Harry, a young couple who were very much in love until Anna drank too much house white wine.She would then decide that Harry was a cheating scum bag who was after the bar maid.
Indeed the barmaid, Lynsey, was a very attractive dark haired lady but Anna was a delicate beauty, fair and blue eyed. The fate of a beautiful young woman is that no-one thinks to tell her she is a beauty as she really ought to know already.
So Anna unhappily compares herself to Lynsey and finds herself wanting, not looking properly in the mirror or at the admiring gaze of Harry.

So there were four people in the Railway Tavern when the door was wrenched open in the snug.
She stood in the doorway, neither looking hesitant or about to step over the threshold. Just stood there, her soaked hair dripping down her face and neck. Her white nightie was now rendered indecent by the rain. Rivulets of pinky red water ran down from her wounds, merging into the fabric of her nightclothes. Yellow caught her just before she fell in a dead faint to the floor.

No-one went to the hospital, not wanting to admit that they would rather continue their evening drinking session regaling the gently filling public house with the strange story about the woman who had been wearing a nightie at 6 o'clock in the evening. Of course, if it WAS something sinister the emphasis of the story would slip from the tragic figure and glow onto her rescuers and the assistance that they gladly gave.
'No-one knows who she is',
'She almost slipped out of my hands when she fell, she were that wet through'.
'Still unconscious when she left in the ambulance. They said that if I hadn't have tied off her wrists she'd have bled to death' . And as the evening wore on, it became apparent that her rescuers were so intent on tending to her physical injuries that no-one looked past the blood and the nightie and the fainting to hold her hand and try and work out one question.
Why?
But then why even 20 years later, were people still asking that question. Why is it so consequential that a stranger's actions and emotions are added, subtracted and divided to return an answer that is comfortable for the questioner?


7th May 2009
Bert sits in his armchair. Around him lie the debris of a very sharp mind and a tired body. A coffee percolator is to his right, alongside his bone china cup and today's Daily Mail. Beside that is the telephone on its stand. His laptop sits on a swivel table in front of him, on his left the remains of the cordon bleugh frozen meal Maisie kindly heated for him.
He liked Maisie, his home help. She didn't talk to him like he was an idiot and made a real effort to connect him with the world, like this laptop. Oh, how he laughed when she brought over her computer, how silly it all seemed.
'Ill have you in Cyberspace before you know it' she stated and set the contraption in front of him.
He looked at it and snorted.
'Oh no you bloody wont, I ain't gonna be one of those Silver surfer nerds. Anyway everyone I know is dead so I ain't gonna be facebooking someone called Maud from Evershot am I?'. He twinkled up at her as she stood up abruptly. Maisie's eyes narrowed..
'I read the paper, Maisie, not wipe my arse with it. You ought to try reading, not fannying about with that mobile phone! No-one wants to marry a young lady with thumbs like mallets'
Maisie stood her ground.
'Well since you have read the theory, Bert, I suggest you put it into practice. Come on, Ill set it up and then you can fanny about on the computer and give your arthritis a work out and ill 'fanny' about with my mobile and develop it - deal?'
The moment her chin jutted out, Bert knew he had lost. 89 years old and still trying to argue with a woman? He must be at last going mental or having a senior moment, wouldn't it be lovely to be blissfully unaware that you didn't know who you were?
And so Bert got onto the Internet and a little mystery of 20 years ago started to bear roots into the past, the present and the future, like ivy gently strangling a rose.



Anna shifted into 2nd gear and pulled away from the junction, almost clipping the car turning right.
'Fuck it' She halfheartedly waved her apologies as the driver gave a rude gesticulation. Nothing could touch Anna today, it was like the whole world had thrown her every crap thing it could think of and kept on throwing more in the hope that something would stick.
Four hours earlier, Anna had returned back to her house in Bath after forgetting her mobile.
Anna and Ben had been married nineteen years and had never left their first house in Twerton on Avon. Twerton on Avon is a suburb of Bath, once a village in its own right. It slowly became more populated in the twentieth century, linking it to the city a mile away, with the houses being not as expensive and the noise of the railway making it a rather shabby district. As Anna drove back past Beirut (the council 'bit'), a mecca of 60's flats and Pre cast concrete houses, she was struck by the invisible line you pass once you get out of the high street and into the more genteel roads up the hill.A strange car was parked on the road outside the house.Tutting, Anna opened the door to find Ben in a state of undress whereas twenty minutes earlier he had been wearing a suit in readiness for a day at work. An unfamiliar briefcase stood by her own shoes, mocking her.
A heartbeat, perhaps two heartbeats passed as they stared at each other, 'Where the fuck is she?!' a tormented Anna stood her ground.' I'm not fucking moving until she comes out'
'Anna, it's not like it....' Ben stopped
'Not what it fucking looks, how the hell would you know, I've been 100% faithful whilst you go off shagging some skank from the office?' Anna could hear herself screeching uncontrollably.
'Let me..' she was restrained by Ben's large hand as she went up the stairs. A hand which had probably been caressing another woman not five minutes ago. 'Let go!!' roaring, Anna pushed him aside and then gaped at the man casually doing up his tie on the landing. She couldn't move.
'...Ben? ...Wh...How...' She slumped onto the stairs and looked at Ben. His dark eyes told her the truth.
'This is David, I have known him for a very long time, erm.. Anna, I'm so sorry'
Anna was suddenly empty, bile rising in her throat and a headache starting to form. She desperately tried to bring her thoughts together, she was floored. David slowly passed her and touched Ben's arm.
'I'll see you later?' David glanced at Anna 'Bye, Anna'
He knows my fucking name? Anna snapped into consciousness, everything was painfully coming into focus. She turned to Ben.
'The house goes on the market today. You'll come back tonight and find me gone. I want half the assets and an uncontested divorce.' She looked steadily at him, years of dealing with his unconfirmed affairs suddenly giving her the conviction she never had before now. Empowered, she walked the two men down the stairs and out of the front door. Ben stopped at the door and Anna continued.
'I've nothing to say to you, you'll hear from my Solicitor. As from now you don't exist, you don't talk to me, You don't contact me in any shape or form other than through my Solicitor. I wont be unfair but I will expect half of everything we have. And Bess stays with me.'
Ben hesitated again but nodded, looking dazed and walked out of the door. As soon as the door was closed Anna dropped onto the floor and wept.


Yellow was 79 today and was having dinner in a smart restaurant with his wife Julie. Their son Paul and his girlfriend Nan sat across from them. Tonight was a very special night, Paul would be proposing to Nan, his love since they met at University 5 years ago.
Yellow winked at Paul and Julie nodded to the waiter who disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later more staff emerged with a big birthday cake in the shape of a Lamborghini. Everyone sang happy birthday and Yellow blew out the candles and played with the sparklers, writing rude words in the air.
The waiter removed the cake, advising that he would return with the cut slices very soon.
The waiter placed Nan's very delicately in front of her. She dropped her fork as she saw her piece.
'Will you marry me?' was etched onto her slice, A single solitaire sparkled back at her from the headlight of the car.
Little pixie Nan who Yellow and Julie adored, was dazed. Paul gently took the ring from the cake and went down on one knee.
'Nan, I've loved you only for a short space of time in comparison to the years which we will spend together. Please will you do me the honour....'
He never finished the speech he had been practising, which his Mum and Dad had gotten all misty eyed over. Nan never heard the rest of the words as she had fled into the darkness of the street. Silence fell as the door banged shut and all eyes turned to Paul. Moments passed. He ran, Paul ran as fast as he could to catch the girl who didn't deserve to be caught and who couldn't find the words to tell him that she was trying to escape.


Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.
Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.
Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.
Harry is dead.Harry is not dead.Harry is dead.Is he.
Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.
Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.Harry is dead.
Harry is...................................
The words flashed up on the computer in the Railway Tavern forty times before it returned to it's previous state of inactivity. No-one was in the office. Not one person saw the words before the letters disappeared one by one.


14th November 1987
How can you tell someone that you sit so uncomfortably in your own skin, It hurts to stay in it? How disappointed everyone will be to know that your carefully engineered facade is not an act, it is delicate, it is not made of steel. The longer you live in a world that doesn't want to be part of you, the longer you feel apart from it. You don't want to hurt anyone but there is time to explain before they feel like they should have known, should have glimpsed the torture. But they wont need to. You will spend a long time tearing yourself apart and giving little portions to the people you love. It will be very insignificant but when your loved ones get together, they will realise what you have done and why and how they were the force that kept you here as long as they had. You are a puzzle and you are making sure everyone has a piece all to themselves that will slot into just the right place at just the right time.


8th May 2009
Yellow still hadn't heard from Paul since yesterday. He imagined the pair had made up and Paul had forgiven his sweet love a moment of hesitation. It'll all be fine he told himself, It'll all come out in the wash.
He turned on the computer. It always took bloody ages to load all the necessary items to carry out his work. Yellow was 79 but was still his own boss and the computer was a necessary evil in this day and age of technology.
There was a new email. Probably some junk mail that had infiltrated his ham fisted attempts to prevent himself from investigating Viagra and getting a penis enlargement.Well, he was an old man and that had curtailed...actually not that long ago. Yellow smirked at the memory and turned his attention back to the screen.

From:[e-mail]
To:[e-mail]
Date:8th May 2009

Dear Mr Trevigan

My name is Maisie and I am a care assistant for Somerset District Council. I work for a man called Mr Bert Haddy and he has recently acquired a computer and I have been teaching him how to use it.
He has told me a lot about you and I hope you don't mind me getting in contact, in the hope that your old friendship may stand the test of time and be easier to continue via email rather than the long letters which you both write.
Bert's email is [e-mail]

Kind Regards Miss Maisie Gerald



'Well I never' murmured Yellow.
Bert's got a lovely young lady looking after him and a new hobby. The wily old sod! Stuck in a chair most hours of the day and he's still got ladies fawning over him. Nothing has changed then.
'Love, come and have a look at this' yelled Paul. Julie came up the stairs slowly, her brown hair jutting up all over the place and looking a little tired from the exertion.
'What's up, you found another silly video on that tube thing? Honestly, why you can't just watch 'you've been framed' on a Saturday, I don't know!' Julie peered at the screen for a minute.
'Well I never, old Bert has a computer? Well I think it's a lovely idea, we can keep in touch much more now. It's such a shame he can't go out and about like he used to, I thought when he had that accident it would be the end of him. Not cos he cant walk but..inside..I don't know' Julie looked troubled.
'last time I saw him was last December, remember? It was just before Christmas and we gave him the presents. It would be nice to have a catch up.You better send him an email then'. Julie ordered and bustled, albeit slowly, into the landing.



'Mum! Dad!' Anna yelled up the stairs. Her Mums face appeared over the landing.
'Anna! Come on up love' Julie could see something was wrong but thought it best to let the girl up the stairs before interrogating her. Anna didn't make it that far. Julie tried to decipher the 'wanker', 'cheating' ,'David' to mesh it into a story but she got the general gist. Ben had been a naughty boy, again.
'He's GAY!'
'He's what?' Julie thought the girl must be confused, in denial.
'He' GAY, g-a-y, batting for the other side, biting pillows'Anna sobbed as Julie cut her short.
'But all those women..?'
'Had penises and eight o'clock shadow.'Anna laughed though it wasn't funny 'I'm a fool, a bloody fool' She collapsed in her Mothers arms. Julie did what she usually did in a difficult situation.
'Yellow!'
Yellow came creaking out of the study and stared at the tragic faces before him.
' Hello sweetheart, you OK? Where's that half wit of a husband, he getting your suitcases?' he beamed, which faltered as Anna disintegrated into fresh floods of tears and Julie gave him a despairing look.
'What have I said?'
And so it came about that two of the rescuers from 1989 were reunited in the Railway Tavern.


19th May 1989
'I've got something,Dad!' Darren, eight years old, strained to bring his catch up to the surface. Terry, his father ran over to lend a hand, if needed. Darren had been fishing with him for years now and was experienced enough to reel in and land, just he often didn't get his fish into the net. Terry brought the net closer. It was the warmest day so far in May, just right for a day's fishing.
Darren was tugging the rod with all his strength, whatever it was on the line wasn't budging.
'It's snagged' Terry had his waders on and strode into the river to unhook the line. His fingers followed the line towards the edge of the bank and he pulled. A hat floated on the river. Harry's hat.
Under the murky depths of the river surface, Terry made out a strange shape. it was a man, but Terry couldn't see his head. A burgundy pullover had started to come away at the sleeve cuffs. Sheets of skin were coming off the hand below, white skin and here and there, bone showed through. The body had obviously been there a while.
'Go to the call box and ring the police. Tell them I think have found Harry Spence.' he shouted over to Darren.
'Who?' Yelled Darren.
'Now! Go!' Terry roared and Darren scuttled out of the weir to the village path beyond. Terry pulled Harry's hat off of the hook and waded back to the bank. He dry retched, hanging onto the tree that had been shading them.
DC Arniston was taking notes from Terry, who looked white and shaken. Young Darren was in the police car, away from the morbid sights on the riverside.
'How do you know this is Harry Spence?' It was a reasonable question to ask and Terry looked back at where the screens had been erected around the body.
'I've known Harry for 10 years, that's his hat I found' Terry could feel his throat burning, pressure behind his nose. He couldn't break down, not now, not in front of Darren who was waving at him, the policeman had let him put the flashing blue lights on. Harry had been a good friend.
'I just know it's him. But that's your job to make sure isn't it?'
'Indeed Mr Smith, indeed' Dc Arniston was a large man, grey haired and with sombre brown eyes. Everything about him was serious from his charcoal suit to his black leather shoes. 'I'll need to take a formal statement from you at the station but get that boy home first and if you give me your telephone number, I will call you to arrange an appointment.'
'Of course, I'll write it down' Terry gave Arniston the number and called Darren over.'Time to go,son' he ruffled Darren's hair and thanked god that his lad hadn't seen the body. Seeing a man without a head was chilling enough for Terry, a man who had served in the Falklands, for a young boy it would bring nightmares for years to come.

8th May 2009

All three Trevigans were in the main bar, Anna serving pints, Yellow fixing a light and Julie having a a nice refreshing brandy and lemonade. They all glanced at the door as Terry came in.
'Nice to see you Anna!' Terry looked tired nowadays, his hair had thinned and the start of the middle aged beer belly had crept to his mid section. But he was a kind man and Anna had always liked him. She even suspected at one time he was sweet on her but of course the five year age gap that would be irrelevant now was like an uncrossable chasm to an eighteen year old. She sighed and smiled.
'What'll it be Terry, love?'
'Carling thanks. Just like the old times seeing you behind the bar'.Anna turned quickly to get a glass and to hide the sudden tears. The smell of tobacco smoke wafted over to her.
Anna turned around 'You know you cant smoke..' her words faded into the comical moue of surprise.
OK, in 2009 you couldn't smoke. However in 1989 it was perfectly acceptable. Terry was now 23 and looking much healthier in his black leather jacket. ' You look like you've seen a ghost' he laughed 'Harry, you aren't looking after her properly!'
Harry? Anna daren't look to her left where she could feel his presence.
'Come here' his soft voice beckoned. She looked at him fully in the face, drinking in his messy brown hair and twinkling grey eyes. It only took 2 steps before she sank his chest, her cheek against his light blue jumper. Her eyes closed as she smelt his aftershave. She had forgotten all these things.
Harry pulled away a strand of hair from her temple and kissed her tenderly there.
The lager drenching her shoes brought her back to stark reality.
Terry stared at the pint unceremoniously thrust at him and was only half listening to Julie. 'Course her husband being gay isn't helping matters'. The word gay would travel faster than light when whispered by Mrs Trevigan. Anna heard it and laughed. 'Gay, dead, does it matter?'
Perhaps it did.

Anna went onto the Internet. She looked at her Dad's email account, wanting to read the email from Bert.

From:[e-mail]

To:[e-mail]
08/05/09 21:05

Dear Yellow

I will certainly come round next Friday, say 2pm? Good thing you still have the stair-lift god bless your Mum's soul.

Yours Sincerely

Bert



Lovely! Anna thought, but she paused. Scrolling down, when she came to read the email her dad had sent him, it just didn't make sense.
For Yellow had signed himself as 'Paul' which he NEVER did and the email was sent at 8pm when Anna knew that her Dad was beside her at the bar, for they were watching Eastenders and Yellow stayed there til the climatic ending. Perhaps she was overwrought, perhaps she hadn't noticed her Dad leave to nip upstairs and send the two lines of email. 'Dappy bint' she chided herself and shook her head with a chuckle. She was indeed going mad but strangely felt at peace with herself, finally realising the toll of years of her needless self doubt. She couldn't wait to see Bert for he had always treated her as an equal even when she was seven years old and sitting on his knee in the pub.
'Anna, what d'yer think I should do?' Bert always included Anna in the discussions in the pub, listened to her seriously and on the odd occasion actually took her advice.
'Cant dismiss little'un ere just cos she ain't as big as you ' he would tell his cronies. 'She ain't been about long so's only sees life simple. Best advice you can get innit!' Then he would buy her weak shandy with an umbrella and give her a glacier mint and a wink and Anna suspected that he would do the same 20 years later.
Bess was prowling around outside and scratching at the closed door. 'Damn dog'. Another mutter escaped her lips as she grasped the door handle to pull it open. Pausing, she chuckled again at herself. She really ought to stop talking to herself it was getting quite...
Bess wasn't there. No waggy tail and intelligent eyes. No lingering doggy smell or the sounds of her considerable bulk travelling down the stairs, her claws clicking on the treads as her back legs overtook her front.
Pulling herself together, Anna walked downstairs and into the main bar. 'Dad!'
Silence.
Anna walked into the snug where her Mother was polishing glasses and chatting happily to Terry.
'You alright love?' Julie could see her daughter was looking a bit pale, the last few days were obviously catching up with her.
Anna smiled and nodded. She looked around the small room 'Where's Dad?
'Walking the dog, needed to get some light bulbs anyway from the mini mart.' Julie replied.'You're looking peaky'
Anna felt as if her body had been dipped in icy water.'How long ago?'
'Ten minutes, he'll be back soon, it cant be that important.'
No. Only to me. Saddened, Anna knew that this surge of well being she had felt recently was more than just empowerment. I've gone mad.
'I'm going to ring work tomorrow, arrange some leave.' She went to go upstairs but Julie touched her sweater lightly, almost like a whisper.
'Its not even been a day yet. Don't be too hard on yourself'. Anna averted her eyes.
'Ill be back in a minute, just going to check the Fosters, last pint was a bit dodgy'. The inane familiarity of words like 'pint' soothed Anna and she tripped down to the cellar feeling a little less afraid.

'Time!' There was no-one in the bar or snug but Yellow insisted on this publicans ritual even if he had locked the door. ' Some bugger might be in the gents, Anna. If you pay attention to detail you'll never find yourself in a sticky wicket'.
Anna rolled her eyes, ' yes and if I knew what a sticky wicket was I am sure I would be worried Dad.' Yellow's fountain of wisdom had been emptied, topped up and recycled a million times.
'I think it started in the 1900's. A sticky wicket is a reference to...'
At this point Anna glazed over and enjoyed the boredom of not listening to Fatherly Information. She could still sense Harry's presence from two decades past. Harry. Dead Harry. He's never coming back.
'....And it was only when the rags got a hold of it in the nineteen thirties that it became popular' Yellow finished, proud of his donation to his daughter's ' useless and boring information' fund.
'How fascinating!' Anna shot her Dad a look of pure mischief and parodied a big stretchy yawn as he hit her with his polishing cloth.
'It'll come in useful if you go on a date with a Sunday cricketer, you'll thank me one day' He chased her arthriticly up the stairs and they both ran in to the kitchen giggling and puffed out.
'Silly sod, you're far too old for running, Yellow' Julie poured out the tea and they all sat down, knackered.
'Don't listen to him love, you want a nice big Rugby player not someone who eats cake and wanders round in a tank top and cream trousers. Bit soft if you ask me.'Julie paused and her face rearranged itself into one of innocence,'did Ben play cricket?'
Three laughs intermingled around Anna, weaving it's protection from the corners of life's hard knocks. She was safe here.

9th May 2009 Morning


Bob Morling pursed his lips at the sound of Anna's voice.
'Anna you really should have called yesterday, we were worried'. Annoyed but worried,he conceded.
'I'm so sorry Bob, Ben and I have split up, I just couldn't face it'.
Poor Anna had found out then, or Ben had cowardly side stepped the issue, just like he did in his job. Bastard.
Bob liked Anna and didn't want to see her hurt, but he had a practice to run and Anna had a multitude of important clients to look after. Legal practice had to be executed with a clear mind and tepid heart, both of which would be cruel to ask Anna to impersonate.
'How much time do you need?' He heard a sigh at the other end, hoping that she did not want to 'work through it'. That wouldn't benefit anyone.
'I don't know, I have four weeks of leave left this year, I'm at Mum and Dad's.' Anna suddenly felt lost. 'What do I do? I've nothing left in Bath but a few so called friends and a house I don't want to live in'
Bob paused.' Take your four weeks, ring me before you come back, Ill give your clients to Matt, perhaps you can work from your Mums for a short while too, don't worry.' Anna was his best solicitor but Matt had the confidence and ruthlessness that Anna could never achieve. Her approach worked in her favour as she was a family solicitor and was able to comfort and advise with ease, getting the best outcome for her clients, both financially and emotionally.
'Will you represent me? I've asked Ben for a divorce. He's gay and I don't fancy myself as his beard' She chuckled.
'Of course. I had my suspicions, but that's neither here or there. I assume he won't contest it? If so, should be quick but you know that'.
As she put down the phone, Anna realised that she had been tearing up the sodden tissue in her hand. I'm not going back. Like Harry. Never coming back.
Anna jumped as the phone shrilled in her ear.
'Hello?'
'Anna!'
Sasha Ridgely was mental. Kind, funny and sweet, but this was tempered with a strange sense of unease in her presence. Her voice was just a pitch lower than hysteria when she found something funny and the things she found funny were not normal. God, she'll enjoy this one. Anna waited for the sledgehammer which constituted as tact on Sasha's part.
'Saw Terry when I was getting my fags'. The word fags was emphasised by an inhalation of smoke and a slight lingering over the word. A word which Sasha believed was a natural opening to the 'So your husband shags boys' conversation which was balancing on her lips.
'Oh yes?' Anna wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry but something was happening in her throat.
'You'll be in later? The pub I mean? Got alot to talk about, meet you at eight? ' Sasha also replaced statements with staccato questions which was a throwback to the days when she wanted to be an Austrailian and live on Ramsay Street.
'Course, I'll see you there?' Sasha was being vaguely normal and Anna felt uncomfortable. It had been five years since they had seen eachother but it had taken at least thirty for Sasha to get so unhinged.
'Eight it is then, Barry said he would look after the kids. We are getting blind drunk tonight!' The phone went dead and Anna imagined Sasha scooping up children, toys, ashtrays and putting them all away safely in a drawer while she tried on various unsuitable tops for her night out.

9th May 2009 - evening
Sasha could not do anything quietly so when Anna heard the bar door being slammed shut and noisy stillettoes on the tiles, she shouted from the cellar.
'Won't be a minute, just getting the Guiness back on!'
'No worries!' Sasha called back.'Just chatting your Dad up'
Sasha was indecently close to Yellow when Anna emerged from the cellar.
'Put him back Sash, Mum will get her hopes up and you know that you only like winding him up' Anna laughed and called her Dad a dirty old man.
'You look...lovely'.
'No you mean slutty, which was exactly the look I was aiming for'. Anna nodded and tried to take in the skinny jeans, high heels and the top that was slashed to Sasha'a waist. Sasha was an ample size fourteen and would look deliciously voluptuous if it were not for her penchant for squeezing herself into too tight clothing which was designed for leggy eighteen year olds. A mass exodus was occurring within the confines of the tight fabric, mainly wobbly flesh and a small percentage of her small underwear.
'Lets get a drink, still vodka double and coke?' Anna smiled.
'You got your order Yellow, get on with it' bossed Sasha.
'Two of the same then, and a gag for gobby here' Yellow twinkled. Sasha, for all her brashness, was his favourite of Anna's friends and he knew she would have her laughing in no time.
Anna and Sasha moved to a table by the fire. Sasha was almost at bursting point.
|Anna waded in first 'You heard right Sash. Ben is batting for the other side.'
Sasha looked smug.
'I knew it!'
'No you didn't. Your observations of him were of his big manly hands and hunky body. Nowhere in our conversations did you ever mention gay!'
'So what happened?'
'I came home and found him post flagrante with a Dan from Accounts'.
'Oh'. Sasha's mouth started working free from the constraints.'Did you like, catch them at it?'
'No but it was obvious'
'Hmmm. So what do they DO? Its gross to think that Ben was sleeping with you and sleeping with...have you had an AIDS test?'
Anna's head started pounding again.' I've no idea though I reckon if my fan belt had been fixed I probably would have found out. No, no Aids test. Not even thought about it'.
'Well you should' Replied Sasha with finality. 'You dont know where he has been putting it.'
A moment paused.'Well, actually they put it in...'.
Anna decided at that point to end the conversation about Ben and divert Sasha's attention to the possibilities of a night on the tiles.
'Sasha, is forty the new twenty?'.
'I believe so, twinkle toes'
'How about getting Dad to put the karaoke on?' Anna winked.
'I thought you would never ask!'

'Neeeeew York, Neeeeeeeeeeeeww Yorrrrrrrrrk!' The pub were singing along with Anna and Sash at the end of the song. Words, laughter, the sounds of glasses being knocked on the table, they all created a background to the happiness of two friends being reunited. Sasha and Anna skipped back to the bar in a fit of giggles whilst one of the more elderly customer began singing ' Your sex is on fire'. Yellow laughed when Sasha commented that this song reminded her of sexually transmitted diseases and then proceded to tell everyone of Freddy's past which involved being known as the local 'stud'. Looking at Freddy, his teeth a mere memory and scruffy white hair, it was hard to reconcile the man crooning badly before them to the younger version who melted hearts and loosened knicker elastic.
It was almost 10pm by the time Sasha did her party trick. Bouyed by vodka and her newly acquired freedom, Sasha thought a forty year old would look good slamming tequilas. The fact she was able to nestle a lime in her cleavage and suck the juice out was certainly only something an eighteen year old would get away with. Gravity and nature insisted that the lime was no longer able to get wedged in between two rather under inflated balloons and Sasha spent the next half and hour trying to find out where the last quarter had disappeared. Anna just watched with the traditional look of pure horror and delight as her friend gradually morphed back into her eighteen year old self, albeit saggier and baggier but with even less inhibitions. That was the way of the world, as soon as you realised that you are a bit of alright, you're no longer a bit, you're passable as a human being and vaguely resemble something female. Ce la vie.
10th May 2009

Anna's head was spinning. She could just make out Sasha's silouette against the light radiating from her ajar bedroom door. Using her tried and tested method of preventing alcohol sickness, she brought herself onto her front in a foetal position. Bess whined as she had a toe stuffed in her snout.
'Sorry Bess' Anna whispered and Bess pricked up her ears, probably just out of habit rather than an interest in her name.
The room just kept rotating and Anna could find the exit from the merry go round. Turning her head towards the door her eyes focussed on Sash as a grounding point.
"Sash?" Her voice, weak, scratchy. "Can you get me a water?"
Sash turned slowly and stared.
"Who are you?"
Anna was feeling sick. "It's me, god you've got senile dementia" At which point the bile rose from her throat and she rushed past Sasha to the bathroom.
The face she glimpsed was a blur, familiar, but it was certainly not the one belonging to Sasha. Then she threw up.