Jane Linfoot - The Vintage Cinema Club

Her husband hadn’t always been bloated. The twenty something guy she first hooked up with at the office Christmas party back in ’94 had been relatively slender, albeit in a chunky kind of way. She’d first noticed him because he was the only one in the office with his own house, and she had an idea his sense of humour had been better in those days too. But years of expense account dining had pushed his BMI through the red zone, and straight on out the other side. His success had turned into one big power trip and now he pretty much claimed to be in charge of the world as far as the pipelines industry was concerned. He got his rocks off all week, ordering people around at work, and at weekends he brought his testosterone excess back home, and slammed them all into submission here too. And today he’d even managed to exert his power remotely, in the most awful of ways.

Aidie and his control issues. Dida gave a grimace. She was well used to them. It was an ironic twist that if Vintage at the Cinema hadn’t dropped into her lap to take her mind off the most difficult thing in life, i.e. her husband, she wasn’t sure she’d even still be here, despite the gorgeous home she’d thrown herself into creating. Ice cream was a crutch she leaned on in her struggle to stay cheerful. Usually, at ten o’ clock, in a mere seventy six minutes from now, she’d be having a two scoop helping, and tonight she should be dipping into dark chocolate and raspberry, and pralines and cream. But this evening she was so wound up, she had no appetite at all, not even for ice cream.

‘Mum, I just went up a league on FIFA, have you got any cake?’ Eric, play station controller in hand, wandered into the kitchen, his floppy fringe only partially masking his glazed expression, and walked towards a large pile of plastic containers stacked on the work surface.

‘Nope, hands off those, they’re Vintage at the Cinema ones, and I’m delivering them first thing.’ How much of a bad mother did it make her that she had cake for work and not for home? ‘How about ice cream. Toffee chip okay?’ She slid off her stool, grabbed a dish, trundled to the fridge and dolloped out some soft scoop, pushing it towards Eric, who gave a grunt.

‘It would be nice if you could say thank you properly.’ She knew she had to insist on the manners thing, although she’d be lucky to get anything as complex as two syllables out of Eric in his current PlayStation induced trance.

‘Thanks.’ He mumbled and waggled his spoon at her.

‘Bed by ten, alright?’ She was talking to Eric’s back as he sidled away, sighing as she saw how he even shuffled across the marble floor in the same way as his dad.

One of the many problems with Aidie was, as her Granny used to say, the all fur coat and no knickers thing. He boasted long and hard about his six figure salary, but when it came to housekeeping she simply couldn’t get him to part with his money. Vintage at the Cinema kept her sane, by giving her something other than the warfare with Aidie to focus on, but, more importantly, it gave her access to cash. For the first time since she gave up work and had the kids, so long as she fudged the figures she showed to Aidie, she had some kind of financial autonomy.

The morning after Aidie came home from Corks Bar saying he’d got his hands on the old cinema building, she’d got straight on the phone to Luce and Izzy, and, as she’d said in her speech, before she’d been so rudely interrupted, the rest was history. And as Vintage at the Cinema emerged, so had the new independent, happier, Dida. There was no way now she could go back to being who she was before. Vintage at the Cinema had made her into a new person.

Dida looked at the names on the email again. Everyone already involved with the cinema was there on this week’s email, although should she really still be including Ollie? Ollie, who’d waltzed off to the other side of the world five months ago at a moment’s notice, leaving his sister Izzy to fill his shop space as well as hers, and do a double share of the shifts? Dida was very fond of Ollie. He’d been hauled on board at the start to help with painting, and proved so useful he never left. He also made the most fabulous one off metalwork pieces, and had brilliant contacts on the industrial side. Dida tapped a thumbnail on her teeth as she deliberated. No doubt Izzy would have emailed Ollie to tell him the awful news from today. Not that she was in denial, but somehow Dida couldn’t actually bear to type the awful physical words in the weekly rota email, because that made the whole nightmare seem too real. Losing the business just wasn’t an option she could contemplate.

Even though she was pretty much in charge of the business admin, and it gave her a fab excuse to organise to the nth degree, she liked to think of this as a cooperative venture. Everyone pitched in, they played to their strengths and helped each other. True, they paid her rent, but mostly this was all about everyone benefiting, and having lots of fun along the way. And Ollie was fun, and he was dependable, when he was around, and she had an idea that it wasn’t just his sister who was feeling his absence. Luce was missing him a lot more than she was letting on. So she’d leave him on the list for now, in the hope that if he read the email, in some far flung internet cafe, he’d remember to miss them, and remember to come back soon.

She flipped the screen to take one last look at the rota, then hammered out the email.

The rota for week beginning June 9th is attached. FYI we have a guy with very deep pockets who’ll buy ANYTHING by Susie Cooper.

Come back soon Ollie, we’re missing your industrial pieces.

The week’s cake of the week is cocoa and banana :)

Dida xx

PS. Vintage at the Cinema is ready for the fight - we WILL survive!

That would do. She hoped the last line was enough of an acknowledgement of today’s disastrous events. She liked to send the email out at nine exactly, not that she was obsessive, but if you were consistent, everyone knew where they were. The sky might be falling in on her own personal world, but she could still stick to a timetable.

Ten minutes to spare before nine then.

Just enough time to make the daily updates to her Aidie Special spreadsheet. She opened his email account, and tapped in his password, grimacing at the double bluff. Aidie’s email account was the nerve centre of his life. He knew she knew his password, and he also knew she scrutinised his emails, which was his way of proving to her that he had nothing to hide. Quite how the negotiations for the sale of the cinema had slipped by her, she had no idea, but from now on she’d be doubly vigilant.

Dida never failed to be amazed at Aidie’s meticulous management of his email account, given that dotting the “i”s and crossing the “t”s wasn’t Aidie’s natural way. His approach to life was usually way more sloppy, which was probably why he’d failed to spot the fatal flaw in his plan. It was a constant source of amusement to Dida that Aidie deleted all the emails he didn’t want her to see, but just the same as at home, he never bothered to empty the trash.

Now for today’s deleted mail. She clicked on the dustbin icon and leaned closer to the screen as she flipped through the list, and read intently. Wow. This was going some even for Aidie. A breakfast meeting with someone called Bambi, an eleven o clock with Viktorya, then dinner with Dominika, Elvira and Albina.

Two minutes, and Dida had copied and pasted the names into her spreadsheet of Aidie’s misdemeanours, and added times and locations.

Had this been anyone else’s husband, she might have been impressed by the stamina of the guy. Some weeks he appeared to be keeping the sex industry of Lithuania in business single-handedly. When he managed to get any work done, she had no idea. Given today’s developments, she may well be using the ammunition she’d been collecting sooner than she thought. The way she felt about Aidie now, after he tried to crush her dreams, she couldn’t imagine being able to look at the man, let alone live with him.