Nancy Carson - Rags to Riches

He kissed her on the lips briefly and ran his hand over her buttocks as she lay on her side. ‘I hope so as well. At least while they’re out playing and practising we can get on with the serious business of making love.’

‘If you ever get this thing hard enough again,’ she said cruelly, and felt between his legs again to check on its current state.

‘Oh, it’ll soon be there,’ Stephen promised self-consciously. ‘Why don’t you tell me about Brent, Eleanor?’

‘Why, will that do the trick, d’you think?’

He chuckled at her sarcasm. ‘Hardly. I just wonder about him…about you. I don’t know anything about you.’

‘Why do you want to know about Brent? He’s not very interesting.’

‘Do you think he’s interested in Maxine?’

‘Romantically?’

‘Well…yes.’

‘I doubt it,’ she said, dismissing the notion. ‘He’s only interested in her because of what she can do for the band and consequently his bank balance.’

‘Ah! So you think he’s using her?’

‘He says she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to music. She’ll improve the band, he believes. So in that sense, yes, I suppose he’s using her.’

‘Where do you come from, Eleanor? You’re not Brummies, are you?’

‘God! Do we sound like Brummies? We come from the Cotswolds.’

‘The Cotswolds? Fancy. Did you live there when you were first married?’

She sighed impatiently. ‘Oh, Stephen, do shut up and kiss me.’

He was about to ask Eleanor why they had moved to Birmingham, but, slightly miffed, he did as she bid and kissed her. She responded eagerly, parting her legs to accommodate his thigh as he pressed it against her. While his hands explored her body once more he felt the stirring in his loins that had seemed to be eluding him, and yet which was actually recurring after a commendably short time. He reached for his jacket, acquired the packet of French letters, but knocked over the glass of whisky.

‘Damn!’ he cursed, unable to believe his ill luck and stood with the intention of mopping it up with something.

‘Oh, never mind that,’ Eleanor said impatiently, and held her arms open for him. ‘Sod the whisky. Put the damned thing on before he goes limp again.’

He looked down at her, at her naked body so smooth, firm and inviting, at her outstretched arms entreating him to enjoy her. He knelt at the side of the sofa and commenced by briefly kissing her toes. Then, he licked his way up her long legs with tantalising slowness, lingering deliciously at her dark triangle of hair. Her navel he left wet with kisses, and her breasts he bit gently before teasing a nipple with his tongue; and she let out a little cry of pleasure as he entered her again at last, like a salmon wriggling up a stream.

From the moment Stephen collected her from the jazz club that warm Friday night Maxine could tell something was amiss. Strangely, his indifference seemed greater than before he delivered her there. She’d never known such a cold arrogance about him before, and she did not like it.

‘You’re quiet, Stephen,’ she said, half chastising, but trying to strike up a conversation; they were already nearing Daisy Road. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘No more than usual,’ he responded off-handedly.

‘Have you had a busy night then?’

‘Very.’

‘Obviously too busy to stay and listen to us,’ she said.

He sighed impatiently, looking directly at the road ahead. ‘But not too busy to come and fetch you to take you home. I made time for that, didn’t I?’

‘Well, please don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But you needn’t have bothered if you had something that needed doing. Brent will always give me a lift. He won’t let me wait on my own for long.’

‘Oh, Brent, Brent, Brent! Brent will always do this, Brent will always do that.’

‘He’s already offered. It would save you the trouble. I think it’s decent of him.’

‘You would. What d’you think he’s after?’

‘Oh, don’t be so childish, Stephen. I was thinking about how busy you are. So was he, if only you could bring yourself to acknowledge it. Far be it from me to interrupt your work by you having to come and fetch me. Don’t think I can’t imagine what it’s like setting up a new business.’

They pulled up outside the house, but unusually Stephen left the engine running. ‘Maxine, I…I, er…I don’t really know how to say this…’

‘Say what?’ She sighed with exasperation. ‘Just say it – whatever it is.’

‘It’s just that…I don’t think I’m going to see you anymore. I think it’s for the best. I don’t see any point in us carrying on, frankly. So, I’ve decided to…to stop seeing you.’ He shrugged for lack of more appropriate words.

‘Oh.’ She sounded genuinely disappointed.

‘Actually, I thought you might be pleased,’ he said, self-deprecatingly.

‘Pleased? Why should I be pleased, Stephen?’

He shrugged again. ‘Well, you never show me any great affection. There’s never any passion between us. In fact, you’ve never yet let me near you.’

‘That sort of thing doesn’t interest me, Stephen. You know that. We’ve talked about it often enough.’

‘Well it interests me, Maxine. It interests me a great deal. Frankly…if you want to know the truth…you’re too much of a cold fish for me.’

‘So you want to be free to find someone who isn’t. Is that it?’

He shrugged again, avoiding her eyes. ‘If I meet somebody, all well and good. As you say – you’re not interested.’

‘If that’s what you want, Stephen…If I’m such a cold fish…If it’s that important to you I can’t do much about it, can I?’

‘No, I don’t suppose you can.’

‘If you meet somebody you like better than me, fine. I don’t mind awfully, I suppose…So, thank you for telling me. I wish you the best of luck.’

‘Thank you. So you’re not upset?’

‘I’m surprised, Stephen. And maybe a bit disappointed, yes. But I’ll get over it.’

‘Well…there you are then. I must say I’ve enjoyed our…our times together. It has been nice. It’s been very nice.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a hypocrite, Stephen. And don’t patronise me.’ She sighed for want of something else to say. She felt sad that it was over. It was the end of an era, an important part of her life. ‘I’d better go,’ she said flatly. ‘We’re moving house tomorrow, remember, and there’s still stacks to do.’ She had her hand on the door handle ready to leave him, but she hesitated. ‘Er…Do you want the ring back…to give to your next lady friend? You can have it back if you want it.’

‘No, Maxine, it’s yours,’ he said impatiently. ‘It was meant for you. I want you to keep it.’

‘I think you should have it back. I really do.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No, Stephen, you must have it back. I can’t keep it now. The more I think about it…’ Especially since I’m such a cold fish. She wrenched it off her finger, leaned over and slipped it into the top pocket of his jacket. ‘Goodnight, Stephen. Thank you for the lift. Thank you for everything.’ She felt a tear tremble on her eyelash then trickle down her cheek. So that he shouldn’t see she turned away and opened the car door.

‘I hope we can still be friends, Maxine,’ he said.

Her automatic reaction was to turn to him. ‘Were we ever not friends?’

‘We were always good friends. I hope we always shall be. I’d like that.’

The glow from the street light glimmered off her tears, and when he saw he knew that she was hurt.

‘Maxine! . . I…’

‘Oh, I won’t hold it against you, Stephen, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ she said and stepped out of the car. ‘I’ll always be your friend.’ She closed the door and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster, not looking back.