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Copyright Oggbashan November 2013 (Edited December 2013)
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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It was a damp, cold late November, a Friday evening as our three-card brag school sat in the smoke-filled Public Bar. Simon, the newest member of our group, had kept trying to raise the stakes beyond our usual pennies. We played for enjoyment but took our competition seriously. An evening's loss of five shillings, the price of a couple of pints of beer, was seen as massive. Simon would try to bid ten shillings when our agreed rules limited the maximum to two shillings. He didn't seem to realise that although any of us could afford to pay more, the contest was more important to us than the money.
As closing time approached we discussed how we would continue the game as we did most Friday evenings. Usually one or other of us would be able to use a room in our parents' houses but that night we were stymied. Simon offered his girlfriend's flat a few hundred yards away. We were doubtful. What woman would want eight men playing cards all night? Simon went down the road to check. When he returned he said that she'd agreed if we were prepared to pay her a few pence each for the cost of coffee and biscuits.
We bought a few bottles of beer each from the Off-Sales counter and walked down the road. We were quieter than usual perhaps because we weren't sure about using a stranger's flat. When we arrived we were even more embarrassed. Monica was no stranger. She had been a contemporary at school and probably all of us had kissed her behind the bike sheds at least once. I was shocked by the change in her. She looked years older than us, grey-faced, without make-up, and obviously tired. She was wearing a grubby housecoat and was on her way to bed.
She showed us straight into the living room. It was tidy but seemed barely used with a musty smell of old furniture, stale cigarette smoke and unopened windows. She told us where the coffee, milk and biscuits were kept and left us to our card game. Her only request was that we keep the noise down and the living room door shut so we wouldn't disturb the children.
Children? Surely Monica wasn't old enough to have children. I noticed her bare fingers. Not only was there no wedding ring, there was no sign that she had ever worn one. For the late 1960s that wouldn't have been unusual in big cities but in our small town unmarried mothers were still rare.
About four in the morning I decided to take a break from the game to make the coffee. The beer had run out. I was neither a winner nor a loser so no one objected when I announced that I would miss a few hands. I asked for quiet as I left the room, shutting the door carefully behind me. I walked into the kitchen.
It was a mess. There was a pile of washing up on the sink, another one on the work surface and dirty crockery on the kitchen table. There were piles of dirty clothes on the sticky floor. The cooker was stained with burnt food and congealed grease. I couldn't find any clean mugs to use for the coffee. I would have to wash some mugs at least.
I cleared the sink and ran some hot water. There was a small amount of washing up liquid and no spare bottle. Half the liquid might do. As quietly as I could I washed enough mugs for all of us. The washing up water was still hot so I started on plates and dishes. By the time the water was too dirty to clean any more I had washed about a quarter of the accumulated heaps.
I made the coffee, found a tray that I had to wipe clean, and took the coffee in to the card game. They barely noticed as I distributed the mugs because three of them had strong hands. For our card school the atmosphere was tense. I saw who held what as I deposited the coffee. Simon, betting as high as we allowed, had the weakest hand. Peter's hand was good but not as good as David's, but David the player easiest to bluff. I sat down on the edge of an armchair to watch.
Simon pushed the other two hard but eventually had to fold. David immediately called Peter and won the hand, collecting nearly a pound in winnings. He looked at me and grinned. He hadn't won that much all year.
"Here John," he said, pushing a pile of pennies towards me, "that can go to our hostess. Anyone else giving?"
We all produced handfuls of small change which I piled on the tray.
"I'll change it up," I said.
"Don't bother," Simon suggested. "Monica prefers money in coins. She can manage it better like that."
I wasn't so sure. It didn't fit with the Monica I had known yet the flat showed signs of desperate poverty.
I watched the next couple of hands then took the tray with the coins, the used cups and the empty beer bottles back to the kitchen. No one noticed that I hadn't rejoined the game.
I was working as quietly as I could to avoid disturbing Monica and the children. An hour later I had nearly finished washing all the accumulated crockery and pans when David joined me.
"What have you been doing?" He asked quietly. "I missed you, even if the others didn't."
"Washing up." I pointed at the teetering heap awaiting drying.
"All that? We just had some mugs of coffee."
"I know, David, but virtually everything was filthy. I had to scrub the mugs before I could make the coffee. Once I'd started, I thought I'd finish. Look at the cooker."
David looked and shuddered. "Yuck!"
"Exactly. And all this heap was like that."
"Can't we clean the cooker?"
"With what? I've used all the washing up liquid and there are no other cleaners of any sort. I've searched. There's no detergent, no soap, no scouring powder -- nothing. Even this dishcloth has had it."
"We could buy some, John."
"This early? The corner shop doesn't open until eight."
I looked at my watch. Six-thirty.
"What about Angela?"
"Of course! Why didn't I think of her?"
Angela is my on/off girlfriend, a part-qualified nurse who works night shifts at the local Old People's Home which is owned and run by a charitable trust. She is relieved at seven in the morning by the first of the day shift. She is always pleased if any of her friends drop in for coffee towards the end of her session when all her charges are asleep. We had been going out together for a couple of years, enjoying each other's company, but looking for more -- elsewhere.
"Thanks, David. I'll try her. She might have something that could clean that cooker."
I let myself out of the front door, leaving it on the latch. David could see it while he dried up the dishes.
Angela's greeting was overwhelming. She hugged and kissed me as if I'd been away for months. Yet we had been out as a couple only three evenings ago. Almost before I'd got my breath back I had a cup of coffee in my hand and Angela snuggled in my lap. I couldn't resist as she kissed me again and again, at least not without spilling the coffee.
"John, you're just the person I wanted to see," Angela said between kisses.
"I've been asked to decorate the common room for Christmas and I can't reach, not even on a ladder. Will you?"
How could I refuse? Angela's kisses didn't give me time to do more than nod my head and transfer her next kiss to my forehead. Eventually she paused.
"But I'm forgetting," she said. "You must have come today for a reason. I normally see you during the week, not on Saturday morning. Out with it. What do you want from me? I'm feeling generous now you've agreed to help with the decoration."
I explained about the card school, about Monica, and my need for cleaning materials.
Angela kept asking about Monica, how she was, what she looked like, how she was coping with two small children...
"Coping?" I snorted. "She's not. Why? I don't know. I only saw her for a few minutes and she looked dreadful. The state of her kitchen told me more about her than her own appearance. She's lost it. I think she needs help and her so-called boyfriend Simon isn't it."
"We'll have to be careful, John," Angela suggested. "Monica may not appreciate help because it shows that we know what a state she's in. You could justify the washing-up and cleaning because you're repaying her for her hospitality. If I became involved? She could be offended."
"All I wanted from you was some things to clean the cooker, perhaps the floor, and to replace the washing-up liquid I'd used..."
