Wife's holiday encounter with lads makes a couple reassess their relationship.
I stepped back from the mirror, examining the results. My red lipstick was bright, but it was on straight. Anyway, it was Saturday night, time to glam up. I examined my reflection critically and pronounced it not bad for a forty-six-year-old mother of twenty-something twin boys. My curvy size 14 still draws glances from men who like women with boobs and bums. I raised my bare arms and checked for signs of bingo wings; grateful weekly yoga was keeping them at bay. My face and shoulders had caught the sun today, turning the ends of my shoulder length chestnut hair ginger. I thought the yellow halter neck sun dress set it off nicely. A sweetheart neckline and ten big white buttons down the front. White cork wedge sandals gave me some height and emphasised my tanned legs. I was pleased with the overall effect.
"You're not wearing that are you? People will think you are mutton."
My husband, Bryan came into the living room of our holiday chalet. I'd forced him out of his misnamed jogging suit for a change. He was wearing a proper shirt, trousers and dress shoes with the awkaward attitude of a kid in his first school uniform.
"Thank you for your input, Bryan but I'm wearing it, anyway. "I put on a chunky white necklace and matching bangle to accessorise the look.
"You wear what you like these days, Maggie. Since you started that new job, nothing I say matters. "
My new job as a teaching assistant in a primary school was just a symptom of what was bothering him. Since the boys left home, I'd been looking forward to our new life. But Bryan didn't do change. I thought coming back to the holiday village where we met as teenagers would signal a new beginning. Bryan was acting like it was the end. I'd tried for months to get him to talk about what was bothering him, but it was tough enough getting out of him what he wanted for dinner, let alone discuss his feelings. We were marking time. We could not go on like this for much longer.
"Come on Bryan, before all the tables in the club are gone."
I grabbed a pashmina and draped it around my shoulders, annoyed with myself for subconsciously reacting to his implication that I should cover up.
The holiday camp had become a holiday village during the decades since we'd come here with our parents. The clientele had changed from families looking for a cheap get away. Now empty nesters were looking for a more refined experience. Art classes, archery and so forth during the day. It was not what either of us expected. I was happy to give it all a go. Saturday night entertainment in the social club was more traditional. Bingo was followed by a singer, the raffle, then a disco.
Bryan got our drinks and I grabbed one of the last free tables at the back. The caller was about to start when two late arrivals held him up. A couple of lads wanted a drink. One was put out at having to buy a book of bingo cards to get into the club now. He scuttled off to the bar while his friend looked around for seats, seeing the nearest spares at our table.
"Excuse me, do you mind if we share your table?" He could only have been eighteen, but he spoke with the politeness of good breeding.
I looked at him properly. Our eyes met and his shy smile became a beaming one. He looked genuinely happy to see me. I felt an odd sensation. People don't normally look at a stranger so candidly. The lad was tall, with curly black hair and black eyes, and built like a footballer. He reacted to my embarrassment by becoming embarrassed himself. When he looked down, his eyes lingered a moment too long on my cleavage and he turned a brighter shade of red.
Bryan took in the lad's youthful clumsiness and gave his customary non-committal grunt. I smiled and invited him to sit. Moments later, his friend was back with two pints.
"Seats. You're a legend Mark. Get that down you."
His friend was short, with a silly shaved design in the back of his cropped blond hair. He nodded to the two of us, taking longer to appraise my cleavage. I sensed Bryan's disapproval of his stare and was about to say something placatory when the tall lad beat me to it.
"We're very grateful. I'm Mark and this is Paul. My nan has a timeshare here and we're using it for a couple of days."
"Not exactly Ibiza, is it?" Bryan's sarcasm was clear.
"Yeh. Tell me about it." In Paul's sour expression, I saw a young Bryan. I wondered if he saw it, too.
With the ice broken we chatted. They had been friends since primary school. This would be their last holiday together. Paul left school early and was an apprentice motor mechanic. Mark had stayed on to do A levels and was off to university in September. I asked him where he was studying.
"I'm taking English Literature and History at Durham."
"That's a good one Mark."
"I hope so. Did you go to university Maggie?"
Before I could answer, Bryan piped up. "She didn't get the chance. Some idiot knocked her up. Twin boys before she was twenty."
I thought it was just me who noticed, but Bryan was annoyed at the way Mark looked at me, so he lashed out. Poor Mark was tongue tied. He flashed me a sympathetic look. It was Paul who saved the situation.
"I told Mark he's wasting his time going to some poncy uni up north. He should get himself a proper job working with his hands, like me and Bryan. (Bryan had confessed he was a plumber.) Earn himself some real money."
"Well, if you're flush son you can get them in." Bryan poked his empty pint glass towards Paul. Me and Mark were still on our second drinks. Paul reluctantly set off for the bar.
"It was all families with young kids when me and Bryan met here over twenty-fife years ago."
"Is this the first time you've been back, Maggie?" I nodded. Mark looked pleased for us. I wished Bryan was. Mark did a quick calculation. "Then your sons—"
"Older than the two of you," Bryan popped up. "One in the Army, the other in the Navy."
Mark's look said he did not believe they could be that age. He had the sense to say nothing Bryan could snap at. My smile said thank you.
Bryan had clocked our non-verbal communication. Something he was useless at.
Paul was back with the drinks just before the cabaret singer started. We all watched the middle-aged man in a dinner suit puff his way up the stairs to the stage.
Paul told Mark to drink up. "Come on mate, we're off into town for some action." Mark looked reluctant. "What, you want to stay here for the cheesy singer and old folks' disco?" He looked at Bryan. "No offence, mate. See ya later."
