Time to say goodbye.
A bigger project is calling, so my stint here is done. Many thanks for all the helpful email advice and comments.
To those who did nothing but bitch about my abrupt endings - go in peace.
***
Revelations
(England, late seventies)
Paul loved Fridays. He was a sales rep for M26, a wholesale frozen food company, which supplied bulk catering packs. His customers were hotels, restaurants, pubs and hospitals. Emergencies apart, Friday lunchtime was the only occasion he'd need to go in to the depot. During the week, he phoned through his orders. And Friday afternoons the reps rarely worked; their reward for the occasional unpaid evening. The general manager and sales manager would join them today, and there would be a lunchtime demo at the depot. It usually involved trying a new product.
"Shall I do you any eggs sweetie?" asked Suzie.
"No thanks, I'll just have a piece of toast."
"Of course, it's Friday. What will you get at lunchtime?"
"Pork balls apparently."
"That sounds awful!"
"It does, doesn't it? Usual set up - new company - they'll want us to store and distribute their product. But by the time the restaurants have prepared them, they'll have fancier names on the menu. How much we sample today depends how big the portions are. If we agree to take them on I'll bring some home for you to taste."
"I look forward to that; but why have such a small breakfast? You might only get a mouthful."
"How much I get will govern how much I eat at the pub, afterwards."
"I bet it won't govern how many beers you have!"
***
Paul's father had been a wealthy man. When diagnosed with terminal cancer, he had elected to spend his final months in a hospice, and had died the previous January. He'd left his house and investments to Paul; the inheritance to be delayed until his thirtieth birthday, which would be in late September. His father's live-in housekeeper had long since planned to emigrate to Canada, where her son was building her a granny flat. The will stipulated Mrs Fields could stay in the house until she left.
"So, you get the house and everything after Mrs Fields leaves?" Suzie had asked.
It wasn't as simple as that, he would have to be thirty, but it was near enough so he said yes.
But this week Mrs Fields had called him to say her new home was ready seven weeks early. Her son had booked her flight on Tuesday. Could Paul please come and check everything in the house was ok, and run her to the airport? She'd never flown before and was nervous, so he agreed to take her as far as her boarding gate. Leon, his general manager, gave him Tuesday off.
***
This morning he was pulling up outside a private old people's home. The carers were mostly nursing staff, one of whom, Mandy, was responsible for ordering their catering requirements. He was looking forward to seeing her again. She was tall, with brown hair, and grey eyes. And he flirted outrageously with her. Well, that was part of the job; it would be rude not to.
"Let me see today's tie then, handsome." she opened his jacket. "Ooh great, the lighthouse! I like this one."
Paul had a thing about flashy ties. All the reps wore the same kind of suit, like a uniform. He thought his ties made him more memorable.
"What did your old dears think of our new curry?"
"They loved it!" said Mandy. "And that was a good idea to change the description. They would have complained about 'that foreign muck' if we'd told them it was curry. So it became Chicken Delight, and they shovelled it down. I've ordered more."
"I thought they'd like it. Though I'm not convinced it was Indian. It's mild and sweet, like a korma. But it had too many sultanas for my taste. I prefer spicy."
He looked at her, and she smiled.
"We're going be checking out another product today." he said. "If it's suitable for your folks, I'll bring you a sample. Then I'll have an excuse to check out those legs again!"
"You get two out of ten for subtlety, Paul. By legs, you mean black stockings. I know men fantasise about nurses in black stockings. Well bad luck, these are tights."
"I'll have to take your word for that."
"You will. But you know you don't need an excuse. Stop by and see me any time."
"Listen." he said. "You remember I asked if you knew of anyone I might call on? I just need a lead. If you do, whether I sign them up or not, I'll take you out to dinner. In fact, if you're a good girl, you might get a goodnight kiss."
Mandy seemed to be considering it, but the look in her eyes was pure glee.
"Where exactly would this kiss be?"
"Oh, I thought I'd bring you back here from the restaurant. Walk you to your dorm, as a gentleman should."
"Yes?"
"And kiss you, say, somewhere near your back door!"
She burst into peals of laughter.
He climbed back into the Ford Sierra, thinking about what had happened. He'd kissed Mandy before he'd left, and had now pushed her as far as was needed. What Paul really wanted was to try anal sex. Mandy wasn't as attractive as his wife, but Suzie was reluctant to try it. Whereas, Mandy was hinting she might.
At the Tiverton depot, a young man called Sidney was preparing his demo. He was painfully thin and looked as if a strong wind would blow him away. He'd brought in cooking gear to heat up the samples. The general manager, Leon, was a firm believer his team would make better salesmen if they'd tasted their own products.
David, the sales manager, was hanging around as Sidney set up. He thought this was a waste of time and money. When he became depot manager, he'd scrap it and make the reps work through Fridays. He chose to ignore the recent success with the chicken curry, though that one product alone proved his boss right. Leon kept a samples freezer for their latest lines, and expected his boys to let customers try them. David thought that was a waste of money too.
The reps drifted in around midday, with lots of greetings and chit chat. They checked with the office staff confirming progress of their orders. And swapped leads where they'd picked up potential customers in a colleague's territory.
"A lot of fruity curries have gone out on your patch Paul."
It was Brenda, one of the telesales girls.
"I've always been good in the 'fruity' department Brenda!"
Another voice interrupted.
"You're a damn bighead, I know that."
And here was David, the thorn in Paul's side, never missing an opportunity to chip in with something unpleasant. He'd always disliked Paul, and the feeling was reciprocated. Blond, with the soft features he associated with Russian ballet dancers, Paul had disliked him from the first limp handshake. The general feeling around the depot was David was a useless salesman in the field, and a hopeless manager in the office. It was rumoured he'd got the job because of a relation's influence.
For Paul, the situation was not helped by the fact that he'd had hopes of getting that sales manager's position. Over the last two years he'd turned his Somerset patch around to make it M26's most successful territory.
"I'm not a bighead Dave, just your top salesman, with the most productive territory."
He hated being called Dave, and stamped into his office.
"Touchy." said Brenda. "Anyway, while you're here, head chef at the Hope and Anchor needs you pop in next week."
"Thanks, I'll see him Mondays."
The six reps filed into the meeting room, where Sidney cooked up the pork balls. They were a nice colour, fried up quickly, and smelled delicious. They listened to Sidney's hesitant sales pitch as the meatballs were cooking. He ummed and aahed for a while, and then it was time to taste. They got four each, considered a standard serving, and were asked to imagine them with veg and gravy, or with chips. The pork balls were excellent. It was a classic example of a good product, presented by a poor rep. Sales would be handled by M26; Paul couldn't imagine anyone buying from somebody called Sidney. Leon agreed to take sample.
He had his usual pub lunch and a few beers with his best mate Chris, in The Red Lion. Paul and Suzie, Chris and Toni, sometimes got together as a foursome. And Suzie had a girl's night out, on Thursdays. Though not with Toni, who had a daughter and was a homebody. She went out with her old schoolfriend Stella. They preferred a new wine bar, called Beaujolais Rouge. Paul had dropped by once during the week, but they didn't do food.
He got home. The Coach House was rented as Paul could not afford to buy something this size - not yet anyway. He slumped into a cane chair on the rear patio, thinking about his and Suzie's sex life. It had started off full of promise but now it was barely adequate. Early on the marriage, the sex had been passionate, but recently had begun to slide downhill. Perhaps his suggestions about anal sex had put her off. Once, he'd discussed it with Chris.
***
"I'm afraid that's par for the course mate. They all do that." Chris assured him wisely. "It starts off all blowjobs and stockings, but changes once you're married. Becomes missionary position once a week and slopping around in slippers and baggy tracksuits. Mind you, we men can be just as bad. We sit in front of the telly for hours, and don't shave at weekends."
"I don't do that!"
"But many do. You're lucky Suzie kept her long hair; it's a strong sexual signal is long hair. They discard it once they've snared you. Usually complain it's too much trouble and chop it off. Toni had hair way past her shoulders when we were courting. But after we got wed it became a long bob. And then the short bob you see today. That was after Charlotte came along. Now, you tell me, how does short hair make it easier to look after a child?
"It looks nice though."
"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my mate."
"Now you come to mention it, Suzie did say she was thinking of cutting her hair, soon after our wedding. But I'd been growing a raggedy beard and moustache on our honeymoon, and she said it scratched when we kissed. So I agreed to shave it off, as long as she kept her long hair."
"Good move mate, I wish I'd thought of that."
And Paul had taken it to heart. He tried to keep up the romance - dinners, flowers for no reason, surprise weekends away. Paying her compliments was second nature of course; it came with a rep's territory. But, despite his efforts, their sex life had deteriorated.
***
On Monday he went to the Hope and Anchor.
"Morning chef; Brenda said you had a problem?"
"Yes, come and see."
Ted opened his huge freezer room and took out three gateaux - a double chocolate, a strawberry, and a lemon sorbet. Two were frozen solid in their cardboard outers. The third had been opened. Ted placed it on the worktop.
"See? They're all like this. Looks like they've been dropped." he said.
