Divorced and Deadly. Josephine Cox

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t even give me time to explain. Y’see, I didn’t know who the woman was. I couldn’t even recall whether I picked her up at the pub, or rescued her from the bus stop when her bus was late. Anyway, suffice to say we ended up in bed, and Laura found us. Worse luck!

      There was no way she would listen to reason. She just threw all my clothes out on the street and me with them. I don’t know what happened to the girl, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she wasn’t dead and buried under our garage floor.

      Honestly! Laura just went crazy. Totally and absolutely out of control, like frothing mad. It was really off-putting.

      And it was the coldest night imaginable, and there I was, stark-naked except for my odd-coloured socks (that’s another thing! How she manages to put four pairs of socks into the washing machine and lose one sock from each pair, I will never know).

      I kid you not! That night, I saw a side to her that I’d never seen before, and never want to see again. It was not a pleasant sight.

      I mean, what’s got into her? She didn’t flare up like that the time she caught me snogging her best friend, Shelley. Instead she gave Shelley a black eye before booting her out on her ear, yet she made me suffer for months before my penalty was served! (It goes without saying, Shelley is not her best friend any more.)

      In fact, Shelley is nobody’s best mate, especially now, when all the women in the street have it in for her. Mind you I’m not surprised, because they all fancied a tumble with me, and Shelley beat them to it. Lucky me, eh?

      Our marriage should have ended there and then, but Laura forgave me in the end. So what made her end it, just after half an hours’ harmless frolicking with a stranger I’d only just met?

      I can’t believe how Laura reacted. I mean! There was no need to go berserk. I kept telling her, it was all just a bit of fun, that’s all it was.

      Well, I mean to say, I can’t help it if I’m irresistible to women, can I? We all know some men have it and some don’t. I just happen to have it.

      I am no longer married. Sadly, I’ve had to move in with my parents, and yes, they did give me a hard time. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ that was Dad. ‘When will you ever learn?’ that was Mum.

      And as if that wasn’t enough, they’d been gossiping with the dog about their disapproval of my nocturnal goings on. So he took it upon himself to sink his canines into my leg and draw blood. (I’ll get him for that when they’re not looking!)

      Mind you, I can’t really blame him, the poor sod had ’em chopped off last week, so now his days of impressing the pretty thing with his massive ego and other jangly bits are well and truly over.

      Hell’s bells, I’ve just had a frightening thought…were they planning to do the same to me? Like creep up on me while I was asleep, and nip my pride in the bud! (Dad won the neatest bush competition last year, so he really knows his way around the garden shears.)

      You probably think I’m paranoid, and you’d be right. I wouldn’t put it past them to rob me of my manhood. The thing is, they’re in their sixties now and have probably forgotten what joy it all is.

      Anyway, I don’t plan to stay there long; although I have to admit, it’s a good gaff: no rent, hot meals provided, bed changed regularly, with clean shirts and underpants on hand.

      I can’t help but wonder if Dad’s feeling put out, ‘You’ll be wiping his backside next!’ he snapped at Mum the other day, ‘And why is it he always bags the bathroom first?’

      Huh! I can answer that…it’s because Dad has a nasty habit of leaving his false teeth on the sink after he’s washed them; it’s unnerving, seeing his false teeth grinning at me when I’m on the throne.

      ‘C’mon our Ben.’ That’s Mum again. ‘You’d best get off or you’ll be late.’ I argued a bit and wolfed down my hot crumpets oozing with butter and jam, while she hovered over me with a bag of goodies. ‘I’ve packed you some nice ham sandwiches,’ she cooed. ‘Oh, and there’s a bottle of Lucozade in there, it’ll keep your pecker up.’ (Does she know something I don’t?)

      Well anyway, there I was, on my way up the street, swinging my goodies like a kid off to school. I wondered why she didn’t put me in short pants and get me a cap with a badge!

      Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, I saw that twerp from number fourteen—Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants. I have to say, I’ve never seen such an unholy mess—long and limp with a sprout of hair on top and short trousers at the bottom; he’d be a real attraction at Madame Tussauds.

      He ran as fast as he could to catch me up. ‘God! You walk fast, don’t you?’ he said, breathlessly running alongside, ‘I thought I’d never catch up!’

      All the way to the bus stop he asked questions, ‘Where’s your car?’

      ‘It went in for a service and they’ve discovered it needs new brake pads. Hopefully, I should have it back tomorrow.’

      ‘Ah, well, if you ask me, it’s all a con.’

      ‘Is that so?’ If he doesn’t clear off soon, I swear I’d smack him one! Either that or I’d tell my mum and she’d give him what for.

      ‘Think about it.’ Like a dog with a bone, he is. ‘You’ve never noticed anything wrong with your brakes at all, have you?’

      ‘Not that I can remember, no.’

      What the hell was I talking to him for? It only encouraged him.

      ‘There you are then!’

      ‘Where am I exactly?’

      ‘Well, like I say…you’ve been conned. There’s nothing wrong with your brakes at all.’

      ‘Isn’t there?’

      ‘No. You see, what they’ll do is whip ’em off. One of the blokes will have ’em away, and before you know it, there they are…’

      ‘Where are they?’ Talk about being a glutton for punishment.

      ‘On the stall at a car-boot sale o’ course!’

      ‘Really?’ No wonder he’s called Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants.

      His tongue was still rattling ten to the dozen when the bus arrived. Pushing me aside, he climbed on, while I pretended to tie my shoe. When the bus pulled away Dickie started waving and yelling and telling them to stop because they’d left me behind. (Thick as a plank or what!)

      The conductor was in no mood for his antics. I expect he was wondering why I was smiling after being left behind. Good man, that conductor! The thing is, I’d rather be late than sit next to Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants all the way to work.

      After I’d thrown what was left of my little-boy’s lunch, I started to wonder…what was going to happen to me now? How will I get over Laura, especially as Shelley won’t have anything to do with me after all the goings on.

      And how long will I have to stay at my parents’ house?

      A long time I reckon, because Laura fleeced СКАЧАТЬ