running upstairs as he walked across to the table and sat down to study the picture. He picked the
placemat up carefully so as not to disturb any of his wife’s meticulously arranged tableware. He leaned it up against a wine
bottle and sat back.
Barry and Angela, Ed and Sue, Marina and Dave.
Not that anyone was necessarily standing next to their partner. He remembered them bundling somewhat awkwardly into a line,
squeezing together as soon as the cameras had been handed over. Sue on one end standing next to Angie, Ed up close to Marina
in the middle, then Barry and finally Dave at the other end.
Some more tanned than others, more at ease.
Barry didn’t dwell overlong on his own appearance. He almost always thought he looked like a bag of shit in photographs. There
were a couple of him and Nick he was reasonably fond of, but that may have been because they were the only pictures of his
son he possessed. That he was
allowed
to possess. He looked predictably awful in this one though, in a shirt Angie had forced him into buying which was too big
and way too flowery.
‘He reckons it makes him look like a gay darts player,’ Angie had said. She was a glass or two to the good, in one of the
bars near the beach, a night or two after the six of them had got together. She leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Don’t
you, darling?’
‘It’s not me, that’s all.’
Ed, of course, had been unable to resist. Flapping his wrist around and lisping, ‘One hundred and eighty!’
Fucking hilarious …
In the photograph, Ed was showing a few too many of those nice, straight teeth, whiter than white against his tan. Angie was
smiling too, more or less, and Marina, while four-eyed Dave on the end had thatslightly superior look you caught sometimes, when he thought nobody was looking. Maybe the picture was taken before he was
quite ready, but he definitely had that expression, something close to a smirk;
you should think yourselves lucky I’m even talking to you idiots
. To be honest, whatever face he had, Dave Cullen was a funny-looking sod: skinny as a stick, with bad skin and a wispy beard
like some student or whatever. Geeky, that’s what Angie had said. Certainly not what you’d call an oil painting, though Marina
didn’t seem to have any complaints, so maybe he was hung like a donkey or something.
It was Angie who had said that as well, like
she
should be so lucky. Like Barry had nothing worth writing home about.
Looking at the six of them, in shorts and sandals, brightly coloured shirts and sunhats, he decided that Sue probably looked
the most … natural. A half-smile sort of thing, as though she’d just turned around and found a camera pointed at her. She
had her hair up, showing off her shoulders. In fact, all of her was looking pretty good and Barry tried not to compare her
slender figure with Angie’s, but it was hard with the pair of them standing side by side like that. Funny, but in terms of
being sexy or whatever, it wasn’t an in-your-face thing with Sue. Not like it was with Marina, who was a bit, you know,
obvious
. In actual fact, you wouldn’t give Sue a second look nine times out of ten, but every so often you just got this feeling
– at least Barry did, at any rate – that whatever she wanted people to think, she probably went like a train given half a
chance.
There’d been plenty of talk about what Sue and Ed got up to. Dave and Marina too, come to think of it. As per bloody usual,
Barry and Angie had talked about sex a damn sight more than they’d actually done it.
Down to him, no getting round that.
Angie had been good about it while they’d been away, he couldn’t fault her on that score. Saying that it didn’t matter, because
she was happy enough just to read her book and that it was far too hot to be doing any of
that
anyway. Letting him off the hook.
It wasn’t too hot in bloody Crawley though, was it?
He let his head drop, then
placemat up carefully so as not to disturb any of his wife’s meticulously arranged tableware. He leaned it up against a wine
bottle and sat back.
Barry and Angela, Ed and Sue, Marina and Dave.
Not that anyone was necessarily standing next to their partner. He remembered them bundling somewhat awkwardly into a line,
squeezing together as soon as the cameras had been handed over. Sue on one end standing next to Angie, Ed up close to Marina
in the middle, then Barry and finally Dave at the other end.
Some more tanned than others, more at ease.
Barry didn’t dwell overlong on his own appearance. He almost always thought he looked like a bag of shit in photographs. There
were a couple of him and Nick he was reasonably fond of, but that may have been because they were the only pictures of his
son he possessed. That he was
allowed
to possess. He looked predictably awful in this one though, in a shirt Angie had forced him into buying which was too big
and way too flowery.
‘He reckons it makes him look like a gay darts player,’ Angie had said. She was a glass or two to the good, in one of the
bars near the beach, a night or two after the six of them had got together. She leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Don’t
you, darling?’
‘It’s not me, that’s all.’
Ed, of course, had been unable to resist. Flapping his wrist around and lisping, ‘One hundred and eighty!’
Fucking hilarious …
In the photograph, Ed was showing a few too many of those nice, straight teeth, whiter than white against his tan. Angie was
smiling too, more or less, and Marina, while four-eyed Dave on the end had thatslightly superior look you caught sometimes, when he thought nobody was looking. Maybe the picture was taken before he was
quite ready, but he definitely had that expression, something close to a smirk;
you should think yourselves lucky I’m even talking to you idiots
. To be honest, whatever face he had, Dave Cullen was a funny-looking sod: skinny as a stick, with bad skin and a wispy beard
like some student or whatever. Geeky, that’s what Angie had said. Certainly not what you’d call an oil painting, though Marina
didn’t seem to have any complaints, so maybe he was hung like a donkey or something.
It was Angie who had said that as well, like
she
should be so lucky. Like Barry had nothing worth writing home about.
Looking at the six of them, in shorts and sandals, brightly coloured shirts and sunhats, he decided that Sue probably looked
the most … natural. A half-smile sort of thing, as though she’d just turned around and found a camera pointed at her. She
had her hair up, showing off her shoulders. In fact, all of her was looking pretty good and Barry tried not to compare her
slender figure with Angie’s, but it was hard with the pair of them standing side by side like that. Funny, but in terms of
being sexy or whatever, it wasn’t an in-your-face thing with Sue. Not like it was with Marina, who was a bit, you know,
obvious
. In actual fact, you wouldn’t give Sue a second look nine times out of ten, but every so often you just got this feeling
– at least Barry did, at any rate – that whatever she wanted people to think, she probably went like a train given half a
chance.
There’d been plenty of talk about what Sue and Ed got up to. Dave and Marina too, come to think of it. As per bloody usual,
Barry and Angie had talked about sex a damn sight more than they’d actually done it.
Down to him, no getting round that.
Angie had been good about it while they’d been away, he couldn’t fault her on that score. Saying that it didn’t matter, because
she was happy enough just to read her book and that it was far too hot to be doing any of
that
anyway. Letting him off the hook.
It wasn’t too hot in bloody Crawley though, was it?
He let his head drop, then
Similar Books
