Read Online The Flavours of Love by Dorothy Koomson - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy Koomson
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two rutting people – whatever their age.
‘Yes, but in private, you would think,’ she replies, as sour as an unripe Granny Smith apple.
‘What’s going to happen next?’
‘We feel … We have no choice but to ask your aunt to leave.’
‘Leave?’ I reply tiredly. ‘Only her, I take it?’
‘Pardon me?’
‘The man she was caught with, is he being chucked out for not doing it in private or is it just my aunt?’
Mrs Laureau’s eyebrows twiddle themselves into position, as she prepares to put me in my place. She probably tried this with Aunty Betty and got a mouthful. We’ve been here, together, for ten minutes, enough time for a people-watcher like Mrs Laureau to realise that I’m most unlikely to ‘do an Aunty Betty’ no matter what she says to me.
‘If it was merely this “incident” we might be able to overlook it. But in the last three months alone, your aunt has managed to set fire to the rug in her apartment three times, she has roped in half adozen residents to try hitchhiking to the next village so they can go to the cinema, and has been spotted walking around with only her bikini top and a mini-skirt when she knows we have a dress code. In short, it’s really quite a miracle that we’ve lasted this long.’
My cheeks are puffed up like over-inflated balloons and I blow out slowly as I exhale my biggest sigh yet. ‘When do you need her out?’ I say. A month should give me enough time to find her a new place; a fortnight would work at a push.
‘She’s just saying her goodbyes and then you can take her home with you.’
‘ Excuse me?
‘Her belongings are packed and ready. Anything we can’t fit into your car, we’ll send on to you, at our expense. And we’ve already agreed we’ll refund this and last month’s fee as a gesture of goodwill.’
‘ What? ’
‘I know this must come as a surprise to you, and believe me, we wanted to tell you sooner, but she insisted this was the best way. She said it would be easier on you after all you’ve been through recently.’
‘And you believed her?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she replies with a victorious look.
That reply and that expression on her face are payback for not helping her out earlier on. I take another gander around her office: the desk has been polished to an unusually high sheen; all the usual accoutrements of a desk – stapler, mouse mat, pen pot, sellotape holder, contacts box – appear to be new. As if they’ve been very recently replaced, as if someone was attempting to remove all traces of something hideous, like a sixty-six-year-old woman who is the bane of your life having sex on your desk. Aunty Betty did it in here, I’m sure of it.
I really hope it was you who caught them in flagrante delicto , I think at Mrs Laureau. It would serve you right .
‘Your aunt has signed all the necessary paperwork so you don’t have to concern yourself with that.’
‘Right, well, I’d better get on with it, hadn’t I?’ I say to her.
*
That’s the worst thing about all of this, you know, Joel? I say to him in the darkness of our room, staring at where he should be. No matter how hard it is, because I’ve got children, because I’ve got people who rely on me, I just have to get on with it .
*
Aunty Betty plugs her seatbelt clip into its holder, having got into the back seat of my car. They have folded down the seats beside her to jam her belongings in. Her stuff has filled the boot, taken up most of the space in the back, and is piled up on the front passenger seat and footwell, too.
‘You can look as defiant as you like,’ I say to her as she sits, regal and silent, truculent and unrepentant, in the back.
In an expression that is pure Phoebe, she curls her pink, glossed upper lip at me, cuts her black-lined eyes and turns to the window to treat those outside to a full smile. The turnout on this April afternoon is incredible, I’ve never seen so many people show up to say goodbye to anyone who
‘Yes, but in private, you would think,’ she replies, as sour as an unripe Granny Smith apple.
‘What’s going to happen next?’
‘We feel … We have no choice but to ask your aunt to leave.’
‘Leave?’ I reply tiredly. ‘Only her, I take it?’
‘Pardon me?’
‘The man she was caught with, is he being chucked out for not doing it in private or is it just my aunt?’
Mrs Laureau’s eyebrows twiddle themselves into position, as she prepares to put me in my place. She probably tried this with Aunty Betty and got a mouthful. We’ve been here, together, for ten minutes, enough time for a people-watcher like Mrs Laureau to realise that I’m most unlikely to ‘do an Aunty Betty’ no matter what she says to me.
‘If it was merely this “incident” we might be able to overlook it. But in the last three months alone, your aunt has managed to set fire to the rug in her apartment three times, she has roped in half adozen residents to try hitchhiking to the next village so they can go to the cinema, and has been spotted walking around with only her bikini top and a mini-skirt when she knows we have a dress code. In short, it’s really quite a miracle that we’ve lasted this long.’
My cheeks are puffed up like over-inflated balloons and I blow out slowly as I exhale my biggest sigh yet. ‘When do you need her out?’ I say. A month should give me enough time to find her a new place; a fortnight would work at a push.
‘She’s just saying her goodbyes and then you can take her home with you.’
‘ Excuse me?
‘Her belongings are packed and ready. Anything we can’t fit into your car, we’ll send on to you, at our expense. And we’ve already agreed we’ll refund this and last month’s fee as a gesture of goodwill.’
‘ What? ’
‘I know this must come as a surprise to you, and believe me, we wanted to tell you sooner, but she insisted this was the best way. She said it would be easier on you after all you’ve been through recently.’
‘And you believed her?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she replies with a victorious look.
That reply and that expression on her face are payback for not helping her out earlier on. I take another gander around her office: the desk has been polished to an unusually high sheen; all the usual accoutrements of a desk – stapler, mouse mat, pen pot, sellotape holder, contacts box – appear to be new. As if they’ve been very recently replaced, as if someone was attempting to remove all traces of something hideous, like a sixty-six-year-old woman who is the bane of your life having sex on your desk. Aunty Betty did it in here, I’m sure of it.
I really hope it was you who caught them in flagrante delicto , I think at Mrs Laureau. It would serve you right .
‘Your aunt has signed all the necessary paperwork so you don’t have to concern yourself with that.’
‘Right, well, I’d better get on with it, hadn’t I?’ I say to her.
*
That’s the worst thing about all of this, you know, Joel? I say to him in the darkness of our room, staring at where he should be. No matter how hard it is, because I’ve got children, because I’ve got people who rely on me, I just have to get on with it .
*
Aunty Betty plugs her seatbelt clip into its holder, having got into the back seat of my car. They have folded down the seats beside her to jam her belongings in. Her stuff has filled the boot, taken up most of the space in the back, and is piled up on the front passenger seat and footwell, too.
‘You can look as defiant as you like,’ I say to her as she sits, regal and silent, truculent and unrepentant, in the back.
In an expression that is pure Phoebe, she curls her pink, glossed upper lip at me, cuts her black-lined eyes and turns to the window to treat those outside to a full smile. The turnout on this April afternoon is incredible, I’ve never seen so many people show up to say goodbye to anyone who
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