Over and Out
Paul Whybrow
Over and Out
Paul Whybrow
Copyright 2013 Paul Whybrow
Published by Paul Whybrow
(Originally written and published under the pen-name
Augustus Devilheart)
Cover Art: free image at PublicDomainImages
Over and Out
License Notes
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Over and Out
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. While some of the place names are real, characters are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Over and Out
Dedicated to those who love truly—including themselves.
'Regret for things we did can be tempered by time; it is
regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.'
Sydney J Harris
Contents
Chapter 1—Preparations
Chapter 2—Home-Truths
Chapter 3—Celebration Day
Chapter 4—Free at Last
Chapter 5—Damage Control
The End
About The Author
Also by Paul Whybrow
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Over and Out
Paul Whybrow
Chapter 1—Preparations
Bella pulled up outside the community hall, braking gently so as not to upset the platters of sandwiches which were arranged on the back-seat of her car. The silver ovals were piled high with neat triangles of brown and white bread, so many sandwiches with such a variety of contents that Bella was sure she'd be dreaming about them that night. She looked back at them, where they were arranged like bread pyramids held in place by sheets of cling-film.
She'd been spreading margarine and fillings for five hours, helped out by her sulky daughters. But Maria and Milly sloped off as soon as their dad turned up, saying they were going to help him arrange chairs and tables at the hall. Bella would believe that when she saw it. They'd be away somewhere, flirting with boys. Not too worrying if they were in a place she could see them, like the bus shelter, which was an unofficial youth-club for the local teenagers, but Bella found grass-stains on the back of Maria's skirt when she last did the laundry, so it looked like her eldest was up to some experimenting.
As long as she was more careful than Bella had been. Getting pregnant at 17 wasn't part of her mother's master plan for her, and she'd been predictably furious, though her Dad was as loving and supportive as she knew he'd be. Still, Mario was an honourable man and married her, and he wasn't a bad husband—did as he was told, most of the time anyway. No good thinking about what was done and dusted, she'd better get on with taking the food in. Her parent's 50th wedding anniversary celebration dance was only a few hours away, and there was plenty to do yet.
Unbuckling her seat-belt Bella swivelled out of her hatchback's door, pausing for a moment to smooth her dress down. She was covered in breadcrumbs and there were a couple of smears of margarine and what looked like fish paste on the skirt. How did that happen? She'd worn a long apron. Never mind, she'd be changing into her best party-frock soon, and her hair still looked nice after visiting the hairdressers yesterday. She wondered what her girls thought they'd be wearing to the disco. She'd have to censor their choices, no doubt, as she wasn't having them dressing like tarts. She knew what Mario was wearing—she'd ironed his best shirt and suit and laid it out for him on the bed. He always looked nice smartened-up, and who knew, perhaps he'd get lucky tonight. She felt a bit frisky anyway, and her parents' celebration was sure to be sentimental and loving, so she'd really be in the mood especially with a few glasses of something bubbly inside her.
Singing happily to herself, she firmly grabbed two platters of egg-and-cress sandwiches and headed for the community hall entrance, bumping the car door shut with her ample hip as she passed. She must go on a diet, but that's what Spanx were for in the meantime. She'd nibbled a few of the sandwiches—never could resist devilled ham, but she was so sick of the sight of bread that she hoped her sisters would be bringing something in the pastry and cake line.
Hard to believe that she'd once been the size of her daughters, but all of the Thomaselli women put on a few pounds once they'd married and had babies. It was only natural—but try telling her girls that. Mind you, they seemed to live on fresh-air. Perhaps there was an app on their mobile phones that replaced the need to eat. She'd need to keep an eye on what they were drinking tonight, and make sure they ate something to soak it up. They were only 15 and 12, but thought that they were already grown-ups. They were giggly enough already—honestly, those two would laugh at their own shadows, but she didn't want their silliness to attract some of the young jackals who would be coming along to the party.
Bella saw that both hall doors were propped open with wooden wedges, which helped—the disc-jockey must have done it. His van was parked nearby, open to reveal boxes heavy with CDs and old vinyl records. She almost bumped into Barry 'The Beat-Master' Black as she turned into the corridor to the kitchen. She was going to store the food she'd brought on the stainless-steel work surfaces for a while, until she was sure the furniture was arranged to her liking. Barry called a cheery greeting, as he ducked beneath the platters, though she didn't notice the grimace he made as he looked back to ogle her backside.
She hoped that Mario passed on her instructions to the D.J. properly. She didn't want a load of new stuff played, that she'd never heard of. After all, there were several generations going to be here tonight, and it was a celebration for her Mum and Dad's most important anniversary, so there'd better be some oldies amongst his records. Sure to be some Beatles and Rolling Stones, and maybe some Perry Como and Tony Bennett too, her Mum's favourites. She was looking forward to seeing her parents dance together. They'd have to, wouldn't they? Couldn't get away with not.
Her parents didn't do much together anymore—had they ever? Bella supposed that most couples got that way over time. After all, what did she and Mario do these days? Just the regular drink down the pub at Sunday lunchtime, while the roast was cooking at home. They made the odd trip out to tourist-attractions, but the girls were getting too big for that and were 'bored' quickly, though they were keen to go to Disneyland still—but only to the proper Florida one, of course. As if there was the money to do that. Mario worked all of the overtime he could at the factory and her part-time job as a till operator at the supermarket helped, but they were still only just keeping their heads above water.
Mum was as volatile as ever, despite the years passing. Her Dad was just as sweet and meek as he'd always been, ready t
o help anybody out—a real saint. Bella was surprised that the two of them ever got together in the first place. Mum was hard work to be around, bossy and spiteful with it, but also self-pitying and ready to blame others for situations she'd caused. Her Dad was a lot quieter recently, as if he were worried about something. Bella and her sisters tried to find out is he was concerned about his health. They knew that he'd never say anything if he were ill, but he'd shrugged their enquiries off with a laugh, reminding them that his father was 90 when he died.
There couldn't be any financial concerns, as the house was long paid-for and Dad retired with a good pension. Mum still owned a nest egg (she claimed) from her mother, which she'd invested. And then there was granny's antique jewellery, which must be worth a fortune. Bella sometimes looked at her parents together and was put in mind of a cage at the zoo she'd once seen, where an overweight female gorilla sat idly watching a grey squirrel scamper in and out of the bars, gathering scraps of discarded food. Her Dad never asked for much out of life, and Mum made sure he got even less.
Still, their marriage lasted fifty years, which must mean something. Mario joked that you could kill someone and get out of prison a lot sooner than that, but he was completely missing the point. Heavens, they'd been married for fifteen years now….
Bella found her husband energetically moving stacked tables into position around the edge of what was going to be the dance-floor. His bum still looked good in jeans as he bent over to drop a folding table-leg into position—his job at the chicken-processing factory kept him fit. It helped to be able to use his employee discount to get a few birds to cook for the spread, and she hoped they'd been cooked how she liked by her sister Bea.
One of her brother-in-laws and his son made a grand effort to decorate the hall with crepe-paper streamers, balloons and happy anniversary greetings banners. Barry's young lighting-assistant was stringing disco-lights around the console to hook up with the strands that festooned the walls. A rather tired-looking glitter ball hung from the middle of the ceiling, a few mirrored chips missing from it, but Bella was sure it would work fine once it was spinning and the lights were out.
She must bring more sandwiches in, as well as the catering jars of mayonnaise and pickles which were wrapped for safe transporting in a load of table-cloths she and her sisters rounded up between them. Bianca and her publican husband Reg were handling the bar, which helped with the expense, and Bella hoped that her sister would bring enough glasses. They were expecting 100 people, though family were sure to bring a few extra friends along. Bianca gave her pub doorman a few quid to act as bouncer for the night—not that they were expecting any trouble, but it paid to be careful these days.
