With Nanowrimo just a few days away I thought I better flex my recently unused writing muscles, so here’s the first offering in what has been too long…
Three times he’d called her this afternoon and three times she had hung up on him. He was loath to try again. Perhaps he hadn’t given her enough time to cool off, but last time they had had a row she complained when he had left it longer before calling her again. ‘Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,’ though Tim.
He put the phone back on his desk and decided to leave it a little longer before trying again. At least Myra would know he had tried to call already.
As Tim tapped the keys to his all singing all dancing MAC he couldn’t stop thinking about Myra and what had started their stupid spat. Every few seconds he glanced at his mobile sitting on his desk, willing it to ring and for it to be her.
The previous night they had gone to the new seafood restaurant that had opened in town down by the Quay. It already had a reputation for having the freshest fish and the most imaginative dishes on its menu.
On arrival Tim had thought the decor a little kitch, ‘hadn’t the whole fishing nets and bottles thing been done in the seventies?’ he had quietly commented to Myra as the manageress approached them. She replied in less than a whisper that she didn’t agree with his assessment. Tim remembered her words exactly. She went on to say that she thought it looked homely and was more than appropriate for the kind of restaurant it was. Of course her little speech had been more for the manageress’s benefit than his. Sometimes she seemed to enjoy embarrassing him in public, or ‘calling him out’ as she would tell him should he ever mention it.
Tim had smiled his lopsided smile at the manageress and tilted his head in a kind of apology. She nodded what Tim took to be an acknowledgement of said apology and showed them to a table by the window overlooking the marina. The music that gently filled the restaurant also sounded like some kind of throwback to the seventies: ‘easy listening lift music’ he would have commented had he thought Myra would have agreed, and not put him down again. Outside the lights of the boats were twinkling in the dusk, and the wind whistled past their masts twanging the lines as it did so making a marine symphony of its own. The manageress handed them menus and told them the day’s specials before slipping away.
“What was all that?” Myra asked once the manageress was out of earshot.
“All what?” Tim had asked innocently.
“That goofy smile, the tilt of your head and your come to bed eyes,” Myra spat back at him.
Tim knew there was little point arguing when she was in that kind of mood. he leaned across the table and took her hand. “It was nothing and I’m sorry if it looked otherwise. You’re the only woman for me, you know.”
Myra smiled and the fire for a fight went out of her eyes. Tim hoped that that was that for the evenings confrontations.
They each studied the menus commenting on the dishes as they went, until a waitress came by to ask if they wanted drinks. Tim’s suggested that they go directly for a bottle of the oaked chardonnay, which he knew Myra adored, and was sure he had made the right choice when Myra leaned in and touched his hand commenting that it would be perfect, calling him darling into the bargain.
As soon as the waitress left their table Myrtle’s face changed again. “If you don’t stop flirting with every large breasted creature in this place soon I’m going to up and leave.”
This time Tim had had enough. “One, I am not flirting and Two, please lower your voice. People are looking.”
Myra looked around and seemed to be mollified by the stares of the other diners. She simply glared at Tim one more time and returned to studying the menu.
Moments later a waiter appeared with their wine, served it and said he’d be back in a moment to take their food orders. Tim noted Myra’s smile and possibly suggestive comments to the waiter but thought better of saying anything.
When the waiter returned Myra flirted with him outrageously once more as he took their order. Inside Tim broke a little but again let it pass.
The rest of the meal passed off without incident until it came to dessert. The restaurant had an old fashioned trolley on which the desserts were displayed, although it was clearly an updated version with covers and some kind of cooling mechanism. Tim almost rolled his eyes as the waitress rolled it to their table and asked what they would like.
Once their desserts had been served and the waitress had rolled the trolley away Tim met Myra’s eyes to see a fire burning in them once more. She accused him of choosing something from the bottom shelf simply so he could get a better look at the waitresses ample bosom as she served. He told her she was being ridiculous and their meal was finished in an uncomfortable silence.
In the car on the way home Myra once again levelled accusations at Tim for flirting while retorting that her behaviour with the waiter was nothing of the sort.
As Tim pulled up to the kerb outside Myra’s building she jumped out slamming the door behind her and rushed inside with no further comment, leaving Tim wondering how they were still together after two years especially when Myra’s jealous rages had grown over the past few weeks. In all honesty he knew the reason he was still with her. He loved her above everything, and hoped that one day she’d realise that. He knew her past well enough to also realise that she had been through the mill with relationships, especially the last one before they had met.
Having run through the whole sorry saga from the night before in his mind once more Tim picked up his mobile and after a few seconds indecision called Myra’s number again.
“Hello,” said a deep voice that Tim didn’t recognise when the phone was answered.
“Hello? Who is this?” Tim asked brusquely having been caught off guard.
“Mr Wilson. It is Tim Wilson, isn’t it? That’s the name that came up.” the voice told him down the line.
“Yes, but…” Tim stuttered. His mind raced trying to work out who the voice could belong to.
“Mr Wilson. My name is Officer Hedman. I’m sorry, but ….” The line went quiet.
‘Had the officer hung up? Was the call cut off?’ Tim wondered, his mind full of worry, as he shouted into the dead line, “Officer, Officer.”