ringing. It was eight o’clock; she was usually awake by that time, but lately she had been taking sleeping pills and they seemed to make it more difficult to get up in the mornings.
It was Melanie on the phone. ‘Have you seen the papers?’ she demanded shrilly.
‘No,’ replied Edna, already resigned to the bad news they would no doubt contain.
‘I
warned
you, I
told
you we should have gone with them.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ll be right over.’
Edna climbed reluctantly out of bed. She knew what it would be, some item about Al and another woman. There were always items about Al and other women. Ignore them, he had continually told her. Never believe anything you read in the papers. Melanie appeared to take every word as gospel, and she never allowed an item to slip by Edna unnoticed.
The kitchen was already occupied by the maid and Nelson, who were enjoying a bacon and egg breakfast.
The maid, a strapping Italian, asked in her careful English, ‘Something, madam?’
‘Coffee,’ said Edna nervously, ‘for two. In the lounge.’ What she really wanted to say was ‘Get out of my kitchen, my house, my life.’ What she really wanted to do was make herself a hot sweet cup of tea and some thick fattening toast liberally spread with strawberry jam.
She had ordered coffee because it was what Melanie preferred. ‘Tea is for peasants,’ Melanie would sniff.
The newspapers were in a neat pile on the hall table, but Edna purposely left them untouched. Why spoil Melanie’s fun?
She walked in to the lounge and gazed out of the French windows into the garden. It was the start of another beautiful day, and the pool gleamed invitingly. Swimming was good exercise, maybe she should swim more. If only Nelson wasn’t always lurking round the pool. When she put on her bathing suit he seemed to stare at her in a peculiar way, a penetrating way. She would have to ask Al to get rid of him. It really wasn’t fair of Al to tell her not to be silly, it wasn’t him he stared at.
Melanie came striding purposefully across the garden. She was wearing a purple track suit, and without make-up her prettiness faded and was replaced with a petulant, pinched look.
Edna unlocked the French doors and let her in.
‘Take a look at this!’ Melanie thrust a paper at her.
On the front page there was a photograph of Al sitting in an open car smiling at a girl who gazed back at him with a faintly mocking smile. She was a very beautiful girl with long legs propped on the dashboard and a seductively unbuttoned shirt. The caption read ‘Al King Meets His Queen’, and underneath, in smaller print, it said, ‘Al King enjoys a get-together with American beauty queen, Dallas. They will appear together on Al’s forthcoming television spectacular.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Edna explained, placing the newspaper carefully down, ‘just publicity.’
‘Just publicity,’ jeered Melanie, ‘
just publicity
. Are you blind? Look at the way he’s looking at her.’
‘It’s publicity, Melanie. Al has to do these sort of things.
I
don’t mind, so I don’t see why
you
should.’
‘Oh, charming! I’m trying to help you, Edna. If you’re too naive to see what’s going on,
I’m
not. Al is making a fool of you, and if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times, you should be by his side – otherwise one of these days you’re going to
lose
him.’
The Italian maid came in with the coffee. ‘Where, madam?’ She smiled knowingly. Had she heard? Edna gestured to the table. Damn Melanie and her loud voice.
‘I can’t stay for coffee,’ Melanie snapped, ‘I have a masseur coming over.
Think
about what I’ve said.
Think
about the position you may find yourself in. It’s not too late – yet.’ She flounced out the same way she had come in, leaving Edna in a state of flux.
Lose Al. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. But was she being naive? Was Al making a fool of her? Edna shook her head in disbelief. She trusted him.
It was Melanie on the phone. ‘Have you seen the papers?’ she demanded shrilly.
‘No,’ replied Edna, already resigned to the bad news they would no doubt contain.
‘I
warned
you, I
told
you we should have gone with them.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ll be right over.’
Edna climbed reluctantly out of bed. She knew what it would be, some item about Al and another woman. There were always items about Al and other women. Ignore them, he had continually told her. Never believe anything you read in the papers. Melanie appeared to take every word as gospel, and she never allowed an item to slip by Edna unnoticed.
The kitchen was already occupied by the maid and Nelson, who were enjoying a bacon and egg breakfast.
The maid, a strapping Italian, asked in her careful English, ‘Something, madam?’
‘Coffee,’ said Edna nervously, ‘for two. In the lounge.’ What she really wanted to say was ‘Get out of my kitchen, my house, my life.’ What she really wanted to do was make herself a hot sweet cup of tea and some thick fattening toast liberally spread with strawberry jam.
She had ordered coffee because it was what Melanie preferred. ‘Tea is for peasants,’ Melanie would sniff.
The newspapers were in a neat pile on the hall table, but Edna purposely left them untouched. Why spoil Melanie’s fun?
She walked in to the lounge and gazed out of the French windows into the garden. It was the start of another beautiful day, and the pool gleamed invitingly. Swimming was good exercise, maybe she should swim more. If only Nelson wasn’t always lurking round the pool. When she put on her bathing suit he seemed to stare at her in a peculiar way, a penetrating way. She would have to ask Al to get rid of him. It really wasn’t fair of Al to tell her not to be silly, it wasn’t him he stared at.
Melanie came striding purposefully across the garden. She was wearing a purple track suit, and without make-up her prettiness faded and was replaced with a petulant, pinched look.
Edna unlocked the French doors and let her in.
‘Take a look at this!’ Melanie thrust a paper at her.
On the front page there was a photograph of Al sitting in an open car smiling at a girl who gazed back at him with a faintly mocking smile. She was a very beautiful girl with long legs propped on the dashboard and a seductively unbuttoned shirt. The caption read ‘Al King Meets His Queen’, and underneath, in smaller print, it said, ‘Al King enjoys a get-together with American beauty queen, Dallas. They will appear together on Al’s forthcoming television spectacular.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Edna explained, placing the newspaper carefully down, ‘just publicity.’
‘Just publicity,’ jeered Melanie, ‘
just publicity
. Are you blind? Look at the way he’s looking at her.’
‘It’s publicity, Melanie. Al has to do these sort of things.
I
don’t mind, so I don’t see why
you
should.’
‘Oh, charming! I’m trying to help you, Edna. If you’re too naive to see what’s going on,
I’m
not. Al is making a fool of you, and if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times, you should be by his side – otherwise one of these days you’re going to
lose
him.’
The Italian maid came in with the coffee. ‘Where, madam?’ She smiled knowingly. Had she heard? Edna gestured to the table. Damn Melanie and her loud voice.
‘I can’t stay for coffee,’ Melanie snapped, ‘I have a masseur coming over.
Think
about what I’ve said.
Think
about the position you may find yourself in. It’s not too late – yet.’ She flounced out the same way she had come in, leaving Edna in a state of flux.
Lose Al. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. But was she being naive? Was Al making a fool of her? Edna shook her head in disbelief. She trusted him.
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