Short story 6

HELP

‘Are you okay?’

Alice directed her rhetorical question at Sheena, who was in the garden but within earshot.

And that moment’s hesitation spoke volumes.

Everyone agreed that Sheena had completely lost it after her break-up with Simon. Married 24 years 10 months 16 days. Sheena had already bought Simon a silver wine cooler with a ♥ on it, and - more embarrassingly - a silver drinks’ tray with Can’t wait for the next 25 years x engraved on it. And Alice could truthfully vouch for that, because she had accompanied Sheena to Macbeath’s to buy the tray, and to decide on the wording. So romantic! Expensive, yes, but the sentiment was heart-felt.

Thing was, everyone agreed that it was money well spent. If any couple could last 50 years then Sheena and Simon were a sure bet! Everyone said they were well matched – long before they were seen carol singing in identical Icelandic cardies and matching trapper hats. They finished each other’s sentences. Developed the same mannerisms. Settled into an easy rhythm of life. They had an aura of calm around them. Sheena and Simon. S & S. Safe and Sound. Perfect. Cosy. Together. They became the benchmark for everyone’s marriage. What would Sheena and Simon think/do/say/react/decide in any given difficult situation that could develop into a dangerous dilemma? Abbreviated by everyone to: the S&S Solution - ie: the best possible solution to a potentially bad situation.

Simon never forgot Sheena’s birthday - nor the birthdays of any of Sheena’s four sisters, for that matter. He was Sheena’s rock. Sweet as candy. Superman written right through. Bought her roses on Fridays and a mixed bouquet if she was feeling unaccountably down midweek. How could she be down? She had it all. No children, granted, but a devoted husband.

Simple tokens of affection from a man mean so much. Gives any marriage a little boost. If only Angus was more like Simon. But no matter how many times Alice had subtly slipped into conversation: Sheena is so lucky to get roses every week, or, just put the casserole in the centre of the table, Angus, thankfully there’s no vase of flowers to move, the only flowers on her table was the £4 bunch she bought herself while doing the frantic supermarket shop with 3 noisy kids in tow. But it wasn’t the same as receiving and accepting flowers from a caring man. There is an unhurried love-affirming romance to that.

It was painful to recall when Alice herself had last been given red roses. It was over 2 years ago during the marriage hiccup: Lenagate. Best forgotten. So much shit. Leaving such a bad smell. Still.

Alice sighed and breathed in deeply. But there were no perfumed roses in Sheena’s now, to neutralise that crap memory. Not now Simon was gone. He wasn’t Simple Simon any more. She doubted that the life he now lived was anything remotely simple! He was shacked up in Huntly Crescent with Mandy McIvor. Dyed blonde hair piled into a beehive. Face done up - way beyond natural. An easy smile. Green nails. Jeggings. Kitten heels. At least 15 years younger than Sheena. Shocking really. But looking back, they had got to know each other quite well. They’d met quite regularly. Well, at least every Friday. She owned Petals.

Even before Sheena had appeared in front of her in a pair of tailored taupe shorts and a striped navy tee - with a white anchor and SOS embroidered in the intertwining ropework - Alice knew her friend needed help.

For a start, she’d repainted the sunny yellow kitchen walls a foreboding black – a very dark grey, at least. What was that all about? Everyone knows that yellow is a happy colour, whereas black smacks of dark depression.

But the dead giveaway was the cry-for-help message, hidden in plain sight, amongst various post-its on the fridge door: HELP ME PLS.

After Simon left, Sheena went on a right bender.

Not an alcoholic bender. A man-hunting bender. She joined an online dating site and met a variety of inappropriate men. They were all ages, shapes and sizes, all nationalities, from all over the county. All wrong. Sheena said she didn’t have any particular type – that was obvious - as long as her date was nothing like Simon. He had proved to be unreliable, would be the polite adjective to use. Alice didn’t realise that Sheena had known such a variety of expletives. All spat out to describe her one-time soul-mate, Simon.

This would be tricky. Alice could no longer use the S&S Solution. But, huge dilemma, she didn’t know if there was an upgrade? She felt the corner of her mouth twist out of shape. This was going to be awkward. No friend could turn a blind eye to HELP ME PLS.

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    Honey                 

    Endive                

    Leeks                  

    Pepper                

    *                     

    Mustard Greens   

    Eggs                    

    *                     

    Prawns                

    Lovage                

    Sour Cream         

Sheena was attempting to impress Pierre with a seafood omelette. He had proved to be such a patient teacher. Generously - and very flamboyantly – he helped her understand the techniques of Mediterranean Cookery. She couldn’t help but be enthused. Unusual for someone who’d only ever been tasked with lunchtime sandwiches – Simon had taken charge of all the main meals. He had 7 dishes, which he invariably cooked on the same day every week. She had always felt somewhat reassured by that pattern of predictability. Tick follows tock, and all that.

Now she realised that was just plain boring.

Food should always surprise and excite. Ingredients caressed like a woman. Tickled with herbs. Cooked with passion. All spoken in that delicious accent! She stood by the fridge. Just so she wouldn’t melt! Pierre was so amazingly dishy.

She’d even updated the kitchen to a more neutral, minimalist paint scheme: Périgord Black Truffle and Chantilly Cream. A bit more stylish and chic. Very now. And apt. More conducive to a nouvelle cuisine. And if things went pear-shaped with Pierre, at least she’d be able to cook more than a week’s worth of tasty dishes!

She knew that Alice disapproved of her various short-term relationships. Her scowl spoke volumes.

But it had been a steep learning curve for Sheena. The things she could now do included:

• Put up a shelf securely - courtesy of the rugged Ashley, who explained the differences between MDF, chipboard, hardwood and marine ply; then showed her how to use a power drill; how to change the bits; explained thoroughly all the mysteries of plastic rawl plugs. He also demonstrated painting techniques including accurate cutting-in and when to use rollers; how to load & use a sealant gun; how to change a door lock; etc. All useful stuff.  Also, he helped her choose tools for a basic toolbox, and how to maintain them with the occasional squirt of WD40 and an oily rag.

One day, he started discussing various saw bench options with her, and then, where in her garage he could store his own tool collection. But Sheena decided that the relationship had now gone far enough. Still, at the end of the day, it had been 2 months of excellent DIY advice!

• Grow organic herbs & veg – under the watchful eye of Doug, who cultivated in Sheena, a growing desire to become more self-sufficient. She bought red Hunter wellies, and Doug bought her a garden fork and spade. So, she got stuck into turning over the compost heap. She soon became familiar with the growing habits of a wide range of herbs and vegetables – all handily flourishing just outside her kitchen door, or in the new greenhouse that Doug and his burly mate, Chai, had erected.

She planned to ditch Doug the next spring. Their love had indeed grown fruitfully over the year, but come late Autumn, it was rapidly fading – much like an annual.

Chai was initially impressed by her ability to grow coriander, Thai Dragon Chilli Peppers, Bok Choy and shallots. But, as it turned out, he preferred a McDonald’s Quarter Pounder with a side of large French Fries. And, anyway, he didn’t want his bestie, Doug, to find out about them. Gardeners should always avoid cold feet, so she quickly dumped him too.

• Ceroc Dancing – after the usual Saturday night’s Toad-in-the-hole, she and Simon had always vegged out in front of the telly to watch Strictly. She usually felt quite bloated. (Simon never really perfected how to make a light airy batter, despite at least 50 annual attempts.) She daydreamed about dancing – the amazing dresses, the glamorous sparkle, the fluid movement. Smiling couples in unison. Flowing together and apart rhythmically. In tune. Then she would glance at her partner, Simon, settled beside her on the sofa, having his post-meal nap – head back, mouth wide open, snoring loudly. Oh, well! That was one of the moments she felt a pique of disappointment. But now, post-Simon, all that effort in the garden had paid off and she’d managed to lose a few pounds. Maybe she could, at last, consider Elastane? So, when she saw the advert for the Ceroc Dance Class on Thursdays, she thought: Why not?

Roddy, the class teacher, took the Beginners way beyond First Move and the Basket Sway. She’d got a bit lost in the middle of the Pretzel Swizzle, so Roddy said he could do some extra-curricular with her, if she stayed behind after class. Her rondẻs were on point and Roddy guided her through the Man Comb and the Accordion Man Spin, retried the Octopus, and introduced Intermediate moves like the Shoulder Roll Drop Seducer. She was utterly hooked. Roddy put a lot of effort into the Seducer. Every Thursday, she came home elated, but exhausted!

That partnership lasted 4 months until, during a Thursday night Free Dance session (jiving to Use Somebody by Kings of Leon), Roddy dipped her suddenly and unexpectedly at the end of the track. She stumbled to gain her balance but, somehow, her 4” ceroc heel, got caught in the side split of her wide-legged catsuit. Down she went with a high-pitched scream, and a wallop to her knee. Nothing was broken. But she missed a few weeks because of the bruising. By then her partnership was in tatters - Roddy had moved onto someone newer.

• Hill Walking – Sheena had no interest in hill walking. She hadn’t been researching local hill walking groups, or anything like that.  She’d been in the Health Food Shop, Lettuce Bee Awesome, to buy Wildflower Honey and Chamomile Tea, when she spotted Scott. Hard to miss him really. Apart from the powerful pheromones, he was over 6’5” tall, sporting a blue & white chevroned Helly Hansen top, and bright pink shorts.

He had a basket, full of protein bars, but was still reading the labels of even more. When she enquired if she could help - her eyesight was above average - Scott said he was looking for bars with the highest calorific values. He was due to go on a weekend hike with a friend, but his walking chum had let him down. This chum was supposed to be taking the cooking equipment in his pack, while Scott took all the tent gear. He couldn’t manage the stove, pots & pans as well as the tent –so protein bars would have to do. She asked if she could help carry stuff.

It was a moment of utter madness!

But, at that point, she could honestly say that she had stamina, and enthusiasm for new experiences, in bucket loads. He laughed, eyed her up and down, and said: Okay. But we’ll tackle something achievable for a novice. I take it you’ve never done it before?

She went home and steeped the Chamomile teabag until it reached its strongest, and drizzled in 3 teaspoons of honey. She was still in shock at what she’d said.

Scott’s sister loaned her clothing, boots, and a large back pack. By the fifth trip into the hills, she no longer felt the unbelievable heaviness of the pack on her shoulders – to begin with, it had felt like she was carrying granite rocks. She’d now experienced the remote beauty of age-old mountains; startled ptarmigans; wild-camped on a mountain top; washed in ice-cold burns; eaten one-pot meals in the evening swilled down with some neat whisky from Scott’s hipflask. She’d knocked snow off the tent in the morning; rolled everything up into an impossibly small pack - before setting off on the second day’s adventure. You make a great Number Two mountain man, Scott had said. And he was always her number one. Strong, tough and protective.

But she never quite got used to peeing outside, especially in the dark; trying to find her boots, somewhere in the damp porch; trying to locate the door zip by head torch; then the dip in temperature hitting her, as she fumbled her way outside. Her back hated being constantly bent. It was all so cramped, and smelly, and things got easily lost in the layers of This and That, and That on top of This. And there was no double sleeping bag, as she’d imagined. Instead, Scott advised pulling on more layers at night - especially a hat. This love was not pretty, not comfy, not sustainable.

Scott suggested a weekend climbing a snow gully, with ropes and crampons. But she had already decided on a route minus Scott. It was the end of the road for them. She’d tasted adventure, but there was a cold nip to it. She preferred her memory foam mattress, ensuite bathroom, hot shower and her Original Source Mint and Tea Tree Shower Gel, with its 7,927 tingling real mint leaves. It was refreshing to put the experience behind her. But - on the positive side - she’d felt all the stronger, both physically and mentally, for having done it.

• Cookery – she’d met Pierre at Sally’s birthday party. He was doing a French Cooking demonstration - Boeuf Bourguignon. It was hands-on. And hands-on afterwards. It was an instant mutual attraction. She hoped to impress him with her cooking tonight.  But she had to talk to Alice first. She was standing right in front of her. Should she warn her? Did Alice already suspect something? 

Because Lena, Angus’s old flame, was also at Sally’s birthday party. Quizzed her about Alice. And after a few Pinot Noirs said she still had the hots for Angus. Dared her to mention anything to Alice, but Angus was bored with it all. All that mundane family stuff. Those noisy quarrelling children! That madhouse! They were just waiting for the right moment.

Deceitful bastar*s! Poor Alice. She had to say something.

‘Are you okay, Alice?’

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