‘Ethel McIver?’
Effie sighed, gathered up her belongings and pushed ruminations about her daughter aside. She held her stomach muscles taut as she walked into the consulting room. At least she could make an appearance of being fit.
Dr Gordon greeted her with his usual rather tired smile.
‘So how are we today?’
‘I am fine’ she replied cheerfully, placing her ample backside on the faded leather chair.
‘Let’s see’ he muttered as he produced the blood pressure machine, peering at the dial as the apparatus tightened.
‘Sleeping OK?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘Bowels OK?’
‘That bit of me’s fine.’ Which was true and something Effie prided herself on since it accorded with her view of herself as a well-organised person. It had become something of a running joke in the family that she would disappear into the bathroom exactly twenty minutes after her first cup of coffee in the morning. Even Jack had been known to boast that he could set his watch by his wife’s bowel movements. Typical of his crude sense of humour.
The band round her arm was slackening and Dr Gordon caught her eye for the first time. ‘Blood pressure is still a bit higher than it should be. Nothing to worry about but keep taking your pills and perhaps think about your lifestyle. Watch the diet, gentle exercise, you know. Keep an eye on the alcohol. Maybe get out a bit more?’
Effie felt her face going red under the scrutiny and cursed to herself. So did he see her as a pathetic old lady who stayed home watching the box and hitting the bottle? And what was wrong with that anyway? She knew her life was a bit dull but the discovery that blood pressure mattered and could not be so easily controlled had come as a bit of a shock a few months ago. She certainly didn’t feel old, just a bit tired some of the time. Not particularly young either. Get out more?
Dr Gordon was still fiddling with the Velcro armband as Effie juggled her view of herself in her head. He finally extracted the strap with a tug and as he did so his hand brushed against her breast. He hardly appeared to notice as he wound up the machine, but Effie registered a sudden skip of her heartbeat. Actually, he wasn’t so bad looking... a definite flicker of excitement which was quickly followed by a flop into self-deprecation. Perhaps she was pathetic, if this was the nearest thing to a man touching her in a remotely arousing way that she’d experienced in several years. How galling to admit that she was going downhill? Yet while she had been sitting in the waiting room it had been she who had been looking at the other patients, at their drooping blank-looks, depressed submissiveness, convinced that she was the perky one.
Time to go. She rolled down her sleeve and made a cheerful ‘bye’ as she exited the consulting room, glimpsing at her watch. Exactly 9 ½ minutes. That’s half a minute less than last time and... she made a mental note to stop herself from automatically calculating the number of minutes the doctor would save if all his patients were seen for a half minute less. Numbers were so fascinating, steadying.
She needed her wits about her for the coming evening when she was going to baby-sit for daughter Cathy, picking the two girls up from a neighbour and putting them to bed. She enjoyed her role as regular baby-sitter even if it could be exhausting. Her grandchildren, or grandchild, as it was then, were the one thing that had kept her going after the bastard Jack had walked out on her some six or seven years ago. She considered this and the doctor’s comments as she drove herself over to fetch the girls. It was all very well for him, the doctor, to suggest she needed to watch her lifestyle, but life was tough for a single, not so young woman. She needed her indulgences. My god, life without the occasional glass of sauvignon blanc would be quite unbearable. Not to mention the not so occasional indulgence in large chocolate-covered cappuccinos with the odd almond croissant, just to bring out the flavour. No, she needed her breaks, and particularly tonight when she anticipated that by the time the girls were washed, brushed and had been read to, she would be gasping for a glass of wine.
As expected, bath time turned out to be a hugely energetic and wet affair. Daisy would insist on demonstrating what she called the ‘arky meenies principle’ which had been mentioned in her school science lesson, by jumping in and out of the bath, cheered on by an excited younger sister and a partially enthusiastic grandmother who was pleased to encourage the child’s scientific interest. A marathon story-telling followed, Effie knowing perfectly well that she was being exploited shamelessly by her grand -daughters. The soft touch in contrast to their mother who stuck firmly to bedtime rules.
By 8.07 she was breathing a sigh of relief as she sat herself down at the granite breakfast bar in Cathy’s kitchen and poured herself a large glass of Chilean Chardonnay. Well-earned she thought, stretching her aching back and enjoying the sensation as she swallowed the cool liquid, feeling her body relax. She had half an hour or so before the parents returned. They had separate engagements this Tuesday and Effie was not sure who would return first. If it was Cathy, she hoped she’d be in a good mood. She had been quite touchy recently, and if it was Jim, well, he was always considerate and kind to her. She rather prided herself on having a good relationship to her son-in-law, not too close, not too distant.
Either way, she was looking forward to having some time to herself before their return. She settled herself down on what Cathy called ‘the bum stools’ which had tractor seats moulded into the shape of a bottom which were surprisingly comfy, turned the dimmer switch to a pleasant glow and sipped her wine. She had brought a book to read which was billed as a story of modern-day life amongst a group of young hopefuls living in London, which turned out to contain passages of erotic explicitness. An office romance was developing between Bradley, the boss, and Paula, his PA. Not really her normal cup of tea, but she plunged in now as she drank the wine and felt warm in the kitchen glow, the children asleep, safe and sound upstairs, no-one about.
‘Bradley was working late and Paula was helping him with the last details of a project. Her pen slipped from her slim hand and as she bent down to retrieve it Bradley’s arm was already there, reaching not the pen which lay by her red high heel, but the delicate ankle which he touched lightly. Her foot did not move. The hand moved slowly up from the ankle, up the shapely calf, stroking it, hesitating as it reached the hem of her skirt. Still she did not move and her own hand reached down to touch his dark hair as his head came closer. The silence and tension were broken only by the sound of beating hearts as his hand continued on its journey up into the hidden crevices, and she let out a whispered ‘yes - yes’ as he caressed her secret part.....’
The steamy detail gripped Effie and the pace quickened as Bradley’s hand wrestled with the zip of his trousers, his mouth seeking Paula’s, covering her face with kisses, her neck, her throat and gasping with desire as he nuzzled her delicious bosom. ‘yes – yes’ she was pleading now’ and on Effie read with the couple finally falling back on the floor behind the office sofa, exhausted but laughing furtively.
Pretty crude stuff, thought Effie, but she was aware of an excited flickering in her lower regions, and found herself reading the passage again. The wine was having an effect. She shifted on the bar stool, eyes closed for a moment, opening them and reading the steamiest passage again.
‘Yes – yes, cried Paula as his hands struggled with the buttons on her shirt and his eager mouth sought her full lips...’
Eyes closed once more and imagining the scene, she let her hand slide between her thighs, moving rhythmically, tightening, releasing, enjoying the sensation. Yes, still there. It could be Jack’s hand. In the subdued light she sat perched on the stool clenching her thighs and her eyes at the same time, willing something to happen: ‘yes – yes - let it happen’.
‘Hi, Effie.’
She sat bolt upright. Jim! Oh God! She touched her cheek. Thank god for low lights.
‘Hi there, Effie. All quiet?’
‘Yes, fine, fine. Not a squeak. We had a lovely time. Lots of swimming at bath time with plenty of splashing and only half of it went on the floor.’ Effie laughed as she brushed her hair back from her face, hugely self-conscious, praying Jim would not notice her heightened colour. She eased herself off the stool turning to take a glass out of the cupboard, glad to have a reason to move away from the light.
‘I was sampling the Chardonnay. Not bad. Want to try some?’
‘Yes, sure’, and it was only now that Effie noticed he was rubbing his shin. ‘Something the matter?’
‘That damn garage door. Just too narrow. I always bash something when I get out. This time my shin hit the fender. It’s got a bloody sharp edge.’ He winced as he rubbed the offending area again. ‘Anyway, never mind that. So how’ve you been. Cathy tells me you’re going to the doctor tomorrow.’ He sipped his wine and smiled, attentive to Effie.
‘Well, yes, today actually. Just my usual check up, checking the blood pressure, you know. So difficult. I mean you know me and food, not to mention drink. Actually, I think I’ve lost a few pounds’ she said optimistically as she poured herself another glass, ` and I’ve no idea why unless it’s the running around with the children every week. I guess they do keep me on my toes. Bless them.’
‘You can have them any day as far as I’m concerned. Little beggars are still waking about six. Just never get a really good night’s sleep, and Rosie’s been up a few times in the night with bad dreams, monsters and things.’
‘Goodness, poor darling. Wonder what that’s about? What does Cathy think?’
‘Oh she just thinks it’s a phase... she’ll grow out of it. I mean don’t all children have bad dreams from time to time? I certainly did, and still do.’
Effie looked at Jim. The idea of him having bad dreams was a new one to her. She supposed she didn’t often think of him as a child. He just seemed to be someone who sailed through life without too many difficulties. She’d always thought that it was her children who had the problems. Yes, Cathy had been quite difficult when small, argumentative and unbiddable. Jim by contrast seemed to be a shining example of calm self-assurance, a peaceful man, and a kind man, thank goodness, who had the added attraction of loving her daughter and his children. She felt safe in the warm glow of this thought, raising her glass. ‘Cheers. And listen, I’m sure the dreams are nothing to be concerned about.’
Jim laughed. ` God, I’m not concerned so much as flipping fed up with them! They’re basically fine, but we’ve been woken up three nights in a row. - - and... damn...’ he reached down to rub his leg again.
‘Jim, let me have a look at that. It really hurts doesn’t it? Here sit down and roll up your trouser leg.’
Jim protested it was nothing, but sat himself down as directed and pulled up his trouser leg for Effie to inspect. He revealed a livid looking gash on his shin. ‘Nasty!’ she exclaimed and proceeded to busy herself searching for disinfectant and plasters. She ran some warm water into a bowl, poured in the disinfectant and dipped the cotton wool, squeezing it out before applying it to the raw wound. She gently wiped away congealed blood, dabbing and squeezing till the cut was clean. Jim was silent, watching her movements, the firm but gentle pressure, her concentration. Once clean she inspected the wound, holding his leg in her hands, a strong muscular leg. ‘I don’t think you need stitches, it’s not so deep, a nasty one but it should heal on its own.’
‘Well, I didn’t know you were a nurse. Great stuff’, he started to get up.
‘Hold on, I’m not finished. You need a plaster to keep it clean and protected.’ ‘Yes, matron,’ he smiled, and Effie returned the smile glimpsing up now at her son-in-law, catching his eye, rather lovely eyes, blue eyes, and a nice mouth too. A very attractive man.
She focussed back on his leg, the rolled up trousers, a glimpse between his legs and found herself clenching her thighs. That feeling stirred. Her eyes closed. That down there stirring. Oh god!
‘Effie?’
‘What? Sorry, just making sure it’s OK’ and she hurriedly stuck the plaster in place and got up clumsily to take the bowl to the sink. She turned the cold tap on forcefully, hardly aware that Jim was speaking, expressing his thanks. And then another sound, heard vaguely. Another key in the door. Cathy was back.
‘Hi mum. Hi there. How’s things?’ Cathy bustled in dumping her stuff on the way. ‘Wow, what a day,’ she exclaimed, not giving them a chance to speak. `You two boozing I see? Well, come on then. Can’t I join in?’