Roxanne was leaning against her desk. Between taking bites of her sausage roll and singing the same two lines of lyrics from Bob Marley’s Could You Be Love repeatedly, she was throwing darts at the dart board hanging on the office door. ‘Yes! God I’m good. Your turn,’ she said, offering the darts to Rita.
‘Not yet.’ Rita shook her head as she wiped the greasy but crumbly pastry from around her lips. ‘These are delicious. What sausages did you use?’
Instead of going to St Pancras Gardens to eat their lunch, the 80 degree heat had forced them to change their plans and remain in the office where the fan was whirring away at recycling the warm air.
Roxanne shrugged her shoulders. ‘I've no idea. Tom’s mum made them. Think she had pastry to use up. I’ll ask her next time I speak with her if you like?’
‘Okay. The last ones I got from the supermarket were a mix of pork and beef but just weren’t as good as the butchers. Suppose you get what you pay for.’
Nodding ruefully in agreement, Roxanne said, ‘I'm saving for a chest freezer so I can start batch cooking. Should pay for itself in the end. God, I hope we’re not going to get the three-day-week again with the miners threatening to strike. Not with our mortgage.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Rita looked reflective and several minutes passed with just the sound of the fan and the darts stabbing the board. ‘Mum said she doesn't know why she's getting through loads of money, but, she, um, well, I asked her to go over what she's bought. She couldn't. So she's putting it down to things having gone up. But I noticed there were more cans in our dustbin and she thinks it could be the neighbours.’
‘Bulls eye again!’ Grinning hugely, Roxanne turned to face her friend and again held out the darts. Getting the nod, she put them within Rita's reach. ‘Pity they don’t have darts in the Olympics. Although, not sure I’d want to go to the Soviet Union. I don't know how I feel about this boycott. Do you agree with it?’
Finishing wiping her hands, Rita threw the tissue in the wastepaper bin. Picking up the darts she went around the desk and readied herself. And aimed. It fell short, landing on the floor. ‘It’s an awful thing invading a country. I just feel for those athletes. All those years of training and then they don’t get to compete. That has to be devastating.’ She threw the second dart with more force. It went over the board and got stuck in the picture rail. ‘Damn! How we going to get that down?’
‘Brian can do it. Sorry, what was that about your mum losing money?’
‘She’s not sure where she's spent it. Maybe she’s mislaid it. I’ll have a good look with her at the weekend.’ She eyed her last dart and sighed. ‘What are the chances it’ll even hit the dartboard?’
Roxanne laughed. ‘You got to believe in yourself.’
‘I tried and failed!’ It had hit the glass in the door at the precise time that Brian was on the other side of it.
He didn’t look too happy as he picked up the dart. Pushing it into the dart board, he said, ‘Not exactly safe, wouldn't you say?’ In his left hand he was absently manipulating the two juggling balls Roxanne had got for him. From his trouser pocket he pulled out a fax message. ‘Here. I like this one. Poor bloke. Give it an answer. Take something out if you have to.’
Roxanne answered, ‘What’s not safe? It’s only us in here. Brian, fancy a quick game?’
Sighing heavily, he pushed a hand through his hair. ‘No can do,’ he said pulling the door shut behind him.
Roxanne and Rita exchanged a questioning look. That speedy entrance and exit was not like Brian. They could tell something was awry.
The draft reply read:
Dear Mr Anonymity. Take your wife away somewhere nice to reconnect and spend some quality time with her. Show her that she means the world to you.
R. & R.
7th story in the R&R Agony Aunt series. Copyright Robyn Cain, August 2024
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