Trio - [60]

‘Take your jeans off,’ he said hoarsely.

She did, feeling the cool air of the room on her thighs. He removed his clothes and they lay side by side on the narrow bed. He rubbed her breasts again and when he rolled her nipple between his fingers she gave a mew of pleasure which made him swear softly. She touched his willy again, began to slide her hand up and down. He pushed a finger inside her, then another. She rocked her hips, straining. Wanting more. Flames danced along her arms and the back of her legs and she began to repeat his name to the rhythm he was using.

‘Nina,’ he said thickly, ‘I want to do it with you.’

She felt a fresh flare of desire. ‘Don’t come… you know.’

‘I’ll pull out.’ He kissed her and she opened her legs as he climbed over her. He withdrew his fingers and she felt him nudge against her. He pushed and slid in. She had expected more pain but it felt good. He braced himself on his arms and moved in and out. She wanted him to go faster, she gripped his buttocks. ‘Yes, Gary, Yes!’

He pulled away, gasped.

‘No!’ she cried.

He flopped on the bed beside her. ‘Oh, Nina, oh wow! That was great.’

She had a stitch in her side. She felt goosebumps break across her skin and the sour disappointment washed through her. So that was it. Big deal. She ached with frustration, tempted to move her hand and show Gary what would make her feel great.

The door flew open and the light snapped on. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms about herself.

‘Bloody hell!’ Chloe’s voice. ‘Sorry, but my Dad’s here and if you want a lift home you’re going to have to come now.’

Megan

There were two couples browsing and a single woman. She always let them take their time, none of that rushing to make a sale. The longer they stayed the more likely they were to buy, and once they got around to asking her about a particular roll or for a quote she could do her sales pitch then.

Brendan was off on a big job. They’d swung a contract with the university, fitting heavy-duty carpets and wear-resistant cord in the new halls of residence. It was just the boost they needed. They’d be able to complete on the loan and give Ronnie the bit they still owed him. It was a bloody marvellous feeling, to be getting level and knowing that everything else they made they could spend on themselves, on the kids and the house. Another big contract and there’d be the chance of a holiday, a proper holiday, Costa del Sol or somewhere. Mind you, it was so hot this summer you didn’t need to go abroad. An official drought, hose pipe bans and of course business in the shop had slowed down – most people couldn’t imagine wanting snug wall-to-wall when it was blazing out there.

One of the couples asked for a quote. The woman reminded her of Mia Farrow, big eyes and that elfin look to her. Megan established the size of the house and whether they wanted underlay – which really was recommended if they wanted maximum life from the carpets and better insulation – and fitting. She gave them two estimates based on the roll they’d chosen and a similar but slightly more expensive version which she explained had a greater mix of wool and would wear better.

She let them hum and haw a bit but she knew they’d go for the better buy, you could tell money wasn’t the main thing with them: they both had good leather coats on and his watch wasn’t off Longsight market. She took the order and arranged a time for Brendan to measure up. They’d three lads doing the fitting but he tended to do the initial measuring. You only needed to be a few inches out and you could really cock it up. And that would eat into any profit you made.

She’d just finished with the customers when the phone rang. It was her sister Kitty. Megan was surprised. She never rang her at work.

‘What is it?’

‘Megan. It’s Daddy. There’s been an accident.’

‘Oh, God!’

‘He got knocked down. He’s dead.’ She broke down.

‘Where’s Mammy?’

‘At home now, I’m with her here. We’ve just got back from the hospital.’

‘I’ll be over right away.’

Mammy had insisted on a traditional Irish wake with them up all hours eating and drinking and talking about Anthony. Open house for the whole parish.

He’d been a popular figure in the market and at the pub, though Megan wasn’t quite sure why. He’d been addled with drink a lot of the time, he’d never been a particularly generous man, not even with his affections, though he got sentimental sometimes when he’d had a few. But he’d never been violent, he’d never belted them like so many she knew. Mammy had never had to cover bruises or lie about walking into doors. He’d been rough with his tongue, now and then and that was bad enough.

Megan passed around open rolls with thick slices of ham and beef on and a dish of pickles. Someone kicked off ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ and they all joined in, even her three sat by their Nana, though Chris’s eyes were wide and fixed, the poor lamb was shattered. She’d never really forgiven her father for not letting her and Brendan get married back then. It had seemed such a cruel refusal. As the years had gone by she saw just as much of him but she felt distant from him. She’d lost the passion he’d inspired in her as a little girl when she had run to show him, tell him… Her kids had liked him well enough but he wasn’t always there when they went round. Once the stall was shut Anthony preferred to relax with his mates rather than at home and his routine never varied. If it was within opening hours and not a meal time he’d be at the bar no matter who was coming to visit.