Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (4 page)

He coughed. ‘I just need to grab my things; then let’s get you installed in the Red Cow, shall we?’

‘I’ll go and take my stage clothes off,’ she replied and turned to go. About halfway back to the stage she stopped and shouted to Tom: ‘You will let me buy you a drink, won’t you? I mean you must, after all you’ve done today?’

Oh fuck, thought Tom. A woman in a skintight red dress with a thigh-high split was asking him to go for a drink with her.

He nodded. ‘Just one then.’

Couldn’t hurt, could it? As long as he had Velma with him.

Chapter Three

Laura

Laura slammed the washed saucepan on to the drainer. Tom had been upstairs ‘showing Carly her room’ for the past fifteen minutes. The spare room wasn’t even that big. Only nine by eight, in fact. She remembered feeling really posh because she owned a house with a spare room. She’d never lived in a house with a spare room before. She now realised there was a very good reason not to have a spare room: so your husband couldn’t bring home every beautiful blonde waif and stray that he liked, to stay in it.

She stiffened as she heard the kitchen door open behind her. Tom came in and opened the overhead cupboard where the wine glasses lived. He was humming, for goodness’ sake. What on earth was there to hum about? She felt him approach her and bristled, then melted slightly when he landed a kiss on the back of her neck. She waited for him to speak. To request forgiveness for his outrageous behaviour or at the very least to ask for misguided reassurance that it was OK to bring a stranger into their home.

But there was silence and then to her horror she heard him leave the kitchen to go into the dining room without saying anything. No apology, no nothing. She slammed another vigorously cleaned saucepan on to the drainer.

She was just drying her hands on a towel and preparing her tirade when Tom popped his head back around the kitchen door.

‘You’d not put any glasses on the table,’ he told her.

Her jaw dropped in reply.

‘I’ve done it and I’ll set an extra place for Carly, shall I?’ He disappeared and she could hear the clanging of the cutlery drawer complemented by Tom whistling. If he made any more happy noises she thought she might actually kill him.

‘I’ve lent Carly a towel,’ he shouted from the dining room. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’

Now you ask for permission, she thought. For a
towel
! When exactly were you planning to ask permission for a blonde bombshell to invade our
home? She reached round to untie her apron. Some things needed to be made clear before this all got any further out of hand.

Bing-bong
.

‘That must be the others arriving,’ shouted Tom.

No shit, Sherlock, thought Laura, pausing to find out whether his current mystery-solving powers would actually lead him to open the door to see if he was right. The clanking and jangling of cutlery continued as he evidently decided against greeting their guests personally. Laura chucked her apron on to the counter, strutted out into the hall and for the second time that evening threw open the door. Thankfully the sight that met her this time was no surprise. There was Jerry, Tom’s best mate since forever, red-cheeked and jolly, standing next to his long-suffering and patience-of-a-saint wife, Hannah. Behind them hovered Will, Tom’s older brother, casting a lopsided grin in Laura’s direction.

‘There she is,’ cried Jerry, stepping inside with two bottles of wine swinging from his hands. ‘The hostess with the mostest. Is that the Laura Mackintyre infamous king prawn curry I can smell?’

‘No,’ replied Laura briskly, stepping forward to give Hannah a hug. ‘It’s probably Anton Du Beke. He’s dead and floating at the top of the fish tank.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Hannah.

‘
The
Anton Du Beke?’ asked Jerry.

‘Of course not,’ said Laura. How many more people did she have to explain Anton Du Beke to? ‘The goldfish was called Anton Du Beke.’

Jerry screwed his face up. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because we can,’ replied Laura.

‘I worry about you two sometimes,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘Not half as much as we worry about you,’ said Tom, strolling in and slapping Jerry on the back. ‘Hi, everyone.’

‘Tom, could you get Anton out of the tank and do something with him?’ asked Laura as she hung up Hannah’s coat. ‘I think he’s beginning to smell.’

‘Erm, I . . . erm . . .’ stuttered Tom, looking horrified. ‘I’m not sure I actually could. Will?’ he asked, turning to his brother with a hopeful look on his face.

‘It’s all right,’ said Will, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his red-and-
black-checked shirt. ‘I’ll do it. He might get his hands dirty,’ he said, winking at Laura.

‘It’s not that,’ said Tom. ‘It’s just, you know . . . it’s dead.’

‘Exactly,’ replied Will. ‘What’s it going to do? Bite you?’

‘It’ll feel all funny,’ Tom continued, screwing his face up.

‘You big jessy,’ declared Jerry.

‘You do it then,’ challenged Tom.

‘Er, no, you’re all right. Will asked first. He’s good at that sort of stuff. Anyway, where have you been all day, Tom? Thought you were popping on to site for a cuppa,’ he said, hastily changing the subject.

‘In audition hell,’ said Tom, rolling his eyes. ‘Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind but we have an extra guest at dinner.’

So he asks his friends if it’s OK, seethed Laura, but not me, his wife, the one who’s cooked the sodding dinner.

‘Will he be supplying beverages?’ asked Jerry.

‘It’s not a he, it’s a she,’ replied Tom.

‘Ooooooooh,’ Jerry said. ‘A she? Details, quick. Young, old, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, legs . . . Tell me she has legs, and most importantly of all . . . the big question . . . would you?’

‘
Jerry
,’ gasped Hannah. ‘You’ve not even met the poor woman yet.’

Laura watched as Jerry studied Tom’s reaction to his question. Tom’s cheeks took on a rosy glow.

‘Result,’ cried Jerry. ‘So where is she?’

‘Having a shower,’ replied Tom. ‘We lent her a towel, didn’t we, Laura?’

Laura couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was still slightly pink from Jerry’s interrogation and now he was passing on the responsibility for allowing Carly to rub her naked body with their towels. She blinked at him and tried the raised-eyebrows approach again to indicate that all was not well with this new situation but Tom looked away.

‘Drink, anyone?’ he asked.

‘Do chickens cross the road?’ replied Jerry, roaring with laughter at his own wit. ‘Do you get it?’

‘No,’ Laura answered.

‘It’s a joke,’ said Jerry. ‘You know, why did the chicken cross the road?’

‘I know the joke,’ Laura said, not in the mood for Jerry’s off-kilter humour. ‘It just doesn’t make sense in this context.’

‘You know your problem?’ said Jerry. ‘You overthink things. It’s a joke, that’s all.’

‘But it’s not funny,’ replied Laura.

‘Why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road jokes aren’t funny?’

‘Yes they are but you weren’t telling that joke.’

‘I was. Wasn’t I?’ he said, looking round. ‘Didn’t I just say: why did the chicken cross the road?’

‘Because she wanted to lay it on the line,’ came a voice from behind them.

Everyone turned to see Carly standing there in all her glory.

Jerry whistled under his breath. ‘Bloody hell.’

Oh, hilarious, thought Laura, staring at Carly’s beautiful sparkling red sequined strapless dress with a slit up to her . . . well, her crotch.

‘I’m rubbish at jokes,’ she said nervously when no one laughed, just stood staring at her. ‘Did that come out right?’

‘Did that come out right? Did that come out right? I have never seen anything come out so right in my life,’ boomed Jerry, glancing rapidly between her face and her hemline.

‘What a beautiful dress,’ said Hannah politely. Laura looked daggers at her.

‘Oh, I know it’s over the top,’ Carly answered, glancing at her audience dressed in their high-street best, ‘but I didn’t have anything else.’ Her eyes hovered for a moment over Will and then snapped back to look innocently at Laura.

You really had nothing other than a dress more suited to a red carpet than their cheap Ikea hall runner? thought Laura.

‘I didn’t have time to pack properly so I just bought my work clothes really which are pretty much all Lycra and I didn’t think you’d want to see me in those.’

‘Don’t know about that,’ muttered Jerry.

‘So this is Carly and she auditioned at work today – wearing this dress, I believe,’ Tom announced by way of explanation.

‘I was supposed to be like a girly devil,’ added Carly. ‘I had this big red cape over it and some little horns . . . I think I pulled it off,’ she continued, looking at Tom.

‘She blew us away,’ Tom told them all. ‘Best Halloween devil I’ve ever seen.’

The devil, mused Laura. How apt.

‘So you’re a singer?’ asked Jerry.

‘Well, a dancer really, but I can sing as well. Whatever I need to do to get work.’

‘So you’re taking in performers now?’ Jerry asked Tom.

‘It’s just temporary,’ he replied.

Jerry turned to Carly. ‘You know we have a lot of spare rooms at ours. To be honest, our house is much bigger than this one. You could have your choice of any number of guest rooms complete with walk-in wardrobes and en-suite with the latest state-of-the-art rainforest-effect shower.’

‘Jerry is a builder,’ Tom told Carly, ‘and very house-proud.’

‘Not just a builder,’ said Jerry. ‘A very successful builder.’

‘
Jerry
,’ said Hannah in a pleading tone.

‘And this is Hannah,’ continued Tom. ‘Jerry’s much better half, and my little baby brother Will.’

‘Oh,’ said Carly, gazing up at Will’s six-foot-tall frame, broad shoulders and well-cultivated facial hair.

Will bent to offer her a handshake. ‘I’m actually older than Tom but he likes to keep me in my place,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and sort out that dead fish problem for you now, shall I, my big brave brother?’ He grinned at Tom and then headed for the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

‘So,’ said Jerry eventually, slapping his hands and rubbing them together. ‘What does a thirsty man have to do to get a drink around here?’ he asked as he took Carly’s arm and led her though to the dining room. ‘Let’s find out some more about this young lady, shall we?’

Laura was staring at Carly through narrowed eyes and a fog of red wine as she reached for another cheese biscuit. If she concentrated hard enough she could picture red horns coming out of her head and red flames leaping around
in her eyes. Her tinkling laughter had punctuated the evening like daggers through Laura’s heart as she winced over her simpering at Jerry’s terrible jokes and thinly veiled flattery. Jerry had now pulled out the big guns and was in full throttle, telling Carly all about how he’d built his father-in-law’s local building firm into a thriving company specialising in leisure developments across the country.

‘I started as an apprentice and then married the boss’s daughter.’ He chuckled, winking at Hannah. ‘We were just twenty-one, can you believe it? Mind you, she’s the brains behind it all. She manages the office, deals with the suppliers, pays the wages, all that kind of stuff. I’m just the front man really, but I’m a bloody good front man. I just got a deal for two new hotels in the North-West. I won’t tell you how much it’s worth for fear of embarrassing you!’ He laughed and punched Carly lightly on the shoulder.

‘So you’re married
and
work together,’ said Carly. ‘How . . . amazing.’

‘We’re a really good team, aren’t we, love?’ Jerry smiled at his wife. ‘I bring the punters in, then Hannah organises . . . well, everything else really.’

‘I’m a qualified accountant,’ added Hannah. ‘Comes in handy when Jerry gets his numbers wrong.’

‘I don’t get them wrong very often!’ Jerry defended himself.

‘You do sometimes,’ said Hannah with a resigned smile.

‘I can’t help it if I bring in such enormous deals that it gets complicated,’ replied Jerry. ‘This woman is a goddess with a spreadsheet.’ He pointed at Hannah. ‘Smartest woman I know, seriously. As I said, we make a great team.’ He leant forward and chinked his glass against Hannah’s.

‘Cheers,’ they both said in a private toast.

‘And what do you do?’ asked Carly, turning to Will. ‘I don’t think you said.’

‘Oh, I’m just an electrician,’ said Will, scratching his beard. ‘I work for Jerry and Hannah.’

‘Not really
just
an electrician, are you, Will?’ said Hannah. ‘He plans everything to do with electrics for all of our builds and manages a big team of electricians,’ she told Carly. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without him.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ replied Will, blushing slightly at Hannah’s praise.

‘It’s true,’ said Jerry, slapping him on the back. ‘You’re bloody brilliant. When I don’t understand some of the technical building stuff,’ he said to Carly, ‘I can always rely on Will to explain it to me. He makes me sound like I actually know what I’m talking about.’

‘Someone has to,’ added Hannah.

‘Exactly,’ agreed Jerry.

‘You just have to be really logical and then it all makes sense,’ said Will, shuffling awkwardly in his chair. He obviously didn’t enjoy being the subject of the conversation. ‘I like solving problems. I like that there’s a right answer. Not like what you and Tom do.’ He shrugged, looking at Carly. ‘You know, all that creative stuff. That needs real talent.’

‘Well, that’s really kind of you to say,’ replied Carly.

‘Very kind,’ agreed Tom. ‘But I think mine has long gone. Carly, however – now she really has got talent,’ he gushed.

Laura got up abruptly to clear the dishes away, glaring at Tom in a silent request for help, so that she could get him into the kitchen for a bollocking. Tom ignored her, staying in his seat to silently replenish Carly’s glass without her asking. Hannah of course leapt to her aid and followed her into the kitchen with an armful of empty plates. They glanced at each other over the kitchen table, neither knowing what to say first about how the evening was panning out.

‘Seems like a nice girl,’ offered Hannah.