CHAPTER FIVE - SALUTARY TALES AND DOWNRIGHT LIES

Simone arrives with a bombshell for Paula - but is she telling the truth?

Only too soon dinner was eaten and the guest David had slowly and hesitantly prepared to leave for his own home … “I'd best be off … that was a great meal! … I'll see you around, Paula … are we on the Rec next Sunday, for tennis? … I'll look out for you unless... unless … unless...” as he went towards the door.

“Yes, David?” asked Paula.

“Unless you'd like … there's a quiz at the Angel tomorrow night … I usually go and join in when I can … never win, though, some of the chaps are good, too good for me, I'm afraid....”

“You want me to come with you?”

“We could be a team of two. I need someone with brains...”

“I might,” murmured Paula slowly, “though I wouldn't be so sure about the brains...”

“Shall I call, then...” He looked at Paula's dad who was busy washing the few things dirtied by a microwave meal for three. He needed approval, something rare in youth, but it had something to do with the way he'd been brought up.

“You often say you wish you had something to do in the evening,” murmured her dad. “Right, that's almost done " I'm off for a comfy seat in the front room when I've finished here.”

“Okay, I will then,” she agreed as David vanished out of the door.

She followed him as far as the street, said goodbye and returned to her father. It had been an unusual Sunday lunch. I hope he doesn't think we're hopeless, she thought, giving him a microwaved roast beef dinner!

“He seems like a nice boy,” said her dad mildly as he finally finished doing the washing up and emptied the sink.

“Perhaps,” sighed Paula. “But I'm confused. He was with Simone and they were holding hands really tightly. They looked … as if they were an item … as if they were together.”

“He told me he doesn't particularly like her,” murmured her father, leading the way into the front room.

“I know what my eyes saw,” muttered Paula.

“Let me tell you a little story, Paula,” began her father.

“One of your salutary tales?” she asked, grinning suddenly.

“Maybe.”

“Get on with it, then...”

“When I was a much younger man and fancy free I really fancied this girl, but she already had a boyfriend, a bloke in the rugby team. Not your mother, Paula: it was before I met her, poor soul. Anyway, one day we happened, quite by chance, to bump into each other outside our local pub … I forget which one … and I'd had one over the eight, so to speak. I was truly sloshed! I've never been that bad since because, tell the truth, it's not pleasant at all. Anyway, I was plaiting my legs like a jolly sailor-boy on leave when this girl hove into view and I developed a pair of beer-goggles that instant. She was pretty, but obviously not quite as pretty as I thought there and then.”

“Dad, were you a bit of a rogue back then?” asked Paula.

“No worse than most and better than some,” he replied obliquely. “Anyway, I made a move towards that girl and my legs tied themselves in knots under me, and I started falling. In desperation I blindly reached out for the first thing I could find that would save me, and that first thing happened to be the hem of her skirt...”

“Dad!”

“Anyway, I still fell onto the ground anyway and tore the knees of my trousers … my best pair, I recall, back in the days when an ordinary lad like me only had one best pair of trousers! But the worst thing was I had her skirt in my hand. It was round her ankles, but still in my hand! And it was only a scrap of material really, smaller than that tennis skirt you were wearing earlier...”

“That's disgusting, dad!”

“It's a warning not to approach a pretty girl when you've had a skinful,” he suggested. “Anyway, just as this happened her boyfriend came by and when he saw what he thought was something akin to rape he threatened to turn me into pulp. But the girl, bless her, had known what was going on and was actually laughing at my stupidity. She explained that I'd tripped on my own legs and it was all an accident, and he grudgingly believed her and I got off without the hammering he might have given me.”

“The hammering you deserved, dad,” reproved Paula.

“Maybe,” he conceded, “but you see what I mean. Not everything's what it might seem to be and the decent David might not have been holding Simone by the hand...”

“But I saw it!” protested Paula.

“She might have been holding his...” said her dad. “And that's a very different thing,” he added.

There was a sudden knock on the door. They looked at each other, Paula raised her eyebrows and her dad shrugged his shoulders.

“It might be David come back, for seconds,” he suggested.

She got up, yawned and said she'd see who it was.

It was Simone, still in her tennis outfit, skirt a great deal too short " you could see her underwear even when she was standing still - and holding a racquet as if it was some kind of weapon.

“Simone!” exclaimed Paula, “I'm in with dad. We were talking ... about you, as it happens!”

“What was it? Something nice I hope,” grinned Simone, pushing past Paula without having been invited in. “If it's about me I'd best join in because I'm the expert!”

She breezed into the front room where Paula and her dad had been sitting.

“Hello Mr Potts,” she said with that captivating smile of hers.

“Hello Simone,” he said, “what can we do for you?”

“I thought I'd come and tell Paula,” whispered Simone, “I know she'd love to know.”

“Tell her what?” asked Paula's dad.

“About me and David. It's really exciting news.”

Paula felt her heart freezing inside her. “What it?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“I'm so excited,” babbled Simone, “you see, I think I'm going to have a baby, and David's the father!”