Page 50 of A Wish For Wilma
Back home, Wilma cracked open a bar of chocolate and nibbled a square. She flipped her phone over and over in her hand. To message Gus, or not to message? She’d half-hoped he’d message first, breaking down the barrier created by the reappearance of his ex-wife, but days had passed since their last communication. She missed him. There, she’d said it.
Licking a trace of chocolate off her finger, Wilma hesitated. Like Sadiq, she’d made changes, but for what purpose? To please others, or to prolong a life already long by many people’s standards? Jinnie called her rebellious, whilst Rob and Kath nagged her in a good-natured way. She’d always marched to the beat of her own drum.
Eric had never criticised her lifestyle choices, despite being the kind of person who only smoked on high days and holidays and rarely drank. ‘We only get one turn around this planet,’ he used to say. ‘Too often it’s cut short, regardless of how virtuous someone is. Life is for living, Wilma, because—’
You’re a long time deid.
Had Eric foreseen his own premature death? Wilma scoffed at the idea. He’d been the definition of pragmatic, with no time for flights of fancy — unless it involved the bedroom…
Wilma batted away memories of her marriage. She rarely allowed them in these days. Her broken heart had healed, piece by piece, and she’d found new ways to wade through the quagmire of life. Tea-leaf readings had been a distraction, recently replaced by crystals. How Eric would laugh at the woman she’d become. Or would he smile in that Eric-like way, full of love and acceptance for all that she was and was not?
Wilma wiped away a tear. The single drop multiplied and coursed down her cheeks. ‘Eric, if you were here now you’d not believe a single thing that’s happening. Genies all over the joint, a wish I’ve nae clue about, and Gus. Oh, but you’d remember Gus.’
Caught up in a snotty-tissue moment, Wilma didn’t immediately hear the ping of her phone. Then she registered a notification, from Gus. Eyes blurry and fingers trembling, she opened it.
Wilma, what can I say except I’m sorry. Friends don’t behave the way I’ve done but it’s all gone a bit pear-shaped. Or rather, Shirley-shaped. Which is a shape that… Sorry, burbling on. Can I drop by later to talk? xx
Later? Wilma checked the time. Just after seven pm, so not too late for a visit. She typed a reply:I did have a hot date with a fellow octogenarian but he cancelled on me. Couldnae get off his chair, so luckily I’m free. See you in a bit.Churlishly, she didn’t add a kiss. Being cast aside like a holey pair of socks hurt, even if this was only friendship.
Another message arrived, this time from Jinnie.
Hope you’re getting a rest, Gran. It’s full-on fun here, and I’m not being remotely sarcastic?Dhassim’s had us playing Twister. That’s challenging at the best of times and even more so when your midsection is double its usual size. Oh, and Aaliyah mixed a jug of some weird cocktail and is well on the way to being hammered. Sleep tight. Love you xxxxxxx
No kiss shortage there. Wilma replied with a string of emojis including several hearts, a smiling face and a grey-haired granny. She’d sent Jinnie an aubergine once and been reprimanded for its ‘other’ meaning. As if a purple vegetable resembled a man’s willy! Unless you knew some very strange men…
The doorbell chimed. Jeez, that was quick! Had Gus been circling the streets, desperate to see her? Unable to stay away a moment longer, maybe, his true feelings bursting out of his well-honed chest like the creature that ripped poor John Hurt apart inAlien…
‘Erm, hello.’ A woman she’d never seen before stood in the doorway, clutching something close toherchest. A weapon, perhaps? Probably not an alien, although nothing would surprise Wilma these days.
‘Hello. Can I help you?’ Wilma regretted not keeping the door chain in place. Totally exposed, she risked being attacked, beaten and left for dead. Except this woman looked as scary as a scatter cushion.
‘I’m Shirley.’ The woman lowered her arms, revealing not a machete but a tin of Quality Street. Probably not hefty enough to club someone over the head, though the toffee fingers had their own dangerous properties.
‘As in Gus’s Shirley?’ How many other Shirleys did she know? Apart from Shirley Temple, Shirley MacLaine and the dancing-show judge. Shirley Ballsup, as she liked to call her.
‘I used to be.’ Shirley proffered the tin and Wilma accepted it cautiously. Unlikely to be an explosive device, but you could never be too careful.
‘Please come in.’ Wilma stood aside to let Shirley through. She scanned the street for any sign of Gus, but couldn’t see Vincent or Barry.
‘Sorry to turn up like this,’ said Shirley, who wasn’t the bosomy slattern of Wilma’s imagination, but a petite woman with short auburn hair and flinty grey eyes. ‘You’re no doubt wondering why I’m here.’
‘I am indeed. And I’m also wondering how you know where I live.’ Wilma doubted Gus had divulged her address unless Shirley’s meek demeanour concealed a talent for torture.
‘Gus has never changed his phone passcode, so it took me seconds to access his contacts and find your details.’ Shirley's eyes twinkled with glee.
‘And why would you want to do that?’ asked Wilma. ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on between you and your ex-husband, but it has nothing to do with me.’
‘Really?’ Shirley raised a pencilled-in eyebrow. ‘Because since I came back it’s been Wilma this, Wilma that, Wilma is so wonderful and the sun shines out of Wilma’s back passage.’So the kitten has sharp little claws after all.
They remained in the hallway, Wilma having no intention of welcoming this woman any further into her home. She could take her tin of chocolates — a strange offering under the circumstances — and shove them up her—
‘I know Gus will be here soon,’ said Shirley. ‘Another benefit of being able to access his phone. However, I accidentallyblocked the toilet with two rolls of Andrex, so he’ll be unclogging for a while.’
From scatter cushion to loo assassin in a matter of minutes. Wilma wished DJ was around to do his invisibility thing and scare this horrible woman away. Couldshewish her away?
‘I can’t see the attraction myself,’ said Shirley. ‘No offence, but you’re much older than I expected.’
‘You’re no oil painting,’ countered Wilma. ‘If you’ve come here to insult me, I suggest you take your cheap sweeties and do one.’
