Page 51 of A Wish For Wilma
Shirley bridled. ‘No need to get your knickers in a knot. I simply wanted to tell you that I’ll win Gus back. He needs a good woman in his life, and I’m the one for the job.’
‘Funny, that,’ said Wilma. ‘I could have sworn you dumped Gus and were living the life of Riley in Majorca.’
Shirley gave a derisive snort. ‘He would say that, wouldn’t he? The truth is that I got tired of him harping on about the good old days in the motherland. We agreed that he’d leave and I’d carry on the bar business. We had a fantastic life in Spain, and I’d no intention of upping sticks to return to soggy Scotland.’
‘Yet here you are.’ Wilma folded her arms, ignoring the niggling pain in her back that came from standing in one position for too long. The other pain, short-arse Shirley, was more pressing.
‘Oh, I won’t be hanging around much longer.’ Shirley gave a jubilant grin. ‘Gus is putty in my hands, always has been. Given a little time, he’ll soon realise we belong together.’
The alternative —out of sight, out of mind— threatened to escape Wilma’s mouth, but she buried it. Instead, she thrust the chocolates into Shirley’s hands and ushered her to the door. ‘I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but that would be a big fat lie. It was on a level with getting my varicose veins done. Shall I tell Gus you popped in for a cosy wee chat?’
Shirley’s grin faltered a fraction. ‘Makes no odds to me. He might not be happy about it, but he’ll soon realise where his future lies.’
Wilma watched Shirley climb into a taxi. She hadn’t noticed it outside before, and could only guess that Shirley had pre-booked it for a certain time.
No sooner had the taxi pulled away than Gus’s BMW glided into the only available spot on the street. Presumably he’d unclogged the toilet. Now, was he about to flush away Wilma’s dreams?
CHAPTER31
‘Sorry, sorry.’Gus ran a hand through his hair, creating spiky tufts that Wilma ached to smooth down. ‘There was an incident at home that took a while to fix.’
‘Not a problem.’
‘You look distinctly rattled, Wilma. Is everything OK?’
Aye, all fine and dandy. Your poisonous ex just departed after informing me that you’ll soon be all loved up and heading back to Costa del Coupledom.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, tersely.
‘Can I come in? I brought a peace offering.’ Gus handed over a plastic bag. Wilma peered inside, relieved to see no sign of gaudily wrapped chocolates. Instead, it contained a bottle of Saint Emilion Grand Cru and what looked like tinned dog food. On closer inspection, it turned out to be ravioli. ‘I didn’t know if you’d eaten already. It’s not haute cuisine, but it heats up in minutes and tastes better than it looks.’
‘I had dinner earlier with Jinnie and Sam, so I’m not hungry.’
Hovering in the hallway again, Wilma had two choices. Ask Gus politely or not so politely to leave, or hear him out. The lure of the wine won her over. At least, that’s what she told herself. ‘If you want, you can eat that tinned stuff. There’s some parmesan in the fridge to make it more palatable.’
Without a backward glance, Wilma stomped into the kitchen. She made a show of clattering pans around, selecting the least non-stick one and thrusting it into Gus’s hand. ‘You know where the tin opener is, and the corkscrew’s never far away.’ Wilma regretted her cockiness, as said corkscrew wasn’t in its usual place.
‘It’s here.’ Gus moved a garlic press and a set of chopsticks to reveal the essential item. Wilma rarely used garlic, and chopsticks? An unwanted gift, as pointless as a stopper to preserve leftover wine. What weirdo ever had leftover wine?
Gus tipped the ravioli into the pan with an unappetising squelch.Rather him than me.Wilma reached for wine glasses — cheap ones from IKEA, not the nice crystal ones she usually used.
Gus opened the wine and turned the heat up under the pan. Wilma poured, making sure her glass held more than his. Childish, but she felt like throwing a full-blown tantrum. Being old didn’t stop you from having feelings, though getting old often meant heart problems of the medical kind, rather than the ones associated with unrequited love. She quaffed her wine and sniffed the acrid air. ‘Smells like something’s burning.’
Gus muttered an expletive and pulled the pan to one side. He stirred the contents with a wooden spoon before scraping them into a bowl. ‘Nothing wrong with a few black bits,’ he said, helping himself to parmesan. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’
You can, but not with charred pasta.‘No thanks,’ she said.
Gus sat down at the kitchen table and Wilma joined him, passing over a fork and his wine glass. ‘I know I’ve been off the radar, Wilma, but this atmosphere is frostier than a penguin’s toes. I came here to try to explain but I’m sensing something.’
‘Really?’ Wilma attempted to outstare him, but found herself dropping her gaze. ‘I dinnae ken what you mean and I’m pretty sure penguins don’t have toes.’
Gus looked down at his bowl before pushing it aside. ‘OK, I’m neither David Attenborough nor psychic, but you’re upset and I’d hate to be the cause of it. Iamthe cause, right?’
Wilma took a deep breath. Either she confessed that Shirley had been here moments before and laid her cards on the table, or she kept schtum and let Gus speak. The latter seemed a better choice. ‘Gus, your message mentioned your ex. Far be it from me to pry into your private life, but if you’re getting back together, just say it. It’s not as if we’re a couple or anything daft like that.’ Wilma sucked in her cheeks, hoping for a neutral expression.
‘Aren’t we?’ Gus looked hurt. ‘I don’t know the exact definition of a couple, but if it means two people who enjoy each other’s company, we tick that box.’
‘That’s friendship, which is a different thing altogether. I’m friends with lots of people — well, some — but I don’t want to go on mini breaks with them. I don’t want to spend time with them the way I spend time with you. I like you, Gus. I like you a lot.’
