The first chapter of Don’t Blame It On The Sunshine !
Chapter 1
May 1973
Debbie ran out of the office and along the street. She was already over twenty minutes late for a lunchtime drink with Beryl and Sandra at the Bull’s Head. Fending off ‘Rampant Ron’ the Office Manager was turning into a full-time job of its own. Even though he had met her husband, Harry, at the previous year’s Christmas party, Ron had never given up on adding Debbie to the rather dubious (considering his clouds of dandruff and comb-over) list of conquests that he insisted on bragging about to any visiting sales manager.
Harry was working nights at the rail company and the cutbacks meant she really needed her job. As Debbie tore along the road, she imagined winning the Football Pools and telling her letch of a boss where to stick his job.
It was a sunny day and Debbie felt like ‘sweaty Betty’ by the time she entered the bar.
Beryl and Sandra turned and stopped talking.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late. I know you’ve been waiting, but I got stuck on my own in the office with Ron. You know what he’s like,’ Debbie said.
Beryl held her hand up, JPS in hand, stream of smoke billowing from her nostrils. ‘Debbie! Stop NOW! Don’t you worry, love. Why don’t you and Sandra go find a table in the garden? I will get the drinks … G&T?’
Debbie really would have preferred a refreshing soda and lime but Beryl looked so like a dragon she dared not argue. Sandra grabbed Debbie’s arm and took her out into the garden.
‘Is everything ok, Sandra?’
‘Yes, of course, Debbie. We just have some news. Beryl will tell you in a minute.’
Debbie had an immediate sense of foreboding but she knew Sandra would never dare say a thing without Beryl. They made their way through the thronging lunchtime drinkers to find a table. A group stood up to leave. Sandra pounced to claim ownership, sitting down before the previous occupants had collected all their things. One of them tutted and Debbie smiled apologetically.
Beryl came out with the drinks.
‘Get that down you, you will need it,’ she said, placing the G&T in front of Debbie.
‘Here, why don’t you have one of these as well?’ Sandra offered Debbie a cigarette.
‘No thanks, Sandra. What’s happened? Please tell me.’
Debbie looked at Beryl, who sighed as if unburdening herself of a terrible secret.
‘You know Babs, don’t you Debbie?’
‘The slut,’ Sandra muttered.
Beryl glared sideways at Sandra, who shut up.
Babs was the barmaid at the Bull’s Head, but Debbie preferred to call her Barbara.
Beryl carried on. ‘Well, you know me Debbie? I don’t like to gossip, but I feel it’s best you know … She has been having an affair with a married man and I’m sorry to say this but…’ Beryl paused before stating the bloomin’ obvious. ‘Well I may as well just come out and say it! It’s Harry.’
Debbie stared back dumbfounded.
Beryl decided to fill the silence.
‘I’m sorry love but I thought it best to come right out and say it, there’s no point in messing about. Although, to be honest, from what I’ve been hearing there has been quite enough of that already.’
Debbie noticed Beryl raise an eyebrow at Sandra and it jolted her back from her thoughts.
‘I don’t believe you! Why are you saying this? What proof do you have?’
Sandra went to grab her hand but Debbie pulled away, grabbing her G&T and took a large glug. ‘I think I will have that cigarette, Sandra, please,’ Debbie asked.
‘Of course, here you are.’ Sandra opened the black and gold pack of JPS, and they all took one and lit up. Debbie took a long hard drag. She instantly felt dizzy but was not sure if it was the cigarette or Beryl’s news.
Sandra babbled on. ‘Oh Debbie, I’m so sorry. Beryl heard Alf last night talking to some of the regulars. We thought it best you knew.’
Debbie felt slightly better as she thought of Alf, the landlord at the Bull’s Head.
‘Oh for god’s sake! You know what Alf is like, he’s such a gossip,’ Debbie said.
‘I’m sorry Debbie, this time he’s telling the truth. Apparently the affair has been going on for months. Harry has been knocking off early and coming here, sometimes spending the whole evening drinking, night after night, then staying upstairs with Babs. I couldn’t let you carry on “not knowing”, not while all the time we knew.’
‘Who else knows?’ Debbie started to panic.
‘Well Brian and Nick know of course, so does Tim and Bev and Alf obviously, but you know that already. Oh, and I’m not sure but I think…’ Sandra stopped talking mid-sentence when Beryl glared at her to shut up.
Nick and Brian were Sandra and Beryl’s husbands, Tim and Bev were regulars at the pub. Beryl rolled her eyes towards Sandra before looking back to Debbie. ‘Anyway, I was talking to Alf a minute ago and apparently Babs is at the Cash and Carry but is due back any minute. I would imagine you’d like to have a word with her?’
‘How about I go and get us another drink?’ Sandra asked anxiously.
Beryl nodded, as if it was a good idea. Debbie didn’t answer. She was lost in her own thoughts. She did not want to give Beryl the satisfaction of making a scene in front of a packed pub. She remembered how she had come down to the pub the previous weekend for Sunday lunch with Harry and the kids. She felt a flush of shame. Had everyone been laughing at her behind her back? She thought of the times their children, thirteen-year-old Lindsay, eleven-year-old Mac and eight-year-old Gary were forced to be quiet when Harry arrived home from work, and how Harry complained they were always short of money for housekeeping. She thought about the times she had sat at home bored, evening after evening. What about the way he was with Mac and Gary? She found his violent tirades against them for waking him up or sometimes just asking a question difficult to tolerate. The simplest of conversations could turn into a massive row, especially if he had been drinking. And always he blamed it on being tired from the nights he worked.
‘I’ve got to go home and speak to Harry. Tell work I’ve had an emergency and will get back as soon as possible?’
‘Don’t you want to wait and have a word with Babs?’ Beryl sounded disappointed.
‘Not really Beryl, I would prefer to talk to my husband first if you don’t mind,’ Debbie answered.
‘Of course, love. Anything you need, just give me a call.’ Beryl smiled back as if she was the most caring person in the world.
Debbie stubbed out the last of the cigarette and stood up. ‘Ok, er thanks… Say sorry to Sandra about the drink.’
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Don't Blame It On The Sunshine !
