Molly

Work finally over, Molly scrambled her belongings together, aimed a fleeting goodbye in the direction of her colleagues, and left the office.  She’d forgotten her girlfriend Grace’s birthday and though Grace hadn’t said anything that morning, Molly wanted to make it up to her with a special evening.  Molly spiralled down the stairs, out of the building and practically tumbled into the street, pulling her tote bag over her right shoulder as she managed to get her left arm into her coat sleeve.  She checked her watch, determined to get home before Grace.

It was the first warm day of the year and people were pouring out of their places of work onto the bustling high street.  Summer had been late in arriving and now everyone had a spring in their step, coats slung over their arms as they made their way home with smiles on their faces, enjoying the warm weather.  Molly had things to buy before her bus arrived and she was glad it was Thursday when the shops stayed open later.

Tied to a lamppost outside the butcher’s shop sat a small brown dog, panting slightly in the unusual warmth.  Molly crouched down and patted the dog, “Well hello there Mr Dog, what are you doing?”  The dog did not reply but a stout looking woman in a coat far too warm for the weather blustered her way out of the butcher’s, a hefty shopping bag swinging from her hand.

“Come on Buddy, these sausages won’t cook themselves,” her bag thumped against Molly, almost knocking her to the pavement from her crouching position.

“I was just talking to your lovely dog,” Molly righted herself with a wobble, brushed down her skirt and pulled her bag back onto her shoulder.

The older woman shook her head, “Talking to the dog, would you believe it…” and with that she untied the lead from the lamppost and bustled away.  As they headed down the street Buddy the dog turned and looked back at Molly as if to apologise on behalf of his owner.  Molly smiled back and then remembered that she had things to do and headed into the butcher’s shop, the brass bell above the door clanging her arrival.  The shop had a distinct smell, clean with the metallic tang of meat and a hint of herbs.  The butcher smiled, a well built man with big hands and a big face.  “I’d like some steak please,” Molly was suddenly unsure of what to ask for.

The butcher nodded, “Fillet, ribeye, sirloin?  I’ve got some lovely rump too if that would interest you.”

“Rump if you think so, thank you, two pieces please.” Molly was glad of the butcher’s advice and watched as he took two large pieces of glistening red meat from the counter, wrapped them in paper and put them in a white plastic bag which he sealed with a piece of red tape.  “Thank you,” Molly reached into her bag to find her purse which had made its way to the bottom, “it’s my girlfriend’s birthday, so I’m treating her!”

“Isn’t she the lucky one," grinned the butcher, “have you got a good red wine to go with that?”

“Oh, that’s what I need to get next, and then a cake, a red one!”  Molly took the money from her purse and handed it to the butcher, taking care not to brush her hand against his meaty one.  “You’ll think I’m silly, but she’s a huge United fan, the reds, you know, so I’m doing everything in red for her tonight… the meat, wine, cake… everything!”

“Red is it?  Well, have a lovely evening,” the butcher winked at her, wiping his hands on his bloodied apron, “just three minutes either side for those.”  He passed her the steaks, and blushing slightly, Molly took the meat and dropped it into her bag.  ‘I do hope it doesn’t leak,’ she thought to herself as she headed for the door, then thanked the butcher again and left, the bell above the door jangling a farewell.

Molly chastised herself for her blushes.  On her lunch hour, she’d popped to the town’s small department store and bought a bra and panties set from the lingerie department.  Bright red to match her special theme for Grace, and she’d reddened then too as the shop assistant wrapped her purchase.  When Molly got back to the office she’d quickly changed into the new negligee in the washroom and now her faded black bra and knickers were floating about somewhere in the bottom of her bag alongside the steaks.

As a minor irritation to proceedings, the label in her new bra was causing a scratching sensation in the middle of Molly’s back and she stood outside the butcher’s for a moment squeezing her shoulders together, unsuccessfully trying to relieve the itch.  Her next stop was the off-licence.  Grace enjoyed a bottle of red wine now and again and the off-licence was just a couple of buildings along.  Molly checked her watch as she hurried towards the shop where a man in a linen suit was just leaving.  He held the door open for Molly and gave her a bemused smile as she rushed in.  Molly nodded a thank you and immediately began to scan the shelves for a bottle that looked appealing with an acceptable price tag.  She was no wine expert and chose a bottle of red wine with a picture of a castle on the label.  Molly took the wine over to the counter where a woman reading a magazine was sitting on a tall buffet, shelves of tobacco and fancy chocolates behind her.  The woman took a drag on her cigarette, balanced it on an ashtray at the side of the till, and punched in the price of the wine.  Molly rummaged around in her bag amongst underwear, rump steaks and other paraphernalia to find her purse again.  She flustered as the woman behind the counter tapped a red chipped fingernail on the top of the till, picking up her cigarette to take another drag.

“Sorry,” muttered Molly, eventually locating her purse, “I’m in such a rush, I need to get back for my girlfriend’s birthday.”

“Hope she appreciates it,” the woman rasped and coughed slightly, “special birthday is it?”

“Oh, no, not really, just the first one she’s had since we moved in together, so I wanted to make it nice, you know.”  Molly passed over a note and the woman slotted it into the till, handing over a couple of coins in change.

“Well, don’t you let her get used to it!”  The woman gave Molly a wry smile, tugged on her cigarette some more and returned to her magazine.

Unsure of how to respond, Molly took the bottle and pushed it inside her bag, thanked the woman and hurried out of the door and back into the sunshine.

People were still milling backwards and forwards.  A young man weighed down with shopping bags was dragging a small, whining boy along the pavement.  It was very warm and Molly felt a little damp under her arms.  She couldn’t take her coat off because it wouldn’t fit in her bag, and Molly needed her hands free for the cake she was about to buy.  There was a queue outside the small bakery and the young man and protesting boy joined the back of it.  The boy was kicking his feet at the pavement and the man sighed in dismay at the boy’s scuffed shoes, moving his shopping bags from one hand to the other, craning his neck to see if the queue was moving.  Molly felt like stamping her own feet, she really wanted to get back before Grace and the bus was due in ten minutes.  The cake she wanted was in the window, a red velvet cake.  Molly knew that she should have bought the cake at lunchtime but the lingerie shopping had taken longer than planned.  As if to remind her, the label in her bra scratched some more and she wiggled her shoulders in an attempt to stop the itching.  The queue moved forwards and eventually Molly was inside the shop.  The boy in front of her pointed to a large cream bun with white icing and sprinkles on top and the young man nodded in defeat.

Molly checked her watch, there was still enough time.  An elderly man was now being served, though he didn’t seem to know what he wanted.  He took off his hat and scratched his head, then put his hat back on again.  “How about that lovely red velvet cake in the window?” said the woman behind the counter, “I’m sure your granddaughter would love that!”

“Well, yes, if you think so,” the man smiled in relief that the decision had been made for him.

“No! Oh no, no…” Molly hadn’t realised that she’d spoken aloud.  Everyone in the shop turned and looked at her.  Molly blushed deeply, “I wanted that cake, that’s all…” her voice trailed off.  The small boy with scuffed shoes looked up at her blankly and feeling foolish, Molly turned and bumped her way out of the bakery, the queue impeding her need for a swift exit.  Back outside, cheeks blazing, Molly wanted to cry.  It was all going wrong.  The red birthday surprise was a disaster.  A birthday with no cake was unthinkable.  The elderly man in the hat came out of the bakery carrying a cake box tied with red ribbon.  ‘I bet he drops it,’ thought Molly crossly.  Then she checked herself.  ‘It’s my own fault for being so disorganised and this damn bra is really getting on my nerves!’

Molly decided there was nothing for it but to make the best of what she’d got and walked dejectedly to her bus stop.  A sizeable queue had already formed and Molly took her place at the end.  She noticed the overheated woman with sausages and Buddy the dog standing near the front of the queue and Buddy glanced over at Molly.  Molly gave Buddy the dog a weak smile.  She was far too warm and decided she just had to try and cool down.  Molly carefully put her bag on the pavement and peeled off her coat, folded it over the top of her bag, and hitched the bag back onto her shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, Molly had no money ready when the bus arrived.  Exasperated and annoyed at her continued state of disorganisation, she put her bag down, moved her coat, lifted out the wine, put her coat over the crook of her arm and tried to find her purse.  She could feel the bag of steak like a bleeding heart and her old bra half wrapped around it, but no purse.  The queue moved on with a gap now growing between the man in front of her and Molly, who was crouched on the pavement, the bottle of wine beside her.  The bag of meat, with accompanying bra swiftly joined the bottle of wine, along with her cosmetics purse, diary and hairbrush.  The queue behind her, fed up with waiting, shuffled around Molly and it wasn’t until her purse fell out of her coat pocket that was hanging from her arm that she remembered putting it there in the off-licence.  Molly stuffed the wine, meat, bra, cosmetics, diary and hairbrush back into her bag and climbed onto the bus as the driver closed the doors.

There were no seats left on the sticky, hot bus and Molly wobbled with each bump and turn, not wanting to hold onto the hanging strap due to her damp armpits.  She disembarked at her stop and hurried the short distance home.  Her heart sank as she saw the lights on and Grace’s bicycle outside.

Grace was in the kitchen, finishing off a plate of jam sandwiches.  She was wearing her favourite United top.  “Hello darling, you okay?” Grace looked up, licking her fingers.

Molly put her bag and coat down and went to wash her hands at the sink.  “Yes, fine… it’s just so warm…”

“I got back early for the match,” Grace brought her plate over to the sink, “got to go in a minute, I said I’d meet Zac down the pub to watch the game.”

“But, your birthday…”

“Birthday?  Not until next month Molly!  July fifth!  It was still June the last time I looked!”  Grace picked up her keys and bag from the table.

“July?”  Molly slumped into a chair, “No, it’s today, June fifth… it has to be”.

“Oh Molly, what are you like!”  Grace kissed her on the forehead.  “You feel warm, why don’t you take a shower and relax?”

The label in Molly’s red bra scratched her again as if to suggest that a shower was a good idea, anything to stop the infernal itching.

“Listen,” said Grace, taking Molly’s hands, “I’ve bought a nice bottle of red wine for you to have while I’m watching the football and a lovely piece of steak.”  Molly blinked, then stared blankly as Grace continued. “Oh, and I almost forgot, there’s a red velvet cake in the fridge for you too!”