Sponsored Silence

For all she'd insisted on a quiet companion, she was far from docile herself. Even when his eyes were closed, her words flew towards him like arrows; pink, shocking, feathery tales with no end. A boa to be sneezed at or...

‘He tried to strangle me, you know. And he tried to drown me in a bucket…’

Wait… Who was she jabbering on about now…? The bully-boy brother or her teenage crush from fifty odd years back who’d had a fancy for her really… Like they all did, apparently… He guessed she must have had money then too…

Whoosh… How long the journey now…? A rumble and a judder. Clickety-clack along the track. Homeward bound, except he wasn’t. They’d had their day out, their restaurant meal (a fiasco as per) and now she’d be expecting dessert… Tongue, he decided, would go down better. A human one, severed beneath those wheels with any luck…

‘…At least Ivan never did anything quite as awful as that. At least he took care of me, even if he did go with other women. Did I tell you how I caught him the first time…?

‘Uh huh…’ Ivan being her much talked of former husband, he imagined that she had. But sure as everyone they'd encountered today - or on any one of their previous outings - had taken this woman to be his dotty old ermine-clad mother until she put her hand on his knee or something equally outrageous, she was bound to tell him all over again.

Lively female divorcee, youthful 65, seeks quiet male 30-40 for fun days out and recreation. Must be willing to comply with special requests. Handsome rewards.

And they were handsome alright. Still, having to put up with being talked at incessantly, and without being allowed to express an opinion, or even get a word in edgeways, he reckoned her more than generous payments and presents were the least he deserved. It was the same between the sheets as well, and she wasn’t one for kissing. Not that he’d have taken much pleasure in that either…

But, as his girlfriend had said, play his cards right and he could bleed the hag dry, although Dee had assumed she’d be all shriveled up already, and on this he hadn't quite put her straight… And he wanted money, didn’t he? The big house, the fancy car, the designer gear, the five-star luxury holiday three times a year…? And let’s face it, Mitch, you’re not going to get any of that stacking shelves… You’ve got the looks, the charm… Yes, do it, Mitch. Do it for us…

‘…Oh, but he was an ugly brute in the end was Ivan. And I told that gold-digging whore she was welcome to him… Didn’t last, mind you. Well, it wouldn’t, not after my solicitor ensured I got my fair share… And did I tell you how he tried to keep me away from my own father’s funeral and how he turned our children against me? Oh yes, my own son and daughter. Slammed the door in my face they did. Now, they did say it was because I kept interfering in their personal lives and in their marriages – well what sort of mother would I be if I didn’t show an interest? But of course I don't believe that. I tell you, it was him all along, poisoning them against me. Said I was dangerous, a risk to the grandkids, would you credit it…? Oh, Mitch, you don’t know how good it is that I’ve found you. A man I can talk to at last, who’s willing to just sit and listen… You are listening, aren’t you, Mitch…?’

Incommunicado. She did not know the meaning. And, oh my god, there was the hand creeping up his thigh yet again. Giggles from the opposite side of the carriage…

‘Uh huh…’ His head would nod as the train would rock. Like the cutsey-cuddly inanimate Garfield hung over the dashboard of his and Dee’s clapped-out Mini Cooper before the sump frame near-concertinaed after he’d done that emergency stop to save running over their neighbour’s pet dog. He wondered, would Dee have been so keen for him to sign himself up as an escort then? A gigolo, and a niche kind at that? Money and all it could buy didn’t seem to matter so much in the beginning. Their car was a write-off, and they couldn’t afford another, but they had each other. They’d survived. The neighbour was grateful, the dog still running around off its leash gleefully yipping at the man who delivered the bills they struggled to pay. They could live on love, they said. But now…? Oh Mitch, anyone would think I’d asked you to go stand on the street corner of an evening turning tricks. And just look at how we're living now. It's worth it, isn't it? No more debts, no more worry...

Woohoo! Indolence and indulgence all the way down the line...

‘I’m thinking we should go back to mine. I’ll cook for you. Make up for that awful restaurant. Never known such rudeness… If the food isn’t right, of course I’ll send it back… Twice, thrice, what does it matter…? And as for that wedge of orange in my drink when I specifically told them no citrus... I remember once on The Riviera when Ivan was prepared to overlook the fact that he’d been served a rotten avocado just because he didn’t speak the lingo. Well not me, I’ve never been one for holding back, and if someone needs told or something needs said, well what’s the point in being all coy even if you do have to word your complaint in schoolgirl French? You agree with me there, Mitch, don’t you? Of course you do, I can tell…’

Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch… Gold rimmed, think of Dee, got a job to do, boys… full and fancy, bulging… pure leather Armani… Rolex… Platform 1, Zone 1, Zone Out… And all the way back to the mansion in her chauffeur-driven limo… What a lark, don’t you think, slumming it on the train when you know you don't have to...

‘Just you lay back on the sofa there and relax... That's right, just like that, I won’t be a tick… See that was the trouble with Ivan, always some place to go, always eating out, never a moment for me and I seldom had a chance to cook for anyone either. Even the kids when they were small. Had a better social life than me, that pair… Now what do I set the oven to? Been so long since I’ve used it… Hope you don’t mind me leaving you to your own devices, I’m just cutting up the carrots now, but I'm sure you can still hear me through the door… Ooh, Mitch you should see this one, looks a little bit rude… Hey, do you remember ‘That’s Life’? Esther Rantzen and her suggestive vegetables…? No, of course, you’d have just been a little lad then, but oh, how we laughed… Mama and Papa and little old me every Sunday. Was our family night, you know. So good when that ghastly brother of mine went out… Broccoli, now there’s a thought… What’s say we add some…? Little trees Mama used to call it, not that she did much cooking herself, Nanny saw to all that… Best give it a good old wash…’

Tap-full-blast, soap-frothing, running commentaries, a step-by-step chopping, amplified crashing, screech-screech slicing into the lardy puff pie… Scraping on tinfoil… Sheets and sheets of it rolled out and shaken before him… And the oozing… Black cherry ruby… Like her ring… A great knuckle-duster of a thing… Could knock someone out with that… He could hear the wails now … Revolving lights on emergency vehicles piercing the night sapphire through that enormous bay window… ‘Time for beddie-byes’. Had she really said that, or was it him? Had the hypoglossal paralysis worn off sooner than expected? Sooner than usual…?

Close your eyes, close your eyes, Mitch, and dream… Pound signs and Dee… Don’t pay heed to the jangling… The rattle of keys, doors locked from outside, and you in a cell... Pleading the fifth’s no good to you here. Not now… You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say may be - will be - used against you...