The Lesson

                             In the dining room sat Mr Murphy. On the far side of the room above the television were two shelves containing books, curios, various peculiar items and a conical usb charged lamp. There were two African heads that Mr Murphy thought of particular value but hadn't got around to having them valued. Amongst the framed photos was a wedding photo and a large photo of Mr Murphy when he was aged three or so holding a porcelain rabbit for company. He wasn't sure why this photo was on display but that Mrs Murphy liked it and therefore that was that. The books on the shelves were largely uninspiring, a collection of language learning material and a mix and match collection of novels and antique reference books that lay there gathering dust. Mr Murphy found comfort in this odd collection as he sat there drinking a cup tea on a Saturday afternoon in April. Mr Murphy had a small almost boyish face with bristles from a two day growth that he stroked pensively alternating between scratching his nose and rubbing his lined brow. His eyes were kindly almost innocent and always ready to sparkle when he smiled. His skin was soft and youthful much envied by Mrs Murphy, but had a hue of a light tan that suggested he had lived abroad somewhere for a few years, still it was impossible to age Mr Murphy, he was ageless. He cut a figure of a man that could trusted and a man in who's company would be enjoyed greatly by everyone that found themselves passing the time with him.

Earlier Mr Murphy had done the hoovering and Mrs Murphy was cleaning somewhere in the back bedroom. She liked to keep the place as clean as new and was a perfectionist, a trait that often annoyed Mr Murphy, but he was clever enough not to say anything lest he upset her. Mr Murphy poured himself another cup of tea and sat down again deep in thought. It was warm outside for April and he could hear the shouts and the laughter of the neighbour's kids at play, a sound that pleased him and made him feel happy to hear such high spirits.

 Maybe he would take the car out later or maybe not as the cost of petrol was rising and rising along with the price of everything else lately. Maybe not was probably the more prudent thing to do he thought to himself as he made himself more comfortable and went to the kitchen to find himself a biscuit to have with his tea, it was, after all, a lazy Saturday afternoon. 

Mr McCann lived next door with his new wife Janet, his first wife having departed some months earlier. Mr McCann was a very tall and thin man of around forty years of age. He always dressed like he was much older and this fooled most people. He was the type of man who'd get dressed up to go the local garage. Mr McCann had a problem: his wife couldn't drive to save her life and he needed her to learn fast. Mr McCann suggested to Janet that they employ Mr Murphy to help her learn as Mr Murphy was an excellent driver having often given him lifts in the past. Mr McCann made up his mind, he would arrange a lesson for Janet with Mr Murphy. Janet was in deep concentration updating her social media page as Mr McCann shouted to her that he was popping next door for a while. Janet nodded as he left, still deep in concentration and obviously oblivious to the information Mr McCann had just imparted.

The doorbell rang but Mr Murphy didn't hear any sound probably due to his hearing being in decline. The doorbell rang a second time and Mrs Murphy came to open the door, cursing Mr Murphy and his damn hearing. She greeted Mr McCann warmly, 'Oh Mr McCann how nice it is to see you. How's your lovely wife doing?' Mr McCann raised his eyebrows while clearing his throat, 'Likewise Mrs Murphy. Oh you know she's doing fine, updating her profile: you know what they're like.' As he gave Mrs Murphy a knowing wink, 'Is himself in? Got a proposition for him.'

'Sounds serious. Yes he's inside. He never heard the bloody bell, deaf as post he is. You're not an ear doctor by any chance?'

'I'll speak loudly to him.' Mr McCann said in reply as he entered the living room.

Mr Murphy got to his feet when he saw Mr McCann and extended his hand. Mr McCann shook his hand and Mr Murphy invited to take a seat on the couch beside him.

'Will have a tea or coffee or maybe something stronger?' Mr Murphy asked, hoping Mr McCann would opt for the stronger option.

'Surprise me!'

'Excellent I'll be right back.' Mr Murphy moved swiftly to fetch the glasses and a bottle of ten year old whiskey.

Mr McCann admired his glass of whiskey and took a long sniff of its aroma. This pleased Mr Murphy greatly, 'A connoisseur I see. This pleases me enormously.' The men took a drink simultaneously. Mr McCann, enjoying the smoothness of the liquid, sat back in the couch with satisfaction.

'Fine whiskey indeed Mr Murphy, oh yes, it's very good. I have a favour to ask you if you don't mind? I hope you can help me' Mr McCann said after a few moments had passed.

'What can I do for you?'

'It's Janet. I need her to be able to drive and I think you're the man to teach her.'

'Why can't you teach her?'

'She wouldn't listen to me. She wouldn't follow any of my instructions and besides she's a complete scatterbrain and we'd only row. No, it's best if you would give her a lesson.'

'Can she drive at all?'

'Ah yeah she can but she's very easily distracted, you know what they're like. You just have to lay down the ground rules from the beginning and it will go fine.'

'Okay I'll try to teach her but no promises and if I think she's a danger then I'll quit.'

'Perfect, just give it a go, that's all I ask'

'Grand. Another drink?'

'Sure go on, you've twisted my arm.' Mr McCann said with a smile. When Mr Murphy returned and replenished the glasses generously and sat down, he turned to Mr McCann and asked, 'just for my own knowledge how many lessons has she had?'

Mr McCann seemed suddenly in a bit of a hurry and finished his whiskey quickly, 'I've lost count.'

'Christ are you serious?'

'Yeah she's had loads but no one as patient as yourself Mr Murphy. I'll see myself out and Janet will be in touch about the lesson. Thanks for the whiskey and agreeing, I owe you one.' And in a flash he was gone and Mr Murphy was left to wonder what he had let himself in for.           

Mr McCann entered his home and was met by his wife Janet, 'I've arranged your lesson with Mr Murphy next door. All you have to do is decide a suitable time and day or evening that works for you both.' Mr McCann said to an underwhelmed Janet. She sniffed her disapproval as Mr McCann removed his jacket, he always put on his jacket, even to go next door. Janet still hadn't said anything so he thought he'd encourage her a little, 'Mr Murphy is a very patient man with an easy way about him and I'm sure you'll learn fast from him.' Mr McCann said quietly hoping for a reply. Janet thought for a moment and then said quickly, 'I suppose he can't be worse than the other idiots. I'll give it one last shot.'

'Great you owe it to yourself. Think of the independence it'll give you.'

'If he allows me to check my social media and drive then I think we'll get along just fine.' And before Mr McCann could reply Janet said, 'cup of coffee dear?' Mr McCann nodded but before he could retort Janet had made a beeline towards the kitchen leaving Mr Murphy throwing his eyes up to heaven and saying, 'Christ almighty.' barely audible so as not to upset her.

'What did that nice man want with you?' Mrs Murphy said on entering the living room, minutes after Mr McCann had gone home. Mr Murphy seemed a little on edge and was finishing off another whiskey to calm his nerves much to the disapproval of Mrs Murphy, he could tell by the look she gave him.

'Oh he wants me to teach his bimbo wife how to drive. That girl is a featherhead. God help me and God help my poor car. That girl is a complete basket case. How he ended with her is beyond me.' Mr Murphy said looking for a sympathetic reply but not getting one.

'She's a grand girl, very attractive don't you think? Many a man of your age would give his eye teeth to be so close to that beauty. Maybe I'll have to come along with you just to make sure nothing that shouldn't happen happens.' Mrs Murphy said smiling and hoping for a reaction. Mr Murphy smirked and swallowed the last remnants of whiskey from his glass.

'She's pretty I suppose if you like that sort, which I don't. Too young and I really don't know what poor Mr McCann has walked himself into. She'll probably destroy my gears. Is there any way I could get out of it?'

'You've made your bed. Ah sure you'll be fine. Set the rules for her and you'll be grand.'

'Yeah your right and I don't actually have to let her drive at all and Mr McCann said all I have to do is one lesson and take it from there with no obligation to continue. Yeah that sets my mind at ease.' Mr Murphy said as a relaxed look came over his face.

'Don't get too relaxed there, I want you to come with me shopping and I'LL DRIVE seeing as you've been throwing whiskey into yourself all afternoon.'

Mr Murphy sighed and put on his coat.

When they returned from their shopping trip there was a note on the doormat simply saying:

Tomorrow 9:30 suits me best. If you can't make it ring 0853332288

Jan.

Mr Murphy read the note aloud.

'Well there you go, good to get it out of the way.' Mrs Murphy said kindly.

'I expect you're right and I'll have all day to recover. It won't be so bad. What's the worst that could happen?'

'Exactly. You'll be fine. It won't even be worth worrying about, you'll see.'

At 9:30 sharp the doorbell rang and Mr Murphy met Janet outside. Janet was dressed like a tart wearing a black leather miniskirt and a crop top and appeared to be wearing heels.

'Good to see you Janet. Lose the heels, get a pair of flat shoes, you can't drive in heels.'

'But I always drive in heels....'

'Not in my car you don't and they'll snap any way when you're changing gear or breaking. And while you're at it could you put some clothes on, eh, something more appropriate for driving?'

'These are my driving clothes, don't you like them?'

'What happens if we breakdown or you have to change a tyre?'

'If we breakdown then I'm in the best clothes for flagging down cars and besides you'll change the tyre won't you?'

Mr Murphy looked her up and had to admit she had a point, in fact, she had won the argument hands down. He just agreed with her and they walked to his car in relative silence, only the clacking of the her stilettos and the tapping of her mobile phone keypad could be heard and a deep sigh from Mr Murphy as he exclaimed loudly, 'Christ.'

                                                           THE END