My Sister’s Grudge

After I was made redundant, I decided to have an adventure. Part of me wanted to plan my travels in detail. But then I thought, no, for once in my life I’d forget the planning and I’d freewheel instead.

Besides her latest wedding, it was more than a couple of years since I’d seen our Debs – yes it would have been her 30th - that was a night and a half. The police came as soon as I’d phoned them. I only wanted to scare Wayne – that was Debs husband at the time – but unfortunately the two officers did find a significant packet of dodgy gear in his pocket. He spent three years inside then cleared off to Benidorm with one of the prison warders. I suppose Debs had every reason to be annoyed with me.

So, I thought it’s time to build bridges, surely she can’t still be angry. I took a deep breath and rang her.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yes, come and stay.’  She went all quiet and then said, ‘Our house is only small but we’ve converted the garage into a spare room, it’s just the job.’ 

I’d never been to Knott End and looking out over the Irish Sea a week or so later, I felt that my life had become quite exotic. Debs is my only sister - I believe she has a substantial on-line presence these days.

She led me through to the ex-garage. 

‘Pa-dah,’ she declared, waving her arm in a Shakespearian sort of way.

‘Converted?’ I said. ‘You’ve just taken the car out.’

‘You haven’t changed,’ she scowled. ‘Don’t be so dismissive, it’s a work in progress. There’s the put-you-up in the corner, and my Alistair has brought that rug from his mother’s.’

‘It’s a bath mat, and you told me his mother’s been dead for years.’

Debs shook her head. 

‘You were always a fussy kid. Now, I’ve got six more on-line reviews to do by tea-time, why don’t you have a walk?’ 

She frowned a very familiar frown.

‘What’s the matter?’ I said.

‘Oh, Lord knows how I’m supposed to review super sticky denture paste - I’ve got all my own teeth.’ 

So, I had a walk along the prom’ and I could see why Debs had settled on the Lancashire coast. Morecambe Bay with the Lake District hills in the distance was magnificent. There was a pub, The Knott Inn, the post office cum grocers, a jetty for the ferry to Fleetwood - and Glitz.

‘Glam rock emporium and tribute café’ the sign read. A small notice underneath said, ‘Café closed until further notice.’ A model in the window was sporting purple velvet flairs, platform boots and a psychedelic satin shirt. LP covers had been arranged as a backdrop, all 1970s stuff - Sweet, T-Rex, that sort of thing. Well Retro is the new ‘now’ so I went in.

A bloke approached me wearing a black leather cat suit, matching gloves and mirror aviators. I thought, he only has to mention his coocachoo, and I’m out of here.

‘Alright mate?’ His voice sounded like a 1970s Skoda.

‘I’m looking for a present for my sister,’ I said. 

Even though the spare room stroke garage wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I thought a small gift was in order.

‘Animal prints is what you want, the whole village is going crazy for them at the moment. Looks like Noah’s Ark down the Knott Inn. Medium did you say?’ He held up a purple blouse. A few minutes later with the blouse and a Rubettes LP in my bag, I was back on the prom’ wondering what we’d be having for tea.

‘Scallops,’ said Debs, as I watched her peeling potatoes.

‘Very sophisticated, you’ve come up in the world sis.’ I tried not to sound sarcastic. She turned round, I saw that frown again. 

‘Are you taking the piss? I don’t mean the seafood, I’m thinking slices of potato deep fried in batter.’

I gave Debs the present. She held up the blouse inspecting it at arms length.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I hope that’s the back. Unusual print though, I can’t quite place it.’ She pushed the blouse back in the bag.

By this time Alistair was home from work. I’ve only met him once before, him being Deb’s third husband (she divorced the last one on account of his halitosis and you already know about the first). Alistair wore a kilt at their wedding; all I’ll say is he shouldn’t have done. 

On the whole he seems like a nice enough bloke, works in the hills he says. My guess it’s sheep, or sewage, or maybe he’s a poet with a private income. Alistair said we should all go down the Knott Inn, after all it was Friday. When Debs came downstairs all ready to go I was quite surprised that she’d put her new blouse on.

The bloke from the glam rock emporium was leaning on the bar. The zip on his studded, white cat suit must have been heavy duty. Debs and Alistair went to find a table, I wandered over to Elvis.

‘I told you she’d like that blouse,’ he said.

‘Mm, it took her a while to work out what the animal print was.’

‘It is unusual I suppose,’ he said.  ‘You don’t see a lot of purple giraffes.’

‘I overheard Alistair having a bet with her that she wouldn’t dare wear it tonight.’

‘Well she is wearing it. So what’s she won?’

‘Alistair’s got the job of asking me to leave in the morning…’