Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

came to an abrupt end as she barged into the living room and caught sight of Wilfred sprawled on the sofa. “Booga booga,” he said brightly.
Michael grinned at him. Fabia turned to Michael with a granite countenance. “What I have to say is personal. Do you mind?”
Wilfred sprang up. “Just leaving, milady.”
Michael saw no reason to humor her. “Wilfred, you don’t have to.”
“I know.” He winked at Michael. “Talk to you later, mate.”
As soon as he had gone, Fabia eased her centaur haunches into an armchair and said: “I’m sure Simon wouldn’t appreciate that.”
Michael sat down as far away from her as possible. “Appreciate what?”
“Letting that aborigine have the run of the house.”
Michael paused, trying to stay calm. “He said nothing about that to me.”
“Just the same, I would think that a little common sense might be in order.”
“Wilfred is a friend of mine. All right?”
“They’re squatting, you know.”
“Who?”
“That child and his horrid father. They don’t pay rent on that flat. They just moved in and laid claim to it. Never mind. I’m sure you think it’s none of my business. I felt it only fair to warn you.”
“But … if that’s illegal, why hasn’t …?”
“Oh, it’s perfectly legal. Just not very sporting. So-o-o … if Simon is cross with you, you’ll know the reason why.” She gave him the smug little smile of a snitch. Michael fell a sudden urge to wipe it off her face with a two-by-four. Instead, he changed the subject: “What is it you’d like me to tell Simon?”
“He’s coming home in a fortnight?”
“More or less.”
“He hasn’t gone queer on us, has he?”
Not a two-by-four, a four-by-four. With a nail in it. “I haven’t asked Simon about his private life,” he answered blandly.
She studied him for a moment, then said: “Well, anyway … the message is that he missed a marvelous wedding.” She paused, obviously for effect. “Mine, to be precise.”
“All right.”
“Dane is my new name. My maiden name was Pumphrey. Fabia will do, actually. I’m quite sure Simon doesn’t know any others.”
Michael was quite sure too.
“At any rate, my husband and I will be giving a little summer affair at our new place in the country, and it wouldn’t be complete without Simon, God knows. The invitation will becoming later, but you might give him a little advance warning, so he can think up a truly masterful excuse.”
The last remark was so full of poison that Michael wondered if she was a jilted lover. Did she stop by just to rub Simon’s nose in her marriage?
“Come to think of it,” added Fabia, “better make sure he gets the last name. I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion. It’s Dane.” She spelled it for him.
“As in Dane Vinegar Crisps?”
“Yes,” she answered, “as a matter of fact.”
“No kidding?”
“That’s my husband’s company.”
“How amazing, Wilfred and I had some of those just this afternoon.”
“Wilfred?”
“The aborigine.”
“I see.”
Michael rose. “I’ll give Simon your message.” Fabia regarded him coldly for a moment, then got up and went to the door. She paused there, apparently considering an exit line. Michael folded his arms and squared his jaw. She gave him a faint, curdled smile and left.
Michael stood fast until she was outside, then sat down and finished his sandwich.
Wilfred returned ten minutes later. “She’s gone, eh?”
“Thank God.”
“What did she want?”
“Nothing. Nothing important. Just a message for Simon.”
“It isn’t us with the drums, you know.”
Michael smiled at him. “I don’t care about that.”
“Just the same, it isn’t me and me dad. It’s those bleedin’ Jamaicans across the way.”
“Sit down,” said Michael. “Forget about that harpy. Finish your sandwich.”
The kid sat down. “You know there was a bloke watching your flat?”
“When?”
“Just now. A fat bloke. I saw him from me window.”
“Oh,” said Michael. “Probably her husband waiting for her.” The all-powerful Mr. Dane, King of the Vinegar Crisps.
“No.” Wilfred frowned. “Not likely.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he ran off when she left the flat.”
Michael went to the window. The children were still romping by the cement mixer, but there was no one else in sight. “Where was he?”
“Down there.” The kid pointed. “Next to the phone box.”
“And he was … just watching?”
Wilfred nodded. “Starin’ hard at the window. Like he was