The Drop

dipping?’ and her eyes locked onto mine. They were deep and blue and inviting.
    I didn’t answer her for a while. ‘Maybe,’ I said and she smiled, ‘if I was on my own,’ I added.
    She frowned, ‘where’s the fun in that?’
    ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I’ll buy you a coffee.’
    ‘We can’t go yet, we’ve not had a smelly shower.’
    ‘We’ve not had a what?’ I asked.
    ‘Follow me,’ she told me as she climbed out.
    She stood behind me, leaned past me and pressed the button on the shower, then pushed me gently into it until I was under the spray. ‘Tell me that’s not fantastic,’ she challenged.
    It was fantastic. I’d assumed the two open shower booths behind the pool, half-hidden by a walled enclosure, were just conventional showers, which was why I’d never been in them. It turned out they were a part of the spa experience I’d been completely unaware of. The water felt great. It was hot and bracing and smelled of something girly.
    ‘Breathe in,’ she ordered and I did, ‘what’s that smell like?’
    ‘Like a tart’s window box,’ I told her and received a thump on my back for my troubles.
    ‘It’s ylang ylang and patchouli.’
    ‘I think I know them. A couple of Thai hookers?’ and she gave me another thump.
    ‘Stay there,’ she ordered when the water stopped automatically after a couple of minutes. She leaned forward again so she could press the other button. It was harder to reach and I could feel her left breast pressing against my back for a moment. Next thing, I was shocked by a fine spray of ice cold water.
    ‘Jesus,’ I hissed.
    ‘What about that one?’ she asked.
    I breathed in, gasped more like, ‘Polo mints,’ I told her, barely able to say the words.
    ‘Sort of,’ she said, ‘it’s mint anyway. Wakes you up doesn’t it?’ I stepped out once it was over, ‘admit you like my smelly showers,’
    ‘Not bad,’ I said, ‘although I don’t want to be reeking of My Ding-a-Ling and Me-Julie when I’m out with the lads tonight.’
    ‘Ylang ylang and patchouli,’ she corrected, leading me out of the way by my arm so she could get in under the hot spray she’d just activated, ‘and don’t wind me up. You’re not out with the lads. You are coming to my party and you know it.’
    ‘Party?’ my turn to frown at her, ‘what party?’
    ‘Cruising for a bruising shit bag,’ she told me.
    ‘Oh yeah,’ I said dumbly, ‘now I remember. We are all off to Pizza Hut and your dad’s ordered a cake with some candles. I think he’s hired a clown as well.’
    ‘Only clown there tonight will be you. We are off to Café 21, appropriately enough, for dinner, then those who aint too old to cut it, will be going clubbing.’
    ‘Yeah, I know,’ I admitted, ‘your dad told me, asked me to arrange a driver for your lift home.’
    ‘He didn’t!’ her little face dropped at the thought of a gnarled gangster like Finney picking her up outside some cool club, ‘who is it?’ I gave her an apologetic look and spread my palms in a ‘little old me’ gesture, ‘really?’ she seemed thrilled, ‘honestly?’
    ‘Fraid so.’
    ‘Things are looking up!’

TWENTY
    ...................................................
    I bought Sarah a birthday breakfast and we talked a bit about college.
    ‘Good but I was ready to leave.’
    Her plans now she’d graduated.
    ‘Haven’t a clue.’
    And her last boyfriend.
    ‘Dumped him, turned out he was an arse. I’ve had it with boys, from now on it’s only men.’ She smiled at me when she said that.
    Then I watched her climb into her new car and drive off, waving at me. I told myself she was a top lass and would make somebody a great girlfriend one day but it wouldn’t be me. Bobby would never stand for it - and besides, there was Laura. Almost forgot about her for a moment.
    There was no point in standing there like a Muppet. I still had to find Bobby’s money.
    ‘You’re wearing your Paul Smith jacket?’ Laura asked me, as I buttoned it up in front of the mirror. She said it as if I had just openly put a packet of condoms in my pocket right there in front of her, ‘for Sarah Mahoney’s 21 st ?’ she made it sound like I was going to dig the garden in it.
    ‘Bobby’s taking us all to Café 21. I told you, got to look the part.’
    Laura was sitting on the sofa, legs folded up under her, dressed in her standard uniform of shapeless, baggy fleece and ancient leggings. She used to be smart when I first met her,