After the Party

It was the morning after the party. My head hurt and the kitchen and living room looked like a mediaeval battlefield without the bodies. The kitchen was particularly badly hit with glasses everywhere; some were empty but most had the dregs of unfinished drinks. And every surface was liberally adorned with plates most of which had the remains of food. The living room was not much better but a cursory examination suggested that the hordes had at least neglected to spill their drink on the carpet. Then I heard movement; it was Sue.

“See you later John.”

“OK have a good day.” And with that, she was gone. She was unlucky or possibly lucky enough to need to go to work; given the state of the place, I might have chosen the same option. But my task was to clear up and restore normality. In a way, it was good that she was out. Things had not been good between us for some time. She seemed to think I spent too much time with the drama group in general and with Jill in particular. Jill had been there last night and I sensed that Sue was watching me like a hawk for any signs of intimacy. It was very irritating because there was nothing between us and I never questioned what Sue got up to at her very lengthy creative writing meetings.

I made myself a mug of strong tea and then began the clear-up as I drank it. I scraped the food into the small black box ready for the composter and put the plates in the sink and filled it with cold water so they could soak. Then I collected all the glasses; I poured away all the leftovers and then also filled them with water. I fetched any items from the living room and gave them the same treatment. I then sighed and sat down; it was at least the end of the beginning. Then I spotted a mobile phone lying by the sofa; it looked new and expensive. Even I could see there was a text message and with some misgivings, I pressed the button; I hoped it might identify the owner.

“I need to see you. Meet me at the Kings Head at 11am. Don’t be late.” Needless to say, there was no named sender as such, just the cryptic “demonlover” so I was not further forward. I glanced at my watch. It was 10.50am. I shrugged; someone was going to be very disappointed. And now I could not put off the washing up any longer. I went into the kitchen and made a start. It took at least an hour as I needed to stop every few minutes to dry the plates and then to change the water but at last, everything was neatly piled up on the work surface. Suddenly the mobile rang; I picked it up and saw it was demonlover again; it was good news as I should now be able to tell the owner where it was. I pressed the green button. Before I could speak there was a woman’s voice harsh and strident.

“You bastard; I told you 11 at the pub and you haven’t showed. I’ve had enough. I’ve wasted six months of my life on you and all for nothing.” She paused for breath. I could sense her anger and frustration. I said nothing.

“Well, are you there? Are you listening?”

“Yes Sue,” I said. “I am listening. Please tell me who you wish to speak with.”

Tony Roberts