Mad Dogs And English Women

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Thelma knew the supermarket like the back of her hand. It was where she went every day to shop. Parking her trolley in front of the giant fridge, she looked for Keith’s favourite yoghurt but for the third time that week the only flavour left was black cherry, and the best-before datewas today. Resigned to this being a less than perfect day, she popped a pot in her trolley. “Thelma!” a voice called. “Wait up!” It was Lucy, her best friend since their schooldays. Thelma was delighted to see she was smiling, for the first time in several weeks.

“Hi, Lucy. They’re out of strawberry yoghurts. Again,” she added, pointedly, as the new manager sashayed past with her patent heels and tight jacket, brandishing a red price gun.

It would never have happened when Mr Catchpole was in charge – but he had retired last month and this new manager was set on making changes.

“You know, Lucy, everything around us seems to be changing, but I feel that my life is the same. Every day a repeat of the one before. Know what I mean?”

“Hmm?” Lucy was gazing at her as if she was speaking a foreign language, unintelligible but delightful anyway. In her basket was a box of chocolate cereal bars and six bottles of blue energy drink. “That’s not your tea, is it?” Lucy smiled happily. “Breakfast. I’ll be driving to the airport, and it’s to give me energy. Travelling can be exhausting, apparently.”

The final part of Lucy’s sentence hung tantalisingly in the air as the young manager moved the ladies aside, touching Thelma’s back in a way that told her she was in the way, to begin marking down the cherry yoghurts for quick sale.

Thelma picked up her pot and held it towards the manager, who seemed not to notice. As if Thelma was invisible.

“Once I’m at Gatwick I’ll be able to rest, though. Two whole hours to shop! And then, this time tomorrow, I’ll be in Zakynthos. With Brad.”

Yoghurt forgotten, Thelma saw her friend’s eyes seemed distant, her pupils large and dark. Had she been drinking? “Lucy, love. Are you OK?” It was only three months since Lucy’s husband, Nigel, had left her for the redhead who worked in the bookies, just one week shy of their pearl wedding anniversary. Lucy had been devastated – she’d just take early retirement and had been looking forward to the future.

“Why would you go to Greece? Isn’t it on the brink of economic collapse?”

Lucy was still grieving. Maybe her sleeping medication was too strong – that would explain the energy drink.

“I have to go. Brad needs me, it’s a desperate situation. I just can’t wait to see him.” She clasped Thelma’s hand, so tightly the tips of her fingers went white.

Thelma felt her heart sink. Who the heck was Brad?

“Oh, Lucy, you haven’t joined one of those dating sites? There are some strange people on the internet. You must have heard about grooming?”

Lucy nodded wisely. “I know that it’s a problem. But I can sort that out when we’re back home. There’s a good place on the High Street.” “You’re bringing him here?” “Yes. Brad can live with me, I’ll take care of him. After all, I can do as I please now Nigel has left me and I don’t have to worry about his allergies. And Brad`s had a terrible time in Greece,” she added in a whisper that was still loud enough for the manager to lift her head.

Thelma had heard stories about men who preyed on vulnerable women of a certain age. She knew of women who brought men back from faraway places, young men too, only to discover that it

“Of course I CAN’T come with you. Keith would NEVER COPE…”

was not love that had motivated them.

“Lucy, you need to be careful. What if he wants you for your passport?”

Lucy shook her head. “He has his own. It’s all official, Thelma. There’s a Facebook page and everything.”

This was sounding worse with every moment. The manager made no move to leave. Thelma held her yoghurt out again. “Please can you reduce this one too?” The woman gave a supercilious smirk. “I’m afraid not, madam. You already had it in your trolley when I started reducing, so technically it’s still full price.”

Lucy, oblivious to all of this, began fumbling through her handbag. Thelma glanced out to the street, and saw a

woman clipping along in ridiculous heels. It was the redhead, Nigel’s new girlfriend, heading into the shop. “Come on, Lucy. Let’s go.” “But don’t you want to see Brad?” Lucy pulled out a print-out of a Facebook page headed Looking For Love and showed it to Thelma.

Brad was hairy and did indeed need a good groom. And a flea treatment, from the look of it. He was the most unkempt dog Thelma had ever seen.

“I’m leaving in the morning – it’s all arranged. The dog rescue is organised by Steve – he moved from England to set it up. Can you imagine being so dedicated to helping animals?” Her eyes went misty, then a new thought seemed to come to her and her face widened into an expression of intense hope. “Why don’t you come with me? ” Thelma looked at her friend in horror. “Of course I can’t come with you, Lucy. Keith simply wouldn’t cope.”

Thelma had forgotten the imminent arrival of the redhead until she sashayed past in a waft of perfume, sunglasses propped on her head.

Lucy, her hand still clasping the page of mangy strays, looked crestfallen. “Let’s go, love,” Thelma said. Lucy didn’t move. She was observing how the redhead’s nails were pink and long, how her face was free of lines and glowed as if highly polished; there was a woman who had invested in herself.

“You know, Thelma, I think all of these years I’ve got it so wrong. I thought that if I loved Nigel, if I listened to him, if I cared for him and our home, that it would be enough.”

“Lucy.” Thelma tried to soothe her friend as she walked her away towards the till. “Nigel leaving wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” said Lucy, sounding more assertive than she had for a long time. “But Iwas still a fool. Well, not any more.”

“But, Lucy, you don’t need to go to Greece. You could do some charity work here! We could go on a coach trip to Chartwell. I’d like that. Sometimes I feel like I need a change of scenery too. Like the routine is getting me down…”

In a flash of inspiration, with a powerful desire to support her friend, Lucy said, “Then come with me! It will be just like when we were young.”

They had holidayed together once, on a campsite in Cornwall. “Remember what fun we had?” She linked her arm through Thelma’s, and then saw the redhead five feet away, at the pharmacy counter. Lucy managed a wry smile as she heard the girl ask the pharmacist for the strongest anti-allergy tablets they had. Poor Nigel, he never was good in the summer.

“Let’s get out of here and pack our cases,” she said to her best friend, loud enough for the redhead to hear. “And don’t forget your bikini!”

As they approached the checkout Lucy grinned, elated at her small victory over the redhead but also at the hope that Thelma was coming with her. She dropped one of her blue energy drinks into Thelma’s trolley.

“You’ll need that,” she said. “There may be delays on the M25.”

“Oh, Lucy. You know I’d love to, but I can’t come. Because of Keith.”

But at that moment she was wondering what else was stopping her.

At home, Thelma pushed the yoghurt to the back of the fridge and silently cursed herself for forgetting to swap it for a reduced one.

Lucy’s impulsive decision was so out of character, it must be a symptom of some mid-life crisis. A lonely future stretched ahead of her. Hence this crazy idea about saving a dog.

Thelma worried for her friend, but she felt something else – something she was ashamed to feel. Jealousy. Which was crazy – as crazy as Lucy’s plan, because why should Thelma feel anything but pity for her newly single friend about to travel across Europe?

She couldn’t work out why she felt so strongly about it, but she sensed it was partly to do with the new manager, moving her aside as if she was of no consequence. Thinking too about Nigel leaving Lucy so suddenly, after all those years of marriage, as though she had passed her sell-by date and could be replaced by a newer model.

Thelma didn’t realise she was crying until she felt the tears on her cheeks.

She straightened up and began to prepare tea. By the time Keith walked in from the golf course she was humming to herself as she dished up the food, no longer thinking of anything other than the evening ahead. There was that programme she liked, the woman who visited hotels and told them how to make everything better. It amazed her howthey couldn’t see their own problems, and needed a stranger to point them out. Keith lifted the aubergine slice. “This isn’t shepherd’s pie.” “It’s moussaka, Keith. I just fancied making something different.”

Keith put down his fork and studied

The WINE LANDED in an alarming pattern, as if he had BEEN SHOT

his wife. As an ex-magistrate and Rotary member, nothing got past him. “Your eyes look puffy. Is it hay fever?”

Then he took a mouthful of wine and Thelma seized the moment.

“I’m worried about Lucy. She’s going on a trip tomorrow, she’ll be gone for ten days. And this man who’s meeting her at the other end, Steve, she only knows him through the Internet. And all because she’s fallen for Brad.”

Keith spluttered. The red wine landed on his white shirt in an alarming pattern, as if he had been shot.

“Does Nigel know?” he said, blotting the red mess with his white napkin.

Thelma felt irritated. “Well, it isn’t any of his business any more, is it?”

Keith was friends with Nigel, yet even he was at a loss to explain why he’d left Lucy, other than to observe that the redhead had very fine bone structure. It seemed to Thelma that he hadn’t even asked him, as if walking out on a marriage of thirty years was an everyday thing.

“I’m just saying, love, that it seems a bit soon for Lucy to have a new bloke.”

Thelma thrust the photo from the Looking for Love website under Keith’s nose. “This is Brad.” Keith pulled a face. “That is possibly the scruffiest dog I have seen in my life.”

Several responses flitted through Thelma’s mind but she settled on, “Well, scruffy he may be but Lucy loves him. You know how she’s always liked dogs, but couldn’t have one due to Nigel`s allergies. And if she doesn’t bring him back to England he’ll end up…”

“What?” shrugged Keith. “Living on a sunny island? Eating scraps from the many tavernas dotted along the water? Sounds alright to me.”

A tantalising thought occurred to Thelma. “Really? Then why don’t we do it, Keith? Let’s go with Lucy. We can stay at the taverna with her, but take some time for ourselves too. Do a bit of walking, see some of the sights.” Keith looked at his wife, wide-eyed. “But the Rotary meeting is tomorrow night and I’m chairing. And I have golf planned for tomorrow morning .”

“So?” Thelma was already imagining the sea, the beach, being somewhere different, feeling different. “We’re retired, we can do as we please.” Keith gave a shake of the head. “A holiday like that needs planning, love. We don’t even have any euros. And I don’t like the idea of just turning up in a place and hoping they have space.”

Thelma hadn’t realised just how much she wanted to go.

“Please, Keith. Let’s take the chance, just this once, and be spontaneous.”

Keith stood up and began to walk away. As he passed Thelma he put his hand and massaged her shoulder.

“I tell you what, we’ll think about it for next summer. OK, love?”

Thelma felt tears forming behind her eyes, as much from frustration as disappointment. Why couldn’t Keith have stayed and spoken with her? It was as if her views were unimportant. As if she was invisible. She cleaned the kitchen, as she did every night.

She slept badly, and dreamed of dogs being thrown into the sea because they were too old to be desirable. When she woke, Keith had already left.

Suddenly, she knew she wasn’t going to shop, or cook, or clean. She had a case to pack.

Twenty minutes later Lucy’s car pulled up in the driveway and beeped. Thelma bundled her case onto the back seat.

“Drive,” she commanded, with some urgency. She didn’t want to be home when Keith saw her note, propped up against the yoghurt pot.

Gone to Greece!

Excited by her own daring, Thelma spent the journey to Gatwick marvelling at what she had just done. Lucy was elated, kept telling her they

would have a great time, just like when they went to Cornwall, and that it might even do Keith some good to have ten days on his own.

Thelmawasn’t entirely sure Keith would agree, but then he’d had his chance to come too. She wasn’t going to let guilt ruin this for her.

As Lucy said, seats were available on the flight. But the handsome check-in assistant was very apologetic when he told Thelma the price. Her jaw dropped. “But that’s almost a hundred pounds more,” she protested.

“Come on, Thelma,” Lucy urged. “Just pay for the ticket and then we can go shopping.”

The steward began typing and looking at the screen. Then he gave Thelma a warm smile.

“I think this will make you feel better, madam. I do have the option to upgrade you. For free. Would you like that?” Lucy let out a whoop. “Thank you,” said Thelma bashfully. “I’ve never been upgraded before.”

Once the seatbelt sign was off, the air hostess handed round free champagne to the passengers in first class, and Thelma and Lucy clinked glasses.

“It’s not even lunchtime,” said Thelma.

“Aren’t we outrageous?” said Lucy. “Drink up, then we can get a refill.”

The women examined their in-flight freebies, which included socks and a face mask. Lucy dabbed hers on.

“Right, this is the start of my new beauty routine. From now on, like they say in the advert, I’m worth it!”

The lunch was perfect, and accompanied by Chablis. The coffee came with Belgian chocolates.

“I could get used to this life,” said Thelma, thinking that Keith was missing out. But that had been his choice, and she had chosen to seize the moment. And with the kind attention of the check-in assistant who’d upgraded them, the attentive air hostess who kept topping up their flutes of champagne, she was starting to feel visible again.

In one of the tavernas dotted along the shore of the island, Steve was updating his Facebook page. He had been surprised at just how easy it had been to create the page, though getting the pictures of the dogs had been much harder. The local strays were used to him kicking them away from his taverna, so when he suddenly started offered them scraps they were wary.

Now, though, he had one dog who seemed to trust him and that was all he needed. Even better, at any moment a British woman was arriving to take it back to England. His plan was coming together nicely.

He uploaded a new picture of the dog, whom he’d called Brad after his favourite actor.

He saw he had a new message, and clicked to open it. It was from the British woman, Lucy, sent from her phone a few hours ago. She was bringing her best friend along too, so could they please book an extra room?

Steve grinned, leaned back in his chair and blinked at the sunset, at the discs of light casting rainbows on the water. The economy may be going down the tubes but he had a masterplan to make a lot of money. And though they didn’t know it, these two British women were going to help him.

At Zakynthos airport, the heat hit the women as soon as they stepped from the plane. It was like a warm cloak, Thelma thought, taking a moment to breathe it in and enjoy feeling warm.

As she descended the steps she felt she was not coming back down to earth at all, but rather landing on a magical planet where everything would be different.

Lucy jostled her onwards. “Let’s get our bags, then pick up the hire car.”

Thelma grinned. “Looking forward to meeting Brad for the first time?”

“He’s going to restore my faith in males,” Lucy said, laughing. “At least if I think he wants to stray, I can keep him on a tight leash!”

The airport wasn’t busy, and their cases arrived swiftly. A porter helped them with a baggage trolley, welcoming them to the island. He insisted on pushing the trolley until they were ready to leave the complex, at the car depot, and then refused a tip.

“I am happy to see tourists coming to my home,” he said. “If you want a tour of Shipwreck Cove please contact me.” He pressed a business card into Thelma’s palm and gave a bowas he departed.

“I think he fancied you,” said Lucy naughtily. The champagne had worn off, but had left them both feeling frivolous.

But Lucy was right about one thing; Thelma realised that since this journey began people had actually started to see her again. And it felt good.

Forty minutes later Lucy’s hired Fiat Panda pulled into Porto Vromi. Lucy parked and let out a huge sigh. “Oh, this is just lovely!”

The beach was more secluded than the others they had driven past, and the water was crystal clear under a turquoise sky, the birds dipping into the shallows for fish, the harbour with its quaint eateries. One taverna in particular looked inviting, with a white-washed exterior and several tables by the water prettily covered with red and white checked cloths. It was called Eden’s End. Lucy checked the name on her phone. “That’s it!” she said. “That’s Steve’s taverna, where we’re staying.”

As she opened the car door a man appeared on the terrace. He was tall, with sandy hair, and clearly looked after himself. He shaded his eyes from the sun as he scrutinised them, then he waved.

“Hi,” he called. “You must be Thelma and Lucy. Welcome to Zakynthos!”

The air was like awarm CLOAK. She took A MOMENT to breathe it in