A FLY IN THE OINTMENT

A FLY IN THE OINTMENT


Buzz, Buzz. Buzz. Round and round the kitchen it flew, resting briefly on the window pane, the kettle, and the toast and jam she had that morning left uneaten.

The fly was the last straw. As though Beth hadn’t enough to cope with, this irritant was adding to her feelings of despair. Must she go to the party? Dare she make an excuse at this late stage and stay home? Her heart pounded and she felt sick. Mrs Pearse had taught her all those years ago how to meet and greet, how to use the cutlery and not spill food or talk with full mouth. Well, that last wouldn’t be difficult. She could never think of anything to say, anyway. So hard she had tried to adapt to a more extrovert life style than her quiet, some would say timid personality dictated. She had tried and in her mother’s eyes, failed. Becoming a librarian was not her mother’s idea of getting on, she would rather Beth had met and married a man of position and class. Her daughter had been sent to a finishing school in Switzerland to learn the rules of the game in the hope that it would make a lady of her at any cost. And cost it did, leaving her obsequious father tearing his hair out over his wife’s extravagance and his daughter’s failure to make the grade.

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz. The fly settled on the draining board.
Perhaps Beth could ring David and say that she was ill. No, he would guess she was making an excuse. His friends were so sophisticated, so smart and loud. How she detested them.

Beth glanced down at her frayed dressing gown. Her feet were cold. She must get changed, he’d be picking her up in an hour. But her body refused to move. Legs numb, hands trembling. She shivered. Ridiculous to be like this. They were only people after all. They wouldn’t harm her. No, but they would ignore and that went for David as well. Once there amongst the bling and empty chatter, his friends would overlook her and after a few pathetic attempts at making conversation, she would sit on a chair and stare into space. ’All right?’ he’d call from time to time, but before waiting for a response be back with the guys, as he called them, and the raucous laughter. She had a sneaking feeling that David was ashamed of her; she had overheard a couple of women at one party whisper that he had been seen with another woman. And was it surprising since his latest ‘squeeze’ was such a little mouse?

‘You’ve got to make an effort, Beth.’ David echoed her mother. ‘You know very well that these dos are an opportunity for me to make business contacts, love.’ That word love. added as bait to bring her round to his way of thinking. And it had worked up to now. From the moment she had set eyes on him, Beth had been drawn into his web, deeper and deeper she crawled: his magnetic attraction, good looks; his ability to bring people to him, hold their attention, sweet talk them into giving him what he wanted. And what did he want? This late middle aged restless man, past his prime and yet still hungry for every opportunity life might offer. What was he searching for? Married and now divorced, his property business went from strength to strength; and yet there was a restlessness about David, almost a fear that it would all be taken away from him. Beth could never understand why he had chosen her over the more glamorous garrulous women he knew. The very qualities she admired in David she also feared. There was a ruthless streak in his make-up, and recently she had detected a hardness in his eyes as though he were assessing her weaknesses, calculating the risks of keeping her on.

Beth stretched her legs and reluctantly rose to her feet. There was nothing for it, she’d have to get ready and meet David with a smile. Be false like the rest of them; what did it matter anyway?

Once she was upright a little of her old energy returned. She took a deep breath. There was something she must do before leaving that kitchen. Galvanised into action, Beth searched for her ancient swatter kept under the sink. Tossing aside her washing powder, bleach and dusters, she finally located it. This small middle aged woman in dressing gown and slippers now concentrated all her attention, her efforts onto the fly. She followed its every move, eyes scanning the room as it buzzed hither and thither, at length settling on the window sill. Leaning over the sink whilst holding the swatter aloft, she waited her chance. Hit! Miss! Hit! Miss! But she refused to leave until she’d dealt with it good and proper. Then her mobile rang.
‘Hello David.’
‘Party’s off.’
‘Oh! Why?’
‘Jerry’s had a suspected heart attack and his wife’s in one of her states.’
‘Well. Yes, I suppose she is. Poor man.’
‘ Damned annoying though. I was hoping to meet up with him, do a bit of business over a few drinks.’

Beth placed her mobile onto the kitchen table, listened appalled as he droned on and on about missed opportunities. The fly, now also on the table, crawled onto her phone.
‘And so you see Beth, I may have to find another buyer.’
How glassy was the surface. How black the fly.
‘Of course there are other properties, but this one’s a beauty.’
Beth raised the swatter high above her head.
‘Beth? You there, Beth! Why don’t you answer me?’
Slam!
It was over! She smiled, sat back and gave a deep, satisfied sigh.
‘What the hell’s going on? What was that noise? Are you alone?’
‘Oh yes, David. I am now. Very much so.’

Beth closed her phone, picked up the fly, opened the back door and threw it into the garden. She made fresh toast and tea; and having eaten a hearty breakfast went upstairs, took a shower, dressed, found her local library ticket and left the house intent on borrowing the latest best seller.

END


Fiction: c: Jane Lockyer Willis
https://playsbyjanelockyerwillis.co.uk/