Page 53 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Firm but pliable,’ added Sally.
‘In my experience, realism is best,’ Maeve continued. ‘I’ve tried all sorts of dildos – solid, smooth, ribbed, knobbled – but you can’t beat an authentic-feeling penis.’
‘Maeve, are you sure you weren’t in the porn industry?’ asked Annie, strangely unable to take her eyes off the rubber willy stuck to her freshly sanded table.
‘No such luck,’ said Maeve. ‘Just a long time single.’
‘I prefer the term synthetic penis,’ said Gemma. ‘Dildo sounds so coarse.’
‘You old romantic,’ Annie laughed.
Gemma grabbed the box and turned it around, pointing to a photograph of a tall naked man in the act of running his hand through his dark hair, while caressing his erect penis in the other.
‘It’s a copy of his,’ said Gemma delightedly. ‘They make plaster-cast moulds.’
‘What a claim to fame,’ said Annie.
The four women sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks while they contemplated the large synthetic penis.
‘You should name it,’ said Sally after a while.
‘Ooh,’ said Gemma. ‘Yes, good idea. You could call it John, since you like John Browdie so much!’
Sally leaned forward with her pen and rested it first on one testicle, then the other, whilst solemnly saying, ‘I hereby name thee John Synthetic Penis the First!’
The women cheered loudly and clinked glasses. Maeve excused herself and stepped out into the rain to use the small brick-built outhouse situated to the right of the cafe door. It wasn’t exactly ideal having the toilet outside but Annie didn’t want to begin any major renovations until she knew whether her gamble to reopen the cafe was going to pay off. The remaining women were just beginning to discuss the suicide of Ralph Nickleby when the door burst open. A large man stood dripping in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the entire frame. His face was covered by the hood of his coat, pulled low to protect him from the rain, and his dark wet outline glistened in the lamplight.
Gemma screamed and jumped out of her chair. Sally yelled ‘Oi!’ and Annie made a loud surprised noise that was somewhere in between.
‘Who the hell are you?’ shouted Annie, trying her best to sound brave and threatening at the same time.
‘I’ve got a gun!’ Gemma screamed, forcing her hand into her cardigan pocket and pointing it at the man.
‘Gemma, calm the fuck down!’ said Sally. Then she turned to face the hooded man and said with a calm that would cut through the angriest of drunks at her reception desk: ‘And WHO the FUCK are you?’
The man pulled down his hood to reveal short dark hair, greying at the temples, and a clean-shaven face with a dark shadow where tomorrow’s stubble would be.
‘Never mind who I am,’ he said, wiping the rain from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘What the hell is this? Some kind of porn coven?’
‘Are you from the council?’ Annie asked, suddenly remembering the no-show from the environmental health man. ‘This isn’t what it looks like,’ she hastened to add, waving her arm to encompass the candles and wine and the dick standing to attention on the table.
Gemma, recovered from the initial shock, squinted up at the man and then grinned. ‘Oh, it’s you! How are you?’ She’d necked a glass of wine and its warmth had clearly bolstered her bravery; she pointed to the dildo and said, ‘This is so funny! You’re not going to believe this but this is John! Perhaps we should call him Little John to differentiate.’
At that moment Maeve came bowling through the door and knocked the tall, frowning man further into the cafe.
‘What’s all the bloody noise?’ she shouted. ‘Can’t a woman do her business in peace?’ In another moment, recognition lit her face and she strode over to the man and pulled him into a bear hug.
‘John, my boy!’ she said, clapping him on the back. ‘Good to see you! You’ve met the others?’ she asked, nodding around the room.
‘Not officially, no,’ said the man through gritted teeth.
Annie imagined her stomach dropping out of the bottom of her jeans and inching away across the floor.Surely not!she thought.Surely this isn’t the first impression I give to the man who could potentially ruin my new business?
‘No?’ said Maeve, seemingly oblivious to the excruciating scene before them. ‘Right then, introductions. John Granger, this is Annie Sharpe; she’s looking after Saltwater Nook for your aunt and doing a damned fine job of it so far too. Obviously you know Gemma already and then there’s Sally. And together we make up the Victorian book club.’
‘And what the hell isthisto do with a Victorian book club?’ asked John, pointing at the phallic table centre.
‘Oh, that’s just a little something for Annie,’ said Maeve, without a hint of embarrassment. ‘Single girl and all that. Thought it might keep her out of mischief.’
