The Three Halves of Martyn Manning-Chapter Eighteen - A Bonfire, And Some Vanities

By a complete coincidence, at exactly the same time that Elena was
reading about the village bonfire night in the Bugle, Martyn was
dialling the village garage on his office phone. He’d noticed in
his diary that morning that Elena’s car was due for a service and
he was a firm believer that the benefits of regular servicing far
outweighed the cost and inconvenience of unforeseen breakdowns. He
wasn’t sure he recognised the voice who answered.

“Is
that Billy?”

“No
it’s Chris.”

Chris
was Billy’s teenage apprentice. Well, that’s not true. Chris was
actually twenty-six and a highly qualified mechanic, but he looked
seventeen, so Martyn understandably thought he was seventeen and that
he must therefore be an apprentice.

“Hi
Chris it’s Martyn Manning. How’s things?”

“All
good Martyn, how are you?”

“I’m
great mate. Listen, can I book my nanny’s car in for a service?”

“Course
you can Martyn. Let me get The Book. When do you want to bring it
in?”

“Not
that bothered. Any time you can fit it in.”

“The
Fiesta is it? Next Wednesday OK?”

“Sounds
good.”

“OK,
that’s all booked in. Usual routine, drop it off first thing and
we’ll give you a call when it’s done.”

“Cheers
Chris, see you on Wednesday then.” He put the phone down then
frowned. Why did he say that? Of course he wouldn’t see him on
Wednesday. No big deal. He picked up a biro and crossed “Fiesta
service” off his To-Do List.

---------------------------------------------

And
so that was why the following Wednesday morning Elena found herself driving her car onto the forecourt of the village
service station before parking and walking through the door marked “Reception”. In Somerset Elena had got used to dropping
her car at the
plush and spacious offices of the
local Skoda main dealer, so she was a little surprised to
find herself in a cramped
and grimy
room with barely space for three people to stand. Densely
stacked shelves
of
engine oil, headlight
bulbs and spark plugs crowded in
on her,
while display cards of
fuses
and fanbelts draped the walls.
Behind the battered sheet
metal desk
an open door allowed a partial view of a storeroom of sorts, where
her gaze was met by industry calendars of pouting models with bare
unlikely
breasts. There
was no-one behind the desk and no obvious way of announcing her
presence, so she just stood there and waited, feeling a bit silly.
Then
just as she’d plucked up enough courage to shout “Hello? Is
anybody there?”, Chris walked
briskly through the door from the adjoining workshop. Of
course Elena didn’t know it was Chris. The only person she’d
heard about at the garage was Billy. Could this really be Billy, the
hard-living player that Caroline had spoken of? Surely not, he looked
like he was bunking off school. He sat down behind the desk and
opened The
Book.

“Morning,
have we got you booked in?”

“I
hope so but I didn’t make the booking. It’s a Fiesta for a full
service.”

“Oh
yeah. Caroline’s
old car. You
must be Martyn’s nanny then?”

“Yes,
I’m Elena.”

“Good
to meet you Elena, I’m Chris.” Not Billy then. “Have
you got your keys? Thanks. OK, leave it with us and we’ll give you
a call when it’s done.”

“Have
you any idea when it might be ready? I have to go to
get
the kids at three-thirty.”

“No
problem, we’ll get it back to you by then.”

“Thanks.
See you later then.”

She
turned to leave, but as she stepped towards the door she suddenly
heard another, different voice. This
was a deep guttural
drawl,
very
different to Chris’s sing-song tenor.

“See
you later Elena!”

With
her back to the
source
she had no idea where this voice was coming from or who could
be the owner. She turned back to the desk and spoke at Chris.

“Who
was that?”

As
Chris opened his mouth to answer a second man appeared in the doorway
from the rear store-room where he paused.

“It
was me.”

Elena
studied the man filling the door-frame in front of her. She
saw a sturdily built man of medium height, maybe a little older than her, in a dark blue
all-in-one overall, open
at the neck, where spidery traces of indigo spoke of a more substantial chest tattoo.
The
overall was caked in grease, hardly surprising given the environment,
and his face and hands had the sallow tan of skin steeped for long
years in engine oil, a tan which could and
would never
be removed. In
his right hand he held a
heavily stained copy of the day’s “Sun” folded at the football
pages.

“I’m
Billy. How d’ya do.” The
“How d’ya do” was a statement, not a question. Oh
yes, this was Billy alright.
She was quite sure of that.
He
moved to the desk behind Chris and opened the till. He
spoke as he rifled the
tray.

“You
Martyn’s new nanny then? How you settling in? He’s not a bad
bloke is he? He’s alright Martyn.” He
closed the till and looked at her. It was clearly Elena’s turn to speak.

“Yes,
nice to meet you Billy, I’m Elena. Yeah, Martyn’s a nice man. I’m
settling in well thanks. It’s a nice village and nice people too. I’m enjoying it
thanks.”

“I
know you’re Elena, you just said. What
are you telling me again for? You don’t need to tell me twice.
Where
you from then? You’re
not from round here are
you? Is
it Poland or somewhere? Somebody said Poland, somewhere east anyway,
somewhere like that. Yugoslavia? I don’t know. Where you from?”

“I’m
from Romania, a city called Timisoara, have you heard of it?” She
smiled. She knew full well that he hadn’t.

“Timmy
what? Nah, I ain’t heard of it. Have they got a football team? I
won’t have heard of it unless they’ve got a football team. Where
is it? Romania? I don’t know any teams in Romania. Zagreb,
Dynamo Zagreb, is that Romania?”

“That’s
Croatia,
but you’re not too far away.
Five
hundred kilometres maybe.”

“Five
hundred kilometres? What’s that in miles?” He smiled to himself.
“You
see, I’m not that stupid after all.” Chris
stood up from behind
the
desk and went back into the workshop. Billy
continued.

“What
happened to Caroline then? I liked Caroline. Did she go off to
university or something?”

“She’s
gone to St Andrews, in Scotland. She seems to be having a good time.
Anyway, nice
to meet you but I’d better get on, I’ve
got a few things to do. Give me a call when it’s ready.” She
moved towards the door.

“Do
you want a lift back? I can give you a lift back if you want. I’ve
got to give Dave Dickenson’s jag a test drive anyway. I can go past
the vicarage.”

She
hesitated, but only briefly before replying.

“Thanks
but it’s OK. It’s only a five minute walk and the fresh air will
do me good.” She smiled. “And I’m counting my steps.”

“Counting
your steps? What you counting your steps for? You look fit enough to
me. Anyway, suit yourself. Are you going to the bonfire on Saturday?
It’s just over there on the playing fields.”

She
stopped with her hand on the door handle.

“Yeah,
I saw that in the Bugle. I thought I might take the kids. Do you
think they’d enjoy it?”

“Course
they will, kids love fireworks don’t they, and all the other
village kids will be there. They’ll have a great time.”

“Sounds
like I’d better be there then.”

“

“Then
when you’ve got the kids to bed come back down again. We usually
all go down the pub afterwards and have a bit of a party.”

She
laughed. “Not sure I’ll be able to manage that but I’ll think
about it.”

“No
bloody good thinking about it. Just come down. He can’t have you
working all the time. I’ll have a word with him. I’ll see you on
Saturday.”

“Like
I said, I’ll think about it.” She opened the door. “Right, I’m
late, I’m going. See you later.”

“See
you later then. And on Saturday.”

The
door closed behind her. On
the short walk back she reflected on the encounter and racked her
brains to remember what else Caroline had told her about Billy. She
had a feeling it wasn’t all good. He
was quite good looking though, in
a tradesman sort of way.
She
liked a
man with tattoos.

----------------------------

Lunch
that day was fresh tomato and lentil soup, one of those plastic tubs
you get from the supermarket. After she’d washed her bowl and spoon
and dried her hands she picked up The Village Bugle. She
wanted to check the Bonfire Night advert again and just make sure she
hadn’t missed anything. Oh
yes, of course, she’d have to get the kids to make a Guy. She wasn’t exactly sure what was
required for that but she could check on YouTube. It would be fun! It
was only then that she saw a few lines that she hadn’t noticed before. They
were tucked away at the bottom of the page, almost as if they’d
been tacked on as an afterthought.

Looking
To Earn A Bit Of Extra Cash Over Christmas?

Well
if you are The Feathers is looking for a little extra help over the
holiday period to cope with the Christmas and New Year rush! If
you’re interested just pop
in and have a word with Margaret. She’d
be thrilled to see you!

She
read the advert again, slowly, then she put the Bugle down on the table and picked up her tablet.
First she googled the phone number of The Feathers then she set up a
Zoom call to Romania for later that afternoon.

----------------------------------

It
was Wednesday night. And Wednesday night is
sex night. And
after it was over and Elena had left Martyn lay
on his back on his bed with
his hands behind his head staring sightlessly
at the ceiling in contemplation.
Yes, he
was definitely feeling better about himself and about how
things were going. OK,
she had made her usual weak excuses and dashed off to her
room as soon as she could
but nevertheless there’d been something different
about tonight. When she
first got
into bed she’d moved to him rather than laying
still in passive acceptance. She’d
taken his hand and guided it to her crotch. She had instigated changes
of position rather than awaiting instructions. And she’d come, or if she
was faking it was good enough to fool him! Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe she was coming round
to him?
Maybe she did like him after all? Maybe
he’d recover enough to have a wank before he fell asleep.

END
OF CHAPTER