A Tale Of Two Sisters

Short story I originally wrote for a BBC writing competition. The story had to have a symmetrical feel to the begin & the end. It's set in the London of the swinging 1960's.

Chapter 1: The Park

Looking up, I watched the clouds drifting over, blown by the wind from left to right. Some moved leisurely as if out on a quite Sunday stroll, smaller clouds although still fluffy and white darted about like little dogs let of their lead. As the wind picked up grey clouds started infecting the white with their colour, like paint being mixed on an artists’ pallet.

Sitting up I tuned my ears back to the girl lying next to me and although I had daydreamed throughout much of her story it was well known to me. Her father, a successful advertising executive, was still away in the United States leaving her mother and sister to manage running the house on their own. This I knew to be untrue as did most of her road, who had watched behind twitching net curtains as the Police arrested her father for wife battery. I mulled over whether to tell her this, but decided to leave her be for the moment. Turning to look at her, the sun briefly shone through picking out her profile and making a halo of her blonde hair. The oval face possessed a favorite feature, a dimpled chin, as I like a girl who possesses some masculine of features. The girls’ best assets however were her legs, which were long shapely and tanned. Looking at her naked thighs blossoming out of her mini skirt, I noticed goose bumps starting to appear as the autumn wind blew coldly over us. I wondered where her legs had got their tan this year, as a holiday without her father’s income would have been impossible, and why I wondered had she tanned her legs and not her face. Lighting two cigarettes, I put one into the girls’ mouth hoping to shut her up for a moment. Drawing deeply on her fag, she exhaled two plumes of smoke from each nostril and carried straight on with another story, this time about her big sisters’ boyfriend. Thinking about the big sister, who I had only seen from a distance and so had not had the chance to form a mental picture yet, I wondered who was the better looking.

The girl and I got up as she complained about the cold ground and sat on one of the park benches. Peering around the park in the gloomy light of dusk, I watched several dog owners walking their various mutts around the parks’ central water fall, which was now switched off for the winter. The park being a hangover from the Victorian days of council planning had neat rows of now empty flowers beds laid out like a cemetery. Losing interest in this view I started to think about the girls’ big sister. I didn’t know many facts about her, apart from, she was older than me by a year or two and two she made a lot of sexual noise with her boyfriend once they had crept up to her bedroom after a night out. I had now discovered that their old dear was so spaced out on some downers given to her by the doctor, that there was no real need to creep about the house anyway. Making a mental note to nick some of these the next time I was round their house, I suggested a coffee at the local café which at least was warm and had a jukebox.

Chapter 2: The Café

            Once in the café the girl started to brighten up mainly due to the amount of attention her legs were attracting. Most of the patrons’ at this time of day were the unemployable, dossers and tramps. They all gawped at the sight of so much naked flesh on display, licking the slack lips lustily of their open mouths. This made me feel uncomfortable, but my companion lapped up all this attention and actually seemed to enjoy the effect her skirt was having on these lowlifes.  She was starting to make me feel sick.

Sitting down, I glanced around at an interior that had not changed since the cafe had opened just after the war. It had been owned by an ex-soldier and his war bride wife, who had decorated the place very patriotically using pictures of Churchill and all that old rubbish. Now the ex-soldier was dead leaving his wife to run a place which she had grown to hate, alone. As her hatred had grown, so the café interior had gradually got darker, now the walls and ceiling were totally nicotine brown and the lino was chipped, cracked and missing in places. As our coffee arrived, I got up and put ‘Green Onions’ by Booker-T and the MG’s on the jukebox. This tune had become the unofficial Mod anthem of that year, as the group being American where thought cooler than some of our home grown bands. Sitting back down, the girl contemplated me as she smoked another of my cigarettes.

“You’ve been very quiet all afternoon, what’s the matter, you going off me?” She stubbed out her cigarette and pushed the glass ashtray towards me.

“I’ve got a lot of things on my mind,” I replied, distracted by the music now flowing out of the jukebox, “Work and such,” I continued lamely.

Eying me with a sullen expression, the girl finished her coffee with two large gulps, grasped her coat then stomped off out of the café. The randy old farts watched as her legs disappeared out of the door. Turning to see my reaction, each one avoided any eye contact with me, so quickly went back to stare glumly at whatever the waitress had put in front of them. I continued to sit quietly smoking and enjoy my music. With the tune over, I got up to pay and realised I still had the girls’ purse in one of the zipped pockets of my Parker. I now had to get the purse back to her house, before going to watch my beloved Fulham play our greatest rivals Chelsea at their manor, ‘The Bridge.’

Chapter 3 Big Sister

I knocked on the stained wooden front door, which had a boot mark in the middle of it, like someone had tried to kick it down. The door was opened slightly by the big sister. She peered through the small gap with a badly bruised and half closed swollen right eye.

“Christ” I said, “What the hell happened to you?” I followed this up with, “Sorry I just couldn’t help it.”

The big sister opened the door wider and sucked on a cigarette. Her left eye was also badly swollen, probably from crying and mascara had run down both of her cheeks.

            “You had better come in,” she said in a strained voice, made horse by crying. Moving back into the hallway she turned and retreated into the darkened house. Taken aback, I did as I was told and closing the door behind me followed after her into the kitchen. We both sat down at the kitchen table which was littered with the detritus of a night boozing and smoking.

            “Look,” I said, “you do know who I ‘am, you’ve not mistaken me for someone else?”

            “No I remember you,” she replied stubbing out her cigarette into an overflowing ashtray, “you’ve been going out with our kid sister.”

I hadn’t been going out with the girl, but this was not the moment to argue about it. The big sister was in some sort of shock, staring glassy eyed passed my left shoulder towards the hall and front door. This gave me the creeps, so getting up I poured fresh cold water into the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. After opening most of the kitchen drawers, I found the rubbish bags and put the contents littered on the kitchen table into one before tying it up carefully. I took the bag out the back door and into the yard. I then washed up the ashtrays and dirty glasses leaving them on the sideboard to drain. I felt better moving about focusing my attention on something rather than sitting still. Setting a cup of tea in front of the big sister, I put two big spoons of sugar in it telling her to drink it, which to my surprise she did.

            “Thank you,” she said looking better, she even managed a half-smile.

Smiling back I gave her my handkerchief to wipe the mascara off her face.

            “I’ll ruin it,” she looked at the pure white cotton now streaked with black.

            “It’s a shame to cover up a pretty face with makeup and tears,” I said.

I meant it as well, apart from the bruising and her swollen eyes she was quite a looker.  Her eyes were a sort of green colour that I hadn’t seen before and she had the same small dimple on her chin that the girl had. All of this made for an appealing combination, even the bruises were starting to look sexy. So stretching out my hand I gently caressed her unbruised cheek and gave her my version of a winning smile. Dabbing at her face with my handkerchief, she took hold of my hand giving it a squeeze.

            “Why did you come here today anyway?” she asked turning my hand over to look at the time on my wrist watch. “Aren’t you going to watch the football today?”

            “Yeah, maybe,” I hesitated, “but I would like to know you’re going to be OK before going.” As I was talking I took out the purse placing it on the table between us. “Your sister stropped of out of the café this afternoon leaving her purse behind.”

She ignored the purse and still holding my hand, the big sister got up from the table leading me back through the hall and up the stairs to what must have been her bedroom. The room had been completely smashed up. Glass and other debris lay all over the floor, bedroom cupboard doors had been ripped of hinges and clothes thrown out and some had been ripped to shreds. The big sister offered no explanation. Instead, still leading me by the hand took me over to her bed and sat me down. Bending over me she tilted my chin gently upwards and kissed me, sliding her tongue into my mouth as I kissed her back. She started to remove my clothes and then hers all the while kissing me with her eyes tight shut. I didn’t say one word and neither did she.

Afterward, I lit two cigarettes putting one of them in her mouth she took a long pull on it and as she exhaled, said “Just like in the movies.”

The front door slammed downstairs, I looked at the big sister. “It’s OK I’ve locked my door. Feet came hurriedly pounding up the stairs, the door handle moved downwards and then a rap on the door. “Can I come in please,” said the girl.

The big sister put her finger to her lips, as I quietly got dressed. After putting my Parker back on, she motioned to me to hand her a dressing gown and slippers. Footsteps moved away from the bedroom door and I heard another door slam shut.

Treading carefully over the glass toward the door she said, “That’s the bathroom door, get out of the house now and I will see you tonight outside the cinema at eight,” giving me a big wet kiss on the cheek, adding, “if that’s OK with you?” giving me a proper smile for the first time.

I motioned that that was indeed OK, slipping out of the room and then out of the house thoughts racing around my head. Walking away, I looked up at the sky for the second time that day and wondered if those same clouds would bring Fulham as much luck, as I’d had this afternoon.