“It’s an utterly stupid, ridiculous thing to do! Och, away with you, you’ll just be making a fool of yourself.”
Helen, the proprietor of Helen’s Investigations, was around my own age, had an attractive Scottish accent, a lovely face, long blonde hair, and one beautiful right hand. Her left arm ended at the wrist.
“Please! Look, have a heart, Helen,” I implored. “I’m a man of forty who’s been really lonely since my terrible divorce, a year ago – when my wife tried to kill me! You’re a private detective. All I’m asking is for you to trace the addresses of the three serious girlfriends I’ve had in my life, because I’ve completely lost touch with them all. I just want to go down memory lane.”
“But you broke up with these girls, did you not?”
“Yes, but it was years ago, when I was young and stupid. I can hardly even remember the reasons why now, probably trivial nonsense. Okay, I know it’s a long shot. Most likely they’re all happily in relationships, but there’s just a chance that one of them might be like me, footloose and fancy free, and maybe we could rekindle our love affair. Where’s the harm?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you can never go back in life? It never never works. Happiness is going into the future with hope, not moping around, digging up your mistakes and making an arse of yourself in the process.”
In the end Helen agreed to help me, and a few days later I had the addresses of the three women who, in years gone by, I had at different times thought would be the love of my life.
Maybe I’m a bit shallow, but I must admit, I’ve always have set great store by appearances, and all of them had been good looking girls with lovely bodies, the kind that turned heads. But I’m a fool, I should have taken heed of that saying, beauty is only skin deep. And, I realised to my surprise, that they all had names beginning with B.
I visited Babs first of all. She lived in a high-rise flat on the bad side of town, and as soon as I travelled up in the urine-smelling lift to the fifth floor, I had a bad feeling.
She opened the door on the third knock.
I noticed the aroma of burnt food, human sweat and something I didn’t want to think about, at the same time as her beefy tattooed arm appeared beside the gap in the doorway.
“Whaddaya want?” she yelled at me, and I noticed the ring in her nose wobbling as she spoke, a quivering dewdrop dangling from its end. A child shouted in the background. She turned around and screamed at him: “DARREN! JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE BASKET!”
I barely recognised her. Babs had been a tiny, thin petite little child, but now, twenty-eight years later, she was built like a tank and as wide as she was tall. We’d been childhood sweethearts, finally going out on a proper ‘date’ when we were thirteen. She had been dainty, softly spoken and blushed a lot back then, and ballet classes had been the highlight of her week.
“I’m Gary,” I told her. “Don’t you recognise me?”
“Who? I don’t know any Gary. Are you that pervy guy from the singles club who won’t leave me alone?”
“No.”
“Well I ain’t got time to piss around with guessing games. You can clear off and bother someone else!”
So saying, she slammed the door in my face.
Badly shaken by the experience, I looked at the second address on my list. Brenda lived in Ponsonby Fields, a nice estate of new houses a few miles away.
As I knocked on the door, I worried about my likely reception, wary of a second nightmare confrontation.
“Gary! How nice to see you after all these years! Come in, it’s great to see you mate!”
Brenda looked a million dollars. Lovely figure, neat brown hair and the same warm kindness in her smile. Brenda wasn’t exactly beautiful, but paradoxically she was better than beautiful: she had such a lovely sunny personality that her kindness reflected in her features and expressions, somehow making you believe that her fairly ordinary features were utterly lovely. I tried to remember exactly why we’d broken up, and I think it had something to do with me two-timing her – what an idiot I had been.
A large slice of chocolate cake and a cup of tea later, I had told her all my news, but hadn’t said a word about herself.
“So Brenda, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks, Gary. I’m so so sorry you’re divorced, but you could hardly stay with her if she’s a homicidal maniac. And you’re a nice guy, you’ll soon meet someone else.”
“But what about you, Brenda? How are things with you?”
“Me? Well, I feel guilty to say so after your bad news, but actually everything is fine. Meeting my lovely Barry twenty years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me. We’ve got two boys, both at university now, and touching wood, life couldn’t be better. I’m so sorry you’re not settled, Gary, I really am.”
Bugger! I knew it would be too good to be true for her to be free.
She looked at her watch. “Oh look, Barry will be home soon, why not stay for a bit and meet him? I think you two will get on.”
And we did. Jealous as I had been at first at the idea of Brenda being happily married, I admit that I almost embarked on a bromance with her husband when we started chatting. Barry turned out to be one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met – much more charming than I am, to be honest, the kind of character you just couldn’t dislike. I was honestly glad that Brenda was with him. Indeed, we hit it off so well, that when I was leaving he invited me to join him and some pals in the local pub on Friday evening to watch the football – it turned out we both supported the same team!
Next day I visited the last lady on my list. Would it be third time lucky, or disaster number three?
Beverley lived in a nice flat in the town centre, and I remembered she’d been pretty bright, had a good job in a building society, had always been good with figures.
When she opened the door, my heart skipped a beat.
She looked fantastic! Beautiful figure, lovely face, golden hair perfectly coiffed, she even smelt of some divine perfume.
“Gary! What a surprise!” she welcomed me. “Come in.”
Beverley took me into the opulently furnished living room with its fine cream carpet and we chatted for a while. It turned out that she’d been married, twice, and had divorced her last husband a year ago and was now sharing this flat with a girlfriend.
We’d got on so well, that as I was leaving, I took the plunge.
“Look, Beverley, since we’re both divorced and free, I just wondered if maybe you’d like to go to dinner one evening?” I asked her.
She smiled. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea, Gary. You see, there’s something I didn’t actually tell you. When I said I was sharing this flat with a girlfriend, you assumed that she was a friend who happened to be a girl. I meant, she was my girlfriend.”
“Oh. Ah, I see.” I was crestfallen and shocked.
“Yes, it’s funny. I’d occasionally thought I might be bi, but it wasn’t until I met Caroline that I knew my real sexuality. I still like men, but not in that way, if you see what I mean.” She looked at me as I stood up to leave. “Oh poor old Gary, what are we going to do with you?” She laughed at me as she stared, as if she was remembering something embarrassing. “I’m not really surprised your wife tried to kill you. Do you know, I shouldn’t really say it to you, but I used to joke with my friends, that you always reminded me of yesterday’s bag of chips.”
“Chips?”
“Do you know what I mean? You forget about an extra little bag of chips you bought the previous night with your fish supper and then you see them in the morning, you’re dead hungry and they look so lovely and appetizing. But when you eat one it’s soggy, cold and awful. You’re a bit like that – so handsome and attractive at first, but a real let-down after that. Appearances are so deceptive, aren’t they?”
That’s when I remembered why we’d broken up. Beverley had always had a habit of saying cruel, nasty things, that hurt you so much you wanted to cry, and you remembered them for days afterwards. Was she deliberately cruel, or simply insensitive?
Either way, she could get stuffed!
Back at the detective’s office, I told Helen all that had happened. She nodded solemnly.
“So your first girlfriend is a ghastly horrible slag, your second is absolutely lovely but she’s happily married to an equally lovely guy, your third girlfriend is a lesbian, and the woman you married hit over the head with a bottle and tried to stab you with a steak knife?”
“That’s about it.”
“You’re not very good at picking girlfriends are you?”
I shook my head sadly.
“Maybe next time, you should try dating a woman whose name doesn’t begin with B.”
“Might be a good start.”
“Or maybe letting a woman approach you first?”
“Chance would be a fine thing.”
She stood up, and I stood up too.
“No need to pay my bill,” she said, staring into my eyes. “You can take me out to dinner instead. Or do your girlfriends all have to have perfect bodies, like the three Bs?” She looked down at her arm.
At first I’d thought that her disability was a big deal, but today I didn’t even see it. Her hand-less wrist was just part of this wonderful lady who’d been so good to me. I suddenly realised that she had an incredibly lovely face and a sunny smile. Something about the kindness in her eyes reminded me of Brenda.
“I’d really like to do that, more than anything on earth.” I told her. “But are you sure you don’t just feel sorry for me?”
“What do you mean?”
I thought about Beverly’s words, that had cut me to the quick, and filled me with shame, rocking my confidence to the core. Why would Helen be interested in me if I was such a washout?
“Well it’s just something the last girl I spoke to said to me. Beverley.”
“The nasty Lesbian?”
“Yes. She said something that really upset me. She said I was like a bag of yesterday’s chips. Good to look at, but cold and soggy to the taste. Am I like that, do you think? When you know me will you think that I’m boring, cold and soggy?”
“Yesterday’s bag of chips? What a silly bitch!” she looked at me and smiled. “Mind you, that’s not a bad analogy as it goes. Oh aye, we all know the feeling, do we not? You find the wee bag of chips in the morning when you’re too tired to think about breakfast, so you bung them in the microwave, whack on some salt and vinegar and they taste absolutely divine!” She walked around the desk and moved closer. “Just like you!”
Without even realising it, I had taken her stump of her forearm in my hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.