Say Goodbye to the Boys Read Free

name, but her accent is out of the Rhondda.
    â€˜Got time for a bit of cards, then?’ It is the ritual. ‘You sit there; I’ll sit next to you.’ Among the velvet cushions of the sofa. ‘What’s new, Philip?’ Her short, soft fingers dealing out the cards. She chatters and makes jokes, double meanings everywhere, and sits even closer, warm flesh against my thigh, and she wins every hand in the game. Cheating I knew. ‘Used to play strip poker in the old days. Used to play bridge too – only that was too clever for me, and Ridetski used to beat me when I overbid. With his fists I mean.’ Ridetski, her husband, had been stationed at one of the camps near the town. She had come to Maelgwyn with him; wasn’t a local. ‘This old place – proper dead, isn’t it? Mind you – might buck up again when the visitors come. Oh what a shame, Philip – you’ve lost again. What were you doing at my leg then? Felt you!’
    She always wins the cards and the stake – half a crown. ‘Oh poor Philip.’ Her hand inside my shirt. The game abandoned, Lilian very playful, very expert. She opens her mouth wide to laugh, her tongue nudging at the side of her lips. A smooth, white throat. Ridetski walked out on her during the war. Was not expected back. ‘Let’s see.’ She checks the score on the back of the envelope. ‘Oh dear, Philip. Never mind. Now pay up. Pay up first.’
    And once she has the coin in the palm of one soft hand, she lies back on the sofa and smiling all the time, pulls me towards her. Always on the wide sofa among the velvet cushions, never through in the bedroom. Her fingers digging into your back, all groans and giggles. Then she pushes you away, goes skipping to the bathroom, returning full of jokes and ready for more if you want it. A bit of slap and tickle. No demands, except one. Secrecy, or the promise of secrecy. ‘No spreading anything around about me, hear. Got a nice little business.’ Always that. And her winning the cards. She opens the door first, taking a glance about. ‘Only cats around. Cats and naughty men who won’t go home to bed. Come again won’t you Philip?’ And you leave her giggling and you walk home across the sleeping town, a distant sea breaking on a wide, empty beach, a siren or two for the waiting ships. Lilian Ridetski, a beautiful arrangement, not a string attached.

    Emlyn flopped down beside me on the cabin top. He had spots before his eyes. Did I know that nobody in the whole of the medical profession had been able to explain those spots? He looked down at me. ‘Hey – you been thinking about Lilian?’
    â€˜Does it show?’
    â€˜I’m psychic, young man. You went on Friday night, didn’t you?’
    â€˜Where did Philip go on Friday night?’ Mash was awake, crouching by the cabin, but even his torso seemed to fill the sky. ‘Always talking about visiting. Who’s this Lilian?’
    â€˜The ex–serviceman’s best friend – bless her.’
    â€˜And all who sail in her,’ Emlyn added.
    Mash’s flat face was blank and puzzled. ‘I don’t get it.’
    â€˜You can say that again!’
    â€˜But go on. Tell me.’ He looked down at us, huge and pleading.
    â€˜Just a place to pop in and chat,’ Emlyn said. ‘A late night stop off.’ Mash nodded, waiting for more.
    â€˜Maison Collette,’ I said. ‘Seen her haven’t you?’
    Mash beamed. ‘That Mrs Ridetski? Mrs Lilian? Oh, yes, I’ve seen her.’
    â€˜Well then – that’s where.’
    â€˜Her?’ A grin split his face. ‘She’s all right that one. I’d say she was all right that Mrs Ridetski. Can I come?’
    â€˜Down, Rover,’ Emlyn said.
    â€˜Ridetski,’ Mash said. ‘Some Welsh name...’
    â€˜What about Louise Gobrilmov?’ Emlyn said. ‘In form