This is the seventh part of a fiction serial, in 795 words.
It might have been the first time I had lived with a girlfriend, but Justina settled in very happily, and very quickly too. Her relaxed attitude made me feel very pleased about having asked her to move in. She had her buses to and from work sorted, and when I got home the next evening, she was already cooking a delicious meal with ingredients bought on the way back from her induction course. She was animated, and excited to tell me how good the course was, how nice the other new entrants were, and how she was looking forward to starting in schools.
As we ate, I mentioned that she didn’t have to contribute to rent or bills. I was already managing okay, and if she was prepared to just buy some of the food, that would be fine with me. She decided that she would buy all of the food, and suggested a big supermarket shop at the weekend, using the car. By the time we had settled down on the sofa to watch an old film, I had decided that living with a confident older woman was a very comfortable situation indeed.
What I liked most about her was her cultural interests. I had never paid much attention to Art, and my idea of a holiday had been two weeks sweltering on a beach in Spain or Greece. In her forthright way, Justina drew me in to her interests, and we started to visit galleries and exhibitions at weekends, also going to watch foreign films in the West End cinemas. Despite my curiosity, I avoided quizzing her about her past, though she asked me lots of questions about my previous girlfriends. She would nod or shake her head as I told her about those relationships, often adding comments like, “Not Justina. She won’t be doing that”.
One saturday morning I woke up early, needing the toilet. It was just after six, and she wasn’t in bed next to me. I could hear her voice though, and when I looked out of the window, I saw her in the small garden, talking on her phone. She was frowning, and her voice fluctuated between what seemed to be frustration, followed by anger. I couldn’t understand what she was saying though, as she was speaking in Lithuanian. Or it might have been Russian, for all I knew. I went downstairs later, and she was already cooking some pancakes for breakfast. She suggested we get to the supermarket early, then maybe drive out to the Essex coast for the afternoon.
On the way to Frinton that lunchtime, I was very tempted to mention the phone call. But I let it go.
Every time I glanced round at her during the journey, she was looking at me with a warm and happy grin. There was something else too, and as I looked for a space in the pay and display car park, I found the word I was looking for. Knowing. It was as if she knew we were just right, perhaps even meant to be.
The week before, I had taken her to meet my parents, and have the traditional Sunday roast. My mum went overboard with the food, even serving a starter, and enough different vegetables for ten people. They took to her immediately, and when Justina insisted on helping my mum clear away and wash up, dad grinned at me and gave her a double thumbs-up. I had asked my mum not to interrogate her about her past, and not to mention the age difference either. Amazingly, she managed to avoid doing either. As we left that day, mum pulled me in to kiss my cheek, and whispered in my ear. “She’s so lovely, don’t mess this up”.
The new job was everything she had hoped. She got to speak her own language, and Russian too, which she was fluent in. The kids she helped translate for and worked in class with all took to her immediately, and she came home every night with stories about how much she loved what she was doing now. She still gave me all the credit for getting her the job, and I am a bit ashamed to say that I was happy to take it. She always got home from work before me, and had a meal on the go when I got in. So I decided that we would have a takeaway meal on Fridays, and go out to eat somewhere on Saturdays, to give her time away from the kitchen.
The next Friday, I drove the short distance to collect an Indian meal. But when I got home, I found her sobbing inconsolably, kneeling on the carpet.
I was so shocked, I dropped the curry on the floor.
She sounds like a strong soul with a past, and she wants to move forward. That phone call should have been a red flag.
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All is revealed, Jennie. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Iām excited!
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I dont want to know, I refuse to read anymore š
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Okay, I’m not telling you the ending though. š
Cheers, Pete.
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A good story always has plenty of problems. Justina needs to ask Justina what’s wrong, (in third-person, of course.) š¤£
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Yes, Frankie can just listen to her telling herself. š
(Out of interest, that is a very common trait with foreigners in London, and is based on a lot of experience)
Best wishes, Pete.
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Sounds like somebodyās going to mess it up!
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Well he started off the story with Becky, Peg. So we already knew something had to go wrong with him and Justina.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Might not be him to mess it up, though, as his mother feared.
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Not his fault, Peg. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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I suspect some will be revealed in the next episode. Warmest regards, Theo
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Your suspicions are correct, Theo. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh, dear. We things were about to go wring after that phone call in the garden. Curry on the floor is not good.
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I hope where he dropped it is laminate, and not carpet! š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Nice while it lasted though.
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Might not be over yet. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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No I didn’t think it was, but the good bit was I think.
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The big reveal….
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Sort-of, but not really. We knew from the start he was with Becky, so it’s no great surprise. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Well – that’s not a good sign!
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Not for Justina at least. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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(1a) “She was animated, and excited to tell me how good the course was…” And since it was a four course meal, the excitement lasted throughout dinner.
(1b) “She decided that she would buy all of the food…” Of course!
(2) Living with a confident older woman was as comfortable as the sofa on which they watched old films.
(3) There’s nothing wrong with sweltering on a beach in Spain or Greece with a sexy Lithuanian girl. But I guess the beach in Essex will have to do for now.
(4) Overheard…
Frankie: “My former girlfriends hated vacuuming. After running the vac for an hour or so, they used to kneel on the carpet and sob inconsolably.”
Justina: āNot Justina. She wonāt be doing that!ā
(5) “She was frowning, and her voice fluctuated between what seemed to be frustration, followed by anger.” Justina’s wasting her time. The automated phone menu attendant will never respond. Just dial “0” and hope for the best! #DuetoHighCallVolume #YourCallIsImportantToUs
(6) “It was as if she knew we were just right, perhaps even meant to be.” A word of advice to Justina: Never trust a Lithuanian fortune teller. There is always something they aren’t telling you…
(7) “My mum went overboard with the food… / I had asked my mum not to interrogate her about her past.” Frankie feared that Justina would say something self-incriminating, and that his mum would later dish the dirt on her.
(8) “I was so shocked, I dropped the curry on the floor.” Time to get out the vacuum cleaner!
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You have managed to adapt very well to a serial about relationships, David. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Pete, I wonder if this is an issue with relatives left behind – here in the US, a large number of immigrants send money home to relatives in less fortunate countries, and those distances cause a lot of grief…I look forward to the next chapter!
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Thanks, John. That’s a definite possibility. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Uh oh…
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Oh yes!
Best wishes, Pete.
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Uh oh. I knew the happiness was going to last.
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Well we know he ends up with Becky, so something had to go wrong with Justina. š
Best wishes, Pete.
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Russian mob? Perhaps she’s escaped from them? Her one-sided eastern European language conversation is concerning.
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Yes, it is a worry, I agree.
Thanks, Pam.
Best wishes, Pete.
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