Decaf Drama
Polly had always known she was destined for fame. Right up until twenty, she dreamt of a place at a drama school, refusing to accept defeat even after countless not quite the right fit letters. Every time she received a rejection, it only fuelled her ambition. Off she’d march, undeterred, for another go at stardom.
But when another financial crisis barged in, our creative Polly had to swap the stage for something with a steadier income. Enter: Polly, Jack-of-all-Trades Hairdresser. She found her scissors suited her just fine, and before long, she had a respectable little circle of loyal clients.
Still, the call of the spotlight was hard to ignorethe glamour! The adoration! Then, as if by fate, the internet burst into her life like Mary Poppins with WiFi. Not just a superficial distraction, but a jackpot of opportunity! Polly wasnt daft. She jumped on the bandwagon, and so Stylish Lady Polly, at the magnificent age of 45, began to dole out beauty tips to her devoted but modest online following. The numbers might’ve been small, but they kept her in tea and toastand the occasional caviar, if she fancied.
* * *
An untimely knock at the door ruined Pollys perfect video take. On the doorstep loomed her old chum, Vanessa, clutching a bottle of bubbly for dear life.
Pol-lyyy! Vanessa always stretched her words when tipsy, Raise a glass to me! Ive finally shaken off the chains, for the third blooming time!
Congratulations on yet another divorce, Ness, said Polly, waving her in with an eye roll.
Polly didnt exactly long to hear another of Nesss melodramatic sob stories, but she couldnt chuck her out in her current state. Ness was the sort of woman who tried to devour lifes entire buffet in one sittingand every one of her stories ended up with the same garnish of disaster.
The first time, Ness had bolted up the aisle at seventeenmadly in love and a little bit in trouble, shall we say. Two years on, they were skintor so Ness claimed. She shipped her husband off to “the North,” lured by tales of men returning loaded with cash, furs, and gold. Instead, he stayed up north, found himself a local lass, and promptly filed for divorce.
After that, Vanessa decided love was just a fairy tale for the thick and naive. Men, she declared, were for funding her whims. When Husband Two came upan owner of the local jewellery shopshed done her research. Ness was living like a queen: fancy gifts, foreign holidays, swanky flat in the city centre, her first brush with plastic surgery. Five years she played the glamorous mistress, thensurprise!she got pregnant, the jeweller left his old family, and Ness finally got her walk down the aisle. But as soon as the ink dried on the marriage certificate, Prince Charming morphed into a right tyrant. He even got handy with his fists once, which landed Ness in A&Eand set her off down the road to divorce. She kept the flat, nabbed a tidy monthly settlement, and left their son with him.
Husband Three, a fast-food chain owner, appeared thanks to Vanessas carefully-timed outburst in a café while he was there. Love (or something) blossomed in a flash, and two months later, another white dress. But soon enoughyes, you guessed itdivorce struck again.
So what went wrong this time? Polly asked with only a bit of genuine curiosity, setting out the champagne glasses.
Oh, Polly, you wouldnt believe it, he was such a penny-pincher!
Well, Ness, with you, thats hardly shocking.
Listen, I knew I could be picky, but he starts clocking my water usage! Says Im only allowed the shower for thirty minutes a day since Im not earning. Then, lights out sharp at ten every night! Still, I gritted my teeth. And thenwait for ithe started ordering takeaway from his restaurants only for himself. Told me, No work, no pie! and put a code lock on the fridge. I packed my bags, told him to stick his padlocks and threatsand now hes ringing me, threatening to charge me for all the gifts. Complete nutter.
Blimey, Ness, you really know how to pick them!
Best part is, there were no kids this time. Can you imagine the fuss if there were? Do you know how lucky you are, Polly? No bloke, no kidsnothing to worry your pretty head about. You get to prattle on to a camera and live easy!
You could always do a little vlogging yourself. Maybe, How to MarrySuccessfully or Nota public service.
Vanessa had a talent for reminding Polly of her single status. In her mind, she was brighter, more beautiful, and far more accomplished than her plain friend; but she never missed a chance to use Polly as a tissue for her tears.
Actually, Polly had always been perfectly content on her ownbut recently, things had changed: for two months, shed been exchanging messages with a certain gentleman caller.
Their first encounter with Edgar had all the makings of a disaster. Hed bumped into her at the shops and splashed coffee all over her new coat. But then he found her vlog, wrote a heartfelt apology, and sent her an enormous bouquet by courier. Luckily for him, retired police colonels have their ways of locating addresses.
From then, Edgar found ways to surprise her every day: flowers, her favourite pastries, theatre tickets. She quite liked that behind all that gallant fuss, he still remained oddly bashfuladdressed her formally, called her Ms Walsh as if she were his old headmistress, and never dared to make a move.
Polly would rather not discuss her new romance with Vanessa, but the latest courier deliverya giant bunch of hydrangeasmade secrecy impossible.
Well, well, Polly! You sneaky thing! Whos showering you with all this? Ness snatched the flowers, eagerly searching for some poetic love note.
Oh, just an appreciative follower. Nothing worth writing home about.
But Ness was relentlessso Polly told her the whole story.
so now we chat online, see each other now and again, but nothing serious. Maybe Edgars bothered by our age gap? He hardly looks sixty, after all.
Sixty? Ness nearly choked on her prosecco. Polly, have you lost your marbles? At this rate youll be doing school runs for the grandkids! Granny on Sundaysat 45!
Oh, dont start, Ness. Hes never so much as mentioned kids or grandkids
Thats because you never asked! If he had any cash, maybe. But otherwisejust another retiree. Even if hes a colonel, so what? Talks cheap!
I honestly dont care about Edgars bank balance. Hes said hes got some business interests. Doesnt matter to me! Ive got my own income, thanks. All I know is I feel comfortable and at peace with him. Never had that before.
Idiot, Ness muttered, thunder flashing in her eyes. Dont come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.
Normally, Polly took her friends advice about as seriously as a fortune cookie, but Ness had succeeded in planting a seed of doubt.
Why had Edgar never spoken of his family? Was Polly simply some shiny new trophy? Was he secretly a happy granddad, leading her up the garden path?
That night, Polly didnt reply to Edgars messages. She wasnt interested in being anyones guilty pleasure, nor was she about to break up someones home. Alone she had lived, and alone she could carry onplenty of single years ahead, especially now Ness was free again and guaranteed to liven things up until she found her next target.
* * *
So, hows your dashing officer? Ness downed an espresso in one theatrical slug. Anyway, Im far too old for clubbing anymoretime to change my approach. But what about the colonel?
Dont know, were speaking less and less
Told you! Bet the grandkids are over, and he wont introduce you as the new Granny Polly.
Oh, give it a rest! Edgar writes every day. Sends presents and all Polly fiddled with her gold pendant, Still, maybe youre right. I hardly know a thing about him.
Of course Im right! Where did you say you met? At the shops? And he was drinking coffee? Just thinkwhat bloke in his sixties still drinks coffee like a uni student? Hes sneaking off for a rendezvous, plain as day. Keeps him out of the house, chance for a flirty liaison off the record.
Please, Ness, that doesnt sound like him at all. He just likes the place. Anyway, the coffee mightve been decaf!
Honestly, youre acting like a lovesick teenager! Fine, your mistake, not mine. Sleep on ittomorrow, were going out! Dining outs better hunting grounds these days. God knows what rare birds we might meet
* * *
Polly was editing a video for her next big collab, but could only think of one thing: why hadnt Edgar messaged for nearly a month? Had he been put off by her frosty last replies? Had something happened? Maybe hed found himself another lonely sad-sack? Or had the wife discovered his wanderings and was now keeping him under lock and key?
Her pondering was abruptly interrupted by a video call:
Oi, Polly! Nesss grinning face filled the screen. Miss me yet?
Hardly. Every time you vanish, I know theres a new wallet on legs in your life.
Oh, you know me too well! Ness grinned like a Cheshire cat. But yes, Ive struck gold! Solid chap, generousand a widower, too! Not a stray child to his name, thank the stars. Weve put in our marriage papers, darling. Didnt you see my stories? Im expecting a proper wedding blowout.
Cant you tone it down for once, Ness?
As if! Do you know how hard Ive worked for this? A whole month I suffered through that dreadful decaf coffee. Youre my chief bridesmaiddont even think about saying no!
Ill think about it.
Polly ended the call.
Waithang on.
Decaf coffee?…
With a sinking feeling, she clicked over to Nesss latest post.
There was Ness, arm outstretched, flaunting a sparkly engagement ring. Caption: He finally proposed! And there, right beside her, stood Edgar.
What an absolute cow! Polly barked, fingers flying over the keyboard. She posted: Hope hes got grandkids to make you a grandma on Sundays.
* * *
Polly washed her hands of all news about her ex-friend, Ness the Betrayer. Now and then shed think of Edgar, but without the old spark. Strange how even a retired colonel can fall for a woman utterly allergic to substancebut good luck to them both.
Rumour had it, two years later, Edgar was divorced again. Polly made no effort to learn more.
