“I taught your little Alfie to play cards!” Granny Polly announced proudly.
“Why?” sighed tired Marianne, just back from workAlfie had only just turned six.
“Well, how else will he join in when he visits family and they sit down for a game?” the old woman reasoned. “Hell fit right ingood for socialising!”
You could understand hershed been raised in the thick of socialism, where card games and dominoes passed for fine entertainment.
And this wasnt nowadays, but back in the stagnant middle of the last century. So, bring on the knock-out whist and the patience!
Granny Polly came to babysit her great-grandson, baby Leo. Alfie, who hated nursery school, hovered nearby.
The boy was self-sufficientkey around his neck, lunch in a thermos. Back then, that was perfectly normal. These days, kids cant be weaned off their mothers till theyre forty.
The estate wasnt bad eithercosy, with buildings on all four sides. There was even a ping-pong table and a decent playground with a sandpit and swings.
One of the blocks housed a shop called “Bright Lights.” Alongside lamps and sconces, for some reason, they sold furniture.
And furniture is heavy. Unloading it didnt exactly inspire joy.
So the kids often brought home new wordswords starting with B, P, S: *Mum, what does… mean?*
They called them “brightly lit words.”
But these were small downsides compared to the big upsideyou didnt have to worry about kids playing outside. The movers even kept an eye on them!
Marianne married firstshe fell for a classmate and got pregnant. Later, her mother-in-law, who worked at a nursery, took the boy during the week, so Marianne could finish medical school.
After that, both she and her husband worked as GPsback then, job placements were still a thing.
Pretty Lena didnt marry till she was twenty-fivelate by the standards of the time.
The sisters couldnt have been more differentquick, slim, dark-haired Marianne was the polar opposite of slow, plump, fair Lena.
But both were strikingblack and white, not just a contrast, but two halves of a whole.
Looking at them, people asked the obvious: *You sure youve got the same dad?*
“Not sure!” the sisters would snap, though they got on like a house on fire.
Dad had died long ago. Mum had moved on, leaving the flat to her grown daughters. She dodged questions*Why do you need to know? Of course its the same dad! Just the one!*
Till twenty-four, Lena played men like a fiddleher heart still slept, though she had her flings.
She met her future husband at a schoolmates party a couple of years after graduationhe was a friend of their old classmate, Alex.
Lena even agreed to a date with Peter. But she came back disappointed.
“You wont believe how dull he is!” she fumed. “Guess what he asked me?”
“What?” Marianne held her breathit mustve been terrible for Lena to be so cross.
“Imaginehad I put on warm knickers! The horror!” Lena wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, how mundane!”
Yes, the blokethree years older and quite taken with herhad simply shown concern, asking if shed dressed warmly. Back then, everyone wore fleece-lined knickers, and the temperature had dropped below freezing.
Nothing improperjust common sense for a flighty girl like Lena. But youth is harsh. So, sensitive Pete got the boot along with the knickers.
He reappeared seven years later. By then, Lena had had her fill of admirers but was still aloneshe and Mariannes family still shared the same two-bed flat.
Suddenly, suitors had dried up. After New Years, she stayed home with Mariannes familyno one had invited her out.
Then Marianne found a needle hidden in her sisters blanket. Someone had put a curse on hera love charm, or worse!
Lena had loads of girlfriends who often stayed overthe flat was near the Tube, handy for uni and later work.
The needle was removed, and right after, Lena bumped into Peteclearly fate. And you dont argue with fate!
This time, the warm knickers questionyes, he asked again!was met differently. *So caring, isnt he?* Lena agreed to marry Peter, now a maths PhD.
He moved in straight away, marking his arrival with a new enamel kettle and a sofa.
“But we already have a kettle!” Marianne frowned. “Why another?”
“That ones yours,” the mathematician explained. “This ones ours.”
For the first time, tension crept between the sistersPeters kettle was much nicer. And more expensive.
His parents were well-off, unlike Mariannes husbands family*proper paupers*, as Mum called them behind his back.
The plan was to swap the two-bed for two one-beds with extra cashotherwise, it was impossible. Peters parents promised to help.
Time passed, and Leo arrived. Lena went back to worksharp-minded Peter “recruited” his gran, Granny Polly, to babysit.
One day, Marianne came home early with a feverprobably caught from her patients.
Her callsor *call-outs*, as one nasty dispatcher called themwere handed to a colleague. *Get well soon, Dr. Wright!*
The flat was darkmust be asleep.
Inside, it was a sickbayLena had taken leave to care for Leo, and husband John had a slight fever. Alfie, as ever, was home.
Quietly, Marianne unlocked the doorthen froze. Strange noises. *Please, let the kids be okay.*
Still in her coat, she peeked into the room. In the fading light, six-year-old Alfie and drooling baby Leo sat on the rug, cards in handAlfie teaching his brother to play knock-out whist *for socialising*.
“Wheres Dad?” Marianne asked.
“Dad and Auntie Lena are washing clothes in the bath!” Alfie replied, then added to Leo, struggling with his single card: “My gocover me!”
Granny Pollys lessons had taken root.
“How long have they been washing?” Mariannes heart pounded.
“The big hand was on six, now its on nine!” clever Alfie answered.
*Fifteen minutes!* Marianne thought. *He doesnt last that long with me.*
She felt sick*this* was why Lena kept making excuses not to move. Silly reasons*the doors ugly, its too far from the Tube*. Now she knew.
Did Peter know? Unlikely. If he did, his parents wouldve tanned Lenas hide. Yet they were willing to pay extradefinitely clueless.
Still in her coat, Marianne waited outside the bathroom. Soon, flushed John and Lena emerged, stunned.
“Youre supposed to be on callwhat are you doing here?”
“Came to help with the washingthought you might struggle!” Marianne said. “Done already? Mustve spun fast! Ready to hang?”
“Its not what you think!” John spluttered. What else could he say?
“Fine,” Marianne said. “Show me the washingmaybe you can talk your way out.”
*Go on, thenthink of something! Say you had a fever, started hallucinating! Lena was cooling you with compresses!*
*No backup plan, you two? Hows that for foresight!*
John and Lena just stood thereno excuses. Till now, things had gone so well…
“Both of youout!” Marianne said. Lena grabbed Leo, his card still clutched tight, and fled.
John sent Alfie out to playstill lightthen tried to talk his way out. *It was a moment of madness, love! I only love you! She came onto me!*
*The Italian Job* had been out for yearseveryone knew the lines.
But Marianne was ice. Shed been cheated on. Probably for ages.
Later, she learned “Dad and Auntie Lena” often “washed clothes”how *neat*.
Soon, feverish John (37.1°C*seriously ill*) was kicked out. Contact with Lena was cut to a minimum.
Marianne didnt tell Peter. If he knew about the affair, hed divorce Lena. Then shed be stuck in this flat with her wretched sister indefinitely.
Instead, Lena agreed to the first decent offertwo one-beds with extra cash.
Post-divorce, Marianne ended up in a tiny flatfour-square-metre kitchen, *cursed* bathroom (as the shared loo-shower was known).
But it was hers*shabby, but mine!*
“Evicted” John had to move back with his parents, though he clawed for mercy. They divorced.
One day, Marianne returned from her new clinic. The flat was quietAlfie was playing.
He was self-sufficient, her Alfie. Happy alone, though he missed Leo.
Now he sat on the rug. Propped against a chair leg was a big teddy bear. Cards fanned out before itAlfie teaching his plush friend to play *for socialising*.
Then Marianne heard him say tenderly: “Come on, Teddy, whyd you lead with trumps, you muppet?”
*Hello, Granny Polly. And cheers to the “brightly lit” furniture movers! You lot not sneezing? We miss you*
