Porterhouse Pete

"Well ..." Pete was wavering.

"Go on, I'll drive you round there."

"Actually, we could walk it in two minutes, it's that close."

"OK, I'll walk round with you, I'd like to meet your daughter. I don't know anybody in the town ... other than sick people." They both smiled at that.

"Where's your spare Christmas cards?" Pete asked, accepting Rebecca's offer.

"I'll go fetch them." Rebecca got up and fetched down her stationery case from her bedroom. She also brought down a small colourfully-wrapped present.

She opened up the case and sorted out a couple of suitable cards for him.

"This one will do for Annie," handing Pete one with an appealing baby fawn on a snowy background, "And this will do for Tracie." This was a neutral Victorian snowy street scene.

"So, what is the present?" he asked.

"A small bottle of perfume that my ex- gave me last Christmas. I didn't actually get him anything because I wasn't speaking to him at the time, which is why this present has not been opened." She explained, "We were going through our divorce at the time and negotiations were becoming difficult. I didn't buy him anything and I didn't want to open his present, nor would he take it back." As an afterthought, she added, "He told me what it was though, perfume. It is quite a popular brand, very expensive and is quite a refreshing light perfume which should appeal to a young lady."

"She's only a girl, I worked the dates out in my head, she's nearly 13," protested Pete.

"Believe you me, she's old enough to appreciate it. Go on, give her a call."

Pete called Tracie on his mobile phone and soon began smiling through a reasonably brief conversation. When he hung up he told Rebecca that they would be delighted to see him and his "friend" in a few minutes and they were welcome to stay for supper. He quickly filled in the cards and sealed them, then went upstairs for a shower. In the meantime, Rebecca ironed his shirt which she had washed and dried earlier in the afternoon, and lightly sponged and pressed his suit, which had been hanging up outside her wardrobe for most of the day. His socks and pants were also fresh out of the dryer, so he was able to get out of his surgical greens for the first time since the previous night.

Having once been a hotel, most of the bedrooms were quite large and all had en suite facilities, one or two with baths and toilets, others with showers instead of baths. Although the house had been professionally cleaned, to maximise the sale price, the bathroom, set in the room that Pete used was dated and tired looking, in need of fresh tiles and hardware.

He had seen the flatpack bed and wardrobe in the spare room selected by Rebecca for his use and thought it wouldn't take long to put it together when he got back. If the time was too short he might have to spend one more night on the settee, but he felt much more positive about his future than he had been for, well for almost as long as he could remember. All through an act of kindness by a stranger to the town, who accepted him as he appeared rather than on rumour.

The street that Tracie Harris lived in was only a few minutes' walk away. It was a tiny backstreet in the oldest part of the town and was one of a number of small maisonettes up a flight of concrete stairs above a row of shops. An outside light was on and they could see a small but gaudily-lit Christmas tree inside the window, the front door opening straight into the living room. Pete knocked on the door and an excited blond girl opened it and jumped into Pete's arms.

"Daddy! Daddy!" She shouted with a huge smile on her face, "I had wished you'd come this Christmas and my wish came true!" She kissed him enthusiastically, a tiny figure held in Pete's bear-like arms.

Another tiny figure, presumably Tracie, came to the door, petite and dark-haired, with long hair tied into a pony tail. She smiled at Rebecca, cheerily saying "Come in all of you, you are letting all the heat out of the room!"

Annie got down, holding her father with one hand and putting another hand out to grab Rebecca's hand and led them into the apartment. Tracie shut the door behind them and kicked a long fluffy sausage dog against the door to block a sizeable gap under the front door. Ann continued to drag her father and his friend through to the kitchen at the back of the flat where there was a spindly-legged table set for four and groaning with plates piled up with festive food. Annie pulled out a chair for Rebecca, who thanked the girl by kissing her on both cheeks. Then the girl pulled out a chair for her father, who she gave another hug to, before sitting down herself in between Rebecca and her dad.

Tracie asked if anyone wanted tea, coffee or something stronger, both opted for tea and she put the kettle on before sitting down. She begged everyone to help themselves to the food.

Pete introduced both of their hosts to Rebecca, explaining to Tracie and Annie why his head was bandaged. The current dressing was much more discrete than the one originally fitted at Casualty.

Rebecca reflected as the meal progressed how relaxed Pete became and how excited and animated his daughter was throughout. Eventually they retired to the sitting room and sat drinking a second pot of tea. Then Pete pulled out the greetings cards from a carrier bag to hand to both Tracie and Annie.

Annie ran to the sideboard and pulled out a couple of cards from the top drawer and handed one of them to her father and the second one to Rebecca, explaining that the first one was last year's just to her father and this year's was addressed to both of them. Then Ann went back to the sideboard and opened one of the big doors and pulled out several parcels and handed two of them to her father and one to Rebecca.

"That's last year's present Daddy and this is year's."

"Sorry, pumpkin, I just brought you the one," apologised Pete as he reached into the carrier bag Rebecca had brought and handed her the beautifully-wrapped package that Rebecca had furnished for him earlier.

Annie tore open her little present and squealed with delight when she saw the small bottle of perfume revealed. Rebecca looked at Tracie and saw that she smiled as she saw the gift and nodded her approval at Rebecca.

"Wow!" said Annie, "This has been on the telly for ages and the local shop have been unable to get any for weeks, it's the biggest thing out at the moment. Everybody at school will be sooo jealous." She rushed up and hugged and kissed Pete and then hugged and kissed Rebecca, too. She opened the bottle gingerly and delicately dabbed a tiny finger of essence on her wrists and behind her ears. Her lovely face was a joy to behold. She hugged Pete and Rebecca in turn, then her mum too, who told her she smelt absolutely gorgeous.

Pete opened his presents, one was a pack of socks and the other a pack of underpants.

"Honey, you cannot possibly believe how much I appreciate these presents! Come here, sweetheart!"

Annie went over to her father again and this time climbed onto his lap and cuddled up to her dad, her face full of smiles, reflecting the same broad smiles on the face of her gentle giant father. Rebecca opened her present, it was a pack of orange and lemon segment jellies, a present clearly packed at the last minute.

"I love these," she said, getting up and giving Annie a kiss where she was, not wanting to take her away from her close contact with her father, "Perhaps we can open them before we go."

Tracie said "If you're not in any hurry, the Christmas movie blockbuster is on in ten minutes, Annie and I were going to stay up and watch it, you are welcome to stay and watch it with us. Do you want any drinks or snacks before it starts?"

Rebecca and Pete exchanged glances, Pete shrugging, happily cuddling his daughter.

"We'd love to stay," said Rebecca, "Pete was going to build his bed in the spare room tonight, but I guess he could put up with the settee again."

"Very comfy that settee," grinned Pete, "Better than that lumpy cot at the club."

"You still working at the Starlight, Pete?" asked Tracie, as she brought in some packets of crisps, bottles of wine, juice and water from the kitchen.

"Not anymore," said Pete, "This," he pointed to his bandaged head, "was the last straw. it looked like I was goin' to spend Christmas in the town nick, till the Doc here rescued me."

"Doc?" enquired Annie, looking with a new light at Rebecca.

"Yes, I was the duty doctor in A&E on Christmas Eve when Pete was brought in with his injury and, with the club closed for the rest of the holiday, he had nowhere to stay. I've got plenty of room, I bought Pete's old house."

"The old restaurant, of course. I've done quite a bit of waitressing, always dreamed of opening a restaurant," mused Tracie. "So, Pete has only stayed with you for the one night?"

"So far," said Rebecca, measuredly, looking at Tracie, "But hopefully Pete will stay while he helps renovate the place, once we get his bedroom habitable. There's a lot of work to do to get the place comfortable."

Pete chipped in "I am getting paid a wage by Rebecca for a few weeks anyway, as well as getting food and board, so in a couple of weeks I hope I can pay you some of the back maintenance I owe you, Tracie."

"Thanks, that will be useful," admitted Tracie, "Things have been tight for a while."

"There's at least six months' work, so I can give you an advance, if you need it," said Rebecca, wanting to help Annie and her mother as much as possible. She had noticed since she had been in the flat that all the furniture was second hand and rather worn and the flat looked expensive to keep heated, as there was no central heating, just the cooker in the kitchen and the gas fire in the sitting room. There were no radiators in the two rooms she had seen.

Tracie smiled. "We are alright at the moment, but the rent's due at the end of next week."

"I'll make sure Pete's round here Friday with some cash for you each week." Rebecca noticed that Pete's head was nodding vigorously, with Annie sitting comfortably on his lap, Pete's smile couldn't have been broader as he gently stroked her long blond hair.

They watched the film through to the end, munching snacks and drinking pop or wine or beer and had mugs of steaming cocoa at the end before Pete helped Tracie get Annie washed and changed for bed and the girl insisted she was not too old to have a story read to her.

While Pete was reading stories, Tracie and Rebecca cleared up the debris of empty snack packets and washed and dried the plates and glasses used. Tracie assured Rebecca that she and Pete hadn't been romantically linked for a long time, before Annie was born even. Rebecca likewise assured Tracie that she was just getting over a divorce and wasn't interested in starting any kind of romantic liaison in the near future. They both laughed at the absurdity of their conversation.

Tracie told her she worked part-time in the local post office and newsagents, with waitressing work Friday and Saturday at a pub restaurant, so she was getting by financially, but that there was little spare for extras or unforeseen emergencies. She had taken some evening classes in hairdressing and was waiting for an opening at the local hairdressers. She did work the odd shift once or twice a week helping out in the local salon, mainly with hair washing, which helped the household expenses. The amount of work she got wasn't reliable enough to give up the five mornings she worked each week in the newsagents.

When Pete had settled Annie down, he and Rebecca took their leave and walked back to the Porter House.

"She's a lovely girl," Rebecca observed, "You must be so proud of Annie."

"She's a real honey," Pete acknowledged, a huge smile on his face, "I hadn't realised how much I had missed her and she made me feel as though I was the most special person in the world to her."

"You must never leave it so long," she said, "Living just around the corner there's no reason why you couldn't organise the work so you can see her after school as often as she wants."

"I will," he said, "I gotta thank you for giving me a chance, Rebecca. I'm pretty good with my hands and I think I can do most of what you want around the place to get it shipshape. Did anything come up in the house survey that needed doing urgently, like the damp in that back bedroom on the right corner?"

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, that did come up, they thought there was a problem with the cavity wall at that point. I had a builder look at it on Wednesday with some kind of moisture meter and he thought it was a problem with the roof. He was going to give me a price to investigate it, but it hasn't arrived yet."

"I noticed it this morning when I was looking around for wood and tools. I'll have a closer look tomorrow, there's a set of ladders in the garage roof space. They are wooden and may be rotten, but I'll check them out."

By this time they had reached the house. Both of them were pretty tired. Rebecca had noticed that Pete had a limp and carried his left leg a little. She did ask if it was troubling him. Pete said no, it was an old injury from about twenty years previously and wasn't painful, it had just affected his mobility a little. Pete elected to sleep on the settee again that night and make up the new bed in the morning.

Chapter Three

Boxing Day

April Dunlough had actually enjoyed her Christmas Day after her long and calming run along the beach. Her mother was on very good form and cheerfully introduced her to Julian Golding, her lover, a retired jeweller, who had his own house on the other side of the bay. He was a very charming man, a widower, relaxed in the presence of both beautiful women, despite being caught making love to April's mother by April on Christmas Eve when she dropped in on the family home unexpectedly. April believed he had stayed overnight, but who was she to criticise her mother if she wanted some happiness for herself? After all, her mother had been a widow for over eight years.

Actually, April originally had no intention of staying with her mother this Christmas. Her original plans had been scuppered when the TV studio director, who produce the twice-weekly television soap opera about Home Counties suburban housewives, called "Heatherside Close", had decided April had shot all the scenes she was required for and was released a day earlier than expected to beat the airport rush and enjoy the festivities.

April was looking forward to seeing her husband of three years, Jacques Bertrand, at their Paris apartment and rang him as she left the studios, leaving a message on the answering machine to say she was on her way home. Her PA managed to secure a late night flight for her and she arrived in Paris very early on the 23rd. The cab dropped her off with a substantial carrier bag of presents and she ran up the stairs as that damn lift in their stylish but ancient apartment block wasn't working again — forgetful residents or visitors were always leaving the old-fashioned lift doors not quite closed. So she was a little puffed, but joyously excited, when she got to the fifth floor and let herself in, anticipating embracing her loving husband after several weeks' absence filming her parts in London, while he had been directing an art film down in Bordeaux.

It had been a shock which took whatever breath she had away when she found her better half still tucked up in bed with a young and beautiful oriental, who sat up instantly awake showing off a pair of perfect breasts. It was an even bigger shock when Ms Perfect Breasts jumped out of bed displaying an even more perfect, if extravagantly oversized, morning-wood penis and a rather pendulous shaven ball sack dangling below. Jacques Bertrand almost had a heart attack when he awoke to April's scream, while at the same time April had a near fainting spell. She recovered sufficiently to throw the bag of presents she was carrying at her husband's head. He jumped naked out of the bed to embrace her and she kicked him in the nuts with her comfortable airline trainers. That'll teach him not to ignore his phone messages the next time he spends the evening and night with a casual lover of whatever his gender of choice.

April's first thought was that she would go to her Mum's. She couldn't actually bring herself to disturb her Personal Assistant, who had been released to the bosom of her own loving family the day before.

Her reticence was partly out of embarrassment, although she knew the news of her third marriage's demise would all come out and she would soon be the butt of the Press's smutty jokes for a while. So April made her way back to Charles de Gaulle Airport and quietly tried to get herself a flight back. She was not recognised, but then why would she be in France? She was put on standby and eventually managed to squeeze into a spare seat early the next morning. Then she travelled by train into London, followed by another train down to the region and finally a ten-mile cab ride from the nearest station, the Sandmouth Bay railway included in Beechings cuts and sounded the death nell of the Bay as a resort. Hence arriving both unexpectedly and rather late at night at her mother's.

Christmas Day was just another day to get through and she was glad now that it was over. Now it was a cool early Boxing Day morning and she was once more on her pre-dawn run. This time she thought she would run past the wrecked pier, destroyed nearly forty years ago after being weakened by fire, collapsed by storms and never restored, and continue round the bay as far as the nature reserve at the far end. April smiled at the thought of the exercise. It should be a good workout and she could think about what she was going to say to her lawyers on Wednesday, when she arranged for the swift termination of her third marriage, which had almost lasted three years. One thing she had already determined, as she tramped along the firm wet sand, that was it, no fourth husband for her. Absolutely, no way would she put herself through this again.

Strange what fate can do to you, she wondered, pounding that beach yard by hungry yard. To the public she was a household name, having appeared in a couple of different soap operas in a constant career spanning over a quarter of a century. She had started acting in a school-based weekly drama from the age of 13 to 23 and now twice a week for the last fifteen years she had played one half of the only stable relationship in a suburban soap drama, which was mostly about cheating wives and husbands. April Dunlough had become a household name as the nation's sweetheart in her role as an actress, yet her private life demonstrably lacked any long-lasting stability.

Her current, soon-to-be-ex, husband was a 66-year-old French director with a reputation for dark, moody, rather arty films, mostly in French with a single American blockbuster five years earlier that had received mixed box office returns. He should have been a safe bet for a stable relationship. That turned out to be a huge mistake.

Her second husband was nothing to do with acting or performing, he was wealthy and owned a string of nightclubs. Unfortunately he had a partiality for scantily-dressed young lap dancers and was caught out and publicised by the gutter press before April even had a clue what was going on, leaving her no choice in throwing him out of her life. Her first husband was an actor, one of the "boy" actors in the long-running school drama in which she first made her name. At the time they were a match made in heaven as far as the press were concerned and April Dunlough and her groom were elevated to being household names. Her husband rapidly developed into a leading role actor and was caught bedding his then co-star, actually two different co-stars on two different movies. His career had since nose-dived.