Gary and Libby - Take Two

Chapter Fifty Nine

"Do you need a hand?" Gary asks, coming up besides me and placing more crockery on the work surface as i stand at the sink, hand washing all of the wine glasses and china plates you only get out on special occasions because theyre too delicate for the dishwasher.

Pulled from my thoughts, i take a moment to answer, staring into the foam of bubbles swallowing my hands. "What, with the washing up?"

A quiet; "Um-huh." Is my answer, and i can only assume Gary is nodding too. I cant see him though, my hair hangs annoyingly in front of my face, bedraggled and un-kept until i have a dry and soap free hand spare to brush it over my shoulder with; i smirk behind it never the less. "When was the last time you hand-washed a dish?"

A long finger from behind me pulls my face free of my hair and i take the moment as a chance to glance across to Gary who is mindlessly running the tip of his left index finger around the rim of a wine glass. "Could be tonight?"

I go to tut, but an unmistakable bustling behind us halts me.

"Oh move out of the way will you, dear?" Marjorie brushes Gary out of the way as she comes, arms lavished with dishes, to the sink. "Youre neither use nor ornament standing there, i dont know.."

The elderly woman tusks, shaking her head and giving me a knowing look. I cant help but grin back, setting two glasses upside down on the drying rack. Gary, who has now come to stand at the end of the kitchen island, merely gapes at the both of us.

"Oi! I was offering to do the washing up there, mother!"

Marjorie, who has now busied herself with a tea towel and is beginning to dry the items next to the sink, makes another sound of utter disbelief and i laugh a little harder.

"I dont think so Gary, dear. Youve not washed a dish since at least 1993."

"Now thats not true and you know its not!" Gary gawks, but that simper tugging at the right hand corner of his mouth doesnt go unnoticed. Marjorie, however, is not impressed.

"Shoo!" She ushers, flapping the tea towel at her son in jest. "Go and do something useful, i think people are wanting more drink. Not for Alison, Peter and myself though, we're off to bed in a mo'."

Theres a heavy groan to our left as Gary heaves himself from the work surface hes been leaning on. "Yes, mother. Whatever you say, mother. Anything else, mother?"

Marjorie just shakes her head, either immune, or choosing to ignore the tone that drips with sarcasm. "No thank you, dear."

When Gary has finally found his way back into the living room, there is a moment of passing silence as Marjorie and i work at a steady rhythm of wash-pass-and-dry, the pile to the left of the sink quickly becoming smaller than the pile on the right. And, as much as i would rather be staring at Garys flexing biceps as he dries the plates, im pretty sure that Marjorie can do it ten times faster than he would ever be able to and i am grateful of her help.

"Youre good for him, you know?" The womans voice pulls me from my momentary daydream.

"Sorry?"

"Gary, you're good for him. Better than you realise." Marjorie doesnt look at me as she speaks, and so i keep my eyes focused on scrubbing at the, already gleaming, wineglass in my hand, caught more than a little off guard by the direction of this conversation.

"You think?" Is the only real response i can think to give. Today is fast becoming a day of DMC's with OAPs'.

"Oh yes. Most certainly. You keep him grounded, -you and Ethan. I used to worry about his ego like you wouldnt believe."