PI GY 13 - Uncle Ted’s Big Balls and the Floral Floozie

“I think your Uncle Ted is having an affair.”

I stared at my 83 year old Aunt Edie as she twiddled, sadly, with a potted primrose.

Uncle Ted was 93 and I, quite frankly, didn’t think he was up to much; never mind an affaire d’passion.

“We’re down to once a week now.” She said quietly, with some embarrassment.

“Oh,” I said with a lot of embarrassment and rapidly widening eyes. My eyebrows were in the position that I would presume them to be in if a facelift had been carried out, when all is yanked upwards and a big knot of skin was tied like a bun, at the back of the head.
I really, really didn’t want to be having this conversation but Edie continued.

“I don’t really want to be bothered with a divorce but if he was I’d have to. I know you’re good at these things. Can you find out for me please?”

Early evening and I was sitting in my car waiting for my uncle to emerge and ready to follow him.
Talk about it all feeling rather surreal. Uncle Ted? Affair? No! Surely not? No! Please NO!

I looked at my watch. Hurry up Ted, I thought. With that thought, the dull green door opened and out he came. I heard Aunt Edie’s cheerful “Bye”  floating out behind him but he only grunted in return and waved his hand as though he was impatiently swotting something annoying away. The door closed softly behind him and he was off.

Not the fastest follow ever, I had to wait until he turned a corner before moving, as he took so long to shuffle down the road.
No way was this man capable of steamy afternoon sessions. Aunt Edie’s “Down to once a week” had the temerity to float through my mind and I shuddered before trying to slam the shutters down in my over imaginative imagination. Too late. The damage had already been done.

I suddenly realised that Ted had disappeared.

A slow drive saw him halfway up someone’s drive. A cherry red door opened and a woman, at least twenty years younger than Ted, stepped out. Okay, she was still in her 70s but it’s probably all relative if you’re 93.

Blowsy was the only word that sprang to mind. She had on a flowery dress which was so beautifully vintage looking I had to wonder if she’d bought it when it first hit the rails. Surprisingly trim, brown legs led down to a pair of gleaming white plimsolls. Her hair was practically yellow and a slash of red, the only added colour on her face, drew the eye, instantly, to a mouth which never seemed to keep still.

After  a hug and a kiss  - ON THE LIPS! – she turned away from Ted and they both disappeared into the house, the cherry red door creating an impenetrable barrier for my curiosity.

A few minutes later and a bedroom light went on and stayed on for the next 20 minutes.

I wasn’t sure what to make of 20 minutes. Was that an awfully long time or would it take Ted that long just to get his socks off? Did he even take his socks off? Oh God, please stop over thinking this.

Eventually, the cherry red door, once again, creaked open. It’s a good job it was noisy because I’d started to nod off. My senses, once again, were at full alert/disgust,

I watched, through narrowed eyes, as the Floral Floozy headed for the gate. Ted followed her and, behind her back, adjusted his undercarriage. OH GOD!

At the gate she waited for him and kept in pace with his shuffle as they went on their way.

I felt rather distraught for poor Aunt Edie.  She was so lovely she didn’t deserve this. Bloody Ted. I’d kill him if he was having an affair. Oh God, Tracey. Don’t even think about it...

Too late. The image of her bouncing about on top of him (albeit still in the floral frock), was already there and primed to pump up the cringe-o-meter.

Shaking my head to attempt to dislodge the frightening image, I continued my stop, start, slow follow, until they turned into a passageway between two houses. The passageway opened into a large, concrete car park with a stark, utilitarian clubhouse at the far end.

I hadn’t seen this place before and had no idea it was even here, what it was used for and for whom.

I had a quick look around but, when a disloyal lurcher barked, when it saw me peering through the window at Ted, with a pint of stout (probably needed some fortification by that point), laughing with the Floral Floozy twirling her CherryB, I had to make an hasty retreat.
Yes, I know the Floral Floozy was probably lovely, but he was my 93 year old uncle, Ted, married to my lovely 83 year old Aunt Edie.

With an heavy heart I phoned Edie and reported back.

The next day, Edie called me and asked if I would go around for tea and cake. As much as I tried to avoid cake it always seemed to just fall into my expanding lap – at least the crumbs did.

Edie was already waiting by the open, dull green door.

“It’s alright, luv, he’s confessed all.”

I was fumbling around in my pocket for a clean-ish tissue to proffer but then wondered why was Edie looking so happy?

Edie bustled me in and a plate of cake was in my hand before my bum had even connected with the my-niece-bought-it-from-Shackleton's high chair, cosily situated by the electric bar fire.

“He’s been meeting a woman called Florrie. She’s married to the lovely Jim. You remember Jim? He was always running people over with his mobility scooter. Anyway, he’s now totally bedbound which quite frankly, is safer for everyone, including Jim. Going out with Ted, gives Florrie a lovely break from all the caring and gives Jim a lovely break from all the caring. A win win.”

I was thinking that was rather bohemian of Edie and Jim, when she continued; “Anyway, Ted picks up Florrie to walk her to the bowling club  a couple of times a week. They are in the same team and found that he walked past her house, on the way.”

“But why the big secret and the sneaking around?” I queried, totally perplexed by this point.

“Apparently, the big lummox was embarrassed. He originally got dragged along by Burt and Banjo (Burt’s chilled out wiry lurcher) and found that he enjoyed it – the people and the playing – bowls not banjos.”

“But...but....why didn’t he say where he was going?”

Edie tutted. “He was embarrassed that, if he admitted to liking playing bowls,  it would make him look old and ruin his street cred...” Edie raised her eyebrows to the same level that mine had already shot up to.

“Good grief, Ted – you nearly ruined your marriage never mind your street cred!”

Ted just looked sheepish, took a massive bite of Rocky Road and then gave Edie a great big wink. Edie gave Ted a rather wicked, little smile...

I looked horrified, made an hasty exit and ran for the hills.