(Frumpy Dumpster (Part 4 of 4) 'The Reunion') – I hurt now when I think of what I did. Not out of guilt or fear of discovery. But for not doing it sooner! I gave up life at 18. College, friends, adventure, all snapped away by the predatory comfort of a man 10 years older. My brain twisted to his very need. He was like a parasite. Then up the duff in a shot! Ah I don’t blame the Old Bruiser for the three lives he gave me, only for the one he took away. 19 years... But I made up for lost time in the last 9. I look one once again at Leo Hancock’s email for our school reunion. Thursday 5pm. St. Savilles. ‘Don’t Bring Partners’ Leo writes in capitals. Well that’s me sorted Mister! He still holds a flame, God love ‘im. Look at all those smileys. Thursday 5pm. Today. In two hours… Ah here! Shut that laptop Lindor! You’ve no time to root ‘round the past. You have to get ready! Put some lippy on! Tart yourself up woman! Hmm, I wonder would I fit in that little green dress now. Where do I have it? I’d say it’d be a bit too tight for me. But look it, everything is a bit too tight now. Not afraid to admit it. No ‘plenty on the table’ anymore! No steady income after the Outreach Centre shut down and I was going without dinners. The fear of frumpy dumpster still possessed me. And as I looked in the mirror those lines were getting longer. I’m not the vivacious 44-year old of two years ago that had men falling dead at her feet. I’m just a widower who is expected to slowly disappear from society. And what if I did? Leona has Donnacha. Rooster and Jarvis are off on their adventures and they all know about family bereavement. This bottle of Pimms and this box of Solpadine don’t want me to leave this house… And who’ll stop me? Noone! (Unscrews) Yeah. (Rustle) Do it. (Silence). Right! I know exactly what I’ll do. But first… .  I looked in the mirror. The old floral halter-neck hugged my undulating fat but I didn’t care. It was my green dress! I strapped on my black heels, grabbed the keys and slammed the door. I walked to the credit union. Hiya hun! Here’s me book, can I take out all the savings please! Outside I saw a bike leaning on a railing. It was unlocked. Idiot. That’s mine now! I giggled, and stole it. I wobbled inelegantly, picking up speed, wind fluttering up me chute but I was free as I bombed downhill and turned right. Into St. Saville’s Vocational School driveway. Memories flooded back as I freewheeled in. Horse Chestnut tree! Broken glass! Overflowing bins! Mouldy prefabs! Ah, plus ça change! But wait, when I arrived at the main entrance it looked all boarded up. When did this happen? Is it derelict? It’s Thursday 5pm. It’s St. Saville’s but no-one’s around. I hopped off the bike and left it on the rusty railing. In the corner of my eye I saw a laminated white sign pinned to the boarded up entrance. I walked up. It said ‘Lion Productions’. Where did I know that name from? Suddenly the boarded hording rumbled and it flung open on creaky hinges and I was face to face with an old flame in a ruby v-neck jumper! “Hello Lindaur!” he said in a resounding horn. Leo Hancock! Hi ya! Oh god! Is it really you? “Welcome to Lion Productions! It’s reunion night tonight!” he smiled. What? You work HERE? In the old tech? He told me St. Saville’s Vocational moved two years ago to a new facility up near the factory and he took this place over. “Come on upstairs, I have something to show you”. He took my hand. This was so surreal. We walked up the same old oak stairs that were now splitting, saw the same flaky beige paint that was all but peeled off and smelled the same must that almost made me choke. And Leo’s office was, I don’t believe it, ah stop! Directly across from Room 4! Oh my God! Leo opened his door. We walked in. Leo was some snazzy dresser with t