by Gemma Rogers
To be fair, it was a stupid question. It wasn’t politically correct to be asking anyone what their sexual orientation was. Hope drained his pint before laughing hysterically. I helped her outside and called a cab. I didn’t want to take her back to my flat this time. I didn’t want to be cleaning up her sick, which looked like an inevitable end to her evening. I was her boss not her mother.
We sat on the wall outside waiting for the cab to come. I sneaked into the off-licence and bought a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Hope joined me in having one. She didn’t seem so jovial any more, perhaps the air had sobered her up or was making her feel worse.
‘Gary’s right you know. I am gay,’ Hope said, taking a long drag on her cigarette.
‘You didn’t have to tell me that, you know. It’s no one’s business but your own. But I’m flattered that you did,’ I said, touched that she’d trusted me enough to tell me something so private.
Silence between us stretched out, no one wanting to break it.
‘My dad wasn’t a good man,’ Hope said eventually.
The sentence hung in the air as we continued to smoke. It was awkward, I was unsure what to say. Hope didn’t look as though she needed comforting and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.
‘I’m sorry, Hope.’
‘What is your dad like?’ Hope asked, her eyes wide. I could tell she wanted me to tell her he wasn’t that great either. For us to have that in common.
‘My dad is lovely.’ I said, not wanting to go into detail. Not wanting to rub it in. Hope looked at the ground, flicking her ash on the curb.
‘I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.’ I said to fill the silence stretching out between us. Hope’s head snapped up and she threw her cigarette into the road
‘Some people are luckier than others, some people have it all, their whole lives. They get everything they want. They choose, they take, they steal if they have to and the rest of us, well, we have to pick up the pieces, the trash that’s left behind.’ Hope began to cry, her shoulders shaking.
I put my arm around her unsure what else to do.
Fortunately, the cab arrived then and Hope wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket, smearing black mascara across her cheeks.
‘Will you be okay?’ I asked, putting my hand on her shoulder. Uneasy after her outburst that she was going home alone.
‘I’ll be fine.’ She shrugged off my hand and got into the cab; it pulled away and she didn’t give me a second glance out the window.
21
September 1997
The alarm catapulted me out of bed and I shuffled downstairs like a zombie. Thankful I didn’t have to drag myself far to work. Dad quipped how he was ‘never late’ or ‘his commute had been fine’ to anyone who enquired where he lived in reference to the office. I envied my friends who had normal houses with gardens, but my parents countered that there was a park practically at the end of the road that I could use any time.
Whites Estate Agents had always been home from home; the kitchenette at the back with its humming fridge; and plush leather chairs behind walnut-coloured desks. Over the years, they’d been adorned with card rolodex systems and typewriters with carbon copy paper; later evolving to computers, digital databases and printers. Sometimes I had to show Dad how to work them. He was great at selling houses but not so great with technology. Luckily, he had Frank for that.
I adored the enormous glass front with what seemed like hundreds of property particulars, hung like decorations to entice passers-by. Every year at Christmas I’d get busy with baubles and tinsel. Dad used to say it looked more like Santa’s grotto than an office, but I loved doing it more than our own tree upstairs. The office door even had the original bell which jangled as it opened, something I’d always loved when I was little.
I knew I shouldn’t go into the office, not when my parents weren’t there. This morning was no different. I’d taken the key from the hook in the kitchen and crept down the staircase in bare feet, trying not to make any noise on the hard wood floor. I knew which stairs creaked and which didn’t. The trick was to stay close to the wall. Dad had often talked of getting an alarm fitted as burglaries had been on the rise, but because we didn’t have a safe and no money was kept there, it seemed pointless.
Just like when I took the key for Park Lane, it only took a few minutes to put it back. Although I almost had a heart attack when I heard the creak of a floorboard overhead, as I was unlocking the desk. I panicked and dropped the tiny key, which bounced away from me and I had to crawl around on my hands and knees to find it in the shadows. Once I had it, I moved fast, slipping the key back in the box and returning the hidden panel. I climbed the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering in my chest. I paused at the top and strained my ears, reluctant to open the door. Was anyone up? Where had the noise come from?
Suddenly, the door swung open and a harsh yellow light blinded me. My foot slipped away from the top stair, arms flailing as I tried to regain my balance, but a hand caught my wrist and hauled me up.
‘Jesus, Sophie, what the hell are you doing down here? We thought we had burglars.’ Dad loomed over me and tears pricked my eyes as pain shot up my leg. I’d knocked my shin on the stair as Dad stopped me from falling. I’d had such a fright; I nearly threw up on his slippers as my brain scrambled for a plausible lie.
‘I… I thought I heard someone too. I came to get a drink, but I heard a noise.’ It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was all I could come up with at short notice.
Dad’s face was a mass of lines. Frown lines, wrinkles and even the ones imbedded from your pillowcase after laying on it all night. He still looked half asleep.
‘Stay there,’ he said, softer now and, moving me aside, he descended the stairs, shining the torch. The same one I had put back under the sink last night. I quickly slipped into the kitchen and put the office key back on its hook, returning to wait in the doorway for him to reappear, shivering as the draught wafted from below. I felt like I was going to be found out any second. Dad would read my mind and I’d be done for. He never really went mad; Mum was more of a shouter than he was. But when I’d disappointed him, when he’d look at me with nothing to say, chewing his lip, it felt like an arrow had been shot straight into my heart. I preferred being told off by Mum.
A minute or two later, I heard him thud back up the stairs.
‘Are you sure you heard something?’
‘Yes, Dad, but it was probably a fox or something.’ I didn’t know what foxes sounded like, but I’d heard my parents talk about the ones who ran amuck after dark, knocking over bins and screeching.
‘Maybe. Get your drink and go on back to bed. I’ve got to get up for work in a couple of hours,’ he yawned, rubbing his eyes. With trembling hands, I filled a beaker with water and took it back to my room. Letting out an enormous sigh once I’d closed my door and heard the latch on my parents’ door click shut a second later. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, my body on fire like I’d run a marathon. That was close. Too close. If I’d been caught, I would have been grounded for at least a month with no television and no pocket money. I could see it now, Dad fixing another lock to the door of the office so I wouldn’t be able to get in again, shaking his head in disgust. I shuddered, it didn’t bear thinking about, especially if he found out why I was there.
I didn’t go back to sleep. I was too jumpy and couldn’t stop thinking about Hayley, wishing the hours would go by quickly so I could phone her. I distracted myself watching cartoons on the television with the sound low until I heard my parents get up.
‘What are you doing today?’ my mum asked as she spread peanut butter on my toast. I sat at the table waiting for it to be delivered, my stomach grumbling alongside the dull ache in my groin.
‘Not sure, probably just hanging out here. Might go to the park later,’ I replied.
‘Last couple of days off, make the most of it.’ Dad took some paracetamol out of a packet on the table and knocked two back with a gulp of
tea.
‘Headache, Dad?’ I asked.
‘Yep, a corker. But no rest for the wicked. Office opens in a bit.’ He grinned his best salesman smile at me. It was infectious.
Today was the first of September. A new month, a new week and a new me. I showered and got dressed, staring in the mirror at the now more mature Sophie White looking back. Did Elliot feel the same way? Was he thinking about me as he brushed his teeth? Would he want to do it again? With me? Did I still want to now, the day after? With practice, it would get better, wouldn’t it?
I couldn’t wait to hear what Robyn and Becca had to say, but before that I needed to get hold of Hayley.
I left it until half nine before I rang. Mum and Dad were in the office and I had the flat to myself. The phone rang around ten times and I was about to hang up when a tiny voice answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Hayley?’ I asked, almost positive it was her, but I didn’t want to say too much in case it was her mum.
‘Sophie?’
‘God, Hayley, I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?’
‘What do you mean?’ her voice quivered.
‘Well, where did you go last night? Fuck, we were all worried. You and Gareth both disappeared.’
The line went quiet and I heard a sniff. I’d gone too far.
‘Hayley, I’m sorry. I was panicking, you know.’
‘Why? Because I was with Gareth and you weren’t? It’s you he wanted, you know, not me.’ Another sniff. Hayley was crying now.
My mouth fell, unsure what to say. She filled the silence before I could.
‘Nothing happened. I went home okay. Listen I have to go, Mum’s waiting.’
I heard a click and the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, a lump in my throat and my legs unsteady. Replacing the receiver, I sat, slumped over the kitchen table, head in my hands.
‘Oh Gareth, what did you do?’
22
October 2018
Gary apologised to Hope at work the next day. I saw him pull her aside, eyes darting at anything but her, full of remorse. He handed her a box of Quality Street, which she graciously accepted before waving away his apology. A second later, I heard them laugh about how drunk they were. All was forgiven, and I was pleased. A happy working environment was top priority for me. I couldn’t have any issues in my team, and I told Gary so when we were alone. He was embarrassed about his behaviour, but I didn’t think it would happen again.
Because of the leaflet dropping, we had two new instructions, so I sent Frank and Hope to one and Gary and Lucy to the other. I was happy to stay behind with Beth and manage the office. James called to say he’d booked the Metropole hotel in Brighton and if I checked Facebook, I’d see he’d created an event for Saturday night that everyone had responded to. We were meeting the others in All Bar One at eight. I said I was looking forward to it, but my head was still thumping from last night’s overindulgence. We all felt the same so at lunchtime, when Frank returned, I went to the bakery to buy sausage rolls. Hoping the grease would help our hangovers, so we could get through the day.
‘It all kicked off last night then?’ Frank asked as I retrieved some napkins and plates from the kitchen.
‘Not really, just a tiny squabble. Hope was mullered and Gary wasn’t too far behind. It was a bit heavy for a school night.’
‘Gary said something weird to me the other day, I meant to mention it to you.’
‘Oh?’ Frank had got my attention and I turned to look at him, putting the plates I was holding onto the counter.
‘Yeah, he was asking how long you’d owned the office, how long your parents had been here, that kind of thing.’
I frowned at Frank, that wasn’t odd. Maybe he wanted to know more about the history of Whites?
‘He said, “Sophie lives upstairs, doesn’t she?” so I told him you did. Then he says, if someone broke in, would they be able to get to her by coming through the office?’
I opened my mouth to speak, but Gary swung open the kitchen door.
‘I’m starving, can I grab the plates?’ he asked with a grin, taking the pile of plates from the counter and disappearing back into the office.
Frank raised his eyebrows at me, and I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.
‘It might be nothing, but I’m glad you’ve got that new door.’ Frank patted my shoulder as he passed.
I shivered, the hair on my arms bristling. Maybe Gary didn’t mean anything by it? Some people come out with all sorts of bizarre things. It didn’t necessarily make them dangerous. I’d never felt apprehensive when alone with him, in the office or outside of it. He’d never caused me concern with body language or something he’d said. Although Frank’s words, combined with the cards I’d found in his drawer, made me nervous. Maybe I’d been too quick to clear him?
When Saturday afternoon arrived, James knocked on my new front door, ready to whisk me off to Brighton for the night. Robyn said her girlfriend Chloe worked at the Waggon & Horses and would pick her up after her shift. It was a short taxi ride home for Becca and Mark as they lived in Hove, but we had the furthest to travel. I was looking forward to being away from the flat and the pull of something other than a roast for Sunday lunch. James had suggested fish and chips on the beach and with that I was sold. I loved the seaside and always felt calmer watching the waves crash on the shore. Every time I went, I told myself I would visit more often, but then I never did.
It would be brilliant to see everyone again, but I was also anxious about bringing up the messages I’d received. James told me he’d received another note. He handed it to me as he started the engine, just as I was clicking my seatbelt into place, instantly putting a dampener on our trip. The note was much like the first, but the paper had a pretty border of cherries. Same block handwriting, in the centre:
YOU DID NOTHING
James shrugged it off, but I couldn’t. It was escalating. Whoever was doing it was getting angrier. I could feel the venom in the words.
‘You did nothing? What does that mean? Did someone get hurt and none of us helped?’
‘I don’t know, God it was so long ago, I can’t even remember.’
James thrust the car into gear and accelerated hard. I lurched back in my seat. James gripped the steering wheel tightly, his arms straight. I stared out of the window at the grey skyline whizzing past.
‘Did Gareth never mention what happened with Hayley that night?’ I asked.
‘No, he never wanted to talk about it, and we didn’t ask again. We all assumed he’d bottled it and gone home. We didn’t bring it up; in case he was embarrassed. He was a mate.’ James sniffed.
‘When you last met him, did you go to St. Albans? Did he seem okay? Had he had any messages?’
‘Yeah, I went up there, but no, he didn’t say anything about any messages. He seemed fine, happy.’
He didn’t want to discuss it any more, although it hung over me like a raincloud. I didn’t want to ruin the day or James’s mood as I knew he was looking forward to seeing Mark. He wasn’t nearly as concerned about the notes as I was. Was it because he was sending them? Did he show me the card to throw me off course? It seemed like a smart thing to do, if he was behind it. Or did I see them as more of a threat than he did, because I was a female living on my own and therefore vulnerable? My mind was happy to play tricks on me. But if I really believed James was behind it, I wouldn’t be travelling to Brighton with him. If only I could eradicate the doubt I had, which I seemed to have about everybody.
We checked in to the Metropole hotel and left our overnight bags, to take a stroll around the Lanes. It was easy to spend hours pottering around Brighton, window shopping. I bought a ceramic trinket box for my mum that was too beautiful to resist. We perused a jeweller full of handmade costume pieces and James picked out a necklace for me to try with an intricate woven pendant. Once I had it on, he insisted he bought it and from there he took my hand as we walked along the cobbled street;
as though the act had cemented our relationship. I pushed the earlier thoughts from my mind, determined to enjoy the moment. I had to be wrong about James.
Later, when he came out of the shower and I had dressed for dinner, he secured the necklace back around my neck.
‘You look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you. You don’t scrub up so bad yourself,’ I replied. I loved Brighton, you could go out wearing anything and no one would bat an eyelid. The people that lived and partied there were such an eclectic mix, you’d never look out of place. I’d chosen a leather skirt and silk blouse with skyscraper heels, hoping I’d be able to walk in them later after copious amounts of wine. James’s eyes bulged when he saw them, but I wasn’t sure if he thought they were sexy or whether he was more concerned it might make me taller than him.
We met Robyn, Mark and Becca in Donatella’s, an Italian restaurant. They were easing off their coats when we arrived a few minutes after seven. We hugged and kissed in greeting; Mark and James fell into a back-slapping hug and from the outset the banter, that was once created by Elliot, was in full flow.
‘This is long overdue isn’t it. How long’s it been?’ asked Mark, beaming at us around the table as the waitress delivered our second round of drinks.
‘2016 wasn’t it, when I bumped into you in Pitcher and Piano?’ James said.
‘Ha, yeah. Seems like longer than that. You were pretty wasted if I remember.’
James laughed. My stomach rumbled and I prayed our mains wouldn’t be long. I needed some carbs to soak up the alcohol.
‘It’s a shame we’re missing Gareth, Elliot and Hayley,’ Robyn said.
‘To absent friends.’ Mark raised his glass and we all followed suit, taking large mouthfuls of our drinks. The conversation turned to Elliot in Australia and moved naturally on to Gareth and his ‘terrible accident’. I kept my opinion to myself; regardless of the amount of alcohol involved, the police wouldn’t have named another vehicle if it hadn’t been integral to the accident. I wasn’t about to push my theory onto anyone else, in fact I’d decided not to mention it at all. Positive if anyone around the table had received cards or anything to do with that night, they would bring it up. But it was taken out of my hands when James mentioned it as everyone was tucking into their mains.