Talk to Me

by Jules Wake

  Black bin liners and boxes overflowing with clothes were spilling from the open boot of the cab parked outside the flat. No wonder she’d been avoiding me for the last 24 hours.

  The driver was lazily smoking a cigarette leaning against his car door, jabbering unconcernedly on his mobile. A box emerged from the flat, piled with books, CDs, one of my saucepans and a bedside lamp and was dumped into the back of the cab. Emily’s bottom backed out, straightened and turned walking right into me.

  ‘Olivia!’ Her voice was high-pitched and strangled. I was obviously just that bit too early.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ I asked.

  She squared up, her jaw thrusting out pugnaciously. ‘I’m moving out. Well, you’d hardly expect me to stay … a stalker in waiting and you mooning all over my boyfriend.’ Rehearsed to perfection her bitter words came tumbling out. ‘Let’s face it. You’ve been making cow’s eyes at him for ever. Idiot … do you think he’s interested in you? Cricket turns him on. Wouldn’t surprise me if there weren’t some serious homo-erotic leanings there – you know naked men together … in the showers, that sort of thing.’

  She stalked past me up the stairs back towards her room.

  My eyes did a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ wide-eyed thing as I followed her. The naked bit I could imagine but that’s where our imaginations parted company.

  ‘That’s what turns him on on a Saturday night. He was never into sex. We haven’t slept together for weeks.’

  She grabbed another bag from her bedroom and turned to face me.

  What could I say after that little outburst? Although at her last words, I did an internal goal scorers wiggle. Feebly my response was, ‘So where are you going?’

  Every bit of pity and disdain she could muster was summoned up and delivered in her scathing glance. It was completely wasted on me, bouncing right off into the ether. My mind was busy lighting candles, setting the scene for seduction.

  ‘I’m going to stay with someone. You know him quite well.’

  I had a pretty good idea. All the clues suggested Mr Loathsome from the speed-date who liked sushi and knew someone who could get tickets for Phantom, but a little gut instinct kept telling me it didn’t stack up. He was a bit too smooth.

  I pulled a face and shuddered very deliberately which was a bit theatrical and downright rude but she deserved it.

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ she said, dismissing my childish gesture, flouncing past me towards the stairs, ‘that your cousin likes me more than you.’

  Cousin!

  ‘Barney!’ I squeaked. She had to be kidding.

  She shrugged. ‘Why not? We really clicked that night at the speed-date. Who did you think it was?’

  I couldn’t bring myself to admit how wrong I’d been, instead I opted for the cheap way out. I hadn’t planned to do this but she was such a cow she deserved no mercy. I delivered the coup de grâce as she was carrying the last box out.

  ‘David told me you’d resigned.’

  A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She looked like the cat that has swallowed the golden canary as she preened, waiting to hear the next bit.

  ‘He said …’ I let her preen a bit longer, ‘it was up to me …’ I enjoyed the dimming of her self-satisfied smile, ‘… when you go.’ I paraphrased him. ‘So you can either piss off tomorrow and we’ll pay you up to the end of the week, or you can work the full month, bearing in mind your reference depends on how well you behave.’ The power had completely gone to my head, I really wasn’t a nice person – but God I enjoyed it.

  Her face darkened with rage.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ her voice cracked. ‘I’m on a month’s notice.’

  ‘What like the month’s notice you’re giving me?’ I asked, looking pointedly at the box in her arms.

  ‘I was going to give you the rent,’ she said haughtily. We both knew that wasn’t true. It was hard enough getting her share of the bills at the best of times. ‘Anyway, you still have the deposit. In fact you’ll owe me, that was a month and a half rent.’

  ‘What after bills?’

  She shrugged. ‘Let me know what I owe. My new job pays a lot more. I can afford it.’ And with that she tossed her head and marched down the stairs.

  The decisive slam that accompanied her departure almost shook the foundations, and for a fleeting moment I felt sad that it had come to this but that was quickly overtaken by indignation that she could get away with behaving so badly.

  It was amazing how quickly I’d become so reliant on Daniel, my first thought was to ring him but then I remembered he was probably already on his way with the temporary fridge. Until then, I had the flat to myself and I knew exactly what I was going to do. Perhaps I’d just give him a quick call and ramp up the anticipation. Tell him that Emily had gone and we had the place all to ourselves. There was time enough to tell him the shocking revelation about Emily and my cousin.

  My throaty message on his voicemail was full of invitation. Whether he would arrive in time to scrub my back in the bath was debatable.

  In my next life I might come back as a hippo – there’s nothing quite like having a bath to calm you down, especially when you’re wallowing in someone else’s expensive bubbles that she had left behind.

  Breathing in the scent of mimosa and frangipani and watching the steam rising off the water, I wriggled my shoulders in satisfaction deliberately ignoring my mobile ringing in the other room. It finally rang off, the answer service must have kicked in but less than a minute later it started again. Bugger it, I was staying put. Let it ring.

  When I finally emerged from the bathroom, and looked at the dratted thing, there were five missed calls. All from Barney.

  There was one message from him.

  ‘Call me. On my mobile. ASAP. I need to talk to you.’ Against the background sound of traffic, he sounded slightly breathless as if he was walking quickly along a busy street.

  I didn’t want to call him, guessing he wanted to come clean about Emily. Bet she hadn’t told him the half of it. I still felt shocked. Emily and Barney. Never saw that one coming. But what if he was ringing with news on Peter? I had to call, but he didn’t answer. Where the hell was he? Now my curiosity was piqued. I left a quick message desperate to know what he had to say.

  His call had undone all the good of my bath. Restlessly I wafted round the flat rearranging things to my satisfaction; stacking all of Emily’s magazines in a neat pile on the coffee table, moving the sofas so that they didn’t both face the TV and putting the ugly spare dining chairs into her empty room.

  When the knock at the door came I jumped in eager anticipation, glancing at the clock. Daniel had made very good time. He must have left work early.

  Chapter Twenty

  Quickly I tousled my hair and kicked off my bunny slippers, changed my mind and slipped them back on again. It was only as I skipped down the last few stairs towards the opaque front door that some sixth sense slowed me down.

  Of course, it might not be Daniel. Was it my imagination or was the height of the outline through the rippled glass too small or had the knock been too urgent? In the pit of my stomach there was an uncomfortable sensation, as if something was rubbing the wrong way. Whatever it was it made me put the chain on the door.

  I’d never even looked at the little brass chain before. It suddenly seemed very flimsy. Don’t be so paranoid, I told myself as I slid the chain into place very quietly so that whoever was on the other side of the door didn’t know what I was doing. I could see their outline shifting impatiently.

  A gruff voice in an offhand tone said, ‘Delivery. Needs signing for.’

  Phew. I needed to get a grip.

  He had his back to me as I opened the door. All I could see was neatly cropped brown hair and a red scarf tucked above the collar of a dark brown anorak
. Below this he was wearing a pair of sand coloured cords, which finished an inch too high above scruffy brown brogues. Hang on. Delivery man? Dressed like that? Those trousers didn’t say courier to me.

  He slowly turned round, bringing his face right up to the crack in the door, brown eyes glinting at me. The red scarf.

  My legs suddenly seemed unable to take my weight and wobbled beneath me.

  ‘Hello.’ He grinned. ‘Like my last delivery?’

  Before I had a chance to slam the door closed, he had thrust his arm though the small opening and grabbed my arm. ‘Gotcha,’ he rasped and then giggled.

  My heart was slamming into my ribs as I tried to pull away but his fingers tightened. Looking down I could see them short and stubby at the end of forearms, thick with gorilla hair. I shuddered. The chain rattled alarmingly as his leg now forced its way through the gap, jamming open the door to its fullest extent. My throat felt tight, as I opened my mouth. No scream came out.

  The door. I had to close it. With all my weight, I threw myself at it, hurting my hip as it slammed into the door.

  There was an angry grunt from the other side as he let go of my arm. Thank God the chain was holding. Still pushing at the door, hoping that he would pull back and go away, I dodged his arm that was flailing blindly towards my head.

  Not fast enough! The next moment he had a handful of my hair. With a sharp violent twist he pulled hard slamming my head into the metal door frame.

  For a moment, white lights flashed in my eyes and a wave of sickness grabbed at my stomach.

  ‘Nmph,’ I grunted. As the pain radiated in waves down my face I rocked for a second trying to breathe. The hand grasping my hair loosened briefly. Then … thunk. I felt the cold metal bite into my cheekbone. With sickening anticipation, I felt his fingers pulling tight on my hair. Please, don’t let him do it again.

  Raising my hands to my head, I dug my fingernails hard into his hand and ignoring the pain of my hair pulled tight away from my scalp, I gave a desperate tug.

  I couldn’t believe it. The relief as I flew backwards. But as I looked up my relief turned to horror. My God. The chain. The links had burst apart. It dropped uselessly to the floor. Then Peter came falling through the door after me, his arms flapping like a windmill as he tried to stay upright. He tumbled to an ungainly heap, hitting the wall on his way down.

  Without waiting to see more, I turned taking the stairs as fast as I could. The kitchen! From there I could get down the fire escape to the yard and get away.

  As I reached the kitchen, pausing momentarily to listen to Peter’s footsteps thudding up the stairs, I could hear my mobile ringing in the lounge. If only I could get to it.

  God, he was still coming. Grabbing the handle, I opened the back door straight onto the fridge that was still waiting for the man from the council. Please let Peter be bigger than me, I prayed, squeezing past, my hips protesting as I barely made it. He was small for a guy but surely his frame was still wider than my skinny one.

  Halfway down the stairs, my heart sank as I noticed the large padlock on the back gate. Shit, how was I going to get out? Could I climb over the fence? It was over six foot.

  Glancing back through the metal steps I saw that the door to the junk shop was open. Jumping the last four steps, I twisted as I landed and scooted through the door. Above me I could hear the grate of metal and I could see the fridge moving. I didn’t wait. Instead I ducked quickly inside.

  Hands shaking I pushed the door closed very quietly, searching in the gloomy half-light for a key. Nothing. Groping up and down, my fingers felt the door frame. My eyes were adjusting to the dim light as my fingers gripped cold metal. Relieved, I slipped the bolt into place. That would give me time to get out of the front of the shop onto the street.

  Outside I could hear Peter’s footsteps ringing on the metal treads.

  I moved quickly though the little hallway, darting into the main room of the shop. This was the biggest room, with the till and the entrance. Over to the right was a smaller room that led into two even smaller ones. Trying to get my bearings I moved left quickly, bumping into something at thigh level. Another bloody bruise. Odd shadows merged together in the half-light making unknown shapes.

  It was a while since I’d been in here. There could be anything barring my way. Last time I’d popped in, the place had been filled with threadbare old sofas piled high alongside everything from old comics, horse brasses, fireguards and saucepans.

  Something caught the sleeve of my blouse, momentarily anchoring me. Damn, I had to free myself. From the cold metal under my fingers, I guessed I was tangled up with a cast iron bed frame. Wrenching my arm violently, I ripped the sleeve of my top, the screech of fabric sounding horribly loud. I stilled for a second. Then there was a crash at the back door.

  I needed to get to the entrance and fast. My eyes had adjusted to the light now. Damn! Seeing the door properly I realised there was no way I could reach the deadbolt at the top.

  Frantically I pulled at a chair and leapt on the arm. It was no good. Still not high enough.

  From the hallway, I could hear the strangled squeak of wood being smashed. My ears roared, it sounded as if the door was being broken down.

  There was no way out. No way past him, unless I hid in here and hoped he went into the other two rooms. Then I could sneak out of the back door and back up the stairs to the flat.

  Another louder crash. I had to move and quickly.

  Instinctively I dropped to the floor, where I could feel the tickle of dust irritating my nose.

  There was a sideboard at the other side of the room, if I just squeezed behind it, I would be hidden from view. Scuttling along the floor, I just made it, curled against the wall and the furniture, my head brushing the floor, as I heard a final crack of the outside door finally giving way. Footsteps tapped briskly towards me and then stopped.

  The room was completely quiet, except for the intermittent rush of cars outside. The dust had made my nose run but I didn’t dare sniff. The trickle was inching down my upper lip. Listening carefully, in between the cars, I could just hear the soft shuffle of a shoe.

  ‘I know you’re in here,’ said a matter of fact voice. ‘You can’t go anywhere and if I have to find you, I’ll get cross.’ There was a short silence. ‘AND YOU WON’T LIKE IT WHEN I GET CROSS.’

  God, he sounded like a villain in a film, except this was all too horribly real. On the back of my neck, my hairs stood to attention. A river of sweat inched down the ‘V’ between my breasts. I crouched lower fighting an overwhelming instinct to curl up into a ball and whimper. I wasn’t going to give up.

  Being so close to the floor, I could hear the crunch of the dust on the concrete floor, which was cold and gritty underneath my cheek.

  Crunch. Crunch. As each step got nearer, my muscles turned to jelly. I couldn’t move. The steps stopped, an ominous scrunch along with a puff of fine grit grazing my forehead. He was right in front of me. Nothing happened. I waited. My heartbeat was roaring in my ears. Kaleidoscope patterns danced behind my tightly closed lids. Orange and yellow like demons swirling.

  There was a slight scratch as if he’d shifted his weight. And then his steps moved away. Still rigid I didn’t dare raise my head.

  Every now and then his steps would stop and then move off again. My knees were stiff. I’d never be able to move quickly if I stayed put much longer. Did I dare make a run for it? How long had I been here?

  I had no idea what time it was but there was no sound. Peter must have moved through to one of the other rooms. Easing up from my cramped position, I tentatively raised my head above the sideboard.

  No sign of him. As quietly as I could I stood and forced my knees into action, creeping silently towards the back door.

  I could see daylight and there was still no sound from behind me. I took a step into
the yard and took a deep intake of breath. Thank God. I’d made it.

  ‘Guess who?’ sang a cheerful voice. Jumping, I didn’t even get chance to turn around. My heart contracted, my bladder almost emptying as an arm slipped around my neck.

  Daniel cranked up the CD, the infectious rock music suiting his mood perfectly. Even the hideous traffic on the A4 couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Olivia’s sultry voicemail message showed a new side to her, one that he’d like to get to know better. Although looking at the time, her bath water would be stone cold by now. He’d have to scrub her back another day.

  Damn the traffic had come to a complete halt now. If only he’d left work early like he’d intended, instead of getting stuck in a meeting that had dragged on and on. It meant hitting the worst of the rush hour.

  When his phone rang he reached eagerly for it, hoping it might be Olivia but to his dismay it was Emily. God, hadn’t she said enough to him? Boy, he’d been taken in by the soft Marilyn Monroe voice and winsome smiles. He hadn’t told Olivia half of the things she’d spat at him. Disappointment rankled and he couldn’t decide which was worse, that he’d been such a dickhead for being so taken in or that she could be such a bitch when she didn’t have to be. Hell, she had tons going for her. She didn’t need to behave like that.

  He shook his head grimly. Women, he’d never get them … apart from Olivia. Straight down the line. He knew exactly where he was with her. How could he have ever believed Emily’s lies? He had to concede she’d been smart in knowing which buttons to press.

  He tossed the phone back on the seat. Within seconds he heard the strident beep of the phone again. She wasn’t giving up that easily. Eyeing the standstill traffic he warily answered.

  ‘Daniel, it’s Emily. Do you know where Olivia is?’ Her words tumbled down the phone in a breathless rush.

  ‘Yes, she’s at the flat.’

  He heard muffled conversation as if Emily had put her hand over the phone.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  His senses went on alert, the hair on the back of his neck rising.