by Tara Ford
“But… what about your work?”
“I’m phoning in sick. Goodbye.”
“Babe… please…”
Tiff tore down the stairs, grabbed her phone, the charger and her car keys. Yanking her coat from the hook she drew in a deep breath as she stopped by the front door. Wayne would be outside. She’d have to walk past him. He’d ask her where she was going. He’d see that she’d been crying. Turning back, she went to the front window and peered out across the green. He wasn’t there. He must have finished or gone indoors for something. She went to the front door again. She’d have to make a run for it.
Joe had reached the bottom of the stairs and was hanging on to the newel post with a sullen expression across his face. “Tiff – please don’t go. I love you more than anything.”
“Need a bit of space. Hopefully, I’ll be back – one day.”
“You must come back – I love you.”
As a lump filled Tiff’s throat, she opened the door, checked the green for any neighbours and walked out. With her head held high, and trying to appear normal, she took a shortcut straight across the grass to the lay-by. When she reached her car, she glanced through her fringe, across the green to see Joe slumped against the door frame. She threw the holdall on to the passenger seat and climbed into her car. She drove away. Regretfully.
For the first 20 miles, Tiff drove on automatic pilot. The next five were spent wondering where the nearest petrol station was. Her mobile phone had beeped twice, indicating text messages, and had rung once.
She pulled into a garage and filled her car up. Then she drove into a small carpark, behind the garage and turned off the engine. This was the half-way mark. Did she carry on or turn back? She grabbed her phone from the bag. As expected, the missed call was from Joe and he’d left two messages.
Babe, please come back soon. I miss you already. Love Joe xxxx
I know things might have looked odd over the last few days but I can assure you, there is nothing odd going on in the slightest. It’s all coincidence or misunderstandings. Please babe, come back soon. I love you xxxx
Tiff read the messages and the queasiness returned. She wanted to go back right away. Back to her home. Back to her job, tomorrow. Back to Joe. Be in his arms. But pride and a stubborn streak would not let her return. She had to make a stand. She had to show him that she was no push-over. She also had to give herself time to sort things out in her head. She knew her mind could play cruel tricks with her. She knew her head was capable of making up all sorts of bad things. This was her problem more than it was Joe’s. She had to do something about it. She also had to get over the guilt of not going to work tomorrow as well.
I need a break away. To sort stuff out, in my head. I hope I will be back next weekend. I pray we can move on from this. You need to stop with all this secrecy and deleting messages. Your phone does have a memory you know. You can store messages in it! Thought you knew that already.
We will move on babe. I can’t live without you. You are my whole world. Love you xxxx p.s. yes I know about the message storage, Tiff, I deleted them automatically. Don’t know why xxxx
“Hello Mum – it’s me,” Tiff called out from the front door as she stepped inside.
“Tiffany? What?” Tiff’s mum stood in the hallway wearing her old, tatty tracksuit and her ‘gardening’ trainers. Her round, rosy face looked completely surprised.
“I know I said to Dad that I’d come next weekend but…”
Her mum leapt towards her and flung her arms round her. “Oh, Tiffany, it’s so lovely to see you darling.”
Tiff eyed her mum in shock. She didn’t usually get this type of response from her. Her dad, yes, but not her mum. Not since she’d left home anyway.
“I… err… can I stay for a few days or… maybe until Dad gets home?”
Her mum stared at her curiously. “Well, of course you can darling. But don’t you have work? What about Joe? Where is he?”
“I’ve… got a week off. Joe couldn’t get any time off at the moment as he’s got a few training days away. We’ve… err… been doing lots of jobs in the house. I wanted to get away for a little while.” Tiff cringed as the lies continued to pour out of her mouth. “It was Joe who said I should get away for a break while he’s stuck on this training course, in… err… London.”
“Come on,” her mum said, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into the living room. “I’ll make you a drink.”
“Thank you.” Tiff met her mum’s eyes. “Are you alright Mum – it’s just that you seem to be very pleased to see me.”
“Oh, Tiffany,” she sighed. “I’ve come to realise how much I’ve missed you. I know I was a little cranky when you left.” She peered down at her trainers, thoughtfully. “But I was so sad and then, when you said that you were moving so far away I… I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Oh, Mum, come here.” Tiff reached her arms out and hugged her mum tightly. “I’m not that far away. I can always come to see you, if you can’t travel to mine.”
“I’m working on that,” said her mum, seriously. “I went to the doctors last week. I can get some therapy for it. And I will go on the short course that was offered to me.” She looked up and smiled. “Apparently, they find out where your fear stems from and work from there.”
“That’s great news. Gosh Mum, your world will change so much if you can get over it.”
Her mum nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes, it will. It’s costing your dad quite a bit though. They’re private sessions.”
“I bet he thinks it’s worth it though.”
“Yes, he does.” Mum agreed. “Now let’s make you a nice cup of tea and then if you’d like to, I could show you the new trees in the garden.” She reached for Tiff’s hand and led her through to the kitchen.
“I’d love to see the new trees, Mum but it’s dark outside.”
“Oh, don’t worry yourself about that, we have outside lighting now.” Mum beamed and squeezed Tiff’s hand, excitedly. “They’re changeable – you can have whatever colour you’d like when we go and have a look at them. Green looks the best.”
“Cool, OK. That’ll be great.”
“And after that, we’ll get you settled into your old room.”
“Thanks Mum, it’s so lovely to be back home for a few days.”
Guess you’re there by now. Hope your mum’s OK – send her my love. Love you loads, Joe xxxx
Yes, here. Mum’s fine.
However much she tried, Tiff couldn’t bring herself to send a nice, lovey-dovey message, with kisses on. She wanted to, deep down. Yet, she couldn’t do it.
Tiff’s bedroom had been at the front of the house when she was a child, and it still was, but now it had been redecorated and turned into a guest room. Not that her parents ever had any guests staying. A small double bed had taken the place of Tiff’s old, high-bed which had had a matching desk and shelving underneath. And her pink, flowery wallpaper had been replaced with a beige and brown striped paper which, along with the matching bedding, made the room look and feel like a hotel room. A cheap one at that. Yet, it was a place to stay. A place to get away from the torment, jealousy and anger she couldn’t help but feel for Joe. And for Georgie too.
Opening her holdall, she pulled the shoes from it. Odd shoes. In her moment of rage and tears, she’d managed to pick up two different shoes. She tutted to herself and looked down at the tatty old trainers she was wearing, still covered in green stains from the hedge trimmings, earlier in the day. Adding to the overall grubby appearance was a slight yellowy-brown tinge across the tops, from a misplaced scoop of slushy bird droppings which she managed to drop on to her trainers, completely missing the rubbish bag earlier. At the time, Joe had bitten his lip in an attempt not to laugh as she tried to scrub the mess away, creating colourful smears across the once-white canvas of her trainers.
I’m going to bed now babe, got a headache. Hope you will have a nice break with your mum and dad. Tell them I
said ‘hello’. Miss you madly. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you more than you could ever imagine. Joe xxxx
Goodnight Joe.
And don’t forget to phone work and call in sick – or do you want me to do it? xxxx
I’ll do it myself thanks, goodnight.
Chapter 23
“I’m off to work now,” Tiff’s mum whispered through the partially opened door. “Help yourself to breakfast. I’ve got some muffins in the cupboard – you always liked muffins”
“Thanks Mum.” Tiff peeped over the top of the quilt and smiled. “What time are you home?”
“Around two, depending on the bus. They’ve changed the routes of some of the buses now and completely removed other services altogether.”
“Oh, OK.”
Mum sighed. “If I want to get a bus into town, from here, I have to walk down to the bus stop on Hillhead Road now – it’s ridiculous.”
Tiff pulled the quilt down and sat up. “Mum, I need to go into town today. I brought the wrong shoes with me. Do you fancy coming with me, after work?”
“Oh… I…”
“How about I pick you up from school? It’s five minutes in the car from your school.”
“Well… I…”
“I will drive extremely slowly. It’s not as if I could go fast anyway, what with the new one-way system.”
Mum nodded her head unconvincingly. “Yes, OK, I suppose I’ve got to start somewhere. Pick me up at 1.15pm then. If you’re staying this week, I could also do with popping into Sainsbury’s. Just to pick up a few extra bits. Would that be all right?”
“Yes, of course it would. See you at quarter past one.”
“Hello.”
“Hello babe, how are you? Did you sleep well?”
“Not bad, I guess. Did you?” Tiff gulped hard. The queasiness was creeping into her throat again but with a sad, loneliness about it this time.
“Didn’t sleep hardly at all.” There was a melancholic tone to Joe’s voice. “The bed’s too big without you in it.”
“Oh…”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” The stilted conversation was heartrending. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I am at work babe. I… I had to call you… to speak to you. To hear your voice. I miss you Tiff.”
“Oh, OK.”
“I bumped into Wayne this morning. He said to say sorry that he’d been a bit hungover yesterday and a bit disconcerting.”
“Did he.” Tiff sighed heavily, down the phone.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“When will you be coming home babe?”
“I’ll stay until Dad gets home. He’s back on Friday night.”
“So… will you come home on Saturday?”
“Hope so.” Tiff hated herself for giving such short answers but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else.
“Thank God for that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I just can’t wait for you to come home babe – where you belong.”
“OK.”
“Did you call work?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“Said I had suspected tonsillitis and I would let them know for sure, once I’d been to the doctors.”
“And they were fine about it?”
“Yes, I’ve never had a day off sick, remember?” Tiff sighed down the phone.
“No, you haven’t. They won’t mind, I mean, I’m sure they’ll believe you.”
“Hope so.” Tiff cringed at the thought. She hated lying to her boss and up until now, she’d had a 100% attendance every year. She’d been proud of it and it had earned her a yearly bonus of one extra day’s holiday.
“It’ll be all right babe.” Joe sighed heavily.
“Yeah, well I’d better go now – picking Mum up from work.”
“OK…” Joe’s breath sounded loud and drawn out. “Shall I call you tonight?”
“If you want to,” Tiff replied, stiffly.
“I do want to.”
“Then do it,” she said, fearing the end of the conversation coming because, she too, missed him terribly. “Talk later.”
“Bye babe, have a good rest of the day.”
“I will – bye.”
“And I love you.”
“OK, bye.” Tiff pressed the ‘end call’ button and clutched the phone to her chest as tears welled in her eyes. Why was she being so stand-offish with him when it was clear how he felt about her? Why did everything seem so absurd now that she was away from Sycamore Close? Yet, when she was there, it all seemed so wrong.
“Hi Mum.” Tiff beamed a huge smile as her mum opened the door and got in the car. “Had a good lunchtime?”
“Yes. Quiet today – our year fives are out on a school trip. It makes a lot of difference to lunchtimes when just one of the year groups is missing.”
“Right,” said Tiff, putting the car into gear, “I thought we’d park in Sainsbury’s carpark. That way we could get your shopping after I’ve picked up some shoes and we won’t have far to carry it.”
“But isn’t that car park dangerous? What with all those spiral ramps and pillars to get around?”
“No Mum, it’ll be quite safe. If you want me to drop you off at the bottom, I can go up on my own.” Tiff resisted the urge to tut and roll her eyes.
“Let’s see how busy it is first.”
“Mum, try to brave it out. I bet when you go on that course, you will have to leave your comfort zone at some point. They’ll probably give you some kind of tasks to do.”
“Yes, I know.” Mum fixed her seatbelt firmly into place and heaved a sigh. “I’m sure that being aware of the problem is half-way there. I’m determined. I’ve got to do this before…” Mum broke off sharply.
“Before?”
“I mean… so that we can come and visit you… before the summer is over.”
“There’s no rush.”
“No, I know. But I’d like to visit as soon as possible.”
“That would be nice. Anyway, let me know if you want to go up the multi-storey or not. I don’t want to push you.”
Mum smiled and clutched on to the passenger door handle as if she was about to drop from the highest point of a roller coaster.
Tiff pulled away slowly and carefully. It was difficult to be ultra-cautious when driving with a petrified passenger.
They’d made it. Tiff’s mum had even overcome her deep-rooted fear of multi-storey car parks. She’d perspired, she’d held her breath and muttered many interjections like, Ooh, ah, eek and oops but the most bizarre one was, brrr, which she spluttered on several occasions.
“Sounds like you’re cold Mum.” Tiff giggled as they pulled into a parking space.
“Sorry?” Mum was mopping her brow with a tissue.
“When you go, brrr – it sounds like you’re cold.”
“I read somewhere that making noises can make you deal with difficult situations better. And the noise can be anything that your mind decides to make. I do, brrr, a lot. I really don’t know why.”
“Never heard of that before, except maybe in childbirth or if you’re terrified and screaming.”
“Same thing. Noises for different things.”
Tiff’s mind wandered back to Sycamore Close and the noises that were made in her bedroom sometimes. Not frantic, screeching noises or groans or even howling but subtler sounds like gasping, gentle moaning and affectionate, tender whispers of adoration and all-encompassing love. She pictured Joe, naked and damp. His muscular fawn coloured, smooth skin. His big brown eyes, staring deeply into hers.
“Tiffany.”
“Yes?”
“Are we getting out – you looked like you were miles away there?”
“Yes – sorry Mum. I was.”
“Anywhere nice?” Mum grinned before heaving herself out of the car.
“No – not really. Just thinking about the ho
use and all the work we have to do,” Tiff lied as she too, climbed out of the car and locked it behind her.
“Oh my goodness, I hadn’t really noticed them before.” Mum peered down at Tiff’s trainers in disgust. “What on earth…”
“Betty, next door. I told you about her husband and the birds.”
“Ah yes.”
“We cleaned the bird’s cages yesterday.”
“And that’s the mess your shoes got in to?” Mum screwed her nose up.
“I dropped a scoop of droppings on them.”
“Oh dear. And what’s wrong with the other shoes you brought with you?”
“They’re odd ones.”
Mum giggled into her hand. “Did you pack your bag in the dark?”
“No, I… I was in a bit of a rush yesterday. After all the work we’d done for the neighbours, it was getting late in the day and I wanted to get here before it got too dark.”
Mum nodded her head. “Come on then, what type do you want?” she asked as she pointed to the rows of trainers, neatly set out on the stands.
“These will do,” said Tiff, grabbing a pair of pink and white canvas pumps. “I’ll try them on. And I’m going to wear them just as soon as I’ve paid for them.”
Sainsbury’s was reasonably quiet. The clientele consisted mainly of elderly couples doing their weekly shop and young Mum’s, pushing prams and dragging toddlers behind them.
Tiff’s mum grabbed a basket. “I haven’t got too much to get – this should be OK,” she said, hanging the basket on her arm. “Anything you need?”
Tiff shook her head and peered around the shop. “No, don’t think so. These shoes are hurting a bit though.”
“Wait here, by the magazines. I’ll be no longer than ten minutes.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t mind. Won’t be long.” Mum hurried off down the first aisle, swivelling her head from left to right as she glanced at the shelves.