Stephanie stopped for the red lights, and looked in the rear view mirror to inspect her make-up. Clearing the gloop in the corner of her eyes from her eyeliner she listed in her mind all the things that had so far happened. She wasn’t exactly being stalked, but it was still threatening; and obviously meant to be. The flowers and messages were not the real problem; it was the anonymity of it all.
Looking in the mirror she noticed the white van behind her. Hadn’t that van been behind her since she left the office? She looked up at the lights to check they hadn’t changed, chastising herself for being paranoid. A disagreeable feeling; it was getting to her.
She decided there and then as the car pulled away from the lights, she would get a new mobile phone. She checked in her mirror, the van turned left. She would give her new number to a few select people and be very specific with them. She couldn’t change her work number, that didn’t matter, Jane always answered the office phone, and nobody knew her home phone number; nobody even knew she had a land line, it was there for her convenience only. Turning into Blackberry Drive, she felt better. It was a sensible decision, and she was due an upgrade.
Blackberry Drive was off the main road, there were only a few houses and most of the other residents were as keen to maintain their privacy. Since moving she barely spoke to any of them, nodding good morning on the rare occasion anyone caught her eye. One new resident had attempted some community spirit, but soon gave up.
Pulling up outside her gate she got out of the car to open it; closing the gate when she went out had become a new habit. Crunching along the gravel she was grateful to her divorce solicitor. It wasn’t that she loved the house, she doubted she had the capacity to love anything or anyone, but it suited her. It just happened to be the ideal place for her to be. Parking by the front door, she made another decision; a security firm; security cameras; security lights. Getting out of the car, Stephanie heard the dogs bark, causing relief she hadn’t felt since finding the flowers. She was pleased with herself; objective thinking always worked.
.
Chapter Ten
‘Terry! Terry!’ he yelled as he threw open the door. ‘Ter…’ he started to scream again, before she very quietly replied,
‘Yes.’ She was walking from the kitchen doorway towards him.
‘Get me that Becky girl on the phone,’ he pushed the door shut behind him and hung his car keys on the key holder.
‘Why?’
‘None of your fucking business, just do it!’ God she was unbelievable. Why could she not just do something for him without always questioning it?
‘What’re you up to?’
‘Fucking hell! Just do it!’
She stared back at him for a few seconds, before reaching for the hall phone and dialling the number. He walked to his piano under the circular staircase and sat on the stool. After a few more seconds she passed the receiver to him,
‘Becky for you. Sir.’
He noted her sarcasm, but chose not to reply as he heard Becky’s voice. Twisting on the stool, he turned his back on Terry, but she strolled round the piano facing him as he spoke to Becky. He could see her mouth the words.
Do not do this, they said very definitely.
Bitch, he thought, telling him what to do. He turned to face her, opening his legs in defiance letting her see the full extent of his excitement.
‘Terry’ll pick you up about eight… vegetarian? No problem’ he lied. She didn’t mention that before? Did she? He vaguely recalled something at the hotel. Oh, what the fuck! Was nothing simple and easy anymore? He hung up.
‘Meal for two tonight, and fucking vegetarian. Can you manage that?’ He made his sarcasm as obvious as hers.
‘What the hell are you doing, inviting her here? You’re mad. She’s a fan, remember! You can’t invite a fan here!’
‘Mind your own fucking business,’ he repeated, ‘It’s nothing to do with you, just get on with your job.’He stood up and walked towards the games room.
‘My job is to look after you! And inviting that girl here is as stupid as you can get! D’you even know her surname?’ she actually yelled back at him.
‘Your job is to do what I say. And you’re picking her up at eight. I guess you better find out where she lives as well.’ Just before slamming the door to the barn, he turned back and yelled ‘I’ll invite who I fucking want to my house, you bitch!’ She wouldn’t follow him, she knew better than to bother him when he was in his studio. He needed some relief.
Seeing his wife always left him feeling like this, and Becky was the best he could do at the moment. He thought about taking a swim, but knew it wasn’t enough. Striding towards his desk the sensation grew, tingling just above his groin, the hardness squashed by his jeans against his stomach, loving the warmth it gave him. The anticipation; the thought of the photographs; holding them in his hands. The argument with Terry had only enhanced his state, his anger moving him to near ecstasy. He had enjoyed flaunting himself in front of her whilst sitting at the piano. He had ached to touch himself, right in front of her, but by refraining he prolonged the pain and the thrill.
The image of the photograph drew him closer to his desk, the pleasure almost unbearable. He refused to touch himself, keeping his hands at his sides as he moved. Nearly there. His breath was short and hard. He allowed himself a small laugh at the thought that anyone would think he had been running. But he did not want to expend too much energy. He wanted to hold it. He wanted to keep it to himself. He could hear his breath, panting through his mouth, as he unlocked the drawer. His hand trembled. He could hold back no longer. His left hand stretched for the photo; the right softly caressed the outside of his trousers before he could bare it no longer and thrust his hand inside his pants. A groan emitted from his mouth as he grasped his erect penis and at the same time took hold of Becky’s photo. The synchronicity was too much and he could hold the erection no more. He came inside his pants; his anger absolute.
After smearing the photo of Becky with his cream covered hands, he removed the other photos, crushing them, crumpling them, tearing them into small pieces with his teeth. Look at them posing, whoring themselves; none of them had any shame. Why could he not be allowed to enjoy himself? Why was it always over so soon? Bitches, fucking bitches, the lot of them. Tears ran down his face. Tonight we would see. Tonight Becky would see what he was made of.
*****
Sarah had been looking through the magazines for articles about Robert, when she came across the story. She had not known nicotine was lethal, and so readily available. That poor baby dying. Sarah read the article and felt sad for the baby. She reread the article again, with great interest. Reading how the baby picked up a cigarette while playing in the garden; chewed and sucked it. By the time her mother realized something was wrong it was too late. The baby was dead. Sarah thought perhaps the baby had died to save her. She hadn’t realized how dangerous tobacco was. And the idea began to formulate and take shape in her mind.
After reading the story, Sarah started to believe that seeing Robert again was a possible reality. She thought of his face and his hands, the smell of the leather in his car and the pictures of his house. She ignored the image of dry cracked lips pressing down on hers. They could be together.
She found a book at the surgery. A big book listing poisons, all the poisons known to man, it claimed. Poisons she had never heard of, and there in the middle, was nicotine; one of the most dangerous poisons, it said. And so simple.
‘I’ll make us a nice stew tonight, shall I mum?’
‘Make what you want.’ She turns her head back to the television. ‘’ But soon, I’m starving.’
Sarah goes into the kitchen and takes out the steak she has bought, the best the butcher had. Her mother will love it and eat it all. She is such a greedy pig. Sarah cuts up onions and carrots. She sings as she slices.
‘What’s all that noise for?’ The voice yells from the lounge.
‘Sorry mum, I’ll close the door.’ Sarah
skips to the door in time with the tune she is singing. It is a song Robert plays in his car the night he takes her out. She thinks it is called ‘I’ll be your baby tonight’. The kitchen is sparkling, a bright light is all around her. She adds more stock to the pot and lets the ingredients boil while she cleans away the dirty implements. After she has washed up, she picks up the knife and slices through the steak. She has chosen the best for her mother, as the last meal for the condemned. She tosses each piece into the pot and stirs. Bending down, she takes the open bottle of wine from the cupboard. Sarah smiles as she pours it into the pot, she wasn’t going to be drawing a line tonight. Whilst the stew boils, Sarah walks to the lounge door and checks her mother is engrossed in the television.
‘Where’ you going?’ she asks, ever vigilant to Sarah’s movements.
Toilet’ she replies as she goes up the stairs. But at the top of the stairs she turns into her bedroom and removes the small container hidden under her bed. Placing it in her pocket she quickly goes to the toilet and pulls the chain before going down again.
In the kitchen Sarah takes the lid off the stew and spoons a small amount on to a plate. She puts this plate on the kitchen table. She picks up a tray and places another plate on this, with a knife and fork, salt and pepper pots and pours the remaining wine into a glass. She turns the gas off and stirs the pot to cool it down a little, not sure if the hot sauce will in any way destroy the lethal amber liquid. Taking the small container from her pocket, using a fork she removes the debris floating on the top and then pours the contents into the stew. She stirs again.
‘Mother, dinner is ready. Do you want me to bring it to you in there, or shall I put it on the table?’
In here,’ she demands.
My pleasure,’ Sarah whispers to herself as she ladles stew on to a plate. She walks into the lounge bearing the gift for her mother, a small smile on her lips. Her mother looks up at her, and Sarah drops the smile from her face immediately. She gives the tray to her mother and leaves.
‘You not eating?’
I’ll eat in the kitchen.’ Her mother has already got a mouthful in her mouth, her attention back on the television. Sarah stands by the door and watches through the crack, wants to witness everything that happens, wants to ensure her mother eats every last morsel on the plate. Her mother shovels the food into her mouth hardly tasting it. Sarah waits. Nothing happens. She finishes eating and leans forward to place the tray on the floor. Her mother reaches for her cigarettes and as she attempts to light one, her face contorts. Pain. Sarah smiles. Her mother leans forward. Groans. Sarah watches. Groans and retches. Thankfully nothing comes out. The muscles must already be going into spasm. Sarah stands still and watches. Her mother falls onto the floor, her face white. Her eyes look towards the door and Sarah pushes it open with her foot, so her mother can see her standing there. She stays where she is for half an hour. It may have been more, but she doesn’t move until her mother stops moving. When she is still, Sarah walks into the kitchen and sits at the table. The steak is far too good to waste even if it is cold. Besides she is hungry.
‘Sarah, Sarah,’ Dr. Short’s voice interrupted her. ‘Are you alright Sarah?’
‘Yes, fine thank you. Actually no I’m not. Dr. Short can I ask you something?’ He looked at his watch, then back at her,
‘Yes, of course you can. What is it?’
‘Mother. You know you told her she’s got to stop smoking? And now she’s gone onto the patches? But she’s still smoking. Is it going to do her any harm?’
‘She shouldn’t be doing both! It can only be patches or cigarettes. Not both. You must tell her again Sarah, it is very dangerous to be doing both. Very bad for her health.’
‘I have told her. I’ve told her she mustn’t smoke. And now I’m really worried about it. She’s getting so much more forgetful. Will you please come over and see her?’
He sighed. ‘I’ve got rather a heavy load on this week.’
Sarah looked at the floor.
‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask Dr. Pethric to come over. I know she isn’t busy yet. Will that help?’
‘Oh thank you,’ Sarah didn’t try to hide her happiness at this suggestion. It was better than she hoped. Dr. Pethric was the locum and knew nothing about anyone and didn’t seem to care much about anyone either. She was only going to be at the surgery for a couple of weeks until Dr. Maddox returned.
*****
Stephanie was making a conscious effort not to let Trevor into her mind, and of course it was like the tale of the blue box she remembered being told as a child; a man was told he could have his heart’s desire if he opened the box without thinking of the colour blue; all he could think about was the colour blue.
To take her mind off Trevor she decided to do something different tonight. She had called Cammy and arranged to go out on the town. She hadn’t been out to a pub with her friend for a long time. They often met for lunch, or spoke on the phone, but an evening drink, no she always declined. Cammy had been surprised but delighted and suggested they meet at the King’s Head for a snack, telling her it was always lively on a Friday night.
Languishing in the bath, Stephanie thought about the recent voicemail she had received at work. He had phoned at two in the morning according to the telephone machine. Did he just guess she got to the office before Jane, or did he not care? It was quite explicit, and he had used her name several times. It wasn’t nasty exactly she decided, but it wasn’t nice being left these messages. At least there had been no more flowers. The security cameras were very obvious. They had been wonderful, doing the job so quickly. She felt a lot safer and wondered why she hadn’t thought about having them put in before. The dogs, she thought; having the dogs gave her a false sense of security, but of course when she walked them, it left the house vulnerable, something she had just not considered. And the electric gate was pure luxury, not having to get in and out of the car. She felt very lazy clicking the button.
Yes, she was looking forward to having a good chat with Cammy, but she wouldn’t tell her about what had happened. She would forget all about it for one night and enjoy herself. Cammy would only insist she report that matter. And she couldn’t do that. If they started an investigation, they might get too interested in the way she lived her life, and that was nobody’s business except hers! It couldn’t have been one of the one night stands. She was sure. She had always been far too careful.
Reaching for a towel, she stood up and scrubbed herself dry, before stepping out of the bath and drying her feet. Stepping on to the cool marble tiles she stood still for a few seconds enjoying the coolness as it travelled up her legs. Naked she walked to her bedroom and donned the clothes she had spread out on her bed. White lace matching underwear, jeans and a soft pink cashmere jumper, her black hair looked good against the baby pink. After applying mascara she stood back from the mirror and liked the simplicity she saw. She was not on the pull tonight but being admired generally made her feel good, and she wanted Cammy to see her at her best.
Their relationship was a surprising one. Stephanie had long ago accepted she didn’t make female friends easily, not really liking them for that kind of relationship. She was honest enough to admit to herself, she didn’t really like any people much. Cammy was a bonus, one she felt lucky to have and appreciated. They had struck up a friendship immediately after meeting at a conference. Stephanie called it a conference, but it was really one of those Self-Help Guru talks, sort of workshop things, that everyone had to go to. She felt slightly embarrassed to be there, but she was well aware how these courses brought in new revenue. The extra certificates on the wall, the letters after her name all served to prove to doctors and the public what a wonderful therapist she was, as they assumed the more initials and certificates meant higher standards and therefore for her, higher income.
There were always people she could gather information from and give her business card to. Unfortunately it was necessary to attend these gatherings, even though they usually
bored her rigid and she had yet to get any personal benefit from one. She still had an open mind as to how many of the attendees actually believed what they heard from the self styled Gurus. Some who were more screwed up than most of her clients.
Cammy was there alone, for herself. She was into all the Self-help stuff. And as she said, fate brought them together, as they found themselves sitting next to each other. Stephanie voiced her scepticism about it all, and Cammy diplomatically tried to change her mind. She had never met anyone like Cammy. Almost like love at first sight. Though Cammy had made it obvious she was heterosexual, and only heterosexual, from the start. No one was more surprised than Stephanie that the relationship had lasted.
After one last look in the mirror she went downstairs to make sure the dogs were settled. Seeing them curled up together reassured her the house would be fine whilst she was out. Picking up her keys from the kitchen work surface, she left the house. She was driving to the pub and intending to leave the car there for the night. She had no rush in the morning.
In the car she turned up the volume and sang along. Indicating to turn onto the main road she changed gear, then looking in the mirror she noticed the lights of the car behind her. It too was indicating. Vaguely she was aware it had been behind for quite a while, since she had left the house in fact. She sang louder. She had just pulled on to the main road, of course a car would follow her on to the main road. It was only a few more miles before she reached the pub anyway. She pushed her foot down knowing she was over the speed limit but wanting to get to the pub. Cammy would be there by now, she thought as she took a quick peek at the dashboard clock. Looking in the mirror, she saw as she speeded so did the car behind her. Of course they would! If she slowed down they would have to slow down, she reassured herself. Her heart began to thump in her ears. Nearly there. She indicated once more to turn off into Langham Street, looking to see what the car behind was doing. Its indicator was on, following. She could see the pub car park, indicated again, and looked to see what the car was doing now.
Just Like a Woman Page 10