The Surprise Party

by Sue Welfare

  Hannah nodded and turned away. By the time she had crossed the yard the woman had gone and the toilet door was ajar. Once inside Hannah bolted the door tight, sat down and considered her options. One thing Hannah was clear about was that there was no way she was going back upstairs and take any of those tablets, but she also didn’t want to have to stand up to Sadie if she could possibly avoid it.

  It was so odd how things had turned around. When they had first started being friends it felt as if by having Sadie around Hannah was finally having fun, had finally arrived, and living the kind of life she had always imagined herself living.

  She had loved going into town on the bus and hanging around together, or going to the pictures, or just chilling at the park or at Sadie’s place, listening to music, watching DVDs or sitting around down in the woods. Looking back, it felt like they laughed a lot at people and the stupid things they said and did. But things had started to slowly change and these days there were more and more things happening that Hannah didn’t like.

  Hannah knew Sadie stole things from shops because she’d seen her. It hadn’t been long before Sadie had wanted her to do the same, and so in the end Hannah had, just the once, just to shut her up. Even now, sitting in the toilet all on her own, thinking about it made her feel sick.

  They had gone into Beloes the chemist in town. It had been at lunchtime when it was really busy and there were only two people behind the counter. While the Saturday girl was serving customers, Sadie had started asking the lady in the pharmacy about athlete’s foot cream, which was so gross. But anyway, while she had been asking the woman all these questions Hannah had gone round to the make-up counter and slipped some make-up into her rucksack.

  She could still feel the fear now, could still remember the way her heart had practically buzzed in her chest because it was beating so fast. She had lain awake all night waiting for the police to come round and arrest her, while worrying about what her mum and dad would say. A tube of lipstick and a navy-blue eyeliner pencil were just not worth that kind of stress and she’d never done it since. And now she hated going into town with Sadie, because Sadie was likely to steal something and Hannah knew it was only a matter of time before they got caught.

  She had always known that Sadie took drugs too, not like seriously or anything, but at parties and when they were hanging out Sadie would roll a joint and hand it around. So far Hannah had managed to avoid it, despite Sadie’s teasing. But pills were something else; Hannah wanted to be cool, not off her face or dead.

  The idea that she had been formulating on the way downstairs was shaping up into something real. She had to get away. She would creep outside, making sure that Sadie wasn’t looking, staying tucked in close to the wall. As soon as Hannah was certain Sadie hadn’t seen her, she’d slip away. Although maybe not back to her grandparents’ party – Hannah wasn’t sure she could face her mum and dad yet. Maybe she would just go straight home. The idea of her own room and her own bed felt like heaven.

  ‘Are you going to be long?’ shouted someone from outside, banging on the toilet door. The noise made her jump.

  ‘Won’t be a minute,’ Hannah called back. She washed her hands and splashed her face with cold water, hoping it might help to sober her up. There was a towel on a hook in the toilet but it was stiff and dirty, so she dried her hands and face on her cardigan instead and then very slowly opened the door. Outside a large woman and her boyfriend were deep in a loud conversation, blocking her from view as the door opened. She stole a glance up towards the bedroom window; Sadie wasn’t looking.

  Hurrying across the few feet of open space, Hannah slipped into the little crush of people gathered in the yard. Head down, she eased between them until she reached the far wall where she hoped Sadie wouldn’t be able to see her. A moment or two later she was edging her way around the partygoers, and then out across the front garden, all the time keeping to the shadows. As she got beyond the apple trees she could see the lane and felt her tension easing. Not wanting to strike out across the lawn, Hannah stayed close to a tangle of old sheds that ran along the boundary fence. Just another few seconds and she would be clear. But as Hannah reached the last of the derelict buildings, she felt a hand drop onto her shoulder and shrieked in a mixture of surprise and fear.

  Swinging round, she came face to face with Dexter, the man from the hallway. Looking into his eyes, she knew with terrifying clarity that he had followed her from the house.

  ‘Well, hello there, baby,’ Dexter purred, stepping in closer so that she had to back up into the doorway of one of the sheds to avoid touching him. It took her a split second to realise that he had her trapped.

  Dexter grinned. ‘Well, well, well, I wondered where you’d got to. Not thinking of going home yet, are you, eh?’ he said. His eyes were as dark as coal in the moonlight. ‘I was thinking maybe you and me could have a little fun – maybe a little dancing.’ He moved his shoulders and hips in an obscene parody of a slow dance. She could smell the booze on his breath. Her pulse was racing as he took a step closer, backing her deeper into the filthy shed. From the corner of her eye she could see a tumble of oil drums and broken pallets, a stack of rotting sacks, piles of wood – and on the windowsill propped up against the broken empty window was a small plump naked doll. Hannah swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be here. The place looked like something out of a horror movie: anything could happen here, anything at all. Fear drove the adrenaline through her veins like molten lava.

  Dexter grinned. He was taller than her by a foot, and much, much bigger in every other sense. Everything about him made her nervous and his wolfish expression suggested that that was exactly the effect he was hoping for.

  ‘Thanks but I don’t want to dance,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go home. My mum and dad are expecting me.’ Her tiny little voice sounded pathetic in the gloom.

  ‘Really,’ Dexter said, closing in on her. ‘So do they know where you are? Out here with our Sadie? I’m surprised that your mum and dad let a nice little thing like you mix with someone like her – or are appearances deceptive?’ He was so close now that she could feel the heat of his body and smell his sweat.

  ‘Yes . . . I mean, no,’ she stammered.

  Dexter was closer now, leering at her. The way he looked her up and down made her flesh creep.

  ‘So which is it then, yes or no?’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t you tell me, sweetpea?’

  She couldn’t even remember what the question was. ‘Look, I really need to be going, my dad is going to be here any minute,’ she stammered.

  He must have sensed it was a bluff or maybe he didn’t care because as Hannah tried to step past him Dexter grabbed her arm and pulled her close. trying to grab her around the waist and kiss her. It was such a shock that she yelled out in terror.

  ‘Sssssh, shut up, doesn’t do to fight it, sweetie,’ he said, holding her tighter. His breath was foul and he smelt of stale sweat and cheap aftershave and something dark and feral. ‘It’ll be fine, just you see. You’ll like it, I promise – come to Dexter.’ And then he pressed his body close up against hers and with drunken heavy hands made a grab for the front of her shirt.

  ‘Get off me,’ she whimpered. ‘Please, you’re hurting me. Stop it – stop it—’ she begged, all the while struggling to push him away. But instead of letting her go Dexter looked down and laughed, and she saw in a moment of comprehension that he was enjoying her fear and fight. The realisation lit a great flare of fury within her and a screaming banshee wail came from somewhere down deep in her chest. He looked startled by the noise.

  The next few seconds seemed to take forever, seared into her retina in the brightest sharpest colours. Before the scream had time to stop Hannah had brought up her knee as hard as she could into Dexter’s groin. He let out a strange strangled howl and as he crumbled forward, Hannah punched him hard in the face. She was stunned as much by her own actions as by Dexter’s obvious pain and surprise.

  ‘I said, get off me,’ she snarled, i
n between great sobs of fear and fury.

  Before he could recover, Hannah pushed him away, and as he stumbled she ran out of the shed, charging through the gate and exploding out into the lane, trembling, crying, her heart beating like a steam hammer in her chest, wondering how long it would take Dexter to recover. She looked left and right, mind racing. Should she try and out-run him, or head back in the house and get help – and was there anyone inside the house who would help her?

  The adrenaline coursing through her was burning off the effects of the booze and leaving a great raw slew of emotions behind – how dare he think he could touch her like that, how dare he? She was filled with so much rage and disgust and anger that for a split second Hannah didn’t notice that there were people standing out in the lane.

  ‘Hannah?’ said a voice.

  She looked up, fearing it might be Sadie but at the same time knowing that it wasn’t.

  ‘Megan?’ she said in amazement. Breathing hard, she stared at her little sister. ‘What on earth are you doing up here?’

  ‘I thought I ought to come and find you, I was worried about you,’ Megan said. ‘Simon showed me where it was. Are you all right?’

  Hannah looked at the two of them. She opened her mouth to say something sharp and sarcastic, something that Sadie might say, but instead she said, ‘I’m so pleased to see you, but we really need to get out of here. There is this man, he tried to grab me—’

  And with that Dexter staggered out a few yards behind her, still clutching his groin. ‘Come back here, you little bitch,’ he shouted.

  Before Hannah could say anything Megan pointed at him and bellowed, ‘Fuck off, you dirty old man, before we ring the police.’ Her voice cut through the night like a knife.

  Dexter blinked and peered at her. A couple of men who were smoking on the lawn over by the trees turned to see what all the fuss was about, while another little group moved closer to join them.

  ‘He tried to grab my sister,’ Megan continued, still shouting but now for the benefit of the audience. ‘Him.’ She carried on pointing.

  Simon stepped up alongside Megan. ‘That’s him,’ he echoed, his gaze catching Hannah’s. She could see the concern in his face and felt tears prickling up behind her eyes.

  Dexter snorted. ‘What’s this, the fucking Waltons?’ he growled. ‘She wanted it. Little bitch was all over me like a rash.’

  Simon took another step forward. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, squaring up to the older, bigger man. Alongside him, Megan, hands on her hips, stepped forward too.

  One of the men who had been standing by the trees came over. ‘Come on in, Dex,’ he said, catching hold of Dexter’s arm. ‘Leave it, mate. Let’s go back inside and grab a beer – come on. How’s it going to look, you beating up a kid?’

  Drunkenly Dexter squared his shoulders. ‘She was all over me,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said the guy with obvious distaste, and then he turned to the three of them. ‘I’d get out of here if I were you, we’ll get him back in the house.’

  Megan tugged at Hannah’s sleeve. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Simon said anxiously.

  Hannah felt the great welter of tears bubbling up and struggled to hold them back. ‘No, not really. But I will be. Come on,’ she said. ‘I just want to go home.’

  The three of them started off down the lane towards the village. As they did, Simon caught hold of her hand and smiled, and Hannah returned the compliment by catching hold of Megan’s hand and squeezing it gently. Megan looked up and grinned as they wordlessly made their way back to the village. At no point did Hannah hesitate or look back. There was nothing in Moongate Lane that she ever wanted to see again.

  *

  Back in the marquee Fleur was standing by the bar watching Peter Hudson dancing with Mary. There was no doubt that they made a handsome couple. As he twirled Mary around Peter glanced in Fleur’s direction, with a smile that most definitely said, ‘This could be you.’

  Fleur shook her head in disbelief – the arrogance of the man was astonishing – but even so she still couldn’t quite bring herself to look away.

  When Peter had started talking to her about the good old days earlier on in the evening, there had been a part of her that had been flattered, and for the briefest of moments she had thought about what it was she might have missed, and smiled at those memories of her younger self. After all, it was true that all those years ago she had wanted Peter in a feral, lustful kind of way.

  Looking back, it was easy to see how different her life would have been if she had carried on lusting after him and they had made different choices after Rose and Jack’s wedding reception. And how badly wrong it could have all gone, she thought wryly, as Peter twirled Mary one more time and did a fancy little dip at the end of the sequence. The man was a manipulative bully, and she had had a lucky escape, said the sensible voice in her head.

  It didn’t matter what Peter told her, Fleur knew very well that this particular leopard would never have changed his spots, and all these years later, chances are she would have been the one being cheated on. Sometimes hindsight was a powerful thing, but even though Fleur was relieved that she hadn’t ended up with Peter, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but hanker after the good old days, the craziness of youth, all that desire and excitement, and the feeling that you would live forever and that anything and everything was possible.

  Feeling tired and old and lonely, Fleur waved the barmaid over to refill her glass. She looked up at the banner above the top table and sighed. Forty years on, what had she got to show for life?

  When her phone started to ring again Fleur was very tempted to ignore it. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, didn’t want to tell Frank her address or admit just how much she missed him, or how very sad she felt being here all on her own, but it kept on ringing and so eventually Fleur took it out. It said Frank again on the caller display, which came as no surprise.

  ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘You still there?’

  He laughed. ‘Oh yes. Flowers for Fleur Halliday?’

  Fleur laughed in spite of herself. ‘You already told me that, Frank – and I’m touched and I promise that just as soon as the flowers get here I’ll text you and let you know. You sound drunk.’

  ‘And you look beautiful,’ he said, which took her by complete surprise.

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘And how would you . . .’ The word know lingered on her lips unspoken. Something about the way Frank said beautiful, something about the warmth and conviction in his voice made her look up, and as she did she caught sight of a familiar figure standing by the entrance to the marquee, carrying a huge bouquet of roses.

  ‘Frank, is that you?’ she said into the phone.

  He laughed and waved. ‘It most certainly is. I thought you might be lonely over here all on your own.’

  Still talking into the phone, Fleur climbed down from her bar stool and hurried over towards him. ‘You know that I hate flowers, don’t you?’ she said, smiling, as she eased her way between the people.

  ‘Yup, although the good news is these ones aren’t real – they’re silk or something, and the woman in the shop said all you’ve got to do to keep them looking good is give them a real good shake once in a while.’

  She was nearly there now.

  ‘I’d like to give you a damn good shake, having me on like that,’ she said, purring now.

  ‘You’d rather I hadn’t come?’ he said.

  Fleur beamed. ‘You took the words right out of my mouth.’

  ‘Well, hello there, gorgeous,’ Frank said, still with the phone to his ear. ‘You know, about ten minutes after your flight left I realised just how much I was going to miss you being around, bossing me about, telling me what to do. I didn’t think I’d be able to manage without you telling me what to wear and why I shouldn’t eat – well, you know, whatever it is that I shouldn’t be eating.’

  ‘Really?’ Fl
eur said. ‘But I didn’t think . . .’ she began, her eyes bright with tears, as she finally switched off her phone.

  ‘What was it you didn’t think, eh? That I cared? Or that I loved you?’

  Fleur felt her jaw drop. ‘You love me? ’ she gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

  He grinned. ‘Never more so. In fact I love you so much I’ve just paid a bloody fortune to have that mangy stray you’ve been feeding for months taken off to the vet and neutered while I’m away.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re all heart, Frank Callaby.’

  ‘I couldn’t wait three weeks to see you again, Fleur, and I couldn’t let you come over here thinking – well, I don’t really know exactly what you were thinking, but my guess is that I didn’t come out of it well.’

  She looked at him, for once totally at a loss for words. ‘Oh Frank,’ she murmured, realising just how much she had missed him.

  ‘Anyway, before you pull yourself together and tear me off a strip, there’s something I wanted to ask you.’ He paused.

  ‘What?’ said Fleur. ‘Don’t tell me, you want to borrow the cab fare? What is it? Come on.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re always so bloody impatient. I want to ask if you’ll marry me.’

  She stared at him, all the bravado and bluster entirely blown away. She had heard the words clearly enough but couldn’t find any to answer him with. It seemed like an age before he said, ‘So what do you reckon then? Is it a goer? Or do you want to phone a friend?’

  ‘Oh Frank . . .’ Fleur said, finally finding her voice. ‘Yes, yes.’

  He grinned. ‘Yes, yes?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll marry you – of course I will.’

  And with that Frank took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard. As he pulled away he said, ‘Oh bloody hell, I almost forgot I bought you something else as well.’ And from his pocket he produced a tiny padded box. ‘I know you don’t like flowers very much but I’m hoping you don’t feel the same way about diamonds.’