by Isobel Hart
“Sure. I’ll look forward to it,” I said, my voice husky and turned on. My libido was out of control.
“Damn,” he groaned again. He kissed me on the cheek, offering a last look of regret, before he ran out the door. I smiled to myself, certain that by tonight either our relationship would have moved on a step or I would be unpacking my Rabbit. As far as I was concerned, with the way I felt, “taking it slow” was overrated.
***
Work managed to be as hideous as ever. My shoes pinched relentlessly, reminding me why I never usually wore them for work. They rubbed their nasty hard edges against the soft, pink parts of my feet, until my feet were shredded. By lunch, I had to stop and pick up some plasters. I sat in a café, liberally applying them over the reddened patches, contemplating whether flip-flops would be likely to have the same effect on Elliott at dinner tonight. My phone rang, Heidi’s name flashing on the screen.
“Oh my good God,” she began, as soon as I connected the call, “I’ve got cystitis from too much sex.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Both. But it was fucking worth it. I swear to God if we didn’t make a baby after all the sex we had over the last few days, then there really is no hope for us.” She giggled, the sound light and joyous.
“I’m glad you had fun,” I said, forcing myself to smile as I wondered how to begin telling her about what had happened to me over the last few days.
“Fun does not describe the frankly almost illegal amount of intercourse we had. But anyway, enough about me. How’s things with you and Edward?”
“Yeah, well, about that . . .”
“What’s the fuckwit done now?” I loved her a little bit more for assuming immediately any fault lay at his door.
“Well, he’s moved Serena in, and now they’re a thing.”
“What! Who? You don’t mean Serena from the wedding? You’re all living together? When did this happen? What the fuck!”
“He found out I didn’t want a baby with him, that I was on the pill, and lost the plot. He seriously tried to strangle me he was so mad. I hit him . . . It was a mess. Anyway, I thought I’d killed him, but it turns out he’s fine . . . again. Then, the next thing I know he’s shacked up with Serena, telling me I imagined the strangling part, and that I’m making it all up because I’m jealous of their relationship.”
“What? That’s crazy. I never liked him. He tried to fucking strangle you? Did you call the police? What did they say?”
“That there’s no evidence he did anything, especially as Serena claims he was with her.”
“That lying slut.”
“Anyway, I figure I’m better off without him. I never intended to stay with him after the wedding. I only did because of the accident. So frankly, if she wants him, she’s welcome to him.”
“But what about all the ‘marriage and babies’ shit he was coming out with the other night? That’s a bit of a turnaround, isn’t it? This is fucking crazy. Where are you even living?”
“Well, umm, the thing is Elliott helped me out with a room.”
“Elliott?” I could feel her mind reeling through all the people called Elliott we’d ever met. “Hold on, you don’t mean Doctor I’d-look-good-on-a-surfboard Elliott, do you?”
“I do,” I admitted.
“Well . . .” My friend was lost for words, which had to be something of a first. “Well,” she eventually said again. “I’ve got to say I’m impressed.”
“It’s not like that. He’s just helping me out.”
“Sure . . .” She dragged the word out for an unnecessarily long time.
“Well, it wasn’t,” I admitted. “It might be heading that way now.”
“You are a dog,” she said with a hearty laugh. “Still, with the way Edward’s behaved, who can blame you? I still can’t believe he’s moved on to Serena after all his declarations the other night. The guy will give himself emotional whiplash if he carries on like that.”
“As I said, she’s welcome to him. He’s changed, Heidi, and not in a good way. I can’t explain it right now, but I will. In the meantime, I seriously think he’s dangerous, so just steer clear of him.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” She laughed again. “I always thought he was a tosser. I only put up with him because you seemed to like him, and even then it was begrudging – especially after he started shagging other women.” I had to laugh at that. “So, when am I going to see you? Are you free tonight?”
“No, not tonight. I’m meeting Elliott.”
“What do you mean you’re meeting him? You live with the guy already.”
“We’re going out to dinner together. Nothing has happened between us yet. Not really,” I hedged, thinking about the kisses we’d exchanged.
“Whatever. I think it’s cute. Perfect rebound fodder. I can’t imagine Edward will like it, though. He was always fine with you not being that into him when you were together and it was him flirting with other women. You might find he’s different when the shoe’s on the other foot. Does he know you’ve moved on?”
“No. But I don’t plan to see him, so I won’t need to worry. And neither should you – see him, that is.”
“No worries there,” she assured me.
We finished the call, making some tentative plans to meet at our favourite wine bar in a couple of evenings’ time. I looked at my watch. It was already after two, and I had no appointments in my diary for the rest of the afternoon, which meant hours of fruitless wandering around hospital corridors, or . . . A quick glance out of the café window showed me the weather was great. I glanced at the work emails that had come in on my phone, seeing nothing unduly alarming or urgent, and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to head outside. I knew my camera was in the boot of the car; I had the urge to take some pictures.
Half an hour later, I situated myself on a discreet park bench, nestled beneath the sweeping branches of an old oak tree, taking photos of anything and everything around me. Once again, the good weather brought people outside, so there were lots of subjects to choose from. My phone buzzed – my manager – but I ignored it, telling myself I’d pretend I’d been in the hospital and needed to have my phone on silent. Instead, I focused on the people around me – a mother and her toddler catching my eye first. Her rigid posture and jerky arm movements, as she gesticulated at her wayward child, suggested she was having a bad day. The child turned and laughed, delighting in ignoring her. He darted past a group of people, sitting under another of the perimeter oak trees. I lifted my camera and focused in on them.
Snapping frame after frame, I couldn’t work out at first what had caught and held my normally wandering eye. Only when the child ran past the group a second time, back into the arms of his relieved mother, did I realise all the seated adults were male. Of itself that would be nothing unusual, except that this time of day, midweek, was usually the preserve of mothers and their preschool children, the elderly or unemployed. The gathering beneath the tree looked like none of the stereotypes. Too young to be retired, clean and well dressed and with no evidence that any of the nearby kids belonged to them, they were an unusual collection of assorted ages. My view of them was apparently shared by the local mothers who, now I looked more closely, were eyeing them warily and giving the group a wide berth. The first woman I’d noted picked up her child and moved him away, looking over her shoulder as if to check no one was following them.
I shuddered. Could they all possess activated virus? Could there be so many of them already? None of the men looked familiar. I focused in on the faces again, taking an image of each in turn. There had to be over twelve of them. My thoughts turned to Richard and Edward, and suddenly I didn’t want to be anywhere near these men. I scanned the vicinity to be certain no one watched me, before standing and making my way back towards my car. I wanted to run, but feared drawing attention to myself so held my pace steady, checking the face of every man I passed, paranoid they might be someone I knew. I berated myself, wondering what it
was I was afraid they might do. And then I remembered the Rawsons. Only when I got back in the car, and locked all the doors, did I finally feel secure. My accelerated heartbeat thumped in my chest, keeping me on edge as I took deep breaths, willing my hands to stop shaking long enough that I could drive.
The shrill ring of my phone cut through the silence and lifted me vertically off my seat in terror. It was my manager again. “Sam, where the hell are you?” he barked, as soon as I answered.
“At St Richard’s, my phone was on silent. I’m only just back in the car,” I lied, crossing my fingers as if that made it okay.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day. We have a meeting this afternoon. You’ve got twenty minutes to get yourself here; it’s compulsory attendance. Don’t you read your fucking emails?” It was unusual to hear him swear.
“Where?” I asked blankly, as I scrolled through my unread emails on my phone, trying to find the one I’d obviously missed. Sure enough, it was there, the red exclamation mark beside the subject heading marking it as urgent.
“Hilton. Get here fast,” he said, and cut the call.
I gunned the car out the car park, making the half-hour journey to the hotel in the agreed twenty minutes, and arriving into the dark, windowless meeting room only five minutes late. My manager scowled at me as I took a seat in the back row next to one of my colleagues. “What’s going on?” I whispered, as one of the senior directors stood at the front with a PowerPoint slide bemoaning the lack of NHS funding for new medicines due to continued budget cuts.
“Restructure,” she whispered back. I raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been around much recently, but there’s been loads of stress about our performance. Sales are seriously down for some reason, but no one’s sure why. We’re miles behind plan. They just can’t keep us all and make any money.”
Sure enough, as she whispered the words a slide flashed up on the screen announcing that “changes” were needed to meet the current shortfall. Three slides later, it was revealed that the “changes” they intended to make included axing our entire division. No wonder my manager had been in such a foul mood.
As we drifted away from the meeting, on immediate garden leave with a months’ notice, I wondered why I didn’t feel inclined to huddle with my colleagues to bitch about how unfair it all was, and collectively worry about what we’d do next. Relieved at being released from a job I hated, I knew I should be worried about how I was going to feed myself. But there were more important things going on that needed to be dealt with first.
My mind scrolled through the implications of the sudden drop in sales. Could it be the result of the men with activated virus no longer needing the medicines people usually relied upon to keep them alive? What did that mean about the scale of activated virus now present within the population? Again, I thought about the large group at the park. I examined the faces of the people around me – were any of them here? How would I know? I wanted to go home.
***
By seven I sat in the restaurant at the table Elliott had reserved, waiting for him. Having placed my fear in a mental compartment entitled Can’t Do Anything About This Right Now, I found myself oddly euphoric after the news from the meeting earlier. That good feeling lasted right up until the point Edward and Serena walked into the restaurant, arm in arm. She clung to him possessively, leaning into him, laughing at something he’d said. In contrast, he had the odd, glassy-eyed expression I recognised well from our years together – it meant he was only half listening to whatever she was saying. Given what I recalled of the conversation over the table at the wedding, I couldn’t really blame him. She was a pretty girl, but that was about all she had going for her.
I slumped down into my seat in the hopes they would walk past without noticing me, yet knowing how unlikely that was. Edward’s head swivelled almost as soon as they stepped into the main dining area, fixing upon me. His eyes flared with what looked like irritation, followed by lust when he saw what I was wearing. He headed straight for me.
The waiter followed, struggling to redirect them towards their own table in the other corner of the room. “Samantha,” Edward said, as soon as he reached my table, “what are you doing here?”
“About to have dinner, like you. Hello, Serena,” I said politely to the now-silent but fuming girl at his shoulder.
“Samantha,” she said in a clipped voice, as she gripped Edward’s arm. “Let’s go and sit down, sweetie.”
He ignored her. “Who are you here with? Heidi?” He looked around.
“No.” I chose not to elaborate any further. “I’m glad to see you both looking so well,” I said pointedly to Edward, raising one eyebrow. “Enjoy your meal.” I picked up my menu and effectively dismissed the pair of them. Edward stood there for another moment, while Serena tugged on his arm, until he gave way and allowed her to lead them to their own table. Judging by the intent expression on her face, and her pursed lips, she was giving him a flea in the ear. It made me smile to watch them. Then reality landed and I grabbed my phone, texting ABORT, ABORT, Edward and Serena here to Elliott, but before I pressed send, he walked through the door.
My heart did a little jump in my chest as he saw me and smiled, exposing his dimples for all the world to see. He walked quickly to the table, bending down and kissing me full on the lips. “I’ve thought about nothing else but you in that sexy skirt and blouse since I left this morning.” He kissed me again.
The press of his lips against mine obliterated all other thoughts from my mind. “Do we really need to eat?”
He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “We’re taking this slow. I want to have a proper date with you first.”
“First?” I asked, hoping he would add before I take you home and make you scream my name.
“First, before I take you home and make you come repeatedly.”
That would do, I decided, grinning at him. “Oh, fuck, I forgot to say . . . I was texting you as you walked in. Edward’s here.”
“Edward?” The smile dropped from his face as he looked around the room, his body now rigid.
“With Serena. Over there in the corner. We can leave if you want?” I said. His face turned thunderous. The expression only eclipsed by the fury visible on Edward’s.
“No, why should we?” he said, seemingly nonchalant. I sensed the tension within him, though. “Did he speak to you?”
“He came straight over with Serena as soon as he saw me sitting here. Asked me whether I was with Heidi. I told him no, but didn’t say who I was with, and then wished them a nice meal. I was just texting you to warn you when you walked in.” I held up my phone to show him.
“If he comes anywhere near you again–” His voice quivered with barely suppressed rage.
“He won’t,” I reassured him, placing a calming hand on his arm. “I’m with you. All night.” I said it to distract him from Edward, and it worked. The testosterone that had been gearing him up to fight redirected itself towards me, and I found myself being kissed senseless until the waiter interrupted us with some discreet coughing to hand Elliott his menu. I had a feeling if that hadn’t worked, he would have been tipping a bucket of water over us next.
“Damn right,” Elliott growled at me, with a final scowl in Edward’s direction before we both focused on enjoying our date.
I spent the entire meal feeling as if Edward’s eyes were burning holes into the back of my head. Heidi’s words from earlier kept running through my mind – but that’s not Edward, I reminded myself. This guy had tried to kill me, whatever he pretended now.
“So, how was your day?” Elliott asked, and I liked how domesticated it sounded coming from him.
“Well, funny you should ask.” I told him about the meeting I’d been called to earlier and what it meant for my job. He shrugged, reassuring me we’d manage fine without it.
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“No, but you are my friend – hopefully more – and friends help each other
out when they need it. I know you’ll find something else. In the meantime, there’s your photography,” he suggested. “You could try and make something of that while you’re thinking. From what I’ve seen, you’re really good. Either way there’s no rush – I was managing the mortgage before you arrived. It makes no difference to me. Plus, I like having you there.”
“But what if I don’t find any work and you end up hating me because I’m a sponger? What about the virus?” The time inched ever closer to the point we needed to leave and meet Malcolm. “We don’t know what effect that’s going to have on us or our jobs.”
“We’ll worry about that if or when we have to. They’ll always need doctors . . . well . . .” He tailed off, realisation dawning that they might not need so many if half the population wasn’t at risk of dying. “Regardless, you hated that job.” There was no denying that. I told him my theory about the poor sales performance.
He listened intently. “If the effect is global that could be interesting to include in our data.”
“Or I was thinking we should look at the performance of brands that primarily treat diseases that affect men in that age group. I know some people we could talk to.”
When the time came to leave, he insisted on paying the bill. He claimed, as he pulled a few crisp notes out of his slim leather wallet, that, as this had been a date, he had a right to pay. I resisted briefly before accepting his chivalry, then made my excuses and headed for the bathroom. When I stepped out of the cubicle, Serena was waiting for me.
“Oh, hi,” I muttered, as I tried to step around her towards the small washbasin.
“He doesn’t want you anymore,” she said, standing directly behind me.
“Well, that’s good then, because I certainly don’t want him.” I squirted some soap into my palm and started to wash my hands, trying to be as quick as it was possible to be.
“That was pathetic, trying to make him jealous like that. You need to stop following him. It’s creepy.”
I stopped washing my hands and looked at her through the reflection in the mirror. “First of all, I’m not following him. I had no idea that he’d be here. For your information, not that it has anything to do with you, I’m on a date with my new boyfriend.” Distracted, I squirted a second palmful of soap into my hands. “It is a complete coincidence we were here at the same time as you. The last thing I’m trying to do is make him jealous. I can assure you,” I turned on the tap with my elbow to rinse. “You’re welcome to him.”