Fear

by Nina Manning

  Then we just danced.

  28

  Now

  I sat down opposite Mason at dinner, having just returned from the ladies’.

  ‘Good, you came back.’ Mason looked visibly relieved.

  ‘I’m not as drunk as I was last night,’ I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears and looked at the menu. ‘But there’s still time,’ I said quietly and from behind my menu and heard Mason sniff a laugh out.

  ‘Grilled mussels it is, then,’ I said, ‘and I’ll just stick to the champagne tonight.’ I laughed at the absurdity of the sentence. ‘How will I cope when I go home and have to deal with bog standard chardonnay?’

  ‘How the mighty will fall,’ Mason smiled. He was sitting back casually in his chair. He always appeared fairly relaxed but he always had that look of concentration etched across his face, the face of a businessman with a hundred tasks flying through his brain. But now the slightly furrowed brow had gone.

  ‘How is the fam?’ Mason said with a hint of sarcasm, as though he didn’t actually want to know.

  ‘Yes, they are good.’

  It was as good an answer as I could manage based on the fact I had only texted Damian twice since I had been away, once to remind him to pack Pixie’s school t-shirt into her gym bag and the other to tell him there was bread in the freezer. Always carrying the emotional labour even though I wasn’t in the house or even the same country.

  ‘Good, good,’ he said, looking anywhere except at me. I could feel this thing building between us, I was unsure what to do with it or how to move it forward.

  ‘Do they miss you, when you’re away?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they do. I choose not to speak to them, you know, FaceTime and all that nonsense. I feel guilty. I miss them. But I worry that if they see me or they hear me, especially Maddox as he is so young, they won’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’ He took a drink of champagne. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

  I took a swig of the drink and just smiled with my eyes. I wasn’t sure that absence was doing anything other than driving Damian and I further apart.

  Mason put his champagne glass down. ‘Look, Frankie. I don’t mean to pry and you can tell me to get lost if you like but I just wondered, if all isn’t well, you know, at home, you could say and I won’t judge you.’

  ‘Well, that’s very perceptive of you, Mason.’ I put my glass down, now empty, and felt the swell of the alcohol do its work. ‘I don’t really know is the honest answer. I suppose we are just going through what every couple at this stage in their lives goes through, dealing with huge mortgages and bills and kids and activities and endless to-do lists and well, truth is, Damian,’ I cleared my throat, ‘that’s my husband—’

  ‘Ah, so he has a name. I have never heard you mention him before.’

  ‘Which is why you are asking?’

  Mason nodded.

  ‘Damian and I, we are drifting in separate directions.’ I didn’t know why I was telling Mason this. Was it because I felt comfortable in his company, or was it because I needed to make him aware there was some possibly of my status becoming single sometime soon?

  ‘He doesn’t really know what he is doing with his career and he always seems a little lost when he’s with the kids. It’s like he woke up one day and this family had been planted in his life,’ I laughed, ‘a bit like that film with Nicholas Cage, Family Guy, where he wakes up, having lived a millionaire bachelor life, and is suddenly a car salesman living in the suburbs and married to his childhood sweetheart.’

  ‘I know the very film. Great actor, too.’

  ‘Yeah, well, for the first half of the film he resents what he has been given, doesn’t he, so he is always walking around with that lost expression, asking his kid how to change a diaper.’ My laughed fizzled out. ‘It’s a bit like that, I guess. Like we are all an illusion and he should be somewhere else, anywhere than where he is, with us, living this fairly uneventful life.’

  ‘Does he… drink? You know, to compensate for his miserable life with you and the kids,’ Mason said sarcastically.

  ‘Oh God, no. Beer, yes, but Damian can’t really drink. If you give him a spirit, he’s completely unrecognisable. I’ve seen it once. It was not pretty.’

  Mason nodded and filled my glass up with more champagne. ‘And is that how you feel, Frankie? That your life is uneventful?’

  ‘I hope not,’ I said placing my glass down on the table a little too hard. Mason reached over and put his hand around mine on the glass. I looked at it and then up at him, my stomach rolled a somersault and I felt my body quiver.

  He pulled his lips in a tight smile and let go of my hand.

  ‘Everything is a phase, Frankie. Nothing is forever.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry I haven’t talked much of my family before. I guess I like to remain professional.’

  ‘It’s okay, I get it. But you know, for this bit, tonight, I’m not your employer, you don’t need to be anything other than what you are. If you want to go for a midnight run in the woods, I’m not going to stop you.’

  I shot him a look. He had confirmed my fears. I had discovered my red shoes and dress under my bed covered in mud.

  ‘The receptionist said she spotted you heading out that way last night and you looked like you were pretty interested in the woods and well, I couldn’t help noticing your arm.’ I lifted my arm. ‘It has a scratch.’ Mason pointed.

  I looked and just below my elbow I noticed there was a long red scratch.

  ‘I figured, since you were missing half the night, maybe that’s where you went. Is there some affiliation with the woods? Something you missed on your CV, maybe?’ He looked away and smiled absently at a passing waitress.

  ‘I… I don’t remember,’ I lied as the images of that night twenty years ago came flooding back.

  ‘Frankie, are you ok?’ The room felt as though it was closing in. I looked up and Mason’s voice sounded as though it were under water.

  ‘Keegan, don’t bail on me again. We can call it a night if you like?’

  I took a deep breath, touched Mason’s hand across the table and said, ‘I’m fine. Let’s eat.’

  We filled up with mussels and frites and champagne, mixed in with plenty of water. I didn’t want a repeat of last night.

  Mason put his knife and fork together on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  ‘Is there no one at home for you, then?’ I asked.

  ‘Only my mum. She’s seventy-six so I kind of have to care for her a little bit.’ Mason’s phone pinged and he pressed a few buttons. ‘Oh, look, that’s her now, always checking in.’ He smiled.

  ‘So no girlfriend, that’s what I’m getting at,’ I said.

  ‘I know, and not so subtly either.’

  I looked up at Mason with wide eyes and a cheeky grin.

  ‘Oh, come on, Frankie, I think you have me worked out by now. Fifty-two, no kids, no ex-wife.’

  ‘Oh heck, you’re gay?’ I put my hand over my mouth.

  ‘I wish it were that simple.’

  ‘Okay, care to elaborate?’

  ‘Not really. Just that there never has been anyone.’ Mason looked at me and narrowed his eyes. ‘Okay, Keegan. Prepare yourself, I’m about to monologue. My father left when I was very young, my mother raised me but suffered terribly with depression her whole life, inflicted by her own poor upbringing. Times were hard, my mum grew up and took many of her frustrations out on me.

  ‘I haven’t ever been able to love anyone, Frankie. I just don’t have the capability. Women have tried.’ Mason paused to laugh at this and I offered a small smile in return. ‘I don’t know, I guess I am just as messed-up as the rest of them.’ He laughed but it sounded hollow.

  Then he leant forward and whispered, ‘Anyway, enough of that. How about some pudding. I have heard the molten chocolate pudding here is to die for.’

  January 1999

  I live for the day when I see you again, for how ca
n I not. Not when I have so much to tell you, to show you.

  There can’t be such a thing as never again, or nothing. You were once so physical, so present. I live for the day when you walk through a door or pick up the phone to call.

  Sometimes I hear a word muttered, the tone of your voice so familiar I turn and expect to see you there but it’s not you. It’s someone else, different age, slighter build. I search their features for a sign of you. It could be you, how you would be now. I am trapped with the memory of the last day we spent together. That was the day to say goodbye. But I never knew. Why must these emotions catch me off guard? There is still so much to say.

  I’ll save it for another day.

  29

  Now

  ‘I think a night cap is in order after such a successful day, don’t you?’ Mason said as we reached the bar.

  ‘Just a tea for me. Mint,’ I said, not wanting to lose control. I felt perfectly inebriated.

  ‘Mint tea it is. Sensible choice.’

  Mason ordered a large brandy.

  I tried to stifle a giggle when it arrived in a large oversized glass and he began to swirl the golden liquid around.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a bit of cliché, isn’t it? Big boss man orders large brandy in a comedy sized glass and swigs it at the bar.’

  ‘I am a walking cliché. What can I say? Here’s your tea, Keegan, drink up.’

  The barman placed a large glass with a handle before me and inside were bright green mint leaves infusing in steaming water.

  ‘Looks good. Very healthy. You’re a better woman than I am.’

  I laughed. ‘I try. Anyway, you fill your boots. I won’t judge you. I am sure you’re as fit as a fiddle under all that.’

  Mason looked down at his buttoned up shirt and then back at me again. ‘Are you flirting with me, Keegan?’

  I smiled, the rush of the champagne still in my body. Every now and again I saw the flash of woods. But which ones? My mind was awash with images of trees. A place I had been, recently, yes, according to Mason and other witnesses. But back then, I had sought safety in them. I pushed the images away and focused on this thing that was building between me and Mason.

  ‘I wouldn’t know how to flirt,’ I said nonchalantly, trying to bring myself back to the moment. Mason gave me a friendly push.

  ‘I don’t believe that for a second. I think you would know exactly what to do.’

  ‘I’m thirty-six with two kids. I don’t do flirting,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ Mason said. ‘I just think you don’t know you are doing it.’

  ‘Shall I put it on my CV then? Professional flirter.’

  ‘You don’t tell people you’re a professional flirter. That’s the mystique of the professional flirter. People never know. Until they have been flirted with.’ Mason wiggled his fingers.

  ‘Okay, I’m taking this all on board. From a man who knows what he is talking about, I presume?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly say, Keegan.’

  ‘Should I call you Valentine?’

  ‘Well, that depends, doesn’t it, Keegan,’ Mason laughed.

  I pushed away my cup of tea, still full, and stood up. Suddenly I felt like a night cap. ‘Do you know what, I don’t believe I have seen your room. I will be a bit upset if you got the bigger suite.’

  Mason looked at me for a second and then downed his brandy.

  ‘Are you sure you wish to see my suite, Frankie. Because you know, once you have seen my… suite, there’s no unseeing it.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s hilarious, are we really doing this? ’Cos, you know, I just really want to see your suite.’

  Mason stood up, took me firmly by the hand and began escorting me from the dining room.

  ‘Come on, you, let’s go.’

  I felt the excitement rush through me like a jolt of electricity.

  Inside the lift Mason and I stood close together and I felt the butterfly sensation of his fingertips on mine. There was another couple in the lift so neither of us spoke. We arrived on the second floor and all four of us walked out together. The couple gave us a polite goodnight nod and headed in the opposite direction. Mason and I walked in silence past my room and towards his. He pulled out his card from his right pocket, still clutching my hand, and then pressed the key to the door.

  I gasped as I walked in.

  ‘I knew it.’ I let go of Mason’s hand and walked round the lounge area which had slightly open sliding double doors leading to a neatly made up super king size bed. Two sofas and a reclining chair were in front of me, with a sixty inch LED screen on the wall. To my right was a desk with a chair and a mini bar.

  ‘Right, what are we having?’ I wandered over to the mini bar and fridge.

  ‘There should be a nice champagne in the fridge,’ Mason said, his voice soft and small.

  I spun round and walked to the fridge.

  ‘Oooh, expecting company, were we?’

  ‘Well, one is always hopeful.’ Mason stood with his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.

  I opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of champagne. I found two glasses and laid them on the bar.

  ‘Let me do that.’ Mason’s voice was behind me and he took my elbow with one hand and relieved me of the bottle with the other.

  ‘Well, it was a little heavy,’ I laughed.

  Mason skilfully opened the bottle and poured two glasses of the fizz. He handed one glass to me and held the other close to mine so they clinked.

  ‘A little night cap, Keegan. To us. Thanks for today, you were a star – I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you would have found a way,’ I said.

  ‘Frankie.’ The sincerity of his voice made my heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat. I gulped the champagne.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ Mason was looking into my eyes. ‘I have nothing to lose here, you have everything to lose.’

  I stood still as Mason moved an inch closer, then another inch, until his face was closer than I had ever seen it. I was thinking about what could happen and that now was the time to step backwards, put the glass down and walk away. And yet, I didn’t.

  Instead I took the glass out of his hands and placed it on the counter as my lips moved closer to his.

  30

  August 1998

  I was lying in bed. It was half past twelve. I should have been at work five hours ago. I had woken with a head that felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, I felt tingly to the touch, feverish. But it wasn’t a fever. It was self-inflicted. I had rolled in at six in the morning with every intention of sleeping for an hour and then getting straight into the shower and heading to work but a shadow had enveloped me and I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. So I pulled another sicky. I had rung in and heard the manager’s weary reply, as I was obviously not the first young employee to call in sick on a Saturday morning.

  The guilt was lying heavy on my chest. I hated letting people down. I liked my job. I just wanted to do it on my own terms, in my own time, not when I was told to. I knew that wasn’t conducive with society but neither was going out all night and spending the little money I had on vodka mules and getting into nightclubs. The drugs were free. I didn’t have to pay for those. Todd took care of it because he took care of everyone, because that was his job. He didn’t need to worry about having to ring in sick, if he didn’t fancy working he didn’t have to. But that’s because his job only involved walking or driving a few blocks to a punter’s house to present them with a bag of green herbs.

  After the club we had driven to the Breakfast Club, a sort of come down venue where people were engulfed by oversized bean bags and comfy sofas. There was a DJ playing the sort of house music that kept you moving if you wanted to keep on a high for a bit longer. I had just sat there and let the beat impact my body without moving. I had drunk an insipid coffee. There was no food because no one had an appetite.

  The door
opened an inch and Kiefer stuck his head round. I was just a face cocooned by a duvet.

  ‘Not working today?’ he asked.

  ‘Rang in sick.’

  ‘That’s not good.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, goody two shoes, I forgot you never do anything wrong.’

  ‘Alright, come down, queen, I was just concerned. It’s not like you to miss your job, I thought you loved it?’

  ‘I can love a job and still be ill.’

  ‘Summer’s nearly over, Frank. You will be going to college soon, you can’t carry on like this.’

  I didn’t reply.

  ‘You’re not ill.’ Kiefer shut the door and the sound made me flinch. It was true, I loved my job, but the thought of standing in the hotel, talking to customers, serving breakfast and having to inhale eggs and bacon was already making my stomach turn. I vowed never to call in sick again. Besides, I needed the money. I needed to keep funding the nights out somehow.

  I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.