Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  “Ashley?” He called again as he made his way back to the entrance lobby where a cold breeze rushed by him, as if seeking shelter from itself.

  This time he noticed that the London bustle seemed louder here.

  He moved into the lounge and noticed that the balcony door was partially open, and a gale was howling through it, bringing with it the sound of voices.

  He crossed the room, slid the door open and stepped out onto the large balcony where he spotted Ashley, wrapped in a sheepskin coat, chatting to a man.

  Both of them had their backs to him.

  “Ash?”

  Startled, the duo turned, and Rupert recognised the man as Tom from maintenance.

  “Good morning, Tom,” he said, quickly.

  “Good Morning, Mr Harrison.”

  “I called you, why didn’t you answer me?” Rupert asked Ashley, feeling her arms as if checking she wasn’t hurt in any way.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you out here.”

  Her face looked unusually pale.

  “What happened? You were on the phone one second, gone the next. I was worried.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “What happened? You sounded strange on the phone.”

  “I know. Just silly, really. I got myself all spooked.”

  “Spooked?”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Tom said with a smile.

  Ashley put her hand on Tom’s arm, “Thank you so very much for coming over, Tom.”

  “Anything I can do to help,” he said with a smile. “Mr Harrison,” he nodded at Rupert, then left.

  Rupert looked worriedly at Ashley. “What happened?”

  “Oh,” she shook her head, “nothing significant. Just got rattled.”

  “By what?” he asked, eagerly.

  “Oh, I don’t really know. I just thought somebody was in the apartment, that’s all.”

  “What?” Rupert asked, eyes wide with concern.

  “Well, at first I thought it was you. I was in the shower and I thought I heard you come home.” She forced an incredulous laugh, “I even thought I smelt your aftershave and then …” she trailed off here, remembering what it felt like when the phone rang.

  “What?” Rupert prompted.

  “Well, I came out and then you rang me so I knew it wasn’t you and…”

  “…Jesus Christ! Ash, did you call the police?” He moved as if he was personally going to investigate.

  “No, Rupert!” Ashley caught his arm. “Tom’s already checked the place, twice, and he didn’t find anything. I also called Paul at reception. He told me he hadn’t sent anybody up here and, well, you know what this place is like for security. It’s unlikely anyone could have snuck in without being spotted. Besides, they’d need a code.”

  A few seconds of silence ticked by, filled with the sound of the city.

  “So, what are you saying to me?” Rupert asked.

  “I don’t know.” Ashley shook her head. “All I know is that I thought you’d come home and you hadn’t.” She laughed. “I know it sounds stupid now, but it felt so real. I even heard you laugh for crying out loud! Or at least I thought I did.”

  Rupert smiled. “You just can’t bear to be apart from me, can you?” he said, caressing her cheek.

  Ashley forced a laugh. “Damn. And there’s me, desperate to be independent.”

  Rupert pulled her to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, seriously.

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. You know, I read in a magazine somewhere that autosuggestion isn’t that uncommon.”

  “Oh yeah? What magazine was that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Some rag published by some megalomaniac who lives in a penthouse.”

  “Really? I like him already,” he smiled, pulling out of the embrace and looking into her eyes.

  “Oh, that’s good because I like him too.”

  “Just like?”

  “Yes. You see, I’m only into men who get out of bed early to buy me freshly baked pastries.”

  “Damn. So there’s no hope for me then?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Oh well,” he pulled away, “just have to go and eat these on my own then,” he said, holding up a white paper bag.

  “NO!” Ashley protested.

  They laughed.

  He cupped her face with his hands and looked into her eyes once more.

  The meaning was silent.

  She stroked his hand confirming that she was okay. “I love you,” she said, and then hugged him, as if her life depended on it. As she did so, her eyes searched the shadows stalking the room inside.

  21 Martians

  Ashley walked through the babbling buzz of the Fiction Editorial office, absentmindedly greeting members of her team as she went.

  Marie was following, briefing her on the morning’s events, although Ashley had barely heard a word, for her mind was elsewhere…

  “…Oh and Jackie Harris has called twice for you. Would like to know if you can meet her for lunch today, she said it’s important, what isn’t these days? Everything is important. Finishing the painting in my spare room is also important, but do you think that makes any difference whatsoever to my son? Oh no. If I were to compare it to the modern day office equivalent, he wouldn’t be email but more like a carrier pigeon. You want my advice; don’t ever ask a member of your family to help you out with anything domestic, because you are ten times better off paying a stranger. At least you know he is going to get the job done on time, even if he will screw you for every penny. But at least you know you are paying for the service, and that you have some rights...” Marie broke off here as they entered Ashley’s office.

  She watched her boss, throw her coat onto a nearby chair, sit at her desk and switch on her computer without as much as a blink.

  Thus, she continued, “And did you know that the Martians then came and beamed up my dog. Of course, they asked me to go with them, but I said hey, I’ve got a lazy son and a boss that takes no notice whatsoever of the things I say, why would I want to whiz around the cosmos with you lot…”

  Marie stopped talking again.

  Ashley looked up to see her secretary, spectacles dangling off the tip of her nose, staring down at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I may as well go home. At least I’m used to my husband ignoring me.”

  Ashley smiled. “I’m sorry, Marie.”

  “Oh don’t worry, love. I’m used to it.”

  “No, it’s not you, I promise.”

  “What then?”

  “Nothing important,” Ashley said, snapping out of her daze. “Did I hear you mention Jackie Harris?”

  “So you weren’t entirely devoid of audio intake then?” Marie shook her head. “Yes, she rang twice. She wants to know if you can meet her for lunch today, said she has something critical that she must discuss with you.”

  “Okay, I’ll ring her.”

  “She said, or more appropriately, demanded that you call her on her mobile, as her home phone is out of order.”

  “Oh okay. I don’t know…” Ashley picked up her cell phone, “if I have her number...”

  “I’ve emailed it to you.”

  “Thanks, Marie.”

  “Glad I can be of service.”

  She was about to leave the room when Ashley called after her, “Be sure to let me know if they return your dog, Marie.”

  The woman just rolled her eyes and left the room.

  Ashley opened her email and sifted through her messages until she came to the one entitled, “Grumpy Harris.”

  This made her smile.

  The phone was connected after two rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Jackie, it’s Ashley.”

  “Oh thank God. “There was relief in the woman’s voice. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I got detained.”

  “I need to speak with you,” Jacki
e’s voice was almost a whisper.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Can you meet me? Now?”

  Ashley looked at her watch; it was almost noon. “Well, I just got in, Jackie and need to tie up a few things here, but I could come over…”

  “…No, not here,” Jackie said, decisively. “Meet me at O’Mara’s.”

  “Okay,” Ashley agreed. “Jackie, you sound very cloak-and-dagger, what’s this about?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. Twelve thirty. Don’t be late.”

  “Hang on, Jackie….”

  But the line was dead.

  22 BROKEN

  The battle between sun and rain had been fought and lost. The weather had changed, yet again, and a dingy grey sky was now drizzling rain, as Ashley rushed across the multi-storey car park to her car.

  Nearly an hour had passed since her enigmatic telephone conversation with Jackie, but she had been unable to extricate herself from the avalanche of urgent emails and phone calls. As it was, she had to push many of them back until later in the afternoon, so she could go on this spy mission to meet Jackie Harris, much to Marie’s displeasure.

  It was as she was negotiating her bag, umbrella and car keys that she heard Rupert’s voice calling her name and it echoing around the structure.

  She turned to face him, but he wasn’t there; the car park was empty. Yet she had heard his voice, clear and sharp as if he’d just stepped off the elevator and had called out to her.

  “Rupert?” she spoke, instinctively.

  The only reply came from the hum of the traffic on the streets below and the ever familiar howling crosswind.

  She hesitated for a few seconds as if expecting him to jump out from behind one of the nearby cars.

  Nothing.

  She turned and pressed the button on her key fob; there was a beeping sound and the vehicle’s lights winked at her. She opened the back door and dumped her bag and umbrella on the passenger seat.

  “Ashley.”

  She looked up again; it was definitely Rupert’s voice, albeit muffled, distant this time as if it were coming from deep inside the concrete pillars that surrounded her.

  “I’m here. Rupert?”

  Silence.

  “Stop messing around. I’m late for a meeting,” she said loudly to the open space.

  The slamming of a car door made her turn to see a man and woman leave a Volvo, and chat happily with each other, as they made their way to the elevator and step inside.

  She took a few steps forward and called out again, “Rupert?”

  Her voice echo was the only reply.

  Oh God, I’m cracking up. I must be.

  She turned, climbed behind the driving wheel and pulled the car door shut, isolating herself from the sound of the city and grateful for the peace inside.

  She took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. Then, she looked into the rearview mirror and gave herself a mental talking to.

  Get a grip! I know. But you have to admit, it’s been a pretty weird day so far.

  She had to concede it had.

  Then, for some peculiar reason, she felt compelled to shift her focus from her face to the rear seats of the car. You know, just to be sure they were empty.

  They were.

  She took a few seconds to roll her shoulders, in an effort to dispel a tension that had settled there, then clicked into her seatbelt.

  Eventually, she switched the engine on, and jumped with fright as the radio bellowed a mixture of static and news at her. It bore through her fragile nervous system like an electric drill.

  She hastily, and somewhat angrily, pushed it off. She hadn’t been listening to the radio on her way in this morning, she was sure of that.

  Or was she?

  The car idled as her mind pondered.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  She closed her eyes and pressed fingers against her temple in an effort to disperse a migraine that was now growing there. She pressed as deeply as she could bear it, for she had a lot to do and the last thing she needed was a bad head holding her back.

  It was just as she was willing herself to calmness that the knock came; it rapped against her window and rattled around her brain causing her to leap sideways and gawk in horror.

  It took a while to register the uniformed man standing outside her window.

  Heart pounding, chest heaving, she eventually buzzed the window down.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Marshall,” said the security guard. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Just, you dropped this in the lift.”

  He handed her a key card.

  “You won’t be able to get out without it,” he added.

  She took the card from the man and said, “Thank you” with a squeak and then very quickly cleared her throat.

  The guard, a fifty-year-old, overweight black man with greying hair, observed her, carefully, “Are you okay, Miss Marshall?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just late for an appointment, that’s all,” she said as calmly as she could.

  The man stood back, “Okay. Well, you take care.”

  “Thank you, I will,” she replied, shifting the car into gear.

  She buzzed up the window, hesitated a few seconds then reopened it. “Sorry, could I just ask, earlier, um, did you call to me?”

  The guard frowned, “I’m sorry?”

  “Earlier, a few minutes ago, was it you calling my name?”

  The baffled look on the man’s face said it all. Ashley glanced at the clock on the dashboard; she felt foolish and was very late. “Never mind. Thank you anyway,” she said, quickly.

  Before long, she was exiting the car park and joining the main road, where she drove west for approximately ten minutes before reaching a retail park sandwiched between the city and the suburbs.

  The retail park consisted of one department store, various retail chains, a couple of fast food outlets and one cafe that specialised in all day breakfasts.

  With real estate near the capital at a very high premium, all of the retail outlets were served but one multi-storey car park. Ashley was amazed to find a free space, and stopped short of performing a victory dance when she did.

  The American diner styled eatery was on the opposite side of a very busy main road and it, like most places at lunchtime, was heaving with people on their break.

  It took Ashley a while before she located Jackie. She was sitting at a small table for two, tucked away in a corner of the eatery, with a window view of the shoppers walking to and fro on the street outside.

  Jackie Harris was a short woman, with a small face and long scraggly brown hair. Today, not unlike a forties spy, she was wearing sunglasses, a size too big for her face, a black overcoat, and a grey scarf over her head.

  She was urgently sucking on an electronic cigarette, clearly underwhelmed by the hit it was giving her.

  “Hi,” Ashley said, falling into the chair opposite her. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I’ve had one hell of a day. Wow, are you hungry?” She asked, noticing that the table in front of them was laden with food.

  “That’s okay, at least you’re here now,” Jackie said, looking over Ashley’s shoulder.

  Ashley followed her gaze, “What?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  “Nothing,” Jackie said, forcing a smile. “Coffee? I ordered a pot for both of us. Black isn’t it? I also ordered some scones, thought you might like some. Wasn’t sure what kind to get so I just bought a couple of both types, I also bought some toasted tea cakes and some sandwiches. Again, I didn’t know what you like, so I got tuna and cucumber, chicken salad, and Ploughman’s but still if you don’t….”

  “…Jackie.” Ashley interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “Why am I here? What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait?”

  “Have some coffee and I will tell you.”

  As Jackie poured, Ashley noticed that her hand was shaking.

  She had met the ex-p
olice officer several times before, but had never seen her this jittery, and it was unnerving her.

  When Jackie finished pouring coffee into her cup, she spooned in a couple of sugars, regardless of the fact that Ashley enjoyed her coffee black, without, and began to stir, nervously. Then, just as Ashley was about to prompt her once more, she said, “I’ve finished the book.”

  Ashley broke into a smile, “Jackie, that’s great news…”

  “…But I am not going to submit it for publication.”

  The statement took Ashley by surprise and she was momentarily speechless. Eventually, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “Well, what’s happened to suddenly change your mind?”

  Jackie looked out of the window and her enigmatic behaviour was actually starting to irk Ashley, whose nerves were already strained.

  “Jackie, I need to know why you’ve reached this decision, and could you please take off those glasses?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, but Jackie slowly and reluctantly complied, revealing dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

  She looked as she hadn’t slept in days.

  “My God, Jackie. Are you alright?” Ashley gasped.

  “No, actually I’m not,” she said in a shaky voice, as she sucked on the e-cigarette...

  “Oh fuck it!” she said, plucking the device from her lips and throwing it at the table, where it bounced off the coffee cup and over to the next aisle.

  The act made Ashley leap back in her chair, which pulled on her last nerve, and she was about to lose it with her lunch companion but stopped when she noticed the look in her eyes.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Ashley. I just can’t.” The woman said, fighting, back tears.

  “Jackie…”

  “…I think you lost this,” a man in a suit said, as he placed the e-cigarette on their table. He was wearing a sour look on his face.

  Ashley was torn between apologising to him or seeing to the neurotic woman in front of her, she chose the latter.

  Once she was sure that the man had retaken his seat, she leaned forward, “Jackie, what happened?”

  “What hasn’t happened? I have been watched, followed, burgled, you name it. Ever since it was made public that I was writing this book, I haven't had a moment’s peace.”