Respect (Mandasue Heller)

by Mandasue Heller

  When their glasses were empty, Rob reached for the bottle to refill them. ‘Thanks for agreeing to see me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you would, but I’m glad you did.’

  ‘Stop blaming yourself,’ Chantelle said quietly. ‘I had a really nice time, but I drank too much, so it was my fault it ended badly.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it ended badly,’ Rob countered. ‘Naughty, maybe, but definitely not bad. In fact, I’d say it was rather nice.’ He nudged her with his shoulder now and gave her a cheeky smile as he added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not angling to do it again; just saying I enjoyed it. We’re friends now, and it’s against the law to lie to friends. You knew that, right?’

  If Chantelle hadn’t just finished a full glass of wine and started on her second, her natural paranoia would have reared its head at those words and she’d have been convinced that he knew she’d been lying. But the alcohol had dulled the edges, and so she smiled.

  ‘So, now you know you can get arrested for lying,’ Rob went on teasingly. ‘What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Did you enjoy it? And remember, you’re under oath.’

  Chantelle took another sip of wine. ‘Yes, I enjoyed it,’ she admitted, wishing he didn’t have such sexy eyes. ‘But it’s not going to happen again, so we shouldn’t be talking about it.’

  Rob peered into her eyes for several long moments. Then, quietly, he said, ‘Look, I know you don’t want to go there because I’m married, and I promise I didn’t bring you here to try and get it on with you again. I just really needed to see a friendly face tonight.’ He paused now and took a sip of his own drink before continuing. ‘Truth is, me and Yvette aren’t getting on too well at the moment. I’m not blaming her,’ he added quickly. ‘We’re both at fault. But it doesn’t matter who caused it, the fact is it’s on the rocks; has been for a while.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ Chantelle said, struggling to contain the giggle that had just risen into her throat. It wasn’t that she was happy to hear that his marriage was in a bad way, she was just feeling extremely tipsy all of a sudden, and probably would have laughed if he’d told her that his mother had dropped down dead.

  ‘It is sad,’ Rob agreed, gazing wistfully down at the lake. ‘But sometimes you’ve got to be honest and admit it’s not working – for everybody’s sake. We’ve been drifting for a long time, but we’re so far apart now I can’t see us recovering.’ He turned his head and looked into her eyes again. ‘I wasn’t looking for someone else when I met you, and I know I’ve only seen you a few times, but there’s no point denying I’m attracted to you. I totally respect that you don’t want to get involved; I just wanted you to know.’

  Chantelle felt as if she was being sucked right into his eyes, and it was a struggle to keep her body from leaning towards him. ‘I’m really sorry it’s not working out for you,’ she murmured, unable to break the gaze. ‘It must be awful.’

  ‘It is.’ Rob’s voice was soft and low. ‘But it’s helped being able to get it off my chest. You’re special, Julia. I feel like I can really talk to you.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she whispered, giving up the fight and resting her head on his shoulder.

  Her heart started to pound in her chest when he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her gently. She tasted the sweet combination of cigarette smoke and alcohol as he slid his tongue between her lips and moaned softly as he pushed her slowly down onto her back.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said huskily, moving his lips to her throat as he ran his hand down her thigh.

  Chantelle arched her back and ran her fingers through his hair as the heat spread through her body like wildfire. This was so wrong, but it felt too good to stop now.

  22

  Bill gave Chantelle a curious look when she climbed into the car the following night.

  ‘What’s up?’ Chantelle asked, immediately self-conscious.

  ‘Nothing.’ Bill shrugged. ‘You just look different.’

  Chantelle blushed and looked down as she clicked her seat belt into place. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Bill smiled as she put the old car into gear and set off. ‘You just have a sort of glow about you. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like, that some handsome prince has finally had the sense to scoop you up and carry you away on his majestic white stallion,’ said Bill. She glanced at Chantelle out of the corner of her eye now, and chuckled when she saw the girl squirming in her seat. ‘Well, it’s about time,’ she said approvingly, convinced that she had guessed correctly. ‘And I’m sure he must be wonderful, because you’re far too bright to pick a bad apple.’

  Chantelle couldn’t help but smile. There was no way she could ever tell Bill who the prince was, but the old woman was right about Rob being wonderful. She’d read loads of magazine articles in the past advising girls not to be disappointed if the earth didn’t move the first time they had sex. They reckoned it was supposed to be really painful, but Rob had been so gentle, and she’d been so ready, that it hadn’t hurt a bit. In fact, it had been wonderful, and her stomach tingled all over again now as the memory washed over her afresh.

  It seemed crazy when she’d only known him a short time, but she was really falling for him. And she was sure he felt the same way about her, because he’d been texting all day telling her how much he’d enjoyed himself, and how beautiful she’d looked as they lay in each other’s arms after they had made love. She did still feel a bit guilty about his wife, but Rob had said that Yvette knew it was over and they were going to separate as soon as they’d got their affairs in order, so it wasn’t like they were really betraying her.

  The only blot on the landscape of the beautiful future that Chantelle had been daydreaming about ever since it had happened was the thought of one day having to tell Rob that she had lied to him about who she really was. It was a terrifying prospect, but she knew she would have to do it eventually. She just hoped he would understand why she’d had to deceive him.

  But she still couldn’t tell Bill. Ever.

  The club they were going to tonight was over in Wilmslow. It was packed to the rafters, but it didn’t take Chantelle long to locate her suspect. It was his stag do, and he and his friends had taken over one whole side of the room.

  When she’d heard that it was his fiancée who had hired them, Chantelle had wondered why the woman was bothering to go ahead with the wedding if she suspected he was a cheat. But she guessed she understood why the woman wanted to keep hold of him when she saw the suspect in the flesh, because he was way more handsome in real life than in his picture. Tall, muscular, and black, his stunning smile was noticeable from all the way across the room. And, judging by the way the lights were dancing off the stud in his ear, Chantelle guessed that the huge diamond was real, so he obviously had money.

  The party was roped off from the general customers, so Chantelle knew she wouldn’t be able to get too close; but she figured she’d be able to get some reasonably clear footage from the far end of the bar. There were a lot of girls hanging around down there, most of whom were even more scantily-dressed than the girls Chantelle had seen at the other clubs she’d visited. There were a lot of fake tans and hair extensions on display, and more fake boobs than she’d ever seen in her life before.

  As she made her way to that end of the bar, she felt the crackle of competitiveness in the air, as if each girl was vying to be more noticeable than the rest. Wondering why they were trying so hard to attract the man’s attention when it was clear that he was about to get married, Chantelle ordered a drink and was about to get the videophone out of her bag when two girls sidled up to her.

  ‘You a wag?’ one of them demanded while the other looked her up and down.

  ‘Sorry?’ Chantelle frowned.

  ‘You shagging one of the guys in the team?’

  ‘What team?’

  ‘The footy team.’ The girl nodded towards the party.
Then, sneering, she said, ‘Oh, forget it, you’re obviously too thick to know what I’m talking about. Just stay out of the way when they start letting us in, ’cos if you get in and we don’t, you’ve had it.’

  ‘I can assure you I don’t want to go in,’ Chantelle informed her. ‘And I’m waiting for my boyfriend, so why don’t you and your friend go and bother someone else?’

  ‘Who d’ya think you’re talking to, you cheeky cow?’ the girl retorted indignantly.

  ‘Leave it, Shell,’ her friend said quietly, unnerved by the icy look in Chantelle’s eyes. ‘Let’s go see if we can sneak under the rope.’

  Chantelle shook her head in disgust when the girls went on their way. As if she looked like the kind of tart who would fight to get at a footballer … how insulting.

  Drink in hand, she distanced herself from the other hopefuls and settled in a dark corner from where she could just about see her target.

  Bill was dozing with the dog on her lap when Chantelle came back to the car at 1.30 a.m. She woke in a flash when Chantelle tapped on the window, and unlocked the door. Then, trying to rouse the dog, she said, ‘Come on, old girl. Off into the back with you.’ When the dog didn’t respond, she shook it, saying, ‘Mitzy! Bed.’

  For a split second as she climbed into the passenger seat, Chantelle thought the dog was dead. And judging by the look of panic in her boss’s sleepy eyes, she guessed Bill did too. But the dog suddenly yawned, and then stretched, before wriggling through the gap between the seats and flopping down on top of its blanket on the back seat.

  Bill exhaled shakily, and muttered, ‘Daft bugger’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days.’ Then, shaking the dread feeling off, she turned to Chantelle. ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘Bit of a shaky start, but I think I got some usable stuff.’ Chantelle handed the phone over. ‘Not sure what the client will make of the lap-dance he got off the stripper, but I think she’ll be livid about the other girls.’

  ‘Girls?’ Bill repeated, placing emphasis on the ‘s’.

  ‘There were loads of them,’ Chantelle told her. ‘Did you know he was a professional footballer?’

  ‘I don’t ask for details of occupation unless it’s relevant to the case.’ Bill yawned and leaned forward to slot the phone into the glove compartment. She was far too tired to be bothered with reviewing the footage now, but she trusted that Chantelle would have done a good job, as usual. ‘So, what happened?’ she asked, starting the engine and setting off.

  ‘More like what didn’t happen,’ Chantelle snorted. ‘I thought the girls round my way were bad, but they’ve got nothing on that lot in there. They were all over him like a pack of dogs.’

  ‘Bitches,’ Bill corrected her, chuckling softly.

  ‘Total bitches,’ Chantelle agreed, missing her point. ‘I just don’t get what they think will come of it. I mean, they must know he’s about to get married.’

  ‘Probably hoping to be the one to steal his heart at the eleventh hour,’ Bill said jadedly. ‘It’s the way of the modern world, unfortunately. Everything is a competition, and to the victor the spoils – however soiled they may be.’

  Chantelle shook her head and gazed out of the window. The footballer had been one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but she personally wouldn’t have touched him with a bargepole. Rob was different; his marriage was all but over. But if tonight’s client decided to go ahead with the wedding after seeing the footage, she would never have a moment’s peace knowing that unscrupulous girls were prepared to do absolutely anything to get with her man – including give him oral sex under a table in public, as Chantelle had caught one girl doing on film before she left the club.

  Chantelle was greeted by silence when she let herself into the flat a short time later and, guessing that they had all gone to bed, she eased Leon’s bedroom door open to check on him. It was the first time in a while that he hadn’t wedged it shut, and she smiled when she saw him curled up in his bed. His young face was battered, but he was sleeping deeply, obviously free of the recent stress he’d been under.

  Anton had done him a massive favour, and Chantelle hoped he appreciated it and would stay away from gangs in future. There was still a chance that those lads would come after him, and that was why she thought it was a good idea for him to go to Spain with her mum and Miguel when they went back after the wedding. He didn’t have to stay for ever, but even a short break would do him good, she was sure.

  Still smiling, she closed Leon’s door and went quietly into her own room. But the smile disappeared as soon as she turned the light on, and she stared around in disbelief, gasping, ‘What the hell …?’ The wardrobe door was standing wide open, her neatly hung clothes strewn around the floor; and the dresser drawers had been tipped out onto the bed.

  As anger replaced the initial shock, she marched into her mum’s room and gritted her teeth when she saw that the bed was empty. Then, a horrible feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach, she turned and rushed into the kitchen.

  ‘No …!’ she cried when she saw that the cupboard beneath the sink was open, and all the bottles of cleaning fluids which had been neatly stored were scattered around the floor. The jar which had contained her savings was lying amongst them, empty, its lid off. She grabbed it and shook it, as if that would make the missing money reappear, and then sank to her knees, wailing, ‘You bitch! You absolute bitch!’

  ‘’S up?’ Leon appeared in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ Chantelle asked, pushing herself back up to her feet with the empty jar in her hand.

  ‘Dunno.’ Leon shrugged. ‘They went out not long after you. She went on a mad one looking for her purse, so I went to my room to listen to music.’

  ‘Looking for my purse, more like,’ Chantelle said angrily. ‘She’s pinched all my money.’

  ‘Really?’ Leon frowned.

  ‘Yes, really,’ snapped Chantelle. ‘She must have been planning this for days, the bitch.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Leon asked, following her when she marched out into the hall.

  ‘Tracey’s.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No – stay here,’ Chantelle ordered, yanking the door open. ‘I’m going to get my money back before they blow it on drugs and booze, and then I’m going to kill her.’

  Tracey’s flat was in darkness when Chantelle got there, but she hammered on the door anyway, and yelled through the letter box, ‘I know you’re in there, and I’m not leaving till I get my money back! I mean it, Mum – you had no right to take it, and you’re not getting away with it!’

  As she started rapping on the knocker again, a light went on next door and, seconds later, the door opened and a man’s sleepy head poked out.

  ‘Oi, pack it in,’ he hissed when he saw her. ‘It’s two in the fuckin’ morning; you’re gonna wake the whole block.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Chantelle snarled.

  ‘Has someone died?’ the man asked. ‘No? Well, fuck off, before I set the missus on you.’

  Chantelle was so angry she’d have fought with anyone who tried to tackle her right then. But her conscience kicked in and told her that she was being unreasonable. However furious she might be, it didn’t give her the right to disturb innocent people.

  ‘I’m sorry for waking you,’ she muttered, backing off.

  ‘So you should be,’ he spat, giving her a dirty look as she walked past, before slamming his door shut.

  Leon was sitting at the kitchen table when Chantelle got home. ‘Did you find her?’ he asked.

  She shook her head and slumped down on the chair facing his.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmured guiltily.

  ‘What are you apologising for?’ She frowned. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘I should have stopped her.’

  ‘You weren’t to know what she was doing.’

  ‘No, but I should have sussed she was up to something when she started
mooching round in your room the other night. She said she was checking out your clothes in case she wanted to borrow something for the reception, and asked me not to tell you in case you went mad.’

  ‘Cheeky bitch,’ Chantelle spat. Then, sighing, she rubbed her hands over her face and said, ‘It’s not your fault, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I thought she was acting too nice. I’m so stupid.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Leon blurted out defensively. ‘You’re dead clever. She’s the stupid one, and I hate her.’

  In the past, Chantelle would have told him not to talk about their mum like that, but she couldn’t do it this time because she felt the same.

  ‘Well, she’ll have to come back sooner or later, ’cos she’ll need her stuff for the wedding.’

  ‘If she hasn’t already took it,’ Leon said knowingly. ‘Wouldn’t put it past her.’

  Chantelle jumped up when he said this, and rushed back into her mum’s room. She hadn’t even thought to check if anything was missing when she’d gone in there the first time, but it was immediately obvious that most of the stuff they had brought home from Spain with them was gone.

  ‘You were right,’ she said, traipsing miserably back into the kitchen and sitting down. ‘They’ve done one.’

  ‘Well, she needn’t think I’m going to her stupid wedding after this,’ Leon declared. ‘And I’m not going to Spain with ’em, neither. I’m stopping here with you. You’re more of a mum to me than she’s ever been.’

  Touched by his loyalty, Chantelle gave him a grateful smile. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed?’ she suggested. ‘There’s no point both of us sitting here fretting.’

  Leon shook his head. ‘I don’t want to leave you on your own while you’re upset. You might do something daft, like when Mum …’