Decade

by Roberto Rabaiotti

  ‘Thanks, Solly. The party’s great,’ Vicki replied with warmth in her voice.

  ‘Yeah, just superb, Solly,’ Tommy agreed. He turned his head back round to face Vicki and added, ‘Memorable, in fact.’ With his arms still around their shoulders, Solly looked at them and expressed gratitude at their kind words. It was at this moment that Vicki felt like she was in a relationship with Tommy and she wanted to scream out her happiness. She had not failed to notice the many prying eyes looking their way during the evening and she loved the feeling of being one of a couple with Tommy Slater. When Solly moved away, Tommy resumed the conversation.

  ‘Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. When I signed for West Ham, I never thought I’d go on to have the career I’ve had. That day, I was just happy to know I’d been given the chance to better myself, to earn a decent wage. Ultimately, that was always my motivation as a kid. All I ever wanted was a nice drum, a nice car, a loving wife and kids and a few quid in the bank for them to live a good life.’

  Instinctively, Vicki’s hand shot out and touched his arm; she didn’t even realise she had done it. So close had they become that Tommy didn’t even think it unusual. But then, Vicki’s expression took on a puzzled look. ‘Drum? Did you want to be a drummer in a band then?’

  Tommy burst out laughing. ‘You might have some East End blood in you, Vicki, but you’ve never lived round these parts, have you? A drum is Cockney rhyming slang for a house or flat or, more literally, a place where you live. Drum and bass … place!’

  Vicki raised her hand to her mouth and her cheeks reddened. ‘Oops! I must have a go at my father next time for not teaching me that one.’

  Tommy grinned and stroked her upper arm in affection, which Vicki loved. She did not budge an inch and allowed him to do it a second time. Looking her longingly in the eye, Tommy resumed. ‘In my wildest dreams, I never thought my career would turn out the way it has done. I’ve been very lucky, though I have worked my guts out as well. The impression everyone has is that football comes easily to me, but it’s not like that at all, trust me. You never read about the times in training when I take two hundred shots with my weaker foot to try and improve it and make one hundred headers to strengthen the muscles in my neck. In fact, that’s what I did yesterday morning when it was minus five and bucketing down with snow. No, if you prepare well, you can control everything that goes on in a game and control is what it’s all about.’

  As he expressed himself, Vicki could see in his determined stare the necessary commitment of a professional athlete, and not just any professional athlete, but a winning one. She admired the way he had wanted to better himself as a boy, to make his family proud of him, to make something of himself. And how he had succeeded! Fame, admiration, wealth, he had earned it all, in addition to the love of an adoring public. And he possessed the foresight to know that he needed to look after his future as well, for the future would not look after itself. In truth, Vicki reflected, he was everything Rhys wasn’t. Her feelings for Tommy were not those of a celebrity-mad fanatic but came as a result of her being with him, talking to him and understanding him. She found Tommy irresistible. But Vicki’s perfect evening was about to be shattered by one seemingly innocuous question.

  ‘Anyway, enough about me. This so-called dump of a flat of yours in Battersea, do you live there by yourself?’

  Tommy registered Vicki’s ill-at-ease straight away. She shifted on her feet and stared down at Solly’s plush Axminster carpet, her cheeks burning. She couldn’t look Tommy in the eye and her brain was a jumble of conflicting responses. Her face was strained and she didn’t reply for what seemed like an eternity. What should I say? Vicki asked herself. I can’t tell him about Rhys, can I? He won’t be interested anymore. But Vicki knew she was a terrible liar so decided to tell him the truth. After all, her relationship was on the rocks and she’d make that clear to him. Her prevarication, however, only served to provide Tommy with the answer. If she was incapable of replying, he’d do it for her. ‘You’re living with someone, aren’t you? A boyfriend?’

  The tone of Tommy’s voice was abrupt and his expression severe. The fact Vicki gave no immediate response yet again and shifted even more uneasily on her feet confirmed what he said. Tommy experienced a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, which quickly turned to anger in the belief he’d been led on, and the fact that he had fallen for her in such a big way only made this anger more intense. Vicki finally raised her eyes. ‘Yes, I am.’

  Hearing Vicki say these words was like a kick in the balls and he had to take a deep breath to maintain his calm. Vicki could see that she had hurt him even if he tried to hide it. The moment was crushing Tommy for he really did believe that Vicki could be the person to fill the only void in his life. Her stretching out of her hand in search of his only served to make matters worse and he retracted his sharply, forcing Vicki to put hers by her side and look down at the carpet awkwardly. Outwardly, he remained relatively composed, but, inside, his guts were churning. Vicki noticed him look away to survey the room, a clear sign that he was on the point of saying his goodbyes, so, in a desperate and clumsy manner, she tried to regain the initiative. ‘It’s not what you think, though.’

  Tommy turned his head to face her. ‘Oh, and how’s that then?’ he replied bitterly.

  ‘Tommy, don’t be like that. Please let me explain. We’re living together for the moment but it’s all going to end soon. Believe me.’

  But Tommy wasn’t convinced. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he replied in an offhand manner, scanning the room once more. He turned back round to look her in the eye. ‘How long have you been living together?’

  ‘About three, three and a half years.’

  Tommy threw his head back dramatically. ‘Huh! Sounds pretty serious to me.’

  ‘It’s not, please believe me. It was once but isn’t now and hasn’t been for ages,’ Vicki flustered, stretching out her hand once more in search of his. Tommy prevented her from holding it but didn’t stop her from stroking his forearm instead which provided Vicki with a glimmer of encouragement. But this was a mirage for, just as Vicki was about to explain her relationship with Rhys in greater detail, Tommy pulled his arm away aggressively and stared down at her. Although his tone was polite and the look on his face kind, the words he spoke, while in themselves relatively banal, hit Vicki like a bullet in the heart.

  ‘Well, Vicki, it’s been nice meeting you and I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. Have a lovely Christmas.’ And with that, he walked away. In the hallway, Tommy caught sight of Solly laughing and joking in a group of three and decided to join them.

  Vicki stood stock still, her head bowed, the picture of misery. She was afraid to move her legs, fearing that they might cave in under her if she did. So upset did she feel that she thought she might burst into tears at any second. Her stomach ached fiercely and she struggled to keep a lid on her emotions. She looked round to see whether Tommy was still in the room, but he was gone. Her work colleagues were still in their little group in the opposite corner, oblivious to what had happened to her. Seeing them chatting away animatedly, she went to join them. She had no other option.

  ‘Oh, hi, Vicki. I thought you’d forgotten about us,’ Brenda commented, turning round after feeling Vicki’s tap on her shoulder. ‘You seem to be getting on well with Tommy Slater over there,’ she added with a nudge nudge, wink wink. Like her, Roger, John and their wives all stared at Vicki, expectant expressions on their faces, eager to hear whether she had anything juicy to say about her dalliance with the England football captain. Brenda could barely contain herself, so desperate was she to hear how Vicki had got on. She was already thinking ahead to Monday and that first coffee with the girls in the office kitchen, in the certain knowledge that they would not get much work done that morning.

  ‘Yeah, he’s very nice,’ Vicki replied in a sorrowful tone, her expression downcast. She left it at that, much to the disappointment of her colleagues.

  After a few seconds of silence, durin
g which their stares had become a little disconcerting, Vicki asked them whether they were enjoying the party. The change of subject was obvious and a clear sign that any questions about Tommy Slater were off limits. Brenda thought that Vicki might not want to say too much in front of Roger and John and so didn’t push her any further, believing that Vicki was likely to be more forthcoming in the minicab on the way home.

  They chatted for another hour or so but Vicki’s mind was in turmoil and she contributed little. It was clear she had a lot on her mind and the minicab could not come soon enough for Brenda. Occasionally, Vicki looked around to look for Tommy. He appeared every now and again, here and there, talking to various guests, but he never came close to where Vicki’s group was standing and their eyes never met. He was smiling and laughing a lot which only upset her further. He had probably forgotten about her already, she thought. And yet, Vicki had witnessed first-hand how hurt he had been when she told him about her boyfriend and the sexual chemistry between them was explosive, like mixing nitric acid with glycerol. She knew he liked her … and probably a lot.

  But then, to her horror, she saw Tommy in the hallway shaking Solly’s hand. He had his other hand on Solly’s shoulder and was sharing a joke with him as they edged closer to the front door. Tommy was leaving. Vicki stared worriedly at Tommy’s back, mouth agape, hoping desperately that he would at least turn round to seek her out. But instead, Tommy opened the door and, after receiving a final pat on the back from Solly, walked out. There wasn’t even the tiniest hint of his turning round. When Solly closed the door after him, it was as if the final curtain had descended, only more brutally, like a guillotine. The show was over.

  Vicki looked down at the carpet, her eyes welling up. Brenda could feel her shiver beside her though the room was warm. Without hesitation and as rattled as a railway carriage window, Vicki excused herself and bolted off to the bathroom. Her five companions all looked at each other in bemusement. It crossed Brenda’s mind whether she should go and see if Vicki was alright, but she decided against it for the moment.

  In the bathroom, Vicki burst into tears. How could she feel so much for someone she had known for only half an evening? It was crazy. But the floods of tears, in reality, were the consequence of the release of pent-up emotions relating to her relationship with Rhys. These emotions were all-consuming and remorseless, always agonisingly at the forefront of her mind and in the pit of her stomach. She had held them all in, all those worries and concerns for the future, a toxic mixture that had stirred around inside her for so long. But they all poured out now, the dam finally breaching. Knowing that she could feel so much for someone else so easily only confirmed to her that she and Rhys were finished and this knowledge overwhelmed her.

  Moments later, she took a couple of deep breaths to regain some composure and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red raw but at least she had stopped crying. She broke off some toilet paper and blew her nose. She started to feel calmer and knew that she had to get back as everyone would be wondering where she had got to. She was also concerned that a queue might be forming outside the door. She looked at herself one more time in the mirror. It was obvious she had been crying. ‘Fuck it,’ she said defiantly before leaving the bathroom to re-join the party.

  As she approached her colleagues, she saw them with their heads close together, whispering like plotting co-conspirators. On seeing her, they raised their heads and smiled sheepishly. It was evident to Vicki that they had been talking about her but she couldn’t care less. Phyllis and Betty were exchanging sly comments, their eyes trained on her. Noticing this, Vicki thought ‘fuck ’em’ once more and then pondered incongruously whether John and Roger were in fact doing so anymore. Probably not, she decided ungraciously.

  ‘Are you okay, Vicki?’ Brenda asked in a low voice, as she gently touched her arm.

  ‘Yeah, Bren. Don’t worry.’

  John and Roger said nothing. They were not at their best when it came to women’s feelings.

  ‘We’re going to have to make a move, Vicki. The minicab’ll be here in ten minutes.’

  Vicki looked at her watch and arched her eyes. It was nearly midnight already. ‘God, is that the time?’

  ‘Perhaps we should grab our coats and say goodbye to Solly,’ Brenda suggested. ‘We’re so high up here, it’ll take us ten minutes to get down to the bottom.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. We should make a move now.’

  ‘Our minicab’s coming in half an hour,’ Roger threw in, ‘so we’ll be leaving shortly as well.’

  Vicki and Brenda nodded and gave their two colleagues and wives a warm embrace and kiss before moving off to the bedroom. A number of people had already left and there were now fewer coats lying on the bed than when they had first arrived.

  ‘You two girls are not leaving, are you? The party will be poorer for it,’ Solly asked when he saw them in the hallway adjusting their collars.

  ‘We have to, Solly. It’s getting late and we both need our beauty sleep,’ Brenda replied.

  Solly threw his head back in incredulity. ‘Beauty sleep! For two such delectable creatures as you. Never!’

  Brenda and Vicki smiled, the latter desperately wanting to ask him for Tommy’s number. But she held back.

  ‘You’re such a charmer, Solly,’ Brenda returned with a girlish giggle. ‘Thanks for your hospitality; it’s been a lovely evening,’ she continued and Vicki nodded her agreement.

  ‘I’m so glad you enjoyed yourselves. Make sure you get home safely now.’

  The three of them took a couple of paces to the front door which Solly opened. He gave them both pecks on the cheek before Vicki and Brenda finally left. As they waited for the lift to arrive along the corridor, Solly remained by the door, one foot in, one foot out, making sure everything was in order. Vicki so wished that he would come over and stuff Tommy’s number into her hand. But the lift arrived with a soft ping and, with a final wave, they stepped inside, Vicki feeling wretched and on the point of bursting into tears once again. When Solly saw the floor numbers counting down, he re-entered his apartment, singing along happily to Who Wants to be a Millionaire? in the background.

  Tommy Slater was not yet a millionaire though he felt confident that one day he would be. But the way he was feeling at this particular moment, no amount of money would ever be able to buy off the gut-wrenching pain inside his stomach. He was sitting in a low, black leather armchair, cradling a tumbler of whisky in his right hand, thinking. It was the third he had poured himself since arriving back in his apartment. On entering, he had taken off his shoes and calmly placed his jacket over the back of a chair. But when he undid his tie, he threw it violently onto the floor, as if it were infectious, and it ended up lying under his glass-topped dining room table like a cobra that had slithered through a vat of orange paint. He just couldn’t get Vicki out of his mind.

  As he crossed his feet on the black leather footstool, he wondered whether he had been presumptuous in casting her aside, for he hadn’t allowed her to explain the state of her relationship with her boyfriend. And now, sitting back in the quiet of his apartment, he was desperate to find out. He had put two and two together but perhaps he had come up with five as the answer. But then, as he swilled the whisky round in its glass, his doubts kicked in. Deep down, he just wanted to believe something he knew wasn’t true. To live with someone for three and a half years was pretty serious and, however much she may have gushed in his presence earlier, he would never be able to replace what she felt for her lover. This realisation stirred an inner anger inside him and it even crossed his mind whether he should ask his best friend Freddie Butcher, or Freddie the Flick, as he was better known because of the flick-knife he always carried round with him, to pay Vicki’s boyfriend a visit and cut him up a bit. He might not look so handsome after that.

  And yet, there was definitely something special between them. He couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. Vicki might well be the girl of his dreams, the one with whom he
would finally settle. That prize was too much to give up. He could easily get hold of her number from Solly and give her a call at work. Yes, that’s what he would do.

  But the doubts soon returned. Who are you kidding? Don’t get het up and involved with a girl you can’t have. You’ll only end up getting hurt. Tommy even tried to convince himself that Vicki was no better, in reality, than all the slags who hung around the England football team. But the second he thought it, he admonished himself, for he knew it not to be true.

  Finishing his whisky, he looked at his watch. Twenty past twelve. He had been sitting in the armchair for over an hour. He finally decided to turn in, knowing that he might have a different perspective on things in the morning. But, as he was about to get up, there was a faint knock on the door, so faint, in fact, it was barely audible. He hesitated a minute before he heard it again, this time a little louder. Whoever it was at this time of night was either very puny or extremely nervous. When Tommy opened the door, he could see immediately it was the latter.

  ‘Hello, Tommy. Remember me? Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  And with that, Tommy took Vicki’s hand and led her inside.

  CHAPTER 11

  The early morning sunshine was trying hard to penetrate the vertical barrier of blinds shielding the two floor-to-ceiling windows in Tommy’s cavernous bedroom. Because of its size and oriental-style black-lacquer furniture, the room was not particularly cosy or welcoming. In fact, to Vicki’s eye, it was rather cold and distinctly lacking in taste. But none of this bothered her as she snuggled up ever more tightly against Tommy’s warm, lean body, as relaxed as a fat tabby cat curled up in front of an open fire. His skin was unblemished and pale, white even, as if it had never been subjected to the sun’s rays in its time, and his torso possessed not one strand of hair. With her head on his chest and left arm wrapped around him, she smiled as she felt Tommy tug gently at her corkscrew hair, as if a coiled spring, trying to extract some bounce. It confirmed her belief that men would always be young boys at heart.