At least, I thought, if it were on his mind to tackle me when my back was turned, I'd make him feel as guilty as possible.
Thankfully I was saved by the distinctive donkey call of my mobile. It was Tammy. She was arriving early the following day with Ray to help out. It was the best news I'd been given all day. I was soon to have my boon companion back with me. And I doubted Robbie would try anything in the meantime. Well, I prayed he wouldn't. After all, it didn't give him much time to dispose of me.
We unloaded the goods from the van and into the living room. I didn't know how on earth we were going to get the huge beds up the narrow staircase, but Robbie assured me that, as Ray was arriving the following day, the task could be left until then. This was a relief. I didn't fancy hanging around the isolated house with number one suspect Robbie as my only companion, or, for that matter, risk straining my back by lumbering the beds up the stairs. I had to keep myself in rock-solid shape in case I had to land a highflying karate kick into someone's face. Saying that, with the exceedingly tight jeans I was wearing – they seemed to have shrunk several sizes in the wash – the only thing that was likely to have happened was for them to rip right across my bum if I so much as bent my knee up.
I was desperate to get back to the safety of the Rural Inn, where I planned to lock myself securely into my room and attempt to get a decent night's sleep. Perhaps then my overheated imagination and taut nerves would be restored to some sort of normality.
We drove back in relative silence. Robbie remained rather broody, but as he reminded me so much of Lionel that I actually found myself feeling sorry for him. Could it be that I had, perhaps, jumped the gun in casting him as the next Jack the Ripper?
I pulled up outside his home and just as he was about to clamber down from the van I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was such an impulsive, innocent, gesture that he actually blushed. I think I did, too. Not allowing him to speak, however, not wanting to risk my heart been softened by his melancholy azure eyes, I quickly called out, "I'll see you tomorrow Robbie, and thanks for everything."
With that I pegged it, as fast as the van and winding lanes would take me, back to the Rural Inn.
Chapter Eighteen
I hadn't been kidding when I'd said to Robbie that I was exhausted. Indeed, I was so bushed I slept for ten hours straight. It was six o'clock in the morning when I woke, so you can figure out at what ridiculous hour I went to bed. Moreover, as I could no longer blame jet lag on my early morning waking habits, I was starting to contemplate that Gabby had indeed brainwashed me for life with her craze to be up before the cock crows.
Feeling rather spunky and alive and not half as pent-up as the previous evening, I decided to make an early start and head down to the cottage and attempt some wardrobe construction before Tammy arrived.
In the bright first light it was hard to believe that I could possibly come to harm, and if it hadn't been for the accumulation of letters now stored in my new van’s glove compartment, I could have almost convinced myself that I'd dreamt up the whole episode.
I parked in the front drive, let myself into the house and set about unpacking the cardboard box which contained the wooden TV cabinet.
The cardboard container had seemed relatively small, but out came slab after slab of wooden wedges, as well as a whole sack of nuts and bolts which went flying loose from the carton. I’ve always underestimated what an utter nightmare it is trying to piece furniture together. Unless one is a real fan, DIY furniture construction can be like doing one of those never-ending thousand-piece puzzles where all the pieces look identical.
Four hours later I proudly stood before my TV cabinet. I had to admit it was first-rate, and almost instantly forgot that I'd had to dismantle half of it halfway through the construction when I realised I had the doors back to front. I also had to readjust some of the bolts, as the drawers didn't slide properly. The added fact that I had at least a quarter of the screws still unused was a bit unsettling. I'd have to be careful that the whole thing didn't collapse to the floor as soon as I placed the TV on top of it. Nevertheless, putting pessimism aside, I stood proudly before my work of art. By the time I came round to purchasing more DIY furniture I would have forgotten all about how much I'd sweated to get the bloody cabinet up and standing.
I took all the empty cardboard boxes out into the garden thinking I could get a bonfire going in the afternoon. As I ambled down the stonework garden path I remembered Robbie telling me of the derelict stables located behind the greenhouse and decided to check them out for myself.
Just as I drew level with the greenhouse, my mobile went off. The Hee-Haw sounded so loud in the quiet outdoors, where all that could be heard was a slight rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant tweet of birds, that I literally jumped. Somewhere far off I could hear a donkey braying back, and I had images of herds of animals stampeding across my nicely-cut lawn, drawn by the sound of my mobile. Must change the tone, I thought, as I fumbled to withdraw the phone from my back pocket. Once again, the caller ID wasn’t shown.
"Hello," I answered. The line remained eerily silent, and with each passing second I could feel my heart hammering away more and more rapidly.
"Hellooo..." I strained down the line, trying to keep my voice level, although I could hear it waver in fear. I wondered if the stalker was watching me from some hiding place, and was getting off on seeing me quaking in my shoes. At the same time, the thought that my life was being made intolerable was enough to fire me up and push to one side all other considerations.
"Look you bastard," I yelled down the phone, "I've had enough. You're not even man enough to seek me out face to face. You're pathetic, and you can go kiss my arse!"
I paused to catch my breath, frantically thinking of more abuse that I could yell down the line. I heard a biting intake of breath at the other end.
"Hi honey. Having a bad day?"
It was my turn to gasp – but in total dismay. It was Lionel. I hadn't even imagined it could be him calling me, as it must have been at least two in the morning over in LA.
"Lionel!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know it was you," I blurted out in a rapid attempt to unravel the awkward mix-up; doubly awkward as it was the second time in our last two phone calls that I'd managed to get him muddled. In our previous call I'd called him "Robbie," and now I'd gone and called him "a bastard." In all honesty, I wasn't sure which would have offended him the most.
"Well I sure feel sorry for whoever has got you all riled up," he continued as I felt myself slowly cool off. “Apart from sounding like you're about to kick some shit, at least this time around you sound sober. So how are you?"
Very funny, I mused inwardly. Out loud, and not attempting to be subtle, I said, "I'm fine. How's Vivien?"
"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her since I escorted her home from the hospital."
What a bloody liar.
"Lionel, don't lie. I phoned you three days ago and she answered the phone. And it's all over the gossip magazines that the two of you are back together."
He let out his boisterous laugh and I could almost feel his body shake with merriment down the line.
"My dear," he said, "I do believe you're jealous."
He was dead right. I was wildly jealous, though I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me admit it.
"Rule number one," he continued, still laughing. "Never believe what you read in the gossip columns. Rule number two: believe me. When I say I haven't seen Vivien since she was discharged from the hospital, it's the truth. If she answered my phone, she shouldn't have. But if it's as you say, you probably called when I was down on the tennis courts and had left my phone, by accident, at the bar. Satisfied?"
I let out a half grunt. It was my way of saying, "I believe you," but without clearly letting on how totally relieved I was. Lionel then continued with a ten-minute run-down of Hollywood goings-on, and said something about the Oscars. I recalled that the Oscars had been postponed this ye
ar by a good seven months, due to an earth tremor that had rocked the Kodak Theatre. But I was no longer paying any real attention, as I had suddenly caught sight of a shady silhouette moving about down by the stables where I'd approached whilst conversing with Lionel. Could it be Robbie? I stood dead in my tracks trying to pick out and identify who, or what, it was as I heard Lionel's insistent voice down the line.
"Chantelle, are you alright? You sound really distracted."
"Just a little problems with one of the neighbours," I said. "I'll call you back later." With that I hung up and slid behind one of the garden trees in the hope that, despite my bright pink vest top and washed-out denim jeans, I would be successfully camouflaged by the green surroundings.
So intent was I in trying to single out the apparition in the stables that I was caught thoroughly unawares by the approaching footsteps behind me. Hands went around my eyes and I was blinded. Fear shook my whole body before pure survival instinct kicked in. I drove my elbow with all my might into the body behind me as I stamped down hard with my heel onto the toes of my attacker.
"Jesus, Chantelle!" Tammy's voice called out in pain. "My, are you in need of a good spliff, or a decent shag!"
I hugged and kissed her in relief and linked my arm through hers as I apologised for my violent behaviour – although I didn't explain it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to confide in my best friend, but I still needed to think things through calmly. And Tammy, love her as I do, isn’t the most level-headed person around, startling as that may sound coming from me. As I turned towards the cottage I observed Robbie, standing at the far end of the garden path right by the kitchen door, and I wondered how on earth he'd managed to get there so swiftly and silently. Hadn’t I just seen him by the stables?
I let Tammy lean on me as we hobbled down the garden path together. Tammy was limping theatrically – well, maybe she was in genuine pain after I’d stamped on her toes. I, in turn, laboured under her hefty weight. As we approached Robbie, Ray came in from the front drive and held out a white envelope.
"Hi Chantelle," he said. "I found this on your doorstep."
With shaking hands I took the envelope from Ray's outstretched hand and turned to look at Robbie. I was convinced that I would see some guilty look on his face. Instead, he held my eyes in an unwavering gaze.
"Thanks Ray." I said and slipped the envelope into the pocket of my jeans. I had no intention of opening it in front of Tammy. Being as panic-stricken as she usually is over the slightest thing, the only thing I would've achieved by showing Tammy any sinister letter would have been to have her install a whole army of private detectives and bodyguards in and around the cottage grounds. Although my nerves were strung as tight as a violin wire, I thought it best that one of us should keep matters in perspective as much as possible and avoid a whole drama queen scenario.
As Robbie and Ray set about getting the beds up the narrow stairs, which required some serious abracadabra wand-waving, Tammy and I drove into the village to stock up with provisions.
***
"Isn't it exciting!" exclaimed Tammy as soon as we set off in the new Renault Trafic and headed towards the shops. "What will you wear?"
I was so preoccupied by the still unread letter in my jeans that I had no idea what Tammy was referring to.
"Tammy, what the hell are you going on about?"
"The Oscars, of course. What else?" She let out an exasperated sigh. "They're in less than two weeks’ time and your Lionel has been nominated for Best Actor. And I read that he's going to appear with a ’mystery lady’. That's you isn't it?"
I didn't know which piece of information to absorb first: the fact that I was thrilled by Lionel's nomination, or the fact that he, himself, might have given me the same information over the phone that very morning and I'd totally ignored it.
I scolded myself for not paying more attention to what Lionel had said. I pulled up on the fringe of the village and parked the van. I didn't fancy manoeuvring it through the narrow streets that led to the shops, and I certainly didn't envy the local bus driver, who at that very moment had only just managed to scrape around the bend that led to the village centre.
As we stepped down from the van and made our way along the high street, to the local supermarket, I was stopped and greeted by quite a few people. Some were familiar faces from the evening spent down at the local pub. Others, however, were total strangers.
"Gosh, you’re popular!" exclaimed Tammy. "They obviously love you here."
Not everyone, my dear.
The rain that had been threatening all morning started to pelt down, so Tammy (her limp miraculously cured) and I had to do a full-out sprint to get into the safety of the supermarket. As I dived through the doorway I crashed head-on into a middle-aged man who was on his way out, and managed to smack him with a mighty head-butt. He reeled back, and his shopping bag clattered to the floor. Tins of baked beans rolled out into the street and into the gutter. Muttering apologies, I scampered after them thinking it was the least I could do. I hadn't caught sight of the man's face properly as it had been half-hidden by a yellow anorak (the type of anorak I'd only ever seen before when channel-hopping and BBC 2 was showing one of its fishing documentaries), but what I had glimpsed looked strangely familiar, though I couldn't place it. Once I’d collected up all the tins I turned back to the supermarket entrance to return them, with more apologies. But the only person there, eyeing me rather suspiciously, was Tammy.
"What on earth are you doing? You'll get soaked!"
"Where is he?" I asked, puzzled. These tins hadn't sprouted from nowhere. But the road was empty, except for the pouring rain.
I stepped into what was probably the smallest Tesco in the whole of the UK, and approached the girl at the checkout till with my armful of baked beans.
"The fellow in the yellow anorak who just bought these tins of beans. He left without them. Maybe you could hold onto them until he comes back."
The girl, who really needed to get her hair roots sorted out, just nodded. "He's not from these parts, though,” she drawled, “so he may not be back." Maybe that explained why he took off so fast, I thought. He probably thought I was out to mug him. I really had to get my hair straightened again, and the loss of a few tins was obviously of little importance to him. I put the whole thing out of my mind.
I'd planned to do a barbecue out in the garden that afternoon, but in view of the weather I didn't think it would be a success.
"Look, Tammy," I cried out in delight as I picked up a fondue set that was on sale. "We could have fondue tonight!" I plopped it into my trolley together with a whole load of bread and cheese. We got some white wine, a crate of beer, some emergency provisions in case we found ourselves washed in for the remainder of the week, and a whole load of munchies: crisps, Pringles, dried fruit and nut assortments, biscuits, cakes, and anything else edible that didn't require microwave or oven cooking. At the moment, I had neither. Why on earth hadn’t I thought about buying a microwave at IKEA? I’d managed to buy bargain bits, but what happened to practical purchases?
Almost two hours had passed by the time we got back to the cottage, where we found Ray and Robbie sitting sheepishly on the front doorstep. They were both soaked to the skin.
"Is there any rational reason why you are both sitting there like a pair of drowned rats?" Tammy asked. The very same question had also crossed my mind.
"The door closed on us as we were taking the plastic bedcovers out to dump," began Ray in explanation. "And…"
"And you left the key on the inside," I finished for him. "Together with the one and only spare set of keys."
I put my hands on my hips and glared at them both, as I realised that I would have to break one of the windows to get in.
"We thought we'd leave it up to you to decide which window to break." Robbie said, as if reading my mind. I looked at him. If it wasn't for the fact that he was soaking wet, I would've thought he'd planned it, so that he could get in and get me later when Tam
my and Ray had left.
"Very generous of you both," I shot back, feeling rather peed-off. I moved around the house to the back garden to see if I could spy one of the cottage windows slightly ajar, which would save me from smashing one open. It was still raining cats and dogs and I didn't fancy having a gaping hole until the glass was replaced.
I glanced up to the second floor windows and it seemed to me that the bathroom window was partly open. I calculated that if I stood on someone's shoulders I could almost get level with it. I wasn't sure if I could squeeze my bum through, but it was worth a shot.
"Who's going to lend me their shoulders?" I called out as the others moved close. Robbie, who had also spotted the semi-open window and understood my intentions, volunteered. Under any other circumstances I would have had my qualms about heaving myself onto someone's poor shoulders. Slim as I am, I’m a trim five-foot-niner, enough to put anyone off playing piggyback rides with me. Robbie, however, was a different case, especially taking into account my private suspicions about his motives. If I had to step on his head, I wouldn't think twice about it.
We settled a wooden bench up against the wall to help give us some added height, and following a somewhat unsteady start I was soon sitting on Robbie's shoulders. The tricky part was trying to get myself to a standing position. Robbie took hold of my hands to guide me, Ray steadied Robbie from behind, and Tammy had her mobile ready at hand in case she had to do a hasty 999 call. I slowly shifted from my precarious sitting position. First, I brought my right foot up and placed it on Robbie's broad right shoulder. I then slowly shifted my left foot. They say that girls don't sweat, we just glow. Well, sweat, and buckets of it broke-out on my forehead as I flustered about trying to maintain my balance. I was on the brink of breaking my neck by toppling backwards. Why was it that the same procedure was so much easier to accomplish at the age of nine? Fifteen years on, it all seemed so much more difficult.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 16