She dialled his number and on the third ring the call was answered.
‘Hello.’ It was a female voice.
Katie hadn’t been expecting this. ‘Er, Hi. I must have the wrong number I think. I was after Dave…’
‘No, he’s at work. Can I take a message?’ Asked the mystery female.
‘Sorry,’ Katie started, the pool of blood option beginning to look like a great alternative to where this was going, ‘Don’t think I’m mad or anything, but I was just wondering who you were. It’s just that I’ve been seeing quite a bit…’ She was interrupted by the voice.
‘That’s alright. I’m Michaela, Dave’s girlfriend. I’ve only just got back actually; I’ve been away with my sister for a couple of weeks. Our parents have a villa. Anyway, that’s beside the point.’ She laughed. ‘If it’s important he’ll be back after midnight, but you can always try him at work if you like. Do you want the number?’
Katie barely heard this last part as her mind was still reeling from the big news of the evening. Girlfriend? What fucking girlfriend?
‘Yeah, thanks,’ she said eventually, ‘I’ve got the number so I’ll try him there.’
Her hands were shaking as she dialled his work number, so familiar she did it without thinking. Surely this was a misunderstanding? Perhaps this girl was a nutter and Dave should be warned about her?
‘Hello, Yates’s. Dave speaking.’
‘It’s me. Have you been avoiding me you rascal?’ Amazed at how playful she sounded.
‘Katie!’ He sounded surprised, and guilty. ‘I was going to give you a ring tonight actually. There was something I had to tell you.’
‘Would that be that your girlfriend, the one that had gone, has now returned? Or that I am the world’s saddest, most gullible, easy bitch and am apparently only fit to shag as a last resort when you’re at a loose end?’ Her voice was beginning to wobble, tears were on their way.
‘Ah,’ he replied, ‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.’
‘You mean you didn’t want me to find out full-stop you shit,’ she shouted.
‘I was going to tell you but…’
‘But then I wouldn’t have slept with you would I? What a dull two weeks they would have been.’ Her pitch was rising toward hysterical and she was spitting on to the receiver.
‘I didn’t mean for that to happen.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘You were as keen as me as I remember,’ he fired back.
‘We know why that was though don’t we twat face? You knew how I felt!’ Right on cue, here came the tears.
‘Look Katie,’ he began.
‘No you look,’ she screamed, ‘I suppose you hoped I’d just disappear when you stopped ringing? That I’d be grateful for what I’d had? You dirty, cheating fucker.’ She sobbed loudly.
‘I’ll have to go. I’ll phone you when I finish.’
‘No you won’t, ‘cos you’re a lying shit. You’ll go home to Michaela, lovely name by the way,’ she said viciously, ‘and you won’t give me a second thought.’
The phone went dead in her hand and Katie was left with nothing but the sound of a dial tone and her pathetic, labouring sobs. She turned on her stereo and put in a CD, conscious of the silence, of being alone, and turned up the volume. After a few deep breaths she managed to stop crying and was suddenly exhausted. She felt weak all over, drained, as if she could just lay down on the floor and sleep forever.
She removed her bathrobe, leaving it where it fell and, not bothering with the hassle of pyjamas, crawled into bed. As she lay in the dark, too numb to think anything, she began to listen to the music she’d put on. It was an album by Blur that she’d dug out of a box after Dave had asked her to leave his flat; it seemed full of appropriate songs.
It’s over. You don’t need to tell me.
How right you are Damon, she thought, closing her eyes.
I hope you’re with someone who makes you feel safe when you’re sleeping. Tonight.
Sadly not, she thought as Damon, the band’s singer, tried to comfort her with his own experiences of lost love and broken hearts. Gradually, the music seemed to grow quieter, as if coming from further away and Katie drifted into an empty, but peaceful, sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben was lying in the bath with his head back and his eyes closed. The shower, positioned above the taps, was also running, angled so that the water hit his chest. As he lay there, hot water spraying down on to him and the steaming hot water in the bath lapping over him as it grew deeper; he began to feel very hard done by.
Admittedly, and justifiably, he’d pretty much fallen apart when Rhia had sneaked out one night as he slept. But he’d made the effort to pull himself together and sort himself out. His appearance had improved from one-step-above-homeless to white-faced-insomniac-in-an-expensive-suit, and he now managed to fill his time with work and mindless television instead of behaving as if sponsored by Whyte & Mackay. The water was beginning to shrivel the skin on his fingers. Ben sighed and came to the conclusion that his efforts had got him absolutely nowhere.
His big plan to confront Rhia had ground to a halt owing to her pulling off another disappearing act. This was the second time she’d done this to him and he could imagine someone less dedicated than himself starting to feel rejected by now. There was also the highly embarrassing matter of his drunken pass at Em in the pub. God knows what brought that on, but now he felt like an absolute pillock every time he spoke to her at work. To top it all off, he’d managed to somehow convince Rhia’s bitch sister, Fran, that he was a decent bloke, only to bombard Rhia with drunken phone calls half the night which successfully converted Fran back into an ‘anti-Ben’ activist.
All in all, it had been an utterly shit few weeks and he could still see no light at the end of the tunnel. He was starting to feel as if somebody had bricked up the end of the bloody tunnel just to keep the light out and watch him suffer. Depressed, he sank a little lower into the bath and tried to conjure up images of naked female celebrities to cheer himself up. A pattern quickly developed where each image would turn into Rhia, dressed in one of her provocative little dresses or in nothing at all. It was so easy and familiar to picture her that in the end he gave up resisting, allowing the thoughts to have the desired effect.
After a lengthy, but relaxing, soak in the bath, yet still in need of cheering up, Ben decided to telephone his best mate. He’d seemed a bit preoccupied the other night and their plan to go out the following evening had come to nothing, but he was determined to get out of the house and do something, anything, to take his mind off of his miserable circumstances.
‘Hello.’
‘Alright Steve, how’s things?
‘Ben, alright mate. Sorry about the other night. I was meaning to ring you actually. When are you free for a wander into town?’
This was more like it, no messing about just down to business.
‘Sooner the bloody better mate. How does Friday grab you?’
‘Spot on. I’ll ring a couple of the lads and we’ll have a big one eh?’
‘Nice,’ replied Ben enthusiastically, ‘I’ll see you then.’
Buoyed by the thought of Friday night, he managed to avoid reaching for a drink and sat through a two-hour episode of Poirot, flicking through the channels at every advert break for something more entertaining. As he went up to bed, he was pleased with himself for staying sober but reflected that perhaps he could rent a film next time, as he’d found himself wanting, not only to have a drink, but also to throw something at the screen.
The week passed uneventfully, aside from the fact that, for the first time in weeks, Ben felt the tiniest bit brighter. He wasn’t cheerful by any stretch of the imagination but he recognised that he wasn’t on his own, that he had friends who could be relied upon to try and cheer him up and take his mind off of Rhia.
Em had been fantastic since the split, and continued to take an interest despite his drunken advances. He’d considered a
sking her to come out on Friday night to meet Steve and the lads but thought better of it. It might not go down too well with the others and he didn’t want to end up trying to get her into bed again. She’d let his behaviour slide the first time; she might start to take it personally if he did it again.
On Friday he finished work early having made a conscious effort to improve his flexitime situation during the week. He drove into town and set off around the shops looking for a new shirt for the night out. He’d no intention of trying to impress anybody, but he did want to look smart and felt that wearing something new would get the night off on the right foot.
After failing to find anything he fancied in either the Paul Smith shop or Bank, his patience was wearing thin and he made up his mind to either get something in the next one or forget it and go home. He walked along King Street and decided to try Reiss. He ran his hand quickly through the racks of shirts, making a mental note of anything that was a potential purchase. After a superficial lap of the shop to make sure there was nothing special hidden away, he returned to the possibles and picked two to try on.
Five minutes later, he’d made his decision and left the shop having let the expressionless man behind the counter take eighty pounds from his credit card in exchange for a midnight blue, short-sleeved Ted Baker shirt with concealed fastenings. Well pleased with his purchase, he hurried back to the car and drove home to try it with some ‘going out’ trousers and shoes.
By half past six, he’d decided to wear his dark grey Versace trousers with the new shirt, along with his black Base shoes. He smiled to himself; before he’d met Rhia, he dressed quite well but didn’t really give it much thought. He was quite happy going out in the first thing he pulled from the wardrobe, confident that none of his clothes looked too bad to be seen in. Rhia had set about improving his styling almost immediately, telling him what colours looked best together, and why a pair of black jeans didn’t constitute trousers. She’d also told him how important it was to have good shoes, as it was the first thing many women noticed.
Having lined his stomach with a microwave meal of sweet and sour chicken, he headed for the stereo to put some music on to get him in the right mood to go out. He’d always preferred older music to the chart stuff, something he credited to his father bringing him up on bands like The Who, The Beatles, The Faces and this evening’s choice, The Rolling Stones. He cranked the volume up loud enough to be able to hear it in the shower and headed upstairs.
‘Dat dah dada daah dadadadada. Dat dah dada daah dadadadada.’ Ben sang as he showered.
I was born in a crossfire hurricane
‘Bat bah baba baah duhduhduhduhduh’
He began to tap his foot as he got into the song.
‘But it’s allll riiiight now. In fact it’s a gas,’ he bellowed, shaking his head under the spray.
But it’s all right. I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash
‘It’s a gas, gas, gas.’
He emerged from the shower and strutted to his bedroom to dress, still singing along to Mick and company. By the time he’d put on his going out ensemble and allowed himself a liberal squirt of He, his current favourite smell by Armani, he was wagging his finger and flailing around the room like one half of The Glimmer Twins, eager to get out of the house to meet Steve and the lads. Downstairs he telephoned for a taxi and checked his hair in the hall mirror while he waited for it to arrive. Five minutes later he heard a car pull up outside, grabbed a carrier bag filled with cans of lager, and left the house.
‘Hiya mate,’ Steve said, opening his front door to let Ben inside.
‘Alright. I’ve brought a few cans with me to have before we go.’
‘Lovely,’ Steve replied, taking a can and sitting down.
‘So who’s out then?’
‘A fair few. Pretty much a full team tonight.’
‘Excellent. Where are we meeting them?’ Ben asked, swallowing some beer.
‘I’ve booked a taxi for eightish to the Quay Bar. Anyway, you feeling alright?’
‘Yeah I’m fine. I was a bit pissed off ‘cos she just fucked off in the night and that. The way I see it, it’s her loss.’ He explained in typically schoolboy fashion. ‘I tried ringing her but her sister keeps telling me to leave it.’
‘Birds,’ said Steve shaking his head, ‘nothing but fucking hassle.’
The intimate man to man chat over with, they finished their drinks, checked their hair in the bathroom mirror and were ready for the taxi when they heard the horn beep outside the house.
Three hours later, after visiting half a dozen city centre bars and drinking countless pints, Ben, his best friend Steve and five of their mates, were standing in the queue for Infinity, a night-club on Peter Street.
‘Christ. I bet she’s cold in that,’ said one of them, nodding his head towards a girl further up the line.
‘Phwoar! I bet she’s never lonely in a morning,’ said another, as they all looked drunkenly at the girl in question.
‘Ben,’ Steve put an arm around his shoulders and leaned in to speak, ‘You having a good night then?’
‘Too right mate. I’m pissed as a bastard though, thanks to you.’
‘Fuck off, we’re just warming up. Look at that, you can see her arse cheeks when she walks!’
After some reluctance from the bouncers to admit a large group of men, the friends did a quick lap of the club and headed for the bar. Ben felt very drunk but was enjoying himself and Rhia had barely crossed his mind all night. Steve had bought most of the drinks and led by example so far, leaving them no option but to have a good time.
In between wandering around the club and making a few attempts to dance, they spent most of the night visiting one of the many bars and downing shots of various spirits on offer at just a pound each. Finally, as Ben reached the point where he was starting to lose whole minutes at a time, as if someone kept switching him on and off, the lights came on and they were ushered to the door. He was feeling tired and was ready to get a taxi home and go to bed.
‘Right then, food time,’ Steve announced, ‘Who wants what?’
Several ideas were put forward but it was decided that they should get a selection of kebabs and a couple of trays of curry to eat back at Steve’s house. They descended upon the nearest shop and staggered out ten minutes later armed with a few carrier bags of food that none of them would have touched in a remotely sober state.
‘Do you want to stay here tonight and get a taxi home in the morning?’
Ben became vaguely aware of someone shaking him and opened his eyes.
‘What?’
‘You can stay here tonight.’ It was Steve. ‘I’ll get you a blanket and you can have the couch.’
‘Where’s everyone else?’
‘They’ve gone. You passed out in the chair so we left you to it. Good night though eh?
‘Yeah,’ he smiled, ‘Cheers Steve. For tonight and that. You’re a diamond.’
Steve was heading upstairs to get the blanket, ‘No problem, it’s the least I can do to cheer you up.’
As he lay there on the couch, one of the few thoughts Ben had before he passed out until the morning was what a good night it had been and how he had Steve, great bloke, to thank for it.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Oh Katie, you silly sod. Come round now. I insist. Okay then. Yeah, half an hour. All right then. Yeah. Yes okay. Right, bye.’
Jen put down the phone and rolled over in her bed.
‘You’ll have to get your finger out and go I’m afraid. Katie’s having another man crisis.’
‘Oh, right. Not a problem.’ Norm climbed out of bed and Jen had a moment to admire his naked body as he walked across the room to pick up his boxer shorts from the floor, where she’d removed them for him last night. Finally, after almost a week, Norm had rung Jen to see if she wanted to see him again. He said he’d have been in touch earlier but he’d had to fly home for a couple of days to meet some distant relatives from abroad. They were also Lords. Jen
had agreed immediately and they’d gone out again. They’d got very drunk and this time she’d invited Norm back to her flat where she’d practically thrown herself at him. Once he’d relaxed Norm had proved to be quite adept in the sex department and she’d woken up feeling happy that he was there, instead of awkward and wishing she were alone.
‘I had a great time last night,’ he said on his way out of the front door five minutes later.
‘Mmm, me too. You’re full of surprises. Want to do it again?’
‘What?’ He looked unsure. ‘Now. Yeah, okay…’
‘No Normy. I meant see me again. Go out? With each other?’
‘Oh right. Definitely, I had a wonderful time. You’re great Jen. Really great.’
She smiled. She liked it when he complimented her because he seemed genuine. So many blokes she knew said similar things when they were running out of her front door, but she knew they’d be saying it to their wives or girlfriends hours later. But Norm was different. Jen liked Norm.
They arranged another date and then Jen quickly tidied her flat before Katie arrived. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
‘You know that anybody else would come out with the obvious line right now, don’t you?’
‘Please don’t Jen,’ Katie pleaded weakly. ‘Just…don’t.’
‘You look bloody awful,’ her friend offered instead.
Katie smiled with her mouth; her eyes retained their drained, slightly surprised look.
‘Funny that,’ she replied. ‘Some fucker just broke my heart. He could at least have let me recover from the last time before he mounted another attack.’
Jen smiled back and hugged her as they sat on the couch in Jen’s flat. It was the morning after the revelation that the Absolute Bastard, Jen had upgraded Dave’s title upon hearing Katie’s story, had been seeing Katie while his live-in girlfriend was away on holiday. Desperate to get out of her own flat and in need of the sort of company that didn’t want to have sex with her; she’d appeared at Jen’s front door in a bewildered state, in dire need of a shoulder to cry on.
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