Since You've Been Gone

by Anouska Knight

  “You won’t keep him, you know,” she said, her derision stopping me dead.

  I stood fast, taking a deep breath. “Why do you care, Penny? You’re knocking his father off.” I tried to see if my words had stung her, the way she was trying to sting me.

  “Not always,” she simpered. “There’s more than one apple on the family tree.”

  I needed at least one more deep breath. I couldn’t stand women like her, women who chose their men for shoes and big houses.

  “Well, Penny, I’m not looking for anything. Apples or otherwise.” I smiled.

  “I’m only trying to be kind.” She smiled coyly. “I’ve seen it before with Ciaran. Women, like yourself, maybe not used to the flattery, falling for those seductive brown eyes of his.” I held my smile, but all sentiment behind it had gone. “Don’t feel bad, Holly. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Women are like sport to Ciaran. He tries them out for a while, then when he gets bored, he moves on to something more fun.”

  “Is that right?” I asked quietly. She could take it as defeat if she wanted to.

  “Ciaran’s had every type of woman there is, Holly,” she said, nibbling on something of microscopic proportions. “Some more than once, some together, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him with a dowdy little shop girl.”

  Ouch. That one stung. My smile had already abandoned me.

  “But you should definitely try him out—” she grinned “—I can vouch for that, personally.”

  chapter 15

  At least no one had closed the partitions or my big exit would have been an epic fail.

  Penny had a thing for Ciaran and I knew there’d been something between them. Well, he’d have to find himself some other dowdy shop girl. This one was going home.

  More people were enjoying the pool as I walked back out towards the bar, hunting for my only ally in the place, the venom of Penny’s words ringing in my ears.

  Sport.

  Maybe she was lying. Maybe I was just lying to myself.

  I tried not to dissect why I felt this way, like I’d just been kicked in the stomach. But the undeniable reality was that at someone else’s party, wearing someone else’s shoes, there was only so long I could fool myself.

  Jesse, on the other hand, was the epitome of cool, out on the terrace, trousers rolled up to his knees. Aleta Delgado and her gazelle-like friends had all slipped from their shoes, too, heads thrown back in laughter at Jess’s joke.

  Why can’t they all be like you, Jess? I puffed away the thought.

  “Holly!” Nat’s familiar red updo was snaking through the bodies towards me. “The buffet’s about to open, then I’ll introduce you both to Aleta.”

  I looked back out onto the roof terrace. “I think Jesse’s already got that covered.”

  Nat stood next to me silently observing. “It’s a good job Modesto isn’t here. He can be quite the jealous boyfriend. If security thought Freddy Ludlow was a handful, they’d have no chance of containing Modesto.”

  “They kicked Freddy Ludlow out?” I asked, surprised.

  “Not kicked, exactly. He’s always the same—swaggers into a party, full of it. Drinks too much, throws his weight around and inevitably pisses someone off. I don’t know why Ciaran invites him. He’s too nice.” I had the impression Nat was going for some sort of solidarity-amongst-colleagues vibe.

  I saw an opportunity to probe. “He seems nice,” I said, immediately wanting to take it back again.

  “Oh, he is. Don’t you think? And so hot with it. Between us girls, I’ve been throwing pheromones his way for a while now.”

  The images were back again. I scanned through them for one featuring Ciaran with a redhead.

  “But, he hasn’t bitten...yet.”

  Nat was pretty when she smiled, and less innocent. Leaving the probing there seemed a waste now. It felt a lot more acceptable when the probee was willing.

  “I heard he’s a bit of a player,” I fished.

  “A player? He was. Ciaran used to leave parties with a girl on each arm, and one for later. He still plays up to the press but we all know Fergal gets more action than him these days.”

  Jesse had all four women exploring the soft fuzz of his hair.

  “What about Penny?” I asked.

  “What about Penny? Penny’s a bitch.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “She doesn’t like any women working near Ciaran. She’s been trying to bag him for years, on the side. But Fergie’s the one with all the money. He sits at the head of the company, so Penny stays where the going is good. I’d rather play Buckaroo with Junior myself.”

  “Heroes and villains!” came the boom of a microphone. “If you would like to help yourselves to a glass of our finest, from any of the waiters eagerly awaiting to serve your every need, we can make our way through to the buffet for a rousing rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’!”

  A few gentle whoops and claps and maybe half of the congregation gradually made their way to the food. The rest stayed put, and drank on. I knew which half I’d rather be in, but I was driving. It had nearly been an hour now; I’d be good to drive. Ciaran looked over the head of the brunette accompanying him that way. I tried not to watch him as they went.

  “Are you coming?” Nat asked, and, before I could answer, “Come on, this is your part,” she said, pulling at my arm.

  I hung back from the thick of the crowd in the buffet room, while the brunette blended in with at least a dozen more beautiful women all watching Ciaran readying himself to address us. Nat had pushed her way closer, too. Marilyn Monroe was right up top with Ciaran.

  If she sings “Happy Birthday,” I’m going to throw her shoes at her.

  I could barely hear Ciaran from here, and was thinking of leaving when an arm slipped around my waist and pulled me in.

  “Hey. Been having fun?” Jesse’s grin said it all.

  “Do we still have an engagement-cake order?” I asked him, grimacing at the pink drink he offered me.

  “So far.” He grinned, clinking his glass against mine. “But I’m working on it. Come on, let’s watch them hack our cake to bits then I’ll introduce you to Aleta.”

  It was easier moving through this crowd—women’s frames take up less room on average, and it was mainly women in here. “Happy Birthday” sounded more tuneful, too.

  Slender hands were still clapping the air when Penny presented Ciaran with a big wodge of whisky-and-ginger cake. He held it aloft and nodded across the crowd of women at Jess standing next to me. Jess returned a raised glass.

  The crowd delighted as Ciaran took an overemphatic bite. Lemon buttercream clung to his nose. One of the women seized her chance and reached to dab it from him.

  Ciaran took the napkin from her, letting her kiss his cheek before finishing the job himself. The tiniest bit remained, just above his mouth. Another birthday kiss, and another on the other cheek. I waited for that tiny morsel of sweetness to be transferred to one of the women’s faces but it was hanging on in there, just over his mouth.

  “You’re watching the frosting on his face, right?” Jess asked, homing in on the same.

  “Oh, yeah—” I smiled “—any kiss now.”

  Any kiss now.

  We both watched her lean in towards him, her hand reaching up to his neck. A strange pang bit down in my stomach. Penny wasn’t going in for a peck on the cheek. She was marking her territory again.

  Maybe Ciaran wasn’t expecting it, but there was nothing that said he didn’t. Her mouth worried at his long enough that I knew no buttercream made in our bakery was going to survive. By the time they broke for breath, I was out of there.

  * * *

  “Hol, where are you going?” Jess asked, skipping along beside me.

  “Ho
me, Jess. I’m tired.”

  “Tired? It’s only half-ten.”

  What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t like me—this whole place, him—none of it was me.

  “Well, I am.”

  “Hol! Slow down. That came on a bit sudden, didn’t it?” Jess’s face was serious, so I couldn’t look at it. “You haven’t even met Aleta yet.”

  “Aleta doesn’t need to meet me, Jess. You’ve already nailed her down. I can see that.”

  “What’s the matter with you, Hol? Loosen up a bit. Have a good time.”

  “We were going to be leaving separately anyway, Jess. I was never going to last as long as you. You stay, enjoy the night. These aren’t my kind of people.”

  “I’m your kind of people,” he said, and I knew he wanted me to stay. And maybe more for me than for him. His look made me soften a little.

  “Jesse Ray. Within the hour that ’fro is going to be in that pool, probably chasing an A-list actress in her bikini. You don’t need me here, Jess, but I appreciate you asking.” I handed him back the drink I hadn’t touched. “So can I have the van keys?”

  Jesse dug around in his pocket.

  “You haven’t had more than one, have you, Hol?”

  “Of course not. I only had the bubbly you handed me.”

  Jess encased me with strong arms, and planted a chaste kiss firmly on my cheek.

  He almost watched me the whole way to the lifts before going to find the complimentary swimwear.

  chapter 16

  Security weren’t so fussed about escorting anyone down from the party. Well, not an unknown such as myself. I even got to punch the buttons. It was going to be cold outside, but the van was right next to the exit and it would kinda warm up, eventually. Familiar pieces of art on familiar walls led me quickly back from Narnia to the wardrobe door, marked Fire Exit.

  Please, don’t let the alarm go....

  Bloody hell!

  If I had set the alarms off, I couldn’t hear them over the instant protest of chattering teeth. I automatically grabbed my arms, forfeiting the chance to change my mind as the door clattered shut behind me.

  I was at the van in seconds, trying to force uncontrollable hands to be still just long enough to sink the key home. Finally.

  Unexpectedly—unbelievably—the engine choked into action, and I let it run, waiting for the screen to clear while every muscle in my body jerked in spasm. I wasn’t cold; I was petri-freezing.

  Through the film of condensation, Narnia still shone gleefully at the top of the tower. It was hard to believe that Jesse was probably swimming up there, right now, Aleta Delgado probably holding his towel.

  A trickle cut a wet track through the condensation on the window. It reminded me of the glass of bubbly Ciaran had given me.

  Crap. How had I forgotten that? I’d had two glasses, not one.... I’d be over the limit. Holly...you idiot. I’d had no intention of drinking tonight. That had worked out bloody fantastically. I drummed my fingers on the wheel. Think. Think...

  The contents of the glovebox felt sharper against cold skin, so I tried to root more gently around in there. When you drive a vehicle that’s older than you are, it’s always prudent to plan ahead. The emergency twenty-pound note I kept in the sunglasses case was my version of planning ahead. It would get me a taxi about as far as Martha’s, a little shy of halfway home. At least she’d be pleased that I’d been out. And in heels.

  Or I could just call Rob, forget the taxi.

  The phone I’d left in the glovebox for the night had slipped into a cold-induced state of inertia. Nothing registered. Well, that was useful. Taxi it was.

  I really needed Martha and Rob not to be at the hospital when I got there.

  * * *

  The service yard was even bleaker now, as I clip-clopped across the smooth concrete. It wasn’t that late. There would be people around on the street out front. If I couldn’t get a cab, I could at least get back into the building.

  The sound of my heels scuffing along the floor echoed off the rise of the buildings boxing me in. I walked quickly to the last place I had watched Jesse before the dark of the building had swallowed him up. It seemed you had to go down, before you could come up again, like one of those horrendous exercises the army made people do in troughs of water.

  The night felt suffocating here, but ahead there were the beginnings of light, real light, holding ground down there.

  In the near darkness, a grunt froze me to the spot.

  I held my footsteps still, waiting for a repeat of the sound that had stemmed from my right. From the darkness, a faint pattering—a leaking pipe maybe—was the only sound coming from there now. But my heart was already on guard, thumping away dramatically, feeding adrenaline around my system.

  The pattering slowed to a trickle, and another gruntlike noise was enough to make me slip out to barefoot. The light of the car park? Or the enclosure of the van?

  These were my choices.

  The glow of a cigarette, sucked on by the grunter, danced around in the dark.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I was the doe again. Frozen in headlights like those on the forest roads—the deer Charlie would track when they’d fled after a collision, to spare them their drawn-out death.

  I wished Charlie were here.

  A man zipping his fly staggered into view.

  “Hurry up, Fred, there’s a couple of tasty pieces waiting for a cab. They might let us give them a lift,” a second man said, striding up the ramp from the car park.

  The taxis were this way.

  I began walking again, towards where the second guy had come from. I was irrelevant here and it relaxed me.

  “Hello, beautiful,” mumbled the voice behind me. “What are you doing back here?”

  Beyond the bobbing cigarette, the van wasn’t as close as I thought. I pressed on, as though oblivious. The taxis wouldn’t be far. I could hear the road from here.

  “Don’t be shy. We just met,” the voice called, a harmless tone to his banter.

  I stayed calm. He was the only one of the two being overfriendly, and I was nearly past his friend. There was an unspoken rule about being a woman finding herself alone in unfamiliar surroundings. Head for people, head for light, and wherever you head, look like you know where the hell you’re going.

  I stopped hugging myself against the sharp air, to try to look more at ease as I began the gentle descent into the car park. There was no confirmed threat here, I reminded myself, not yet.

  Without warning, the second guy stepped out in front of me.

  “You look cold, sweetheart. Do you want warming up?”

  The pulse in my throat began to jump again. He’d startled me, but I stepped out to walk around him.

  He stepped out, too, and grinned lazily. I knew then. I was in trouble.

  “I could warm you up, sweetheart.” He leered, the smell of cigarettes growing stronger.

  I could see the brightly lit lift shaft at the far end of the car park, beckoning me to safety. The shoes were already off. I could probably outrun him, probably. If he were drunker than he was.

  “She’s Ciaran’s bit,” said the other voice behind, its owner now free of the shadow. I hadn’t wanted to be in Freddy Ludlow’s company in a crowded room; I really didn’t want to be in it here. I wasn’t sure if I felt more threatened it was him or less so.

  “He hasn’t asked you to leave, too, has he, sweetheart?”

  “I was just saying, Fred, she looks like she wants warming up. What do you reckon?”

  Freddy had pushed the hair back from his eyes. There was nothing handsome about him now.

  “She’s already started to get undressed.” Freddy smirked, yanking the shoes from my hands. I felt the twenty-pound note fall with them
and watched as he sent the shoes bouncing along the floor. I felt dizzy with the thumping of blood rushing to my head.

  “Now, about that dress...” It was the last thing I heard before he lunged at me.

  He’d moved so quickly, I was pushing out against him with feeble arms before I knew what had happened.

  I heard the other man’s footsteps running over the concrete before I screamed as loud as I could into Ludlow’s ear. I thought I’d hurt him, somehow, and I was glad. He hesitated, pulling away with his hand at the back of his head. Someone took a swing at him, sinking a fist home in Ludlow’s left side before yanking his bulky frame away from me. He groaned as his torso struggled to take the impact, sending him flailing to the ground.

  The friend hadn’t left as I’d thought. He was laying into a third man I hadn’t seen arrive. They were scuffling like dogs, the dull slapping thuds of fists on faces.

  “I was playing with her, Argyll!” Freddy screeched on the floor. The fight broke as soon as Freddy had spoken, his partner holding on to the kick he was readying for delivery.

  Ciaran was enraged, eyes wide, panting like a crazed animal as he took the other man at his neck. “You haven’t heard the last of this,” he snarled, teeth inches from the other man’s face.

  Ciaran shook him free, sending him bouncing across the ground like my shoes. Immediately, the other man took on a whole other persona. It didn’t make me any less scared of him. “Argyll, I’m...I’m sorry. I—”

  “Move,” Ciaran growled, stalking back to Freddy, who was feebly making it to his feet. I’d automatically stepped back from them all. Ciaran looked fiercely at me. His shirt was clinging to its collar on one side. The other sleeve had been torn clean away, taking half of the material and leaving the cummerbund saving what it could.

  He scooped the shoes up and led me without discussion away from the men.

  His hand was shaking around mine.

  We were across the car park before he spoke, his voice uneven with anger.