Extinction

by Carol Anne Davis

  Beth smiled at him sympathetically. He’d obviously been through the same emotional hell as she, was just better at outwardly dealing with it.

  ‘I was especially fortunate – no parents-in-law as my husband’s family died young. And my parents emigrated to Canada years ago so we had no interference from either side.’

  ‘But you must have been more isolated when he died?’

  ‘Absolutely – especially when the couple that we’d spent almost every weekend with didn’t get back in touch after the funeral.’

  ‘Happens all the time,’ Adam said. ‘You’re seen as predatory now.’

  ‘Yet you aren’t?’

  ‘No, we widowers are seen as helpless, get more pity. In fact, my neighbour cooked me a casserole once a week for a year after Helen’s death. She must have sacrificed several lambs.’

  ‘All that my neighbours did was cross the road to avoid me,’ Beth said heavily. ‘I’d never felt so isolated and cast adrift.’

  ‘But you’ve a good social life now?’

  ‘The best! I go dancing, to the cinema, to see live bands.’

  ‘Maybe some time I could go with you?’

  ‘I’d like that, though we’d better keep things professional,’ Beth said, determined to be sensible.

  ‘No problem. I’ll keep my hands in my pockets for the entire night!’

  ‘Now, that’s just creepy,’ she replied and they both laughed.

  The door swung open a little and they looked towards it expectantly but it was just the wind.

  ‘Ghosts!’ Beth said, and shivered slightly.

  ‘You’re not superstitious, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m entirely rational.’

  ‘Same here,’ Adam said, looking relieved. ‘I hate all that bad poetry which some widows write about their husband becoming an angel.’

  ‘It’s even worse when they misspell it and he becomes an angle,’ Beth added and they laughed again, albeit somewhat guiltily.

  ‘So, here’s to humanism,’ Adam murmured, lifting his cup of tea in a mock toast. ‘And to our forthcoming platonic night out.’

  ‘To our platonic night out,’ Beth echoed, feeling pleased.

  Jesus – his balls had hardly had time to fill up again after Olivia when Beth requested a night out with him. If he believed in astrology, he’d have said that these were auspicious days for his particular star sign of Scorpio. As it was, he thought that you made your own luck in this world.

  He was surprised at how easy Olivia had been, how available. He hadn’t had to buy her a drink, far less a meal. She’d arrived, gift-wrapped in sexy clothes, at his place and started kissing him the second that he ushered her into the hallway. Fifteen minutes later, he’d plunged right in. She’d obliged by giving him oral sex, the only other thing that he wanted from her. She’d handed it to him on the proverbial plate, robbed him of the thrill of the chase. Now that he’d been there and got the T-shirt he’d lost interest, would refer her to another therapist to avoid tears at bedtime and beyond.

  The doorbell rang and he walked briskly to the door to greet his newest patient, managed to hide his surprise at her beauty. Maybe there was a god after all.

  ‘You must be Miss Jenkins,’ he said, extending his hand as she entered by his side door.

  ‘Susie, please.’

  ‘Susie. As you know, I’m Adam Neave.’

  She’d sounded so ordinary on the phone that he’d pictured some mousy little woman. Instead, she had glossy black hair cut in a longish bob, a face to die for and a cafe au lait complexion. If she was suitably submissive, he might well be looking at wife number two.

  ‘Come through to my study, please. I think that I can help you.’

  Especially if she wanted her cunt filled.

  She followed him through, sat demurely on the couch.

  ‘Tell me more about your problem.’

  ‘Well, as I said on the phone, there were lots of things I couldn’t do at school such as tying my school tie and shoelaces or doing up my bag straps. These things have carried over into adulthood. I also can’t tell my left from my right.’

  ‘That’s surprisingly common,’ Adam said smoothly. ‘At least five percent of the population has the same problem.’

  ‘Really? Unfortunately I didn’t go to school or university with any of them!’

  ‘Can I ask what you studied?’ Adam queried, beginning to take notes.

  ‘American Studies. My father already lives in the US so I thought . . .’

  ‘But you’re still here.’

  A coquettish laugh. ‘My boyfriend got me pregnant in my last year, so I married days after graduating and went on to have twins. Moving to California didn’t seem practical after that.’

  ‘So, are you still a full time mum or . . .?’

  ‘Oh no. The children have just left home for university and last month I separated from their father. I’ve taken a job as a dental nurse and receptionist but if I take the drill apart to clean it, I can’t put it back together again. The same applies to various pieces of dental and office machinery – I can’t even load the stapler. It’s my first job and it’s very likely that I’m going to get the sack.’

  ‘So, why dental nursing?’ Adam asked.

  He wanted to understand this woman so that he could appear to be the perfect suitor. She was beautiful and intelligent but had chosen to live a small life so far: she probably had low self-esteem, could make the perfect spouse. It would be wonderful to have twenty-four-hour access to that amazing body and he wouldn’t have to get another lodger if he had a second pay cheque coming in. Moreover, he loved playing mind games, had missed the daily apologies that he’d managed to wring from Helen, until she approached the menopause – the one drawback of marrying an older woman – and became less pliable and a lot more demanding, more intent on leading her own life.

  ‘Well, I can’t drive and I’ve become totally lost on the few occasions where I’ve boarded a bus, so I was looking for local employment. My dentist lives a ten-minute walk away and I was telling him that I had to find work and he explained that he was about to advertise for a nurse.’

  ‘Have you ever taken driving lessons?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Dozens! I went through two driving instructors in my late teens but both said that I’d never learn to drive.’

  ‘I imagine that you found it difficult to stay in your lane,’ Adam said mildly.

  Susie nodded. ‘I kept veering.’

  ‘And, as you can’t tell your left from your right, you hesitated when asked to make a turn.’

  ‘Uh huh. And I couldn’t tell how close I was to other vehicles. It was a nightmare.’

  ‘In other words, you have motor learning difficulties,’ Adam explained.

  ‘So, is it a recognized condition? My mother always said that I was a stupid bitch.’

  Excellent – she’d been raised without self-belief, the perfect victim.

  ‘You’re probably mildly dyspraxic. In other words, you have a poor sense of direction, can’t read maps and can’t fine tune your movements. I’ll bet you couldn’t cope with a skipping rope at school.’

  ‘Or catch a ball,’ Susie said with a shudder. ‘According to the other kids, I was a spaz.’

  ‘I’ll test your IQ now but I’m willing to bet that it’s in the top five percent of the population. You need around 120 to go to university,’ Adam said. ‘You’re intelligent, merely spatially inept.’

  ‘And would that be caused by a blow to the head? My mother was always lashing out at me.’

  ‘Could be, or by her abusing drugs or alcohol when you were in the womb. In other cases, that part of the brain doesn’t develop at the foetal stage and we don’t know why.’

  He ran through a series of tests and her prognosis was as he’d anticipated.

  ‘I need time to process your results so can you come back later this week?’

  He wanted to see her again as soon as possible, preferably when she had on far fewer clothes.


  ‘That would be brilliant,’ Susie said, looking pleased.

  He got out his appointments book and gave her the last appointment of the day, the one which not-so-professionals always reserved for the eye candy amongst their patients. It would mean that he wouldn’t have to watch the clock, that they could spend more time together. And, in his desire to convince her that he was a nice guy, he’d only charge her for a two-hour session, even if she stayed for three or more. She was a walking wet dream, fantasy fodder. He was so going to enjoy having her in his bed.

  FORTY-ONE

  It wasn’t every day that she had two policemen arrive at her door. Beth squinted at them through the winter sunshine.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘If we could come in, have a word in private?’

  ‘Of course.’ She led them through to the lounge. One of the few good things about widowhood, she reflected wryly, was that you no longer feared the worst when the police showed up. She’d lost the only person that she loved in the world when Brian died, doubted if she could ever bond as closely with anyone again.

  ‘We understand that you work with Adam Neave.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Aha, it must be about John’s suicide.

  ‘His brother was arrested recently for having some illegal materials in his household and he blamed Adam for planting the goods.’

  ‘Adam? He’s the most public-spirited person that I know.’ She saw that they were unconvinced. ‘He does voluntary work alongside me and also offers counselling at a reduced rate for people on a lower income. He was devastated recently when John committed suicide.’

  ‘You also heard about his nephew?’

  She nodded, remembering the emotion on her colleague’s face. ‘The little boy who died in his sleep? He told me and was desperately upset about it. It’s a difficult time for him, especially when his mother’s terminally ill.’

  ‘Don’t you find it odd that so many people around him are dying?’

  Good grief, did they think that Adam was some sort of serial killer? She sought to reassure them that it was comparatively common to see clusters of related deaths.

  ‘No – we see this in bereavement counselling all the time. A woman’s mother dies of cancer and, three months later, her father dies of a broken heart. A sister becomes depressed and commits suicide. Another family member is so distraught that it seriously weakens her immune system and she dies of complications following flu.’

  ‘But Adam’s lodger wasn’t a family member.’

  ‘True, but he was a lost soul, always searching for something.’

  ‘And his late wife?’

  ‘She was a depressive. I understand that she was a counsellor and there are often unhappy people who go into the therapy field in a bid to heal themselves.’

  ‘So you’ve seen nothing untoward in Mr Neave’s behaviour?’

  ‘Quite the reverse – he’s a paragon of virtue.’

  ‘It’s a while since I’ve heard that phrase,’ one of the cops said with a wry smile. Then his grin faded. ‘We’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our visit to Mr Neave.’

  Beth hesitated. ‘I won’t because he’s got enough going on in his life and I don’t want to worry him.’

  ‘He’s not a serious suspect in this matter but we have to follow up every lead.’

  ‘I got the impression that his brother was highly strung,’ Beth said, remembering a couple of her work mate’s throwaway comments. ‘And maybe a bit jealous of Adam’s success.’

  One of the men nodded, looking sympathetic. ‘As I said, if we get a complaint we have to look into it.’

  Beth showed them out then watched as they walked down her path, got into their vehicle and drove away. She knew that the police often arrested the wrong person, but was amazed that they were even considering Adam for any kind of criminal activity. He was an asset to the community and probably the kindest and most charitable man that she knew.

  FORTY-TWO

  It had been four days and he still hadn’t called. Olivia checked and rechecked the pay-as-you-go mobile that she’d bought specially for their relationship. She was seeing him tomorrow for their usual weekly counselling session but was feeling increasingly nervous about it. Should she act like his patient or his lover? Or a mixture of both? Talk about what had happened between them or be really cool and ignore it? She slept badly, unable to believe that he wasn’t interested in her yet all too aware that the lack of contact suggested his indifference.

  ‘You look nice,’ Marc said the following morning as she got ready to travel to Weston-super-Mare.

  ‘Well, he’s confided in me so little that I have to try harder.’

  ‘It won’t be your fault if he doesn’t tell you anything. Guys like that often play their cards close to their chest.’

  ‘Guys like what?’ She felt irritated at his temerity: he’d never even met Adam.

  ‘Well, psychopaths – or whatever he is.’

  ‘We’re all beginning to think that we’ve got the wrong man,’ Olivia said, knowing that this was just her opinion. She hadn’t been allowed to discuss the case with her colleagues, just had a weekly meeting with the police psychologist.

  ‘Whatever,’ Marc said, and returned his attention to the television. It was his day off, but he clearly didn’t intend to do much with it.

  By the time that she got off the train in the seaside town, Olivia was awash with adrenalin. It was only midday but she’d been awake for hours, felt exhilarated yet tired. There were detectives watching from the house across the road so she couldn’t stay longer than the allocated hour, but surely they’d talk and kiss in that time, make future plans?

  He opened the door and she smiled at him tremulously.

  ‘Hi you,’ she said.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Olivia.’

  She walked ahead of him as usual to his office, sat down on the therapeutic couch. To her disappointment he didn’t join her there, opted to sit behind his desk.

  ‘So, how have you been?’ he asked.

  Uncertain, confused, almost afraid. ‘Busy!’

  ‘Still socializing madly?’

  ‘Of course. You only live once.’

  ‘Don’t let a reincarnationist hear you say that!’

  ‘Is that even a word?’ Olivia asked, trying to keep her tone as light as his was.

  ‘It is now. The English language is always changing.’ There was a longish pause then he added, ‘So, is there anything specific that you want to talk about?’

  Why haven’t you phoned? Am I going to see you again? Don’t you still like me?

  She shrugged, decided to refer obliquely to their relationship. ‘It was nice to become sexually active again.’

  Adam cleared his throat. ‘About that. I think that it’s created an awkwardness between us, that it would be better if you saw another counsellor. I have an excellent one in mind, someone I trained with at university.’

  So he didn’t want to see her again, not even in a professional capacity. She’d kept telling herself that he was overworked or that he wanted to arrange their next date when he saw her in person – but he didn’t want a relationship at all. Olivia felt stunned. She’d spent weeks imagining them talking long into the night and holidaying together, and he’d merely wanted someone new to fuck, and just the once. She’d been a bit on the side, a dalliance, a one-afternoon stand.

  She stared at him mutely then realized that his actions would have disastrous implications for her career. If he insisted that she see another therapist, her colleagues at the police station would be instantly suspicious. Maybe Adam would confide in his colleague that they had slept together, and the other man would be questioned by the police and would tell all.

  ‘No, honestly, I’d rather keep seeing you. Platonically, I mean. Last week was just a bit of fun, didn’t mean anything. You’re a good counsellor and I’d much prefer to keep coming here.’

  ‘You’re sure? I mean, you’re safe with me – I wo
n’t overstep professional boundaries again.’

  Damn, Olivia thought, then realized that he’d made the right decision for both of them. She didn’t want to merely be a sex object, had longed for a full relationship. How had he managed to look at her with such admiration, with something akin to longing, when all he wanted was a couple of hours in the sack?

  ‘I’m sure,’ she said, though inwardly she felt sick and shaky. It was horrible being rejected, especially by someone who was so charismatic, someone who had seemed so right for her. He’d already become the centre of her fantasies and her future plans.

  ‘Excellent! So has what happened brought any other issues to the fore?’

  ‘Not really. It’s made me aware that I want to date extensively – but I think that I already told you that? I’ve registered with one of those dating sites for widows and widowers and already had a couple of emails from guys who are interested. Oh, and there’s a singles dance on at a hotel on the seafront this Friday so I’m going there with the young woman who lives across the road.’

  ‘Just don’t expect too much of yourself emotionally,’ Adam said. ‘Most widows struggle when it comes to expressing feelings for their new partner, can be overwhelmed with guilt.’

  ‘I can’t imagine feeling guilty, but I’ll bear that in mind.’

  She didn’t yet feel guilty about cheating on her husband, Olivia admitted to herself. She felt almost vindicated because he made so little effort in the bedroom or around the house. She was a lively, intelligent and sexy woman and she needed someone to recognize that.

  All that she really had left was her career, she admitted to herself, and she’d almost given it up for a man who felt nothing for her. Now, despite the lowness of her mood and the queasy feeling in her stomach, she had to become a professional again, an undercover cop. But she couldn’t ask him about Helen today; after all, people who were dating often talked about their exes, especially when they were both widowed. He had to see her as the perfect patient rather than as a woman scorned.