Torn

by Gilli Allan

  Sheila was still engaged in animated conversation; the new man had stretched past her, smiling, to accept a long glass of something amber from the barman. He was slim and tall, wearing dark coloured combats and a voluminous striped shirt hanging loose over something black. His light hair was short and slightly tousled and, from where Jess stood, it looked as though he were either in urgent need of a shave, or was growing a beard. So, nothing remarkable about his appearance, she told herself. It’s an aberration, a reaction to Sean and all that upheaval. The man in the kitchen looked towards the hatch again, head tilted slightly back, eyes narrowed.

  Above the strains of the latest Lady Gaga song, the: ‘One two, one two,’ of the sound check going on could be heard, and stray notes from the guitars and keyboard, even a sudden riff from a sax. If she wasn’t going to chat anyone up she might as well go and watch the band. Jess walked over to the opened double doors leading into the conservatory.

  ‘Hello.’ A shiver shot up her spine. It couldn’t be. It would be too bizarre for words. The stripy shirted man was behind her. He smiled. It wasn’t a leer, nor an ‘Aren’t I gorgeous?’ baring of the teeth – just a friendly smile.

  ‘How are you?’ he went on.

  ‘Hello,’ Jess managed. ‘Um, I’m fine. How are you?’ What she should have said was ‘Who are you?’ In the middle of the party, an exchange of polite pleasantries as if they were old acquaintances, was beyond her. Close to, he was just as attractive as he’d looked from a distance, with that slightly raffish edge she always found appealing. Around his throat he wore a double-stranded necklet of dark beads. Hard to gauge his age, but he was certainly not in the older category of the night’s partygoers. Did it matter? They were still standing, gazing at one another. Just then the live band started to play. It was very loud. ‘Mustang Sally’, sang the gravelly voiced vocalist.

  Tipping his head towards the music, ‘Do you want to dance?’ the man asked, in a raised voice. A better idea than to stand here, bug eyed. She put down her glass and allowed herself to be led into the maelstrom.

  As each song finished she expected the man to release her, thank her, and depart to find another, younger partner. He didn’t. They’d hardly exchanged a word yet he continued to hold her lightly but firmly, to smile at her and to wait for the next song to start. ‘Knock on Wood’ was succeeded by ‘Smokestack Lightning’, then ‘Stormy Monday’. Though he’d made no attempt to kiss or grope her, it seemed she was the person he wanted to be with. And for her, too, the longer they stayed together the more she knew she wanted to be with him.

  As twelve approached the band played a spirited version of ‘Midnight Hour’, then the vocalist announced the big moment was only minutes away. The French doors were opened to the garden where flickering storm lights illuminated the patio. Someone was already down at the end of the garden with a torch. Sheila, a smile on her face, was pushing her way through the throng with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Had she wanted to share the moment? The smile shut down a couple of notches when she spotted them. Though glad enough to see Sheila, Jess had her arm around the waist of her new companion, his was around her shoulders and she knew she was not about to abandon her present partner without an overpowering reason.

  ‘Sheila, can I introduce you to …?’ She looked up at him and they both burst out laughing. ‘I don’t know! I don’t know who you are!’

  ‘Danny,’ he said, and extended his hand. But Sheila couldn’t shake it; hers were full of the champagne bottle and glasses. She shrugged regretfully and poured an inch of champagne into the pint glass he grabbed from the windowsill. She then filled one of the clean glasses for Jessica; the champagne bubbled up, flowing liberally over her hand. With a brief nod, Sheila moved away.

  Aware though she was of her friend’s disappointment, this was not the time to question why or feel guilty. Sheila was an adult and not her responsibility. Someone had turned on a radio. The countdown had begun.

  Jessica looked up at her partner again. ‘Hello Danny,’ she said, as Big Ben chimed.

  Chapter Four

  As the final chime reverberated, the cheers from the radio station mixed with the cheers, claps, and hoots of the assembled throng. A rocket shot up from the end of the garden to yet more cheers, New Year greetings, and kisses. Everyone was kissing the one they were with, but then most moved on to kiss everyone else within reach. What could be more natural?

  Jess raised her face to Danny’s. He bent his to hers. The kiss went on, through ‘Auld Lang Syne’, and after. Around them party poppers were released, klaxons sounded, balloons burst. More fireworks exploded. If the electric pulse that jolted through her when she first saw him had been a warning, then this time it felt like the full-blown charge. Every organ lurched, her heart went into overdrive, and her genitals contracted in a sharp, hungry spasm. There was no way she was going to stop doing this just to share a spurious and unfelt bonhomie with a roomful of strangers. There was only one stranger here who interested her – her arms were twined around his neck – that she knew nothing about him beyond his Christian name was incidental. Time enough for details. After a while they drew apart and smiled dazedly at each other. Then Danny bent and kissed her once more.

  ‘Let’s go and watch the fireworks, Jess,’ he said.

  The air was moisture laden and already smelt of smoke and gunpowder. It was not as cold as it might have been, but Jessica shivered. He took off his shirt and draped it over her shoulders; then, with his arm around her, they watched the sky. Since the millennium, fireworks at New Year had become more common. They plumed up from every direction, the dark was punctured with the dazzling explosions. Fountains of stars fanned out then feathered down in a fading, falling rain. Every time it was a surprise; every time she gasped as the night sky blossomed with radiating dandelion clocks of vivid colour. The sky pricked even blacker where they vanished. But soon a heavy pall of mist mixed with smoke began to drift and gather. Occasionally a whizz, shriek, and rat-a-tat report could still be clearly heard, but the brilliant, jewel sharp patterns grew fuzzy and diffuse.

  ‘Oh …!’ she cried out in disappointment, almost embarrassed by the emotion which clogged her throat. ‘They’re fading!’

  Danny gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. ‘Look. Wish lanterns.’ A few people had gathered at the bottom of the garden to light and release the paper lanterns. As they rose into the sky the bright spots of orange quickly grew small and faint. ‘Not very envir’mentally friendly, but … What are you going to wish for? What’s your New Year resolution?’

  ‘That’s easy.’ Jess recalled her recent conversation with Sheila. ‘Tonight marks a fresh start. A new life. And I’m determined to get it right this time.’ With the words – and all the underlying unspoken implications – she felt the up-swell of elation, the utter conviction that re-making her life would be easy.

  ‘You’ll do it. Whatever crap you’ve got in your past, you can’t let it weigh you down. You’ve got to move on.’ He spoke reflectively, as if from experience. ‘I was worried about you, y’know?’

  Dreamily, Jess leant her head back against his shoulder, her eyes still scanning the smoky sky. It was a long time since anyone had been concerned about her wellbeing. Hang on …?

  ‘What? Worried, why? When?’

  ‘I was worried about you getting home safely. Seemed like you were in shock.’

  She stared at him, still puzzled. Earlier he’d called her ‘Jess’, but now she realised she’d not told him her name. He began to frown.

  ‘You don’t know who the hell I am, do you? You haven’t a clue?’

  ‘Yes I do! You’re … You’re my knight in shining armour!’

  ‘Yeah, right …’ He seemed put out, as if suddenly realising she was playing a different game by different rules.

  ‘No honestly! I’m not poking fun. You rescued me from a very frightening situation. I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t recognise you. But, you’ve had your hair cut!’

  ‘Y
ou too, but I recognised you.’

  ‘Be fair! Your mother would’ve had trouble recognising you after getting rid of the locks and the beard!’

  ‘My mother’s always had that trouble.’ But he raised his hand to his chin as if it were still a surprise to find no straggly beard there. He began to smile again. ‘OK! Just as well you didn’t shave yours off, then!’ They were face to face again now, Jess leaning slightly against him.

  ‘I hardly looked at you that night.’ She lifted her hands to his cheeks and ran them caressingly over his jaw. His remaining beard, if that’s what the overgrown blonde stubble could be called, was soft; much more appealing than the harsh sandpaper of so many men’s chins. ‘I wish now I had.’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss his sweet tasting mouth again. ‘What about your resolutions?’

  He shook his head with a half laugh. ‘None.’

  ‘OK, maybe not resolutions, but there must be something you dream of, like winning the lottery, or becoming a famous rock star? Come on. Fair’s fair.’

  He smiled ruefully. ‘No point me wishing for anything … making plans.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Cos it’s pie in the sky. I’ll never get it.’

  ‘But …?’ Though he continued to smile there was something in his expression, his tone, which stopped Jess from pursuing the subject. Instead she said, ‘It’s cold. You must be freezing. Let’s go back inside and you can put your shirt back on.’

  Watching people dance, particularly those well past the uninhibited ebullience of youth, had always been one of Jessica’s secret pleasures. Tonight, though there was plenty of scope amongst this crowd to find amusement or to be touched, Jess wasn’t interested in people watching. After such a short time in his company her attention was too thoroughly taken up by the man she was with. It was not that he was a brilliant conversationalist; they’d talked only little. It was not that he was a spectacularly good dancing partner; all they were doing, as song succeeded song, was to circle round in time to the beat, rocking gently, ever more closely pressed together. But there was something utterly right about the way their bodies fitted; she liked the feel of him, the smell of him, where her face rested against his neck. And every time she lifted her head to look up at him and he smiled down at her and kissed her, she could hardly believe her luck. This could go on and on and she would be content.

  Time passed in a blur. They soon fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen and then another, no longer bothering with glasses but glugging from the neck whenever they felt like it. Song followed song. Jessica was giddy, intoxicated by the situation as much as the alcohol. Like a young teenager, she swelled with the triumph of having pulled the best-looking bloke at the party. Yet, so concentrated was she on extracting every last heady drop from this moment, the other revellers might not have existed. The fact that she was actually over thirty and a mother, and attempting to live a responsible, grown-up life was temporarily smothered.

  ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ was the next song in the band’s repertoire. It led inexorably to another bout of prolonged kissing. Hard to remember the last time she’d felt like this, knees weak, innards turned to soup, blood fizzing as if carbonated; yet even as she savoured the excitement and romance of it, there was a bit of her that knew all this was nonsense, that knew she would wake up at some point with a headache, probably feeling embarrassed. Just now she didn’t care. How could she care about possible feelings of regret in the future, however soon that future might arrive?

  One of the more ‘alternative’ looking individuals – a young man – approached them.

  ‘We’re going now, Planks. You coming? Or are you sorted for tonight?’

  Danny looked from the speaker to Jess, with raised brows.

  ‘It’s my lift. I’ll need to go now if …?’

  ‘He’s sorted.’ Jess said, quickly. ‘If that’s what you want, Danny?’

  ‘If? What do you think?’

  The young man nodded and wandered off.

  Too soon, after several encores of the more upbeat songs, the band played ‘Many Miles Travelled’.’ This was their swan song and afterwards, to enthusiastic clapping and whooping, they began to pack up. The disco was immediately reinstated and the youngsters re-colonised the conservatory.

  Jess looked around; none of the group she had arrived with was within sight. She’d have to try and get a taxi if her lift had gone home, grown impatient waiting for the kissing to stop. Jess took Danny’s hand and led him through the other rooms, looking for Sheila. They found her in the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve surfaced, have you?’ she enquired, coolly.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry! I’ve not been very sociable, have I? We just … we were …’

  ‘We noticed. So, Danny, have you got transport?’

  ‘Danny’s friends have gone. Can we squeeze him in with us do you think?’

  ‘It’s up to Camilla. But her car is not even a proper five-seater, and there are already five of us …’ The unspoken corollary being that it was an unreasonable request, the suspension wouldn’t take it.

  Jessica’s heart sank ‘Oh! We’ll just have to try for a taxi then.’

  ‘Don’t be silly! There’s still room for you.’ Sheila turned to Danny. ‘Won’t Emma let you stop the night? I know a lot of her friends are staying.’

  ‘Um, I don’t really know Emma. I’m just a friend of a friend, you know? Don’t worry about me, Jess. I’ll hitch.’

  ‘No! I’m not going without you and my hitching days are over. Where’s Rosemary? I’ll go and ask her about taxi numbers.’

  Camilla had come into the kitchen. ‘What’s this about taxis? Aren’t you coming with us, Jess?’

  ‘Complications,’ Sheila interrupted, crisply. ‘Jess won’t go without Danny.’

  ‘Well, I can quite understand,’ Camilla said, looking him up and down. ‘So what’s the problem? He’s a big boy. Can’t you sit on his lap, Jess?’

  ‘I think Sheila was worried about your suspension.’

  ‘Bugger that!’ Camilla said. ‘I wouldn’t want my suspension to stand in the way of young love.’

  It was during the drive home that Jess began to feel queasy. Perhaps it was just car-sickness; this wasn’t the way she usually travelled after all, sitting crammed up in the back, on someone’s lap, eyes closed and sneaking kisses. All would be well once she was back on terra firma. At gone two in the morning it was dark and quiet in the village of Northwell when they stumbled from the car. Not only was every joint and muscle cramped, but the earth proved less firm under her feet than she’d expected. As she weaved her way up the front path she fumbled for her key; Tubs appeared from nowhere and squeezed his way between her ankles.

  ‘Je – ess?’ Danny’s voice lifted with a plaintive inflection.

  The front door swung open into the living room and the cat ran in. The keys slipped from her hand and clattered onto the path.

  ‘Shit!’ As she bent down to pick them up the world wobbled. ‘Go in,’ she mumbled, but he’d stopped dead on the thresh hold.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Chapter Five

  Perhaps he was surprised by the quantity of gaudy decorations that festooned the small room. She’d definitely gone over the top after seeing Rory’s reaction to Sheila’s efforts at the nursery. Jess pushed him gently from behind and followed him in. But his astonishment was nothing to do with the over-loaded tree or the multi-coloured foil garlands criss-crossing the ceiling.

  ‘What’s happened? Looks like you’ve been visited by a talcum tornado!’

  The room looked unfamiliar even to her. She clutched her head. ‘Shit, shit, shit! Oh, I’m so sorry Danny. I should have remembered! Should have warned you, but I never …’ An internal voice completed the sentence. Never thought I’d be bringing anyone home. Though her stomach was turning over sluggishly she attempted a brightness she didn’t feel. ‘Never mind. It won’t take a minute to clear up.’

  ‘But what is it? What’s all this white
dust?’

  ‘Nothing’s happened. It’s just that I … I decided to treat the furniture and carpets with flea powder while …’ While Rory’s away, she was going to say. But did he remember she was a mother? Did she want to remind him? If the child-friendly Christmas decorations hadn’t given the game away, then the Moses basket full of toys, would – had it been in its usual corner – but she’d pushed it upstairs before …

  What on earth had she been thinking? There were sure to be modern preparations far less intrusive and off-putting. She’d found the flea powder in the lean-to. It had to be decades old. It might even be a banned substance these days. And yet, believing the advice on the rusted old drum that cat fleas could live in carpets and soft furnishings, she’d coated the room with the foul smelling chemical. Danny turned away and walked through to the little kitchen. He sat by the table, face dipped into his hands.

  The situation was laughable, only Jess wasn’t amused. She sighed, convinced she’d blown it. Pulling the throw off the sofa, she shook it violently out of the open front door. Then, still uncertain on her feet, she heaved the vacuum cleaner from its cupboard and lurched bad-temperedly around the room, cursorily running it over the carpet and soft furnishings. Pine needles rattled in the hose as they were sucked up with the powder.

  ‘There. All done.’ She was still attempting an upbeat and cheerful tone when she entered the kitchen, as if this was a normal situation. ‘Have you put the kettle on? I need a coffee even if you don’t.’

  ‘Jess. You’ve got a cat!’

  ‘Yes? Well, not by choice. He’s old and fat and mangy, but he just, kind of, moved in. And I haven’t the heart to move him out. It must seem disgusting to you, everything covered in flea powder as if the place is infested! I don’t even know for sure if he’s got fleas, though from the amount of scratching …’ She shrugged. ‘It was just a precaution. Don’t you like cats?’