PICTURES OF YOU: a gripping psychological suspense thriller

by Diane M Dickson

  He sighed, a flick of impatience ran across his eyes and he dragged off the hat. His hair stood in startled peaks for a moment and then flopped down, it covered his brow and fell to the top of his eyes. He tipped his head to one side the better to peer at her.

  “Shall I take your form, make the appointment and then it’s done?”

  “Oh if there’s no other way. Yeah, go on then. Thanks.” He grinned now and swept a hand across his forehead flicking the shiny fringe back from his eyes.

  “That’s it then, next Wednesday, I’ve written it on here. It won’t take long and in the meantime if you need a doctor you can call us. We’ll send for your records from your last practice.”

  She watched him duck out into the brightness of the midday. When he had gone she stared for long moments at the empty doorway. Her thoughts tumbled and a strange buzz slithered along her nerve endings.

  Fingers flicking expertly across the keyboard she entered Jacob’s details. He had moved into a flat just a few street away from her home. She registered his age – twenty one – he looked younger, maybe eighteen, not much difference though a couple of years, a boy really. Still just a boy.

  She put in the electronic request for his medical records, filled in the virtual documents and clicked to move on to the next screen.

  Sparkling eyes, an open, ready grin. His hair, dark and shining. A young body, firm and slender. The computer didn’t ask for these details. The computer didn’t want to know how it felt when he grinned at her, how she had registered the bony wrists and long fingers, fine and strong and stained with ink or dye. The computer hadn’t seen him and felt the pulse of his life.

  Just a boy.

  Chapter 5

  “Chrissie, could I ask you a favour?”

  “Yeah, sure what’s up?”

  “Oh nothing, I just wondered if you could swap a day with me this week.”

  “Oh, well yes, if I can – which day?”

  “Well, I just wondered if I could do your Wednesday and you take Thursday.”

  “Oh, yes. I think that’s okay. Are you going somewhere?”

  “Ah, yeah I’m going to see a friend, she can’t do Wednesday. Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “’Course it is. Have a good day.”

  “Thanks.” As she turned to leave Mary was swept with a maelstrom of emotion. Embarrassment was uppermost, though only she knew what she had just done. There was a nick of shame, she had lied to her colleague. There was fear, if anyone found out what she was up to… but would it matter? Really? There was also a buzz of excitement. She would see him. She probably wouldn’t even speak to him. He would probably use the automatic check in. But, she would see him.

  Her body was suffused with heat as she stepped into the street and made her way to the car park. Her throat dried, this was nonsensical, ridiculous. Perhaps she was starting the menopause, was this mid-life madness? He was a boy, a beautiful one but a boy and she had no claim on him. He wasn’t a part of her life nor she of his. They had spoken once, no, twice; he had held her arm, ushered her onto a bus like an old woman and then he had come to her reception desk like so many others and given her a smile – it was so little really.

  Wednesday couldn’t come quickly enough. She would see him again and she wanted to see him again…

  The days ticked by as they would. Many times Mary was tempted to speak to Chrissie and tell her a change in plans meant she could now go back to the usual routine. She knew the sensible thing would be to do that, to step off this silly merry-go-round and walk the path of sense and maturity. Then she would remember his smile, the heat of his hand on her elbow and recall the glint in his eyes. She would feel her empty world more deeply and her quiet life more sharply and would shake away the voice that told her to stop this nonsense. She convinced herself all she wanted to do was to make sure he was okay, to ensure his visit to the surgery went smoothly. It was simply repaying a favour. He had helped her, now she would help him. She could try to keep his waiting time to a minimum and, if he needed it, do whatever was possible to reassure him that his visit was nothing but a tick on a form and a click on the computer. That they were obliged to make sure they were keeping to the rules and fulfilling their legal requirements…

  Wednesday morning she applied her understated make up. See, she wasn’t making any special effort. There was no reason to take special care, she was simply going to work, just doing her job as well as possible. She tried to help all the patients and he was new to the area, on his own, and hadn’t wanted the appointment, not really, and so this was just doing her job...

  The morning dragged. She glanced at the door each time it swung inwards allowing a gasp of cool, fresher air to penetrate the overheated centre. His appointment was for eleven, the morning was going well, the appointments a little behind but when were they not?

  The draught from the entrance drew her eyes to the light outside and there he was. He entered in the wake of an old man with a walker. He looked impatient, tried to squeeze past at one point but couldn’t. He held the door though so the invalid wasn’t banged by the heavy wood and then he was in front of the desk. His skin was tinted pinkly by the chill breeze outside. A blue scarf wrapped around his neck reflected the colour of his eyes, he grinned at her.

  “Hello Bus Lady. Here I am, what do I have to do now?”

  “Hello Jacob. You can check in on the screen or I can log you in.”

  “Oh, no let’s go with the virtual receptionist.” He smiled and spun away to stand before the monitor and poke at the screen. When he had completed the simple procedure he turned his head, throwing an arm towards the electronic check in. “Ta da.”

  She smiled back at him and waved a thumbs up gesture. “It’s Mary by the way.” He couldn’t hear her through the glass. She had known that, so why had she bothered to try to speak?

  He walked back to the window, “Sorry, did I do it wrong?”

  “No, no. Oh I was just saying – my name – it’s Mary.” She felt a fluster of embarrassment now, her face burned. What a fool she was.

  He leant to the grill and spoke quietly. “I didn’t think it was ‘Bus Lady’ really,” and with a little chuckle he turned away and found a seat. She pushed away from the desk.

  “Mary, are you okay?”

  “What – oh yeah, thanks Penny – bloody hot flush, can you cover for me a mo? Just need to get a breath of air.”

  “Yeah, off you go, you look like a beetroot. You should have a word with one of the medics, they can give you something for that.”

  No, no they can’t, there is no prescription to cure stupidity!

  Chapter 6

  Mary slammed the door closed and tore off her coat, threw bag and keys onto the hall stand and pounded through to the kitchen. She poured a tall glassful and gulped half of it back in one long swig.

  “What a prat. What a total and complete idiot I am.” She was mortified. Each time she replayed the short encounter with Jacob, and she had done it repeatedly in the last few hours, it had seemed more and more ridiculous. Now running it on the video screen in her brain she witnessed herself reduced to a simpering idiot, preening and giggling like a schoolgirl. She hadn’t done that, had she? Had she actually flirted with him– oh god? No, no she just told him her name, that was all. Come on, pull yourself together.

  Of course the reason for her high state of disturbance wasn’t really about the actions but rather what she had thought and felt.

  “Right this is to stop now. Absolutely stupid. What on earth is the matter with you woman? Are you truly going to start mooning over young boys – really – at your age? Idiot!” There, she felt better, telling herself off out loud released some tension and unexpectedly a giggle started to burble up from deep in her belly. She chuckled at the silliness of it all, grabbed the wine glass and still grinning took herself through to the lounge.

  Bill gazed at her from behind the silver frame on the mantelpiece and she raised her glass in a toast, “Oh Bill, what an idiot I
am. I do hope that, wherever you are, you are having a good laugh and not shaking your head in despair. I don’t know what got into me. I think it was the fall, you know. I just think it was the fall and then – well yes, he is rather lovely. It’s been such a long time since I spoke to a new man – you know, a stranger and it caught me unprepared. I’m okay now though. All better. Thank heavens I’ve got the day off tomorrow it’ll give me a chance to calm down and get back on an even keel. Oh Bill I do miss you.”

  She made herself a sandwich and poured another glass of wine, a smaller one this time, and followed it with two big glasses of water and by the time she settled to watch the television news felt calm and quiet again. As the thought struck her it was followed by a wave of sadness. Just for that little time, although yes, it had all been stupid, it had been a rather wonderful feeling of excitement. Waiting for him to arrive and then speaking to him. She hadn’t known that buzz for years and years and it was sweet. Ah well, maybe the photography class would be a means of meeting someone more suitable and then, who knew, a friendship, some different company, whatever.

  Now it was time to push all this silliness away. Jacob, ah, sweet Jacob, was gone away back into his own young life probably never to be seen again and obviously he would never think of her, it was over...

  If it hadn’t been for the dream that would have been the end of it.

  If he hadn’t come to her in the deep of the night, with his smile and his beautiful hands and his strong young body. If he hadn’t reminded her what it was to feel, to really feel like a woman again she would have let him go. But, he did come and she was roused from sleep by the pulse deep inside, insistent and demanding, a warmth that she could not deny. So she was reawakened and knew that he had touched her soul and she didn’t want to be free of him. She wanted more of him and there in the early blush of morning she was lost.

  There had been times since she had been widowed when she had felt the lack of a physical relationship keenly. Bill had been still young and though the last year of his life had seen him weakened up until then their sex life had been full and active. Yes, she had missed it and had found solitary comfort when the need had become great.

  Now, as she showered and wrapped herself in a robe, she wallowed in the total relaxation that can only come from sexual release. The dream was vivid in her mind, real and close. For the moment she didn’t want to spoil it with denial and embarrassment and false modesty but she replayed the scenes in her head and felt her body respond with flickers of pleasure.

  Of course she had only seen Jacob in the daytime, wearing his jeans and tops but her sleeping mind had filled in the blanks and curled on the sofa with her coffee cup cradled in her clasped hands the memory of what his legs felt like laying atop hers, his arms around her and his full young lips on her mouth was as real as any that she could now recall of her married life.

  Chapter 7

  The sun was warm on Mary’s back. She was doing the first weeding of the season and brushing and tidying the patio. It was pleasant to have her coffee outside to know that later she was going for a walk. It had been a clever trick to spend the first few hours in busy work, all pretence though. She was going to walk to his house, she was going to see where he lived.

  Her tumble into infatuation had been incredibly rapid. Maybe if it hadn’t been for the dream there would have been a chance of escape but now – it was too late. She didn’t eat lunch but dragged a jacket on over jeans and a sweater. In her mind if there was no effort at preening then it was more innocent. She wasn’t trying to attract him but was simply going to see where he lived. Why was she lost in the muddle of her mind? The pull to walk to where his house stood was too strong to ignore and so she strode out in the spring sunshine. She had his address already, the street name, even the number was clear though there was no actual recall of memorising it.

  It wasn’t far, ten minutes walking found her at the end of a road of Victorian villas. Most were converted into flats or cheap bed and breakfast places, but it wasn’t a bad road. The gardens were mostly paved over but tidy and though mismatched curtains spoke of shared buildings it was a pleasant place. He was at number sixteen and it was obvious that this was the wrong end. The Street Where You Live, she understood now the lyrics of the corny, old song. There was a chance that she might see him.

  What would she do if she did? Wave perhaps, simply smile and carry on, stop and speak, she didn’t know. She hoped she didn’t meet him, hoped she did.

  He wasn’t there. Slowing her pace she had peered across the tarmacked front garden, past two small cars and into the porch. She wanted to walk across, to find the bell that would connect to his space but a woman with a dog was walking the other way and it was enough to dissuade her. At the further corner, where a left turn would lead her back to the High Street, she paused, glanced back over her shoulder. Should she turn, pass again? No, it was too ridiculous, madness heaped on insanity and so she walked away, disappointment dragging at her feet.

  Her day was empty now. There was no further chance that she might see him, no further excuse to be where he might be. She went home and cleaned a cupboard, tackled the laundry and moved towards the night when maybe it would be possible to be alone with him, with the warm memory of the dream and the heat of her imagination in the empty bed.

  She slid between the sheet and duvet and thumped the pillows into a shape that suited her. Now in the dark there was time to replay what she had done. What had happened to her peace and sanity? She wasn’t a teen or even a young woman anymore but there was no denying she had a crush on this boy.

  She remembered the days of flirting. The thrill of being noticed and the excitement of the touch of a hand or the brush of a glance. Then there was marriage and she had been faithful and, though the odd chance had come her way, she had never been tempted to stray and all of the excitement had faded away and become contentment.

  If her life had panned out the way it had supposed to, she and Bill would have sailed into old age together. Their passion would perhaps have faded slowly into a deep friendship. Maybe not, probably there were older couples who still cuddled and had active sex but she was never to know. Fate had robbed her of the chance to grow old with her husband and until now, until Jacob, acceptance had seemed the only option.

  As sleep carried her away she hoped for another dream, another mystical encounter, another chance to be with him.

  Chapter 8

  There was no dream. Sleep was deep and peaceful and waking a disappointment. Mary tried to recapture the sensation of the previous morning but it was wholly gone. She took her shower and ate her breakfast and told herself that it was for the best after all. It was embarrassing to remember the fool’s errand down a road of houses where there was no need to go, searching for a glimpse of a boy she had no claim to.

  She cancelled the enrolment at the photography class. There had never been any real enthusiasm anyway and it had merely been reaction to events. She went to work, took on an extra shift on the Saturday morning and called Jane to arrange a trip on her next day off in the week. She was Mary, Bill’s widow, middle aged and perhaps a little boring.

  It was over.

  The weekend stretched before her with no plans save a trip to the garden centre and a video and ready meal on Saturday night. She ate well normally but now and again it was nice to feel a little rebellious and this was the extent of her rebellion. A mediocre meal made by unseen hands in a factory miles away, warmed in the microwave and eaten on a tray on her lap while she watched a movie. She chose an old favourite seen originally at the cinema but now enjoyed in the warmth of home with no journey afterwards. It had been enough for several years now and it would be enough again.

  She felt hollowed out, devoid, depressed and old, very old…

  Monday was bright and sunny and Mary rang Jane. It was just an idea, perhaps they could have a meal, something, anything to make life less – grey.

  “Hello Jane, I was wondering, do you fancy a drink this e
vening, after work? Sorry I’m ringing so early but if we are going to I’ll leave the car at home, take the bus so I can have a glass of wine.

  “What, no, no I’m fine – it’s been a boring weekend and I just thought it’d be a change. You will, great, smashing. I’ll see you outside your office at half five. Brilliant. Thanks mate.”

  She dragged the door closed and turned her face to the sunshine, all was well, of course it was. The bus was due in five minutes, plenty of time, no risk of a dash and fall. She shook her head and her lip curled in a smile. Life was odd at times.

  There were two people already at the stop. One of them a commuter she had met before, the other an old man with ragged trousers and a grey, wrinkled face. She smiled at them both and took her place in the line while glancing at her watch. Two minutes.

  The hulking vehicle drew into the stop, the brakes hissed and the door thumped back against the bodywork. They always seemed just a little too vigorous and she wondered if they couldn’t fix them.

  There was a seat two rows back from the entrance, on the side behind the driver and his thudding entrance door. She turned her face to the window as the big engine was thrown into gear and the bus drew away.

  She felt the presence beside her. She turned and looked down, denim and white trainers.

  “Hello again Bus Lady.”

  Mary raised her eyes. “Oh, hello. Hi, Jacob.”

  “Hello – erm Mary.” He hesitated for a moment before using her name, had he forgotten who she was, did he think it was too familiar?

  Now that the original contact was made they were both unsure how to continue. He smiled at her and then glanced down, fiddled with his back pack, glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye.

  “So, how are you?” She would be mature, she would handle this.

  “Yeah, good. Do you catch the bus every day? Only I haven’t seen you before, you know since the first day.”