Getting closer to Valentine’s Day also meant getting closer to the 15th of February – William’s 8th birthday, and because of the crazy number thing I became increasingly edgy, in case it did all have something to do with him.
On the 13th of February, I’d taken William and Elyse to a roller disco in the evening. The drive back had been on poorly lit roads covered in black ice and driving with extreme care had left my eyes tired and gritty from the straining.
I had made myself a green tea and whilst at the laptop looking at Facebook I used the wet teabags on my eyes – it was pleasantly refreshing. I leaned back for a few minutes, resting my head against the chair then removed the tea-bags. Through my clouded vision I could just make out a Valentine’s card posted by Anthony Hope. I frantically rubbed my eyes to get a clearer look.
It wasn’t a romantic one. In fact, it was completely out of sync with the soppy way he carried on with his girlfriend. And besides all of that – it had been posted before it was even Valentine’s Day which didn’t tally with the fact his Facebook indicated he was to be spending Valentine’s Day with her – it was unnecessarily premature as far as their relationship was concerned.
I studied the words: Cat was on a mission…he was coming fast…he told pussy to whip her pants off quick. There was a picture of a cat with an enormous grin, riding on the back of a silver bullet.
A huge smile crept across my face.
This card had to be aimed at me…it was obviously meant for me.
I looked to see if any comments had been left. There were none. There was no way that he could post a crude card like this and not have a single friend comment on it. It just wouldn’t happen on his Facebook. That meant that only I could see this card. I felt myself smile again. I also felt the thrill of sexual secrecy.
I was in his head, which meant that I was taking up some space, however small, in his heart.
After sleeping on it, I came up with a better idea for a response to Anthony’s card. Something that, in theory, would confirm I was right that his card had been aimed at me. I lifted the heavy plastic tub full of photos from my bedroom wardrobe and started sifting through them with the help of William and Elyse; they were marvelling at photos of themselves as babies. I was searching for a photo taken in Majorca, about a year before either of them even existed.
‘Mummy, look at this one, I’m crawling,’
‘That’s not you. William, that’s Elyse. She had your old baby-grow on.’
‘Who’s that?’ William asked, again.
I took the photo from him. It was from an album I’d put together for Richard some years ago that had photos spanning his childhood, marriage, first children and then his grandkids. Our life was in other albums.
‘That’s Daddy when he was much younger, younger than I am now,’ I said. ‘Can you make sure you don’t jumble them all up. Put that picture back where you found it, please William,’ I said, as I made an even bigger mess by frantically going through them all. I eventually found the photo that I was desperately looking for.
I tried to view it with external eyes. Is this photo too suggestive? Would I be really embarrassed if anyone else saw it? Would Facebook remove it? Would Richard be upset if he saw it on my Facebook?
In each case my answer was no.
In the photo I was in a diaphanous sarong, so it was not risqué, but quite suggestive – it had a hint of nakedness, as it was clear that beneath that black and white voile, I was knickerless.
As soon as I had a free moment, I posted it onto Facebook, ensuring that Anthony Hope was the only person able to view the picture. And then I waited.
But I didn’t have to wait long. At 16:21 he typed in the words: BEEeeautiful…somethings ya wanna do.
I could hear his voice behind his silly words. So he really did want to “do” the “busy bee”. I was right. He was watching me very closely. This proof was strong as the Lewis Carroll quote.
And I surely did want to do him too. My game with Anthony sometimes felt like the longest lingering, teasing foreplay you could ever experience.
Shaking myself, I quickly typed in a non-sexual response:
Nicole’s head and heart are being held hostage…Beehave!
A second later…
Anthony is behaving.
Is Behaving or is Bee having? I didn’t know what he meant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The 15th of February came and went without incident. In fact, it turned out to be the smoothest birthday party William had ever had. But the first piece of evidence I found that appeared to prove the numbers were somehow connected to Anthony Hope, materialised in early March, the same day that other things in my life were not adding up. The evidence also showed me how easy it was, to not always see every detail in front of you.
With my head tipped upside-down and blood rushing to my face, in a futile attempt to get volume in my hair, it wasn’t the carpet I could see: it was a close-up photo of Anthony Hope standing next to his girlfriend. Behind them was the club where Anthony had met her. It was called “Infinity Club”. The slogan beneath the logo said “For nights you want to last forever”. What where the odds of him meeting her in a place that had the symbol I drew.
I continued to mull things over: I wondered if he’d posted the profile picture of him and his girlfriend so that I would notice the symbol on a close-up shot.
I should’ve spotted it on the other pictures of him in the same place that he posted after I left the equation on my Wall.
Still deep in thought, and deafened by the hairdryer, I didn’t hear the voice shouting to me. Maddy’s head appeared around the bedroom door, making me jump.
I grabbed my towel from the floor to wrap around me. Thank God I had underwear on.
‘You scared the living daylights out of me,’ I said, feeling shaky.
‘Sorry, I was trying to call up to you, but I couldn’t speak too loud, because I think you’ve got a bailiff at your door, I can smell them a mile off,’ she said, with an air of confidence born out of experience.
‘A what? I’m going to kill Richard. Good job he bought a bloody estate car that looks like a hearse. At least his funeral will be on the cheap.’
‘I parked my car out of the way, so he didn’t see me come in. Then I had to jump over the side fence – thank goodness that the patio door was unlocked. I am quite impressed with my agility actually; I was like something from an action film.’
We waited until we heard his car finally move away from the drive, before venturing downstairs. He’d pushed an envelope through the letter box. Even Blue didn’t seem interested in going near its poison. I opened it up, feeling sick and jittery, because I didn’t really know what to expect. The letter was from the court, I could see that much from the stamp on the front of the envelope. My worst fear was that it had something to do with the bank overdraft and that they were now going to go for the jugular rather than agreeing to a reasonable repayment deal, like Richard wanted.
I thought about the effect on William and Elyse if they lost their home. I could feel my stomach churning.
‘It’s about twelve hundred quid,’ I said, almost relieved, yet confused by the amount.
I put the letter down and then went through the palaver of getting through to Richard at his office.
‘Why the hell have we got the court demanding twelve hundred quid? I shouted down the phone. ‘Are things so bad that we can’t afford to pay twelve hundred quid now? Why have we just booked a holiday to Egypt, then?’
‘I know all about it. Don’t worry. Calm down. I’m not paying them a penny. I’m still trying to get the solicitors to drop the case over the company I bought,’ he said. I cursed it for the millionth time.
‘Why don’t you tell me these things. At least warn me,’ I demanded.
‘I didn’t think it was necessary.’
‘What like you didn’t think it necessary to show me the printout on imploding windows?’ It was the first time in a while I’d thought to ment
ion the printout. I’d been too engrossed in the game with Anthony.
‘What printout on imploding windows?’
‘The one in the kitchen draw.’
I opened the drawer that I’d put it in months earlier after finding it. It was no longer there. ‘You’ve moved it now,’ I said indignantly. ‘It’s no longer here.’
‘I haven’t moved anything. I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about and as for the solicitors – I don’t see why I should be paying out anything, when the solicitors should be getting my original ninety thousand back. But make sure you keep the doors locked.’
Keep the doors locked? I can’t even make keys stay in a pissing pot and printouts stay in drawer.
‘That is going to be impossible,’ I said.
‘It’s just until things are sorted out.. If you don’t lock the door and they just walk in, they’ll have your laptop and your paintings.’ Richard hung up.
‘What’s wrong,’ Maddy asked.
‘I don’t know. Apparently the court thing is not a big deal. But sometimes it feels like either I’m losing my marbles or Richard is losing his and he is making it feel like it’s me. I know I put a printout out on imploding windows in that drawer. I can still see it sitting there in my head.’
I thought about Richard’s mum with dementia. What age did dementia usually strike? Because we both accepted that Richard had the superior brain, were we both falsely blaming his failings on my brain? I pensively chewed my lower lip. What if the tables were turning with age?
‘Maybe William or Elyse moved it?’ Maddy said trying to be helpful.
‘Hmmm or too much stress,’ I didn’t say it but I realised I needed to keep a closer eye on Richard. The Egypt holiday soon arrived but something didn’t feel right about telling the house-sitters to make sure the door remained locked which struck me as daft because I was still convinced there was a rogue key floating about somewhere in the world. And it all seemed all the more ludicrous over twelve hundred pounds, although Richard said he’d definitely pay it to shut me up.
We were flying from Manchester airport, but we needed an overnight stay in the airport hotel. Richard had made the best out of it by calling in on one of his clients on the way. William and Elyse had nodded off in the back of the car; the anticipation of the holiday had finally worn them out. I spent my time switching between radio stations, cursing each time a good one lost signal.
We hit the winding Snake Pass and I stared at the bleak moors on either side of the road.
Richard started to question why I was so quiet.
‘I’m bored,’ I replied. It sounded a completely stupid statement to make when we were only a matter of hours away from a week of five-star luxury in Sharm El Sheikh with Maddy, Steve and Henry and we had more than enough stress in our lives to keep us occupied.
‘What do you mean you’re bored?
‘I’m bored with my life, we don’t do enough together as a couple.’
‘You’re busy studying. You chose to do those exams.’
‘I know that. And I’m trying to get through them as fast as possible…you know I am.’
‘So…are you saying that you’re bored with me?’ he turned his face to mine.
‘No! I just feel like I’m not doing enough with my life. I’ve lost my way…other people that I know seem so happy and fulfilled and I feel like I’ve left my dreams behind somewhere.’
‘What people? Are you talking about Facebook again? Do you mean that Anthony Hope is fulfilled and you are not?’
I felt myself tense when I heard Anthony’s name fall from Richard’s mouth. If I needed any proof that Richard’s mind was still as sharp as a razor this was it. But did that mean he knew about my game and was staying silent? Was Maddy right about him being behind the text message?
‘No…why did you say that?’ I asked with feigned innocence.
‘I don’t know…it’s just that he’s on your Facebook and you worked with him. You don’t regret being with me do you? Do you…fancy him?’ he said, as he unnecessarily changed up a gear and back down again, still unused to the manual gears.
‘Of course I don’t regret being with you,’ I said, as I deliberately continued to stare out at the uninhabited landscape. ‘I just think that we should do more together. Oh and yes…Anthony Hope is doing a job he loves. Okay, it’s not a conventional career choice for a grown man, but he loves it. And he always seems to be going away with his girlfriend. They go walking and fishing together, and skiing…I love skiing but never get around to it these days because you won’t go. I love horse-riding but I haven’t had a dressage lesson since I fell pregnant with Elyse.’
I took a pause to gather my breath, then continued, ‘Do you know that I’ve never even been to Paris, because you’ve already been? How can you get to my age and have never been to Paris? We never seem to make anything of our weekends.’
‘Look…we could go to Paris, if that’s where you really want to go. You have been to lots of other amazing places though. Plus we do have children and we could have gone to more amazing places if we had left them with childcare – but we decided not to…’
Richard was referring to the free holidays we could have taken over the years to places like Australia, Canada, Nevis and Cannes – all first-class travel in world-class hotels. One of the perks that Richard had from a tie-in with a major financial company. But children were excluded, otherwise it wasn’t allowable as a tax break.
‘So is this why you’re quiet – because you’re bored?’
‘I guess so…I just feel empty.’
‘What kind of feeling is empty?’
‘I don’t know…I can’t explain it. But that’s how I feel.’
‘Well…when we get back from holiday…we’ll plan a weekend away together. Is that okay?’
‘Fine,’ I said, wondering if a weekend away could even remotely fill the void I felt.
‘I just want my happy, smiley, carefree Little N back…’
‘I know…and I’m really trying to find her.’
I’d been transfixed by the scenery as we travelled by taxi from the airport to our accommodation. I’d always been fascinated by the landscape in the Arab countries. The mountainous deserts on my left still looked untouched. It was the expanse of rich shades of orange, set against a backdrop of deep blue that made it feel like another planet, barren of complicated life. Palatial holiday retreats were on the other side of the relatively new road, facing the sea.
The hotel was everything Maddy had said it would be: seven swimming pools, log flumes, luxury sun-loungers and massive suites. The kids were loving every available second.
And, despite being bored with my life in general, I did at this point feel pretty good in myself – physically. I’d managed to regain the weight I’d lost, I had a spray tan and French manicure before leaving England, and I’d treated myself to a new string-bikini. In a way, I was clawing back some of my zapped confidence as a consequence of the game with Anthony Hope.
Things weren’t going quite so well for Maddy though. She’d developed a painful abscess in one of her back teeth not long after arriving, and so far, it had been unsuccessfully treated by the hotel doctor with an injection in her bottom and a bag full of pills.
The pain from her abscess finally started to alleviate after a trip to a proper dentist, located in a village close to the desert. But she was still taking it easy and resting alone. I retreated to my suite with Elyse while Richard and Steve took the boys on a glass-bottom boat ride.
I sat on the bed next to Elyse, flicking through one of the magazines I’d picked at the airport. I read it from front to back, including all of the tiny box adverts, making myself feel rubbish again. It made me want to be followed around by an on-tap air brusher, and like I should have achieved everything by now. I wanted to shoot the twenty-something journalists for making a thirty-something like me feel like they’d failed. I placed the magazine on the bedside table and sighed.
Elyse blis
sfully slept on, making it impossible to even imagine the force of her incandescent petulance earlier on. I now felt guilty that she’d managed to pull me down to her immature level as we argued by the poolside before I’d finally dragged her back here.
I inspected the ceiling. It was high and arched and probably a real pain in the ass to paint. The mahogany furnishings looked more Moroccan than Egyptian, I thought. Then I thought I might as well read the book that Maddy had loaned me –The Reader. It was quite short, so it had a chance of being completed while we were staying here. I pulled it from the travel bag and helped myself to a bottle of Evian from the mini-bar. Three hours later, Elyse still slept on.
I heard a faint knock on the door and got off the bed to open it.
Maddy was standing there with Steve’s laptop in her arms. She looked much better, the facial swelling had subsided and she was back to her normal chirpy self. She checked Elyse out and, like me, concluded in a low voice that she was suffering from sheer exhaustion.
‘Anyway…I know you must be missing Facebook by now…so I thought I’d treat you,’ she said, almost whispering as she plonked the laptop on the bed and unravelled the cable.
She pulled the adapter off my hairdryer, which had been left on the dresser, and stuck it on the end of the laptop power cable. She’d been dangling the laptop over me like an unreachable carrot since we’d arrived; I hadn’t picked up from the brochure that the room had Wi-Fi, so I not bothered to bring mine.
After finishing setting it up she stayed and chatted for a little while longer, before leaving in her oversized straw hat which looked wider than she was tall.
I heard the door close behind her and didn’t waste a second before logging onto Facebook. Their connection was faster than mine at home.
I read through some messages that Maddy had left on my Wall. She’d been happily amusing herself with the fact that she’d got Internet access and I hadn’t. Then I went straight onto Anthony’s profile. And smiled.
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