by Wells, J
“What troubles you, Heather?” Frank’s voice was soft, a sensitivity to his tone, as if he was able to pick up on her unease and sadness.
“Oh, Frankie, I don’t think I know where to begin, and if I do, I don’t think you’d believe me anyway ... I wouldn’t believe me,” she said, her voice earnest.
Heather tried to explain as best she could as she stared up at the stars through the skylight.
“Are you sure?” Frank asked when she had finished. “Pray tell, what had she to say?”
“Yes, Frankie, I’m sure; it was the maid from Freesdon Manor. I found it hard to understand her, but she said something about Ruben, and a boy, her son, I think.” Heather paused, trying to remember any detail, however small.
“Pray continue,” Frankie encouraged, showing more than a slight interest.
Releasing his arms from around Heather’s shoulders, he sat up.
“I really don’t know, Frankie,” she sighed. “The maid was looking at the bed, and I could hear breathing, but the covers lay flat and undisturbed. I really couldn’t see her son, I couldn’t see anything; well, actually there was something, what looked like a small pocket watch, I couldn’t be sure. But I remember her saying it belonged to the boy’s father, who was a bastard, or maybe that was the boy?”
Frank leant over, his head in his hands; his body language had changed significantly.
“This cannot possibly be.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed at his words.
“You know more than you’re letting on, don’t you? Who’s Anna, Frank? What aren’t you telling me? And where are you really from?”
“A young girl at Freesdon Manor, be that your last recollection of you and I?” Frank asked, his voice holding an unusual sadness.
“Well no, of course not, you’re here with me now.”
“I’m afraid you’re not understanding me. When I spoke earlier, explaining that I was not of these times, I spoke only the truth. My dear, there are lifetimes between us, and for only the briefest of moments our paths, or should I say our worlds, crossed. I guess our worlds are not worlds apart after all, so you see, the sights you have witnessed may not be as uncanny as you first thought.”
“Why are you talking in riddles? I’m more confused than ever. Frankie, please...”
He leant towards her and placed his finger against her lips. She could feel his soft words as they brushed against her cheek.
“Shhh,” he whispered.
There was a gentleness about him that stirred something deep within Heather, something she’d not felt before, not even with Ruben; contentment, safety, but it wasn’t just that, it was more. Momentarily lost in her thoughts, she was jolted back to reality as Frank lay down again to join her.
“Rest now,” he said. “There is much to be said, but I regret that now is not the time.”
Too tired from the night’s events to question Frank further, she snuggled up against his chest and closed her eyes. There were many questions she wanted to ask, but she would pick up where they left off over breakfast.
Sleep didn’t come easily and she was disturbed by every small sound, the only thing comforting her being the warmth of Frank’s arms around her.
~•••~
The sun streaming through the skylight woke her from her sleep.
“Frankie,” she whispered, reaching for his hand, still in a dream state.
But his side of the bed lay cold, the covers pulled back. He must be making breakfast, she thought, stretching. She reached down into the front pocket of her trousers and took out her phone. She smiled to herself when she saw Ruben’s name and his message: 8.38 a.m. Good morning, princess, hope ur night with Frank wasn’t too boring! Hurry home, need me car ASAP. By the way, girl, got a surprise for you tonight. Luv ya xxx
Her mind elsewhere, her reply was brief but to the point: 9.02 a.m. Ok, c u soon.
She sat on the end of the bed for a few minutes, finding it hard to wake herself up properly. Her phone began vibrating, and she picked it up to the sound of Ruben’s voice.
“No kisses in me text? You must have had a good night. Maybe I underestimated our little friend!”
Before she had time to answer, the phone went dead; he’d hung up on her. It would normally have bothered Heather, but she had far too much playing on her mind to worry about Ruben’s mind games. Already dressed, she freshened up in the en suite, brushed her hair and applied the slightest bit of make-up, remembering Ruben’s words. She quickly threw her things in her suitcase, not forgetting Ruben’s and Beth’s belongings after they’d left in such a rush. Opening the door, she wondered why she couldn’t smell smoked bacon wafting up from the hot plate.
“Frankie?” she called, walking into the living area.
But there was no breakfast waiting for her, and the room was empty. Frank was nowhere to be seen, and any remnants of him ever being there had gone. She hurried on to the veranda, searching through the trees, wondering if he’d gone for a walk. But after sitting for an hour waiting for him, she realised he wasn’t coming back and her stomach sank. Something didn’t sit right with her; it didn’t seem feasible that he had left without so much as a goodbye.
Forgetting the hour and lost in thought, it was only the sun’s movement in the sky and its growing heat that made Heather realise that time had moved on considerably. Checking her phone again, she saw it was fast approaching eleven. Remembering Ruben’s text, she collected her belongings, penned a short note and added her mobile number at the bottom, although on reflection she couldn’t recollect seeing Frank use a phone during the time they had spent together. She placed the note on the table on the off chance that Frank would return. She walked back on to the veranda, turning to take one final look around the tree house, with its quaint little touches, and smiling, she closed the patio door and walked down the stairs.
After packing the car she sat in the driver’s seat, closed the door and punched her home address into the satnav before starting the ignition. On her way back, she passed through picturesque leafy villages, and noticing the pending mileage, she stopped to fill her tank, aware that she had a long drive ahead. After a couple more narrow lanes, an A-road opened up in front of her. She turned on the radio for company. She rarely ventured far from the village, probably no more than five miles from the manor, and this was the furthest she had ever driven. Thinking about it, she realised she had led a relatively sheltered life for the past few years. With the open road before her, and the radio playing in the background, she allowed her mind to clear, giving her the space she needed to think about everything that had happened recently.
The last few days had been a whirlwind; Ruben had been centre stage, with Beth and Frank somewhere in the wings, but each had played an immense part. There was a niggling unease in the back of Heather’s mind, and she felt something wasn’t right about how the two of them had left together the previous night. Her thoughts were suddenly overloaded with what ifs. Had anything happened between Ruben and Beth last night? They had certainly had the opportunity. And was Ruben’s mum’s illness just an excuse for them to slip away for a romantic rendezvous? No, Beth seemed lovely, she wouldn’t do that, Heather thought, trying to be sensible, but Ruben... She wasn’t as sure. Given the chance, would he? After all, they had a history, and thinking about the intimate moments they would have shared made her feel extremely uncomfortable.
She thought back to last night, with Frank and the Ouija board. Oops! Beth’s Ouija board; I’ve bloody left it, she thought, breathing in deeply, feeling somehow she had got the upper hand over her, or was it just jealousy playing its part? She couldn’t see what Ruben saw in her anyway; she was quite a few years older, and had little or no dress sense, and she wasn’t even that pretty. She must have been an acquired taste, she thought, laughing to herself. The rest of the journey passed reasonably quickly, and she soon felt the familiar cattle grid beneath the tyres.
She slowed on her approach up the driveway. She could already see Ruben sit
ting on the steps of Freesdon Manor’s grand entrance. She smiled as she neared, pulling up and switching off the engine. Ruben’s expression was hard to read. Almost unwelcoming, she thought. It was a relief to be home, though, as it had been a long drive. She jumped out the car, running towards him. He stood, and began walking towards her. But she never received the greeting she was expecting, and she felt his hands against hers as he snatched the keys.
“Do you know how bloody long I’ve been sitting here waiting? Since half twelve!” he hissed, pointing angrily down towards his watch.
Heather flinched as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly back towards the car.
“Get in,” he demanded. “Where is he then?” he asked, as if he expected Frank’s face to appear from the concealment of the car’s tinted windows.
“I don’t know,” was Heather’s reply. “When I woke up this morning, he was gone.”
“He can’t just bloody disappear,” Ruben snapped, pushing her into the car. “Is there something you’re not telling me? A reason he didn’t come back? Do I need to be worried?”
“For God’s sake, don’t be so silly, you’re being paranoid!” Heather shouted, starting to lose her temper. She slammed her door shut, shocked by Ruben’s behaviour. He was turning out to be quite a conundrum; him and Frank actually, but in different ways.
Ruben hurried round to the driver’s side and sat himself next to her.
“Hit a nerve, have I?” His tone was sharp, and he slammed his door as if to make a point, locking them both in. “Well, at least he won’t be bothering us any more,” he sneered.
An awkward silence followed, although it only lasted a couple of minutes, and Ruben was the first to speak.
“Come here, girl,” he said, his voice softening.
Heather looked down at her lap, too angry to meet his eyes. She could smell his aftershave as he moved closer, kissing her neck, the side of her face, moving her head round so their lips met, but her response was half-hearted.
“E for bloody effort, girl!” Ruben grunted, sitting back. “Well, this may put you in a better mood. Got a surprise for you later, no questions!” He smiled smugly. “You need to come with me ... I’ve got things to organise.”
“Not today, Ruben, I’m too tired. I think the journey may have taken it out of me,” Heather sighed. “All I want to do is have a warm bath and lie down for a couple of hours.” She fidgeted with her seat belt awkwardly.
“You’ve changed your bloody tune. That’s great, gone to all this trouble for nothing. I thought you might be excited, but no, you manage to put a downer on everything. What’s wrong with ya?” Ruben paused. “No, I’m not having this, you gunna damn well enjoy your surprise, and you’re coming with me now.”
He turned on the ignition, and with wheels spinning drove out of the manor’s grounds. Luckily, the roads were quiet.
“I’d hold on if I were you,” Ruben laughed.
Heather frowned, but she hadn’t time to ask why as Ruben thrust the car into fifth gear. She sat watching the speedometer move up from 50mph, to 60mph, then 70mph; she knew even 40mph was too fast around these narrow lanes, with their blind corners.
“Ruben, what the hell are you doing? Slow down!” she yelled, holding on to her seat.
But as the lanes narrowed and became more winding, Ruben, as if possessed, pushed his foot flat down on the accelerator, now touching 90mph. There was barely room for one car, and the hedgerows’ sharp branches were scratching at the windows.
“Now, tell me what really happened last night,” Ruben demanded. “You slept with him, didn’t you? You dirty whore!”
“For God’s sake, I told you, Ruben, nothing happened. Now slow down, you’re gunna kill us both!” Heather screamed, closing her eyes, knowing an oncoming car was all it would take.
“You liar. You women are all the same!”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she said, reaching for his leg, hoping to calm him down.
“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, his face contorted with anger as he pushed her hand away.
“Okay, if that’s what you want to hear, I slept with him. We did it all night, he was great. I lost my virginity to Frank. Now are you happy?”
“I knew it, you bitch!” Ruben slammed his foot on the brake, losing control of the car, which started sliding sideways.
Heather could smell burning, and she saw smoke billowing up from the tyres. Then she was thrown forwards and jolted backwards as the car hurtled into a ditch.
“You whore, you dirty f...”
Heather grabbed Ruben’s jacket and shook him, interrupting his outburst.
“I’ve told you, Ruben, nothing happened! Have I ever accused you of sleeping with Beth? No, I haven’t! And you two were in a relationship, so shouldn’t I be the insecure one? Ruben, you’ve got serious problems.”
Ruben never answered. Heather noticed his expression soften as he put the car into reverse.
“Don’t bother; I think I’ll be safer walking home.”
“No, Heather, please,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I’m so sorry, please don’t go. It’ll never happen again. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Yeah, well, it’d better not.” Heather’s voice was cracking with emotion, her eyes stinging as she tried so hard to hold back the tears. She had no intention of letting Ruben see just how much he’d upset her.
Not wanting to strike up conversation with him, she turned on the radio but left the volume low, as she intended to make a phone call to check that her mum and dad had arrived safely at the hotel. After trying her number several times, she left a purposely drawn-out voice message, keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead. She made no attempt to interact with Ruben for the remainder of their journey; after his outburst, she wasn’t even sure she liked him any more, let alone wanted to be in a relationship with him.
Ruben pulled off the road into a designated parking area, pulling into a bay with the number fourteen painted between the two white lines.
“Mine’s the top floor, penthouse suite,” he laughed casually.
Heather picked up on his attempt to warm the atmosphere as he stepped from the car.
“Amazing,” she mumbled under her breath, her eyes following him as he walked round the car and opened her door.
“After you,” he said, almost gentlemanly and quite out of character.
Is he trying to make amends, but what’s in it for him? she thought, stepping from the car. The three-storey apartments looked very modern and she automatically looked up to the top floor.
“Looks really nice, Ruben; bit posh for flats.”
“Flats, apartments, whatever. Beth always used to call it our little a-flart-ment.”
It was clear to Heather by the look on Ruben’s face that he realised he’d overstepped the mark again, and he was quick to change the subject.
“Not being rude, but just dropping you off here for a while. Got things to do. Don’t ask any questions. Everything you need is in the flat. Be ready for seven. Here, you best have these,” he said, passing her the keys. “Top floor, third door on ya right, number fourteen.”
She smiled. Why was he telling her the obvious? She’d already worked that one out for herself.
As she walked away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him. He looked down into her eyes with a lingering glance, before kissing her reassuringly on the lips.
“See ya later, girl,” he said softly, the scent of his aftershave lingering as he turned and walked away.
Heather watched him intently, her eyes drawn towards his tattoos, a perfect match for his character, that bad boy image that occasionally seemed to give way to a softer side. She noticed the snug fit of his jeans and that cheeky line of his boxers he wore and always managed to leave on show. His whole persona was an enigma, almost an oxymoron. Theirs was certainly a love–hate relationship, yet one Heather didn’t want to, or couldn’t, release herself from.
She stood for what only cou
ld have been a couple of moments as she watched him drive off. Then, fumbling with the keys, she turned towards the building. An ordinary house brick kept the main door propped open, and she noticed an intercom on the outer wall with an ‘out of order sign’ underneath. She walked inside, and was greeted by a flight of stairs directly in front of her. It was a fairly spacious entrance hall, with corridors leading off to both the left and right. She made her way up the three flights of stairs, which were fairly well lit with modern spotlighting. On reaching the third floor, she took the right-hand corridor, stopping at the third door along.
She pushed the key into the lock and opened the door. The first thing she noticed was a strong smell of paint. There was no hallway as such, just a large open-plan living area. At the far end, a marble-topped breakfast bar divided the kitchen, with laminate flooring throughout. The decor and furnishings were striking, with the contrasting blacks and whites, and sharp edges, giving it a very modern, classy feel. Two two-seater black leather settees sat comfortably either side of a square dark-wood coffee table. The room’s main feature, a lavish wall-mounted plasma television, certainly made a statement, while the other walls donned varying sized canvases of angular abstract art. Approximately halfway across the room was a narrow hallway leading off somewhere.
Heather couldn’t resist a mooch around, and she opened the nearest door which led into a square-shaped bathroom. Tingling inside, she couldn’t fault Ruben’s attention to detail on noticing a pink towelling dressing gown hanging on the inside of the door. Moving further along the hallway, she opened the next door, and presumed this must be the smallest of three bedrooms. With powder-blue walls and stencilled spaceships, it was clearly a child’s room, but looked tired and worn, and was definitely in need of a makeover. The floor was littered with stacked cardboard boxes, children’s games and loose toys collectively stored in large see-through polythene bags. The room had nothing to hold her interest, so she turned to leave, but on doing so, something caught her eye. A name had been written in large letters in marker pen on one of the facing boxes. As she turned back, she saw that it read Beth.