There’s a door behind the counter, which is cracked open, but not so that I can see anything on the other side. I lean forward. ‘Hello?’
‘I’ll be with you in a second,’ a female voice replies from the other side followed by a loud banging noise, as if something has fallen over, and the muffled sound of swearing.
About thirty seconds later the door swings open and who should appear but the very person I came to find: the girl in red. Although she’s not now – in red, that is. She’s wearing a green fleece jacket and her hair’s tied back.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Hello. It’s you. How did you get here so fast?’
‘What do you mean? I was only out the back.’
‘I, um—’
She flashes an insincere smile. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re making a joke.’
‘Sorry?’
She stares at me, hands on her hips, and I find myself babbling. ‘No. I, um. You know what I mean. I’m talking about. You know. How you got back here. From the house on the cliff? Someone else gave you a lift, right?’
She shakes her head. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Why is she pretending not to know what I’m talking about? And what is she doing working here rather than over the road?
Before I can think of what to say next, a car horn sounds. I turn around to see Miles make a ‘what are you doing?’ gesture through the window. ‘One minute,’ I mouth, holding up a single finger to emphasise my point.
Then, when I turn back to the counter, things get really messed up. The girl I was talking to is no longer there. Standing in her place, also wearing a green fleece, is a buxom middle-aged woman with short bottle-blonde hair and heavy make-up.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Where did you come from? What happened to the girl I was talking to?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘No, really. What the hell? Did you guys swap over or something when I was looking the other way? Where is she? You’re freaking me out.’
‘I’m freaking you out? Look, I don’t have time for this nonsense. What is it that you want?’
Several thoughts are churning through my mind now. Part of me is sure they swapped places when I looked the other way. And yet I only turned around for a moment. So what are the other possibilities? Well, what if the girl in red was never here in the first place? Perhaps I imagined her. Maybe I imagined the whole incident with her asking for a lift at the house. That would certainly explain why we didn’t see her on the way here. But that would make me crazy, right? Unhinged. The kind of person who might forget a whole week, as if it never happened; whose subconscious might block out his entire past for reasons unknown. The kind of person who might imagine having a daughter – a family even – when in reality he’s a sad, single loser. What else? Could the person standing before me be some kind of shape-shifting monster, like you see in fantasy films?
That’s not a path I want to go down. So I tell myself it must be the simple option: the one that doesn’t brand me a crazy man or fantasist. They’re playing a trick on me. Goodness only knows why, but I’m not going to stoop to their level. I’m not joining in.
Blondie is staring, waiting for me to answer her question. Hands on her substantial hips.
‘I, er, was wondering if you knew what was happening with the shop over the road? It’s closed.’
‘There’s a sign, isn’t there?’
‘Yes. It says something about a death in the family. Do you know any more?’
‘You’d have to ask them.’
I resist the urge to point out the impossibility of that option and, instead, decide to ask her the question that’s been on my mind all morning. ‘This might sound odd,’ I say, thinking that it can’t sound much stranger than what’s gone before, ‘but could you please tell me what day it is today?’
‘Seriously?’
‘Long story, but if you could tell me that, I’ll get out of your hair.’
‘It’s Saturday. Anything else? Maybe you’d like to buy something. We are a shop after all. Not an information service.’
I make my excuses and exit through the jingly, creaky door, wondering for the second time why they haven’t applied any oil to it.
I didn’t bother asking the date, as it wouldn’t mean anything to me. I’ve no idea what it was the last time I remember being in the village. It’s winter: probably towards the end, judging by the lack of dead leaves on the floor and relatively mild temperatures. But that’s all I know, which is strange now I think about it. And yet, in the scheme of things, not the most important gap in my knowledge. Blondie also had a look about her towards the end of the conversation, like she might call the police or something. I didn’t want to push my luck.
‘What was that all about?’ Miles asks as I open the car door.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long. The general store’s closed because of a family bereavement. There’s a sign in the window.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘They didn’t know any more about it in this place. It was all a bit weird in there, to be honest.’
‘How so?’
It occurs to me that Miles would have had a decent view of what happened in the shop from his position in the driver’s seat of the Land Rover. ‘Did you see who I was talking to in there?’
‘Yes, of course. Why?’
‘Um, is she the usual person who serves you?’
‘Yes. She and her husband run it, as far as I know. It’s always one or the other of them. I don’t think they employ anyone else. Was there a problem?’
‘No, nothing. Not at all.’
I want to ask him if he saw the girl too, but I don’t. I already know the answer.
‘Let’s get back to the house and have a look at those gutters,’ I say, forcing a smile. ‘Sorry about the wild goose chase. And for making you wait around.’
‘Never mind, lad. You were only trying to help someone.’
I make small talk on the journey back to the house and keep smiling. It’s the only way I can conceal the real conversation going on inside my head, which is as scary as hell. A rabid dog snarling at my ear.
What … the hell … is happening to me?
CHAPTER 24
Monday, 24 April 2017
Dear Sam,
See, I didn’t make you wait long. Not even twenty-four hours. It’s 1.35 p.m. Ruby and I have had our lunch and she’s disappeared to her bedroom to read a book.
Yes, you heard me right. It’s a novel she borrowed from Anna and, of course, that makes it far cooler than any book I could ever buy for her. She’s had her head stuck in it most of the day, which is great, as far as I’m concerned. I’d much rather she was doing that than playing on her tablet or watching TV, which is all she usually wants to do, especially since breaking her arm. It’s not like I can even suggest she goes out on her bike or anything at the moment.
Anyhow, it gives me a chance to carry on with what I was telling you last time. I left you on a cliffhanger regarding what happened with Rick on Saturday. It does still feel strange telling you – my daughter – such matters. But we’ve already established the need for me to be honest with you, so I won’t dwell on it. That said, things did get steamy and, while I’m happy to confide in you, I’m not going to go all Fifty Shades of Grey. That would be a step too far.
So what happened? Well, I told you last time how Rick and Anna came around and, after agreeing that she could stay for a sleepover, I invited him for dinner. The girls shared a pizza from the freezer, but I didn’t have much in to make a meal for the two of us. Certainly nothing up to the standard Rick had set with his delicious roast. So we ordered an Indian takeaway. Rick tried to pay, but I insisted, especially in light of the huge bunch of red and pink roses he’d given me when he returned with Anna’s sleepover things. Honestly, it was so big I had to spread the flowers across two vases: one on the dining table and the other next to the phone.
We ordered the food for 9.30 p.m.,
allowing plenty of time to get the girls away to bed. I did my best to make an occasion of it by laying the table and rooting out a nice bottle of wine.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Rick said, surveying the colourful spread of curry, rice, side dishes, poppadoms and chutneys, once I’d served up. ‘Who else is coming?’
‘Sorry? I, er—’
‘Joke. I just can’t believe how much you ordered.’
I felt my cheeks flush. ‘Oh, right. Didn’t want you going hungry, did I? Especially after you did such a good job in the garden.’
He squinted at me across the table. ‘So that’s what this is. I see. Buttering me up so I might do it again, are you?’
I grinned and let myself relax into the conversation. ‘Damn. You’ve found me out. And I thought I was being subtle. Wine?’
He looked at the bottle I was holding aloft with mock distrust. ‘Hmm. Not sure I should risk it. You might take advantage if I don’t stay in control of my faculties.’
‘All the more for me, then,’ I said, whipping the bottle away to fill my own glass.
‘Hold on. Let’s not be hasty. I’ll risk it.’
‘Are you sure?’ I replied, buoyed by the two large gin and tonics I’d had while Rick popped home for Anna’s night things. ‘I can’t promise I won’t take advantage.’
By the time we finished the food – well, as much as we could eat of it – the wine was almost empty too and we were flirting outrageously.
‘Shall I open another bottle?’ I asked, sharing the remnants of the first between our two glasses.
‘I was planning to drive back,’ Rick said. ‘Mind you, there’s always a taxi.’
Or nothing at all, I thought, only just stopping myself from saying as much. You don’t want to sound like a floozy, a shrinking part of my mind warned. Don’t hand it to him on a plate: men like a challenge. But the voice speaking these words was fast fading.
‘More wine it is,’ I said, heading to the kitchen to grab it.
I’d just returned to the table and poured each of us another glass when the home phone started to ring.
‘Hang on. I’d better just check who that is,’ I said, dashing over to have a look at the caller display.
‘Mum Mobile,’ it read. That got my attention, as my parents had left on a month-long trip to New Zealand just before Easter and I hadn’t heard a peep from them so far. I hadn’t expected to. They’re still very much in the ‘no news is good news’ camp and wouldn’t usually bother unless there was a problem. You know what they’re like, Sam. How many times a year did you used to see them: once, maybe twice? And usually it was us who drove the six-hour journey down south to their house, rather than the other way around.
Nothing has changed. They still think it’s permanently cold and rainy in the north of England. They haven’t given up hope that I’ll move south again one day, even though I’ve lived here since coming to university at eighteen, well over half my life. If anything, we actually hear from them less than we used to do. They always seem to be away on holiday – a cruise here, a tour there. And when they are at home, they’re busy socialising or going on day trips.
If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ve ever really known what to say to us since your death. Don’t get me wrong, they were devastated. You were their first grandchild and they loved you more than you know. But their way of dealing with bad things has always been to brush them under the carpet. Stiff upper lip and all that; finding the positive in the negative; trusting in God’s plan. In the depths of my grief, I was in no place to deal with that. None of it made any sense to me and I don’t think my behaviour made any sense to them. So some extra distance grew between us.
I digress. The point is that when I saw it was Mum phoning – unexpectedly and all the way from New Zealand – I had to answer. Or rather I tried to answer but, feeling the effects of the wine and the G&Ts, I somehow ended up knocking over the glass vase of roses I’d placed there.
‘Shit,’ I shouted, frozen in shock for a moment by the loud smashing sound and the cascade of water, petals and stems over the phone. Then I noticed it was still ringing. So I picked the cordless handset up from the base unit with my thumb and forefinger, shaking off bits of glass before holding it up to my ear. At least it was still working in spite of the flower water. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh, you’re there, darling. I thought I was going to get that awful machine.’
‘Mum. Is everything all right?’
Rick had appeared by this time and was standing in front of me, surveying the damage.
‘What happened?’ he mouthed.
I shrugged and pulled my best ‘I’m a clumsy idiot’ face as Mum talked into my ear and Rick signalled for me to go through to the lounge while he cleared it up for me.
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed back at him as I continued listening to Mum, who was saying something about how they’d been in an accident.
‘What kind of accident? What do you mean? Are you both all right?’
‘We’re fine, honestly. Nothing to worry about. It was a very minor coach crash.’
‘A coach crash? Oh my God. Where are you now? Where’s Dad? Is he okay?’
‘Calm down, Maria. I’m at the hospital, but I already said that we’re fine. I’m letting you know, that’s all.’
‘Mum, tell me what happened.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to do, Maria, but you keep interrupting.’ You remember Grandma, Sam, she’s can be quite direct when she wants to be.
She eventually explained that they’d booked themselves on a day trip around the capital city, Wellington, which had departed early that morning. About an hour into the trip, the coach had been in a collision with a lorry. It hadn’t been that serious, but several of the party – mainly pensioners, by the sound of things – had suffered minor injuries. Dad, who’d been in the coach’s toilet at the exact moment of the crash, had been thrown about in the small space and suffered a blow to the head and a few cuts and bruises. The doctors who’d checked him out thought he would be fine. But with it being a head injury, they wanted him to stay in hospital for twenty-four hours or so to keep an eye on him. It was all covered by their insurance, according to Mum, and she was hopeful they’d catch up with their travel itinerary in a couple of days. All the same, it was a shock.
Rick, who’d done a sterling job of tidying up my mess by the time I hung up, had managed to work out from my side of the conversation that there had been an accident. I brought him up to speed.
‘So your dad’s going to be all right?’
‘I think so. Mum had me worried for a minute, though.’
‘Was she injured at all?’
‘She just banged her knee. If Dad had been in his seat at the time, he’d have probably been fine too. Listen, thanks ever so much for clearing up my mess. I can’t believe I knocked over your lovely flowers. You must think I’m a right klutz. First the gravy and wine incident at your place; now this.’
‘Not to worry. I rescued most of the roses, but I’m afraid the vase is in the bin. Is the phone still working okay?’
‘It seemed to be when I was chatting to Mum. Why?’
Rick grimaced. ‘Quite a bit of water got into the base unit. I did my best, but the LED display has gone off. I think the answerphone has had it.’
‘Really? Oh, well. Mum will be pleased. She’s always hated leaving messages on there. As long as the phone still works, I’m not too bothered.’
I used it to call Rick’s mobile, to double check it was working, and it seemed fine, thank goodness.
‘I didn’t wake up the girls, did I? If they were asleep in the first place.’
‘No,’ Rick replied. ‘I checked on them and they were both zonked out.’
‘Are you sure they weren’t pretending?’
He nodded. ‘I double-checked. Where’s your vacuum, by the way? I did my best getting the glass up with the dustpan and brush, but it could do with a proper going over.’
Something about the
way Rick said this really turned me on. I guess I liked how he was taking care of me. Maybe it was something to do with the shock and relief of what I’d heard from Mum. Whatever the reason, I found myself grabbing hold of him and pulling him into what can only be described as a passionate embrace. It wasn’t long before that second bottle of wine was empty and we were rolling around on the lounge carpet like teenagers and, well, I’ll spare you the details, Sam.
All I’ll say is that we had sex. Me and that gorgeous hunk. And it was great. Beforehand, I had been a little nervous about being naked and intimate with someone new – especially a man in such good shape. I’d like to say I felt guilty, especially after what Dan had said earlier, but in truth I didn’t – at least not at that point. I got lost in the moment and enjoyed myself. The alcohol probably had something to do with it. I didn’t even think about the bits of glass that might still be on the floor near the phone. Not much, anyway. I certainly didn’t do anything about them.
You can remove your hands from in front of your eyes now, Sam.
The problem was we fell asleep in each other’s arms afterwards, lying on the couch by this stage, and next thing I knew it was 4.30 a.m.
‘Oops,’ I said, disentangling myself from Rick and picking up the pieces of clothing darted about the lounge.
I woke him up and he was every bit as anxious as I was for the girls not to find out.
‘I’ll get in the car and drive back,’ he said. ‘I should be safe now. It’s a good while since we finished the wine.’
‘No, don’t. You might wake them. Let’s sneak upstairs to bed.’
‘What?’
‘No, not together. The bed’s made up in the spare room. You go there first and I’ll follow a few minutes later to my room.’
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