DEAD END
Andrew Hamilton
First published in paperback by
Michael Terence Publishing in 2017
www.mtp.agency
Copyright © 2017 Andrew Hamilton
Andrew Hamilton has asserted his right to be identified as
the author of this work in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
ISBN 9781549897757
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers
Cover image
Copyright © Alexandre Nunes
Cover design
Copyright © 2017 Michael Terence Publishing
DEAD END
Andrew Hamilton
1
Zoe was lying back soaking in a bath full of bubbles, high enough to hide the taps. Her toes searched for the hot water and she soon felt a wave of heat drift along her body and up to her shoulders. A large glass of Sauvignon blanc was perched precariously on the narrow bath top edge, as was her mobile. It was just after 7 pm which meant she had now gone twenty days without receiving one of those calls. The house was a bit of a fortress and with Bob due home soon, she felt more relaxed than she had done in months. She sipped and savoured the wine and sighed, but, just then, her phone started to vibrate. Fumbling, she lost grip of the glass which crashed to the floor and scattered across the tiles, glistening like shards of ice. She grabbed her phone, just managing to avoid dropping it into the bath and twisted the screen into view. ‘Unknown Number,’ flashed and it continued to vibrate. She knew she wasn’t supposed to answer it but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Please make it one of those annoying PPI fuckers,” she said out loud. She really wanted to keep the clock in her head ticking for now but hoped one day she would be able to stop counting altogether. She answered, “Hello.” Courtesy of a clever piece of technology, a robotic voice answered, “Nice bath?”
She launched the phone from her hand as if it had suddenly turned into a cockroach. The casing shattered on contact with the wall and body of the phone crashed to the floor otherwise intact. Leaping from the bath she grabbed her dressing gown and ran across the glass covered floor, oblivious of the debris piercing the soles of her feet. Her bloody speckled footprints left a trail to the front door. It was locked and secure and she then moved around the house checking windows, blinds, and curtains were closed. Was he in the house? How could he be? She stood in the living room listening. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she had an instant migraine. She looked down and was literally able to retrace her steps on the pristine carpet. She started to shake. She wasn’t cold, it was just fear.
Her phone was again vibrating and scuttling across the bathroom floor. The ‘cockroach’ was lying face down and, with each buzz, it crawled closer to the bath, pushing its way past tiny chips of glass. She carefully stepped onto the cold tiles making sure she didn’t increase her current injury status. Reaching down, she flipped it over without lifting it. The screen was cracked but she was relieved to see the name ‘Diane’ flashing on the screen and picked the phone from the floor.
“Hello! Hi!” she gasped. “Thank fuck it’s you, I’ve just had another call.”
“Shit! I thought we were just about over all that. I’ll come round,” Diane replied.
“He knew I was in a bath, for fuck sake!”
“Have you checked the doors and windows?”
“Of course I have, I’m not fucking stupid,” she snapped. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“You're fine, I’m heading round now. Phone me in two minutes once I get connected to Bluetooth.”
“So what did he say?” Diane could hear her words echoing at the other end as she drove.
“You sound as if you are racing, slow down, I’m fine.”
“I’ll be with you in ten minutes just stay on the phone till I get there.”
“Nice bath!”
“Eh?”
“That’s what he said. Nice bath. Nothing else.”
Diane couldn’t think of anything to say that would help. How could he have known that? There wasn’t much point in saying it was a lucky guess. She didn’t believe that so why should Zoe.
“Maybe it was a lucky guess,” proffered Diane weakly.
“Oh Yeh! Maybe it’s Derren fucking Brown.”
“Sorry! Just trying to say something positive.”
“When you get in through the gates keep your eyes peeled,“ said Zoe.
“I will. I have a nice surprise for him if he is hanging about.”
“You shouldn’t be carrying that about in your car.”
“I will be aiming for his balls if he shows his face.”
“How good would that be?” said Zoe.
“Yeh! I can just see him lying on the ground having an ‘epi’ and pissing his pants.”
Zoe laughed and was grinning widely. Then she remembered this wasn’t a funny situation.
Diane entered the code and pulled through the impressive spiked metal gates. She checked her mirror to make sure no one came in or went out. A perfectly trimmed, tiny hedgerow lined the curve of the monobloc drive. The trees had been pruned high as part of a plan to deter intruders. The open expanse of the garden lawn was enclosed by an ancient stone wall blocking prying eyes from the outside world.
Skidding to a halt Diane jumped out the Range Rover Vogue with a confident air. Confidence was a powerful tool in business and personal safety. She was never shy unless it suited her needs. At 5’4” she made herself stand taller and scanned the surroundings. A blonde bob, black trouser suit, four-inch black heels and a white silk blouse gave her the powerful look she felt made all the difference for business, especially when the husband was footing the bill. She got on great with the wives also despite her looks. There was rarely any jealousy. She felt that women were attracted to her and she enjoyed that.
“All clear,” she said into her phone which was on speaker.
Zoe hung up and opened the door. Her head popped round the door frame like a meerkat and then disappeared back in. Diane closed and locked the door behind her and the two friends hugged for a few moments without speaking.
Diane cupped the large glass of Rioja in both hands and savoured the bouquet. They sipped as they sat at the kitchen island. Diane loved this kitchen and always sold the idea of such a room being the heart of a family and the best place to socialise, mostly because she believed it. A combination of solid walnut worktops, white high gloss units and deep red splashbacks was something she was proud of. A touch of brushed chrome finished the room off nicely. She hadn’t charged them for the design, instead, she had lumped a premium onto Mrs Campbell, her next customer. She wasn’t at all surprised that the kitchen, which had been fitted over a year previously, was still in immaculate condition. Zoe didn’t cook. Zoe didn’t do much of anything. She had married Bob, who was 18 years older and enjoyed a fine lifestyle as a consequence.
“How could he have known I was in the bath?” said Zoe. Her face was serious and she needed a sensible answer but one which wouldn’t scare her to death.
“I've been trying to think of the possibilities,” replied Diane. “All joking apart, we can’t discount a lucky guess.”
“I hope you have something better than that?”
“No! Wait and think about it. He didn’t say you were in a bath. You might have been out the bath for a while and the message would still have worked. Or, it’s seven o’clock on a Friday night. You could easily just be getting ready to go out for a meal when hubby gets home.”
“You think so? That is w
hat I was doing, after all. Oh! I hope you are right.”
“How could he possibly see in?” Diane asked herself. “This place has CCTV all round so he didn’t get into the grounds. And, he would need a drone to get a view over the wall.”
“A drone! Oh shit, I didn’t think of that.”
“Too noisy, I think,” said Diane. “And anyway, they can’t see through curtains and blinds.”
“We agree that he can’t be in the house, don’t we?” Zoe looked pleadingly at her best friend.
“Yeah! He can’t get in or out without being spotted, so forget that idea. Also, a camera inside the house is unlikely and he would definitely have used it before now,” said, Diane.
“Yep! He has mentioned things I have done when out and about, shopping and the like, but never anything here before.”
“What about Bob?” asked Diane. “Is he due home?”
“I’ve left a voicemail and ‘whatsapped’ him but he is probably out in the sticks somewhere.”
“Thanks, for coming over,” said Zoe “I feel much better for the chat, you are so sensible with this stuff.”
Diane stood up “Need a pee!” she announced and headed off towards the bathroom.
“Use the one in my bedroom, there’s glass all over the place, just close your eyes to the mess.”
Diane noticed the blood on the carpet and called to Zoe “Get the first-aid kit out, be back in a tick.”
Zoe’s bedroom was just that. A double bed with all her clothes scattered around the room. Diane knew they didn’t sleep together that often, ‘birthdays and anniversaries’ Bob often joked, but Diane knew that wasn’t a joke. Bob had his own room and he knew better than to wake Zoe on the way to work. Diane shook her head and raised her eyes, slightly amused, as she pictured Bob tiptoeing out of his room and downstairs to shower before heading for work. She even had him take his work clothes, for the next day, down to the shower room on the night before, so he didn’t have to come back upstairs. She had always been a self-centred cow but they had grown up together, with similar, shitty backgrounds and were more like sisters than friends. At the age of five they sat next to each other on their first day at school and now, thirty years later, they still, always sat close together without thinking about it.
Diane had a towel across her lap and held Zoe’s foot while wiping the sole gently.
“Christ!” Zoe yelped.
“We could do with some tweezer,” said Diane and she reached over to the kit.
“ Maybe I should go to the hospital?”
“A and E, on a Friday evening?” Diane looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “’I’ll sort it; a couple of more pieces, some Savlon, and few plasters should do it.”
Zoe lay back on the sofa. She loved someone, anyone, massaging her feet. Diane watched her and knew she was having a ’moment’ and moved her fingers through her toes. Nothing to do with the glass; just a bit of indulgence. Diane felt slightly turned on, but this was her adopted sister and she soon got back to the tweezers.
“I think I am getting wrinkles?“ said Zoe, who didn’t open her eyes.
Diane knew what answer was expected. She looked at her face; beautiful smooth unblemished skin. Zoe could easily get away with no make-up but Diane loved makeup and it loved her. She always wished her skin could be like Zoe’s but she was happy with her looks, her life and her love; Carla.
“Yep! Botox alert!”
“Bitch!” Zoe kept her eyes closed and smiled broadly.
“How’s things with you and Bob?”
“When you say ‘how’s things’, do you mean are we sleeping together?”
“Well?”
“Once in a while.”
“You're too young to be without it, love is great but a bit of lust is the icing.”
“I know. We’ll be fine, honest.”
“I’ll get the wine, you sit where you are.”
Diane knew what Zoe was like. She had her first boyfriend at the age of thirteen. ‘Had’, being the operative word. On her twenty-first birthday, they were dancing together like lovers just to get attention. Zoe was watching a guy who was watching her. She kissed Diane, a long luscious kiss. This always worked and he eventually built up enough courage to ask her to dance. By the end of the night, she had conquered him and sent him on his way. Diane had asked who he was and Zoe had just said she didn’t have a name. She just referred to him ‘golden balls’. When Diane had mentioned that he looked nothing like Beckham, Zoe had just laughed and agreed. Diane remembered her words. ‘Number fifty on my twenty-first..nailed it.”
Zoe took the extra large glass of Sauvignon. Diane had its twin in red. Bob would be home at some point and she realised that at this rate they wouldn’t be going out for dinner as arranged.
“Bob’s such a lovely guy.” It was more of a question than a statement from Diane.
“Bob is great and I have a great life but there’s…”
“There’s?”
”Something missing.”
“You knew what you were getting into, an older man and all that.”
“He is keen enough and more than able but he’s…”
“He’s?”
“A bit too missionary.”
“Not like you to be backward at coming forward?”
“I know, I just try and go with what he wants.”
“Watch some porn with him, give him some ideas?”
”Can we talk about something else, how was your day?” Zoe gave a cheeky smile full of false interest.
“Ok! Have it your way. I know you are never going to change, I just want you to be happy.”
“I am! I am!” she replied.
“You fancy some food?”
“You thinking of using your stunning kitchen?” quipped Diane.
“No chance. I would, but Bob hates mess.”
“More like you are a lazy cow?”
Both of them burst out laughing; the wine was kicking in and the phone call had been temporarily forgotten. Diane’s phone bleeped and she looked at the text.
“Going to have to love and leave you, my lover awaits,” said Diane.
“You can’t go, too much wine, you’ll get caught.”
“I’ll get a taxi and pick up the car in the morning, nice and early,” she added. “You be fine if I go?”
“Yeah! Panic over, just need to think about who it might be, so many to choose from over the years.”
A few minutes later Diane was in the taxi heading home.
Zoe watched through the curtains until the taxi had gone and the gates had fully closed. She sipped at her glass and then she realised her phone was, once again, vibrating.
2
Bob took the hard hat and slid it onto his bald head.
“Health and Safety and all that,” said Dario. “New customers expect it so let’s impress.”
“It's you who will need a hard hat if this goes wrong,” replied Bob.
Bob took the hat off and sat it on the table. The two men stood next to each other. Bob could see that Dario had a bit of a bald patch developing but didn't mention it. Dario was vain: he had a bit of the small man syndrome and next to Bob he was even smaller. Bob had been a rugby player in his day and was still fit, often chipping in, loading and unloading trucks when the need arose. Dario was, more often than not, AWOL when a labourer was required.
Bob looked around the new office accommodation; large open spaced portacabins, quality second-hand furniture and new pictures, still covered in bubble wrap waiting to be hung. The place needed a clean and there was the ubiquitous phallic symbol drawn on the dust covered window. Bob got a cloth and removed it. The site was a bit remote and they knew that phone signals in the area were erratic but the phone provider had promised that masts were being ‘upgraded’ and that coverage would soon be ‘guaranteed’. It was three acres of hard standing and ideal for the type of storage they needed. Barriers, cones, lights, heavy vehicles, all the toys required to run a Traffic Management company. They w
eren't quite at full speed due to the move but they had ongoing work, orders in the books and ‘promises’ of big money contracts. The only aspect that didn't suit Bob was the parking arrangements. He loved his cars and preferred to have them next to the office rather than the large shared parking area. There were several factory units and yards with lots of comings and goings. He had asked Dario to get the area next to the office tarmaced but he said it would need to be a cash job or it would cost a fortune. Bob had decided to leave it to a later date.
There was also the issue of the neighbouring opencast coal mine. It was near enough and noisy enough to be a nuisance but Dario had explained that it was a ten-year project and in a couple of years it would have crawled away across the land and eventually be out with both sight and hearing. The yard would by then be a more valuable asset without its presence.
They were expecting Charlie Smith, contracts manager for Western Water. He was responsible for awarding contracts to tendering companies and was particularly fond of a bit of ‘cake’. Bob checked his watch once again.
“We’re fine. Good to go, as they say,” said Dario. He had dealt with Smith before and knew what was required. Bob would have been happier sitting at home but he felt he had to meet Smith to see who he was dealing with, especially as he was handing over a sizeable sum. Dario preferred to sort these things alone, the less Bob knew, the better, he thought.
“Maybe better if you give me the ‘cake’ before he arrives?” suggested Dario
“Cake?” Thought it was a bribe we needed not a bloody Victoria Sponge?” Bob knew exactly what ‘cake’' meant and in a small way was having a dig at Dario.
“Bob, please, leave this to me, just give me the envelope. I’ll deal with him.”
Bob had built-up the company over two decades and was an old-fashioned boss; having time for everyone who worked for him. The company had been a bit of a tortoise, trundling along, building a healthy profit. It gave Bob an affluent lifestyle and his staff the chance to earn decent money at a place they wanted to work and a boss they liked and maybe even loved. He met Dario at a wild, weekend corporate invite at the Hydro. They were very different people but just somehow got on from the start. Soon after, Dario had joined the company as New Business Manager. That was four years ago and he had managed to double turnover in the first eighteen months. Dario liked to deal with the difficult side of the business, the underbelly. This suited Bob, he knew the business inside out but was happy to play the ostrich when it came to passing out brown envelopes.
Dead End Page 1