by Nikki Ashton
“No actually,” snapped Bets, shoving a glass of wine at him. “If you must know I’ve been ringing around old school friends to try to find Kerry.”
“Oh, sorry,” whispered Tom, slightly colouring up. “No news then?”
Bets shook her head. “No, not one hint of anyone seeing her since before Christmas. So what do you want Tom?” Bets sat down and couldn’t help but smile at him as he so obviously wanted a favour.
“I shouldn’t ask, what with Kerry being missing and everything, but you’re right I could do with your help. Isabel is back tomorrow, but she’s got some cousin of hers staying. Des. I think his name is. Well, I really would like to spend some time with her, alone. So I was wondering whether you would come to Manchester with me, and sort of entertain Des for the evening.” Suddenly, a cushion hit Tom directly.
“What do you think I am, some cheap escort girl?” blasted Bets indignantly.
“No, no, not at all. I’m going to take us all for dinner, but I didn’t want him to be sat in the middle of us playing gooseberry.” Tom was now embarrassed. He didn't want Bets to think that he wanted her to be some sort of concubine for the evening; he’d never ask her to do that.
“I don’t know Tom. I really should be here in case Kerry calls. We are all staying by the telephone as much as possible.”
“I know Charlotte told me, but she was the one that told me to ask you. She said that you could divert your home calls to your mobile, and there was no point you both having a weekend of worry.”
Bets shook her head as she took a sip from her wine. “So you’ve already asked Charlotte and when she said no you thought of me?”
“Honestly it wasn’t like that, I mentioned to her that I could do with some help, and she said ‘ask Bets,’ so here I am. I understand though if you’d rather stay nearby."
Bets was silent for a few moments as she thought about Tom’s proposition. “I suppose Charlotte is right. I could divert my calls. What time would we be back?”
“Well that’s the thing,” said Tom dropping his head. “We’d be staying overnight. Isabel has a two bed roomed apartment at the docks and Des has already offered to sleep on the sofa.” Tom smiled at her, willing her to agree.
“Let me think about it,” she replied at last. “Can I let you know tomorrow?”
Tom nodded. “Sure, but if it helps to clinch the deal dinner is at Yang Sing.”
Bets licked her lips at the thought of one of the area’s best Chinese restaurants. “Like I said I’ll think about it. It's just the situation with Kerry, and to be honest I’m still a little concerned about your sister.”
Tom nodded once more. “I know it must be awful, not knowing where Kerry is, and as for Charlotte I think you’re right. She’s not over that Irish bloke, no matter what she might say. I caught her watching River Dance yesterday.”
Bets let out a snort of laughter. “You idiot, I watched Sesame Street this morning, but it doesn’t mean I’m pining for a ten feet tall, yellow bloke that looks like Big Bird.”
“So, if it’s not the Irish bloke, why are you worried about her?” He asked indignantly.
“Well yes the Irish bloke I admit, but it’s not her watching River Dance that has worried me. Before this Kerry thing, she was just too perky, and according to her ‘so over him’, it just didn’t ring true.”
“Now I think about it; I did notice the box for Gone with the Wind on the floor, next to the T.V.” Tom sighed.
A hand shot to Bets’ mouth. “Oh my God she’s more depressed than I thought.”
In her home, Charlotte was indeed watching with Gone with the Wind; again. Tom was right; she was upset about Niall, but that wasn’t why she had been watching River Dance. Charlotte had been crying over Scarlett and Rhett as Tom had arrived, and knowing that he would have scolded her for watching it for the umpteenth time, she had switched the film off; only for River Dance to be showing. As the music sounded to signal Scarlett looking forward to another day, Charlotte decided to make herself something to eat. The rumbling in her tummy reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. She had worried about Kerry and Kelvin since she’d spoken to Kelvin earlier in day. She was probably more worried about Kelvin than Kerry. Kerry would be hurting, but was capable of taking good care of herself, especially as she had Esme with her, but Kelvin was a different kettle of fish. He was driving around until all hours looking for them. Charlotte thought that it was useless, Kerry wasn’t going to show herself if she didn’t want to be found, but she knew there was no point in telling Kelvin that; it made him feel useful.
Charlotte opened the fridge door to take out some food. Petula stood next to her feet, rubbing herself up and down Charlotte’s leg. Once she had finished feeding Petula, she concentrated on herself, making a cheese sandwich.
She was just about to sit and eat her food, when the doorbell rang. Putting down her plate Charlotte sighed, wondering whether to pretend that she wasn’t in; but then it struck her. It could be Kerry, so she rushed to open it. Once she had pulled it open she was shocked beyond words at the face peering at her through the darkness.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in then?” Charlotte didn’t say anything she just stood aside to let her visitor into the hall. “Shall I go through, or are we going to stay here?” She nodded, still silent, following them into the lounge. “You’ve decorated. It's nice,” he said.
She now found the power of speech. “It’s been three years Grant, what did you expect, Miss Haversham’s drawing room?” Grant looked blankly at her, and then she remembered that he wasn’t very well read. “Excuse my French, but what the fuck are you doing here?” she yelled.
Charlotte was angry now, yet surprisingly her heart wasn’t pounding as she had always imagined it would. She looked at him closely. He was a little heavier and definitely more stylish, with a few specks of grey in his hair, and he was just as handsome, but she felt nothing, nothing except rage.
“I don’t know really,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “Niall had been talking about you, and I just thought that it would be nice to catch up.
Now her heart started thudding in her chest, and she felt herself blush at the mention of his name; the bastard. “Okay, so what did he have to say about me?” She had to know. She needed to find out whether he was pining for her and whether he’d had a miserable Christmas like her, then she remembered that he’d gone home for Christmas, therefore, whatever Grant told her would be old news.
“Nothing much, he mentioned something about hiding behind a bin with your chest on show,” he said, nonchalantly looking round the room.
Charlotte felt sick, had he been laughing at her with Grant? “I suppose that you had a good old laugh about it then?” Grant didn’t reply, but Charlotte needed to know more. “Did he go home for Christmas then?” she asked, trying to sound disinterested; she indicated for Grant to sit down.
“Nah, Ingrid wasn’t very well, so they stayed here. Anyway what are we talking about him for, what have you been up to?”
Charlotte wanted to scream at him, never mind about me, what did Niall say, did he enjoy kissing me, is there any chance that Ingrid could be dying? However, she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly let Grant know how she felt about Niall, in any case she wanted to know what the hell he was doing here.
“So,” he insisted, interrupting her thoughts, “what have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you?”
Charlotte looked at him open mouthed. He made it sound like they were friends who hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks. “Well actually I’ve been getting on with my life since you shat on me from a great height,” she spat at him.
Grant lowered his head and played with his watch, one that Charlotte recognised as a present from herself. “Yeah I’m sorry about that. Niall tells me that you’re doing okay for yourself at Palmers, well done.”
There’s that name again, she thought, feeling a light crimson colour creeping up her neck. “Look Grant, I really can’t do
this small talk thing, particularly with a dick head, good for nothing, two timing, piece of shit like you. Now if you don’t mind I think that you’d better leave.” Charlotte stood up, hoping to prompt Grant to do the same, but he didn’t so she flopped back down again wishing that she had slammed the door in his face; and what possessed her to offer him a seat? Maybe a part of her wanted him to stay so that she could talk about Niall, but when she looked at the arrogant tilt to his head, she thought smacking him in the face was preferable.
“Come on Charlotte,” he whispered. “Can’t we behave like adults over this? I am truly sorry about how it finished, so can we just talk for a while?”
Charlotte looked into his big blue eyes and, despite her better judgement, her anger subsided. She stood up. “Do you want a beer or something; if you’re driving I could make you a cup of tea?”
“Beer would be great. I'm staying at Craig’s, you remember Craig don’t you?”
“Hmm, I do,” muttered Charlotte, recalling Craig of the wandering hands. “I’ll get you that beer.” She flounced through to the kitchen determined to make him leave once he’d finished his drink.
The next morning Charlotte woke with a pounding head, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She groaned as she rubbed her temples, glad that there was no work this week. She lay perfectly still, trying not to move as it made her feel queasy when she did; her thoughts returning to the previous evening. How dare he turn up like that, all smiles and let’s talk, the cheek of him. Bracing herself, Charlotte moved her head slowly to look for the clock, eight o’clock, much too early to get up just yet. Then the full horror struck her. Charlotte didn’t know whether to be sick or scream, she let out a tiny gasp as she pushed herself down into the bed, hoping against hope that it would swallow her up and take her away from this nightmare. Very slowly she edged her legs out of the bed and slid herself from under the duvet and crept out of the bedroom to the bathroom.
She locked the door behind her and plonked herself down onto the toilet seat. “Oh God,” she cried. “I’m naked!” Charlotte hung her head as she continued to wail quietly.
After about ten minutes of self-hatred, Charlotte stood up slowly and glanced in the mirror. If she had hoped that last night had been a dream, the deep red mark on her neck proved otherwise. Charlotte wanted to scream, but decided that it would hurt her head, so moaned quietly instead. She picked her bathrobe from the back of the door and skulked downstairs, gently closing the lounge door behind her. Picking up the telephone she dialled Bet’s number.
“This had better be good whoever you are.” Bets spoke through gritted teeth. Like her eyes, they didn’t tend to open before nine o’clock when she wasn’t working.
“Bets it’s me, please don’t shout at me, but I’ve done something terrible, the worse thing ever, and I need your help to get me out of it.” Charlotte glanced toward the door sure that she had heard a noise outside it.
“Why are you whispering?” Bets asked, her eyes and teeth now slowly opening.
“Because he’s here.”
“Who is? What on earth is the matter, are you being burgled?” Bets sat up in bed, now getting worried for her friend.
“No, I’m not being burgled, but I have had my virginity stolen. You'll never guess who I pulled last night?” Charlotte hissed, a hot sweat creeping all over her body.
Bets laughed hysterically. “I’ve told you before, not having sex for nearly two years doesn’t make your hymen grow back. Blimey I’ve just realised what you said, you pulled someone, and had sex. Oh my goodness, where did you meet him. I didn’t realise you were going out last night, are you sure you didn’t dream it?” Bets laughed heartily.
“Shut up and I’ll tell you!” cried Charlotte, indignantly. “Oh God, I wish I had dreamt it. No, Grant is here.” Charlotte held the receiver away from her ear.
“What? What do you mean, Grant is there? Don’t you dare tell me that you shagged that slimy bastard again?” Bets screamed. “You didn't did you?” she asked, her voice quieter now and her eyes were now fully open. “Charlotte please tell me why?”
“I don’t know. He just turned up. I tried to get rid of him, but one beer led to another; which led to…well sex!”
“I knew that I should have come around when Tom told me that you were watching Gone with the Wind,” groaned Bets.
Charlotte’s tone was now slightly breezier. “Oh he came around and asked you then?”
“Yes and stop changing the subject. What are you going to do, where is he now?” Bets scrambled out of bed and started to try to get dressed using one hand.
“He’s in my bed, on his old side, as if the last three years have never happened. Oh Bets, what am I going to do? After all the beer he drank, he must be totally zonked out. I can remember how hard it used to be to wake him up.”
Bets suddenly stopped pulling on her jeans, anxious for some gossip. “So how did he manage it then, you know after all that booze?”
“Elizabeth, stop it, there’s a time and a place to talk about it, but right now I need your help to get rid of him!” Charlotte ran a hand through her hair and pulled out a twiglet, what had they been doing she wondered?
“You do want to get rid of him then?” Bets asked, concerned that the last three years of helping to mend Charlotte’s broken heart would all be for nothing.
“Of course I do. I’d forgotten how he grinds his teeth during sex and how he does that funny shrug thing with his left shoulder, just as he’s about to climax. Please get over here quick with some ideas. Please Bets,” Charlotte pleaded, twisting the belt of her robe in her hand. "He's wearing the same underpants,” she added as an afterthought, hoping to convince Bets even more that she needed her help.
“Urgh, dirty pig!” Bets screamed.
“No, I think that they’ve been washed, it’s just that they are wearing a little thin and are now rather see-through. Oh God, I’m going to be sick, please hurry.” The line went dead.
Bets rapped quietly on the lounge window, somehow knowing that was where Charlotte would be hiding. Within seconds the front door was flung open and a rather grey looking Charlotte stared solemnly at her.
“God, you look sexy. I'm surprised that he hasn’t ravaged you again this morning,” giggled Bets, eyeing Charlotte up and down.
“If I remember rightly he wasn’t very partial to sick breath.” Charlotte rubbed her face, and led Bets to her sanctuary, where she lay back on the sofa.
“What’s that!” groaned Bets, pointing to Charlotte’s neck.
“The brand of the devil.” Charlotte pulled a cushion over her face and groaned.
“If you were that drunk how can you be so sure that you actually did it? That doesn’t prove anything.” Bets stuck a finger out in the direction of Charlotte’s neck. “I mean there may have been some warming up exercises, but did he actually get on the pitch to play?” Bets picked up a magazine and started to flick through it, sure that this probably wasn’t as gruesome as Charlotte seemed to think.
“Look, it may have been two years but I think I can remember what it feels like. As I say, it has been two years so one does feel slightly different in certain places.”
Now convinced Bets threw down the magazine and stood up, a determined look on her face. “Okay, I think we should go for the jugular, tell him straight, and tell him that he has to go and that last night was a mistake. You could also use this to your advantage.”
“Err, excuse me, but how is having sex with the devil going to be to my advantage?”
“Revenge Charlotte, this is your time to get it. You don’t want anyone to find out about this do you?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, I do not! Ooh that hurts, but no you’re right I don’t,” she whispered.
“Unless of course, you want Paddy O’Shea to find out, you know to make him jealous?” Bets asked, earnestly.
“No, he’s the last person that I want to find out,” Charlotte answered forlornly.
“Well
we have to make sure that he doesn’t tell anyone, but how we do that I don’t know, sorry.” Bets sat down again.
Charlotte buried her head in her hands; Bets always did this, came up with a good idea, but then didn’t have a clue how to put it into action. Just at that moment they heard a thudding sound above them, obviously the monster from the deep was rising. Charlotte pulled her robe closer around her and tightened the belt.
“Right, wish me luck, listen you better go to the kitchen, he may come in here to use the telephone or something.”
Bets nodded sagely. “Good idea, I don’t want to see him, if I do I may just have to kill him.”
Charlotte pushed open the bedroom door, fully expecting Grant to be getting dressed, but he wasn’t, He was still lying on the bed propped up on pillows, reading Charlotte’s magazine.
“Hey, it says here in my horoscope that I’m going to make an old acquaintance this week, huh. How spooky is that?” He smiled up at Charlotte, quite ignorant of the frosty glare on her face.
Charlotte moved over to the chair by the window and sat upon the edge of it, pulling the robe over her knees. She could see the newly married couple from next door taking their dog out, laughing and joking as they walked along together. She wondered why she couldn’t find someone who loved her like that. Maybe Grant had changed, and they could have a dog and take it for walks, but as she looked across to see him squeezing a spot on his arm, she knew that he hadn’t changed at all. He’d breezed in last night without the courtesy of a telephone call, made himself at home and then seduced her, and even that had been the same – boring; he hadn’t even brought her a bottle of wine as a peace offering.
“Look Grant, I don’t know what your plans are, but I really would like you to go now.” She hadn’t thought that the words would come so easily, but she wanted him out of her life for the last time.
“Yeah, whatever doll. I’ll come back later when you’ve tidied yourself up a bit. Perhaps you could cook me a bit of tea before I head home to Manchester,” he replied as he threw his legs out of the bed and into his pants and trousers, standing to zip them up.