‘Ah, another victim for the new girl. Far corner, Mr Roach. Next to the window.’
I wandered over, my mind trying to solve the abbreviation. I tried not to think of dismissal, or disaster, or even dismemberment, but it proved impossible. The desk looked empty. Just as I approached, a round face with curly blonde hair popped up from behind a partition. She gave me a sweet smile and told me to sit down on the seat next to her.
‘Morning, Vincent. How are you?’
‘Fine, good. Um, and you?’
‘Hungry. It’s only eleven but my stomach thinks it’s two.’
I was unsure what to say to that. She seemed wired. Maybe she wanted my packed lunch. One of her eyes was just a little off kilter. I found it very hard to decide which to look at, and my gaze flicked from one to the other. It made her appear both cute and vulnerable. I decided to focus at the lower centre of her forehead before she thought me insane too.
‘I know you, don’t I?’ she said.
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, from the bowling alley. I was there on Sunday, five lanes up from you. My name’s Clara. You got four strikes in a row with the first four balls. We all stopped, in case you hit the fifth one.’
‘I don’t pay much attention to what’s happening around me.’
I said it deadpan, so I did indeed sound bonkers. Very smooth. If she wasn’t going to sack me before, she would wish she could after that.
‘Ah, okay. Well, you should say hello next time. I don’t know many people there and it’s always nice to pretend I have friends.’
She smiled but there was a hint of truth in the joke.
‘I will do.’
‘Great. That made me sound sad.’ She emitted a high-pitched laugh after she spoke. I noticed she was as nervous as I was.
‘Anyway, we’re updating the Death In Service beneficiaries and you haven’t replied to our letters. You have your mother on the form at the moment, but I understand she passed away.’
DIS – Death In Service. I laughed out loud, which surprised us both. I remembered the correspondence they’d sent; in fact, I could see the letter in my mind on the table by the door. I wondered how she knew my mum was dead. Although I supposed it wasn’t a secret.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I kept forgetting.’
‘Who would you like to put? We can do the paperwork here.’
I looked up at the ceiling as I considered my options. It didn’t take long. Short of giving it to charity, that only left my wayward brother.
‘Frank,’ I said. ‘Frank Roach, my brother.’
I signed the bottom of the form and stood to leave.
‘See you at bowling, Vincent.’
‘Definitely, we’ll talk then.’
After five paces, I turned to have another look. I had an unusual urge to know if she wanted to go to dinner with me. She could have what she liked out of my lunch box. She had answered her phone by then and was talking to the caller. I could see her querying a small compact mirror and rubbing her forehead with a frown. I decided to leave while I was still ahead.
Chapter 15
1991 – Age: 25
Unusually, the company Christmas party happened in early January. There had been some kind of administrative balls-up and, due to the size of the workforce, they could only find a place with the capacity after the New Year. I’d never been to one before.
The stories I’d heard were enough to put me off. It was strange, but the drunken shenanigans seemed to be almost a badge of honour amongst the production staff. The thought of letting myself down somehow and having to arrive on Monday morning to judging stares made me sweat with dread. However, this time, Clara was going.
The suspicion she liked me had been confirmed tenfold by the fact she found it necessary to come down to the factory floor. I’d not seen her there before. Yet I would find her smiley face behind me on regular occasions. Much to the amusement of my friends. It seems strange saying that, but I’d become a popular guy.
It appeared me and bowling were like peas and carrots. I wasn’t sure why we clicked, maybe it was focus. Someone showed me how to hook the ball and I did it first time. I learnt fast and became the best in the team and had the third highest average in the league. I was still the same person, but success made me welcome.
My simple qualities of reliability, soberness and consistency were respected and admired. At school, they were weaknesses - things to be ridiculed. Clara was there every week. I even picked her up in my car a few times.
We were awkward around each other, with occasional long silences that both of us struggled to break. Other moments we laughed, often over nothing. When we said our goodbyes, I could see her battling with what she wanted to say but never did. I hoped to ask her for a date too. We were like boxers, circling in the ring in the first round. I wasn’t worried as even I could tell contact was inevitable.
I offered to pick Clara up for the party but she said she would meet me there. I was all of a jitter beforehand and decided to walk to the hotel, even though it would take nearly an hour. As per usual, I had stupid worrying thoughts about there not being any parking spaces or my car breaking down on the way.
It was a clear night and my breath steamed in front of me. I couldn’t decide if I was nervous because it would be a room full of strangers - I generally was in social situations - or if it was because I hoped things would happen between us. The physical activity helped and I spent the journey inventing topics to discuss. There were people everywhere when I arrived, and the crowd outside was already in high spirits. More than a few seemed to have made a head start on the booze. I took a quiet moment and walked in.
My throat tickled from the march, so I looked for somewhere to get a drink and made my way through the throng. Having purchased new clothes, I strode in, hoping to disguise my nervousness. I’d found that if you bought nice outfits, many people don’t see past them to the person inside. The bar area heaved with enthusiastic drinkers and was unappealing.
‘Vincent, glad you came.’ Scott ambled over and beamed at me.
‘Hiya, busy, isn’t it?’
‘Sure is. We’ll be getting stuck into the office totty later. Best we get some Dutch courage in us. What do you want?’
‘I’ll get the first one, mate.’
He shouted ‘lager’ at me with a toothy grin. I sneaked a quick peek to see if Clara had arrived and he laughed. I’d have made a poor spy.
‘Looking for anyone in particular?’
‘Just checking to see if your mum’s turned up.’
He roared with amusement and sprayed me with the remnants of his current drink. I shocked myself. When did I become so cheeky?
The barman served me quicker than expected. That was more energy wasted fretting over something that never happened. I'd had a weird nightmare a few days before where I imagined standing at the bar for hours as everyone else got served before me. When I returned to Clara, she was being successfully chatted up by George Clooney. He then proceeded to take both drinks off me and put a ten pound note in my top jacket pocket.
I gave Scott a lifeless lager and sipped my bottle of Kaliber. It was the first alcoholic drink I’d had in ages, even if it only registered 0.5% strength. I placed my hand over the label to fool would be mickey takers. It tasted like it had been filtered through a pair of dirty underpants. However, the grimace dropped from my face the moment I saw Clara walk in.
It felt like looking at a relative of the Clara I knew. She wore more make-up than usual and a blue dress with frills to her knees. The halter neck top was struggling to contain her cleavage. If you wanted to be cruel, you could have described Clara as short and fat. She wasn’t much over five feet tall. She had strong arms too, maybe from all the bowling; her ball weighed the same as mine and she bowled hard.
I thought of her as comely, more pocket rocket than flighty deer. I realised her shape was similar to Sara’s. Perhaps I had a type. The crowd cleared for a moment and I noticed her high heels and calves. She l
ooked simply beautiful. My skin shrank as she teetered towards me.
Standing next to me, she wasn’t much shorter than I was. It was a little unsettling and my mouth filled with saliva.
‘You got here then?’
Scott, who was still beside me, exploded with laughter.
‘I’ll catch you lovebirds later.’
Clara looked up at me and I felt her hand take mine and squeeze. ‘Yes, I appear to have managed that. A drink would be nice.’
I grinned too and knew the night would be special.
Annoyingly, and typically, it took ages to get served. I even sneaked a look back to make sure that git Clooney hadn’t made his move.
I got her the pint of Fosters she asked for and one for myself too. A few long sips lubricated my tongue and soon we were having fun. The party passed in a blur. We spent the whole evening together, gliding round the room and chatting to different groups.
She professed to not being much of a drinker either and we moved onto cokes or lime and sodas. When it was just me and her we giggled and occasionally flesh met. Just a brush of the arm, or a fleeting touch. Near the end of the night, they played a few love songs and dancers became pairs and smooched.
‘Let’s dance?’ I said.
‘I don’t dance much. I don’t think I’m very good at it.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘Won’t we look like arseholes then?’
We chuckled like children at that.
‘It’ll be fun. No one’s looking at us.’
‘That’s what my mum used to say when I was young and didn’t want to get changed on the beach. I’m sure she was wrong about that too.’
Her eyes were wide and her fear genuine.
‘Come on, Clara.’
I put my hand behind her back and guided her towards the dance floor. We sought the safety of the centre. She fit into my arms like she belonged there and, with increasing confidence, we moved in unison. It was more rocking from side to side than anything else. I couldn’t help but recall the muscular movements Sara used to make.
As we relaxed into it, I was aware of a light pressure on my bum. Then Scott laughed as he skated past with the director’s PA and out of sight. Then the weight was returned and Clara placed her face close to mine. When we kissed, the room disappeared and we were on our own. It had been a perfect night.
It’s strange how I’d always worried about upcoming events. Those sleepless nights trying to play through every scenario and eventuality was pointless. Taking a risk can lead to the best of things. So it was with me.
Chapter 16
1992 – Age: 26
I'd never been a big fan of politics, but even I’d heard of Margaret Thatcher letting people buy their own council house. It seemed everyone was at it, so I became involved too. It was a complicated and stressful procedure. I kept thinking something would go wrong. It didn’t, and, why would it? It’s not like there was a chain and I wasn’t actually moving.
Any break from the norm seemed to trigger anxiety in me. This time though, I had Clara to share the experience with. She didn’t know what she was doing either, but we got through it together.
She came one afternoon to celebrate ‘completion’ as the solicitor called it. I’d adopted a weird habit since the day before when I received the confirmation letter. I’d taken to walking through the rooms and marvelling at the fact I owned everything. With the discount they gave me, I was able to clear the balance, just over twenty thousand - with my savings. Peterborough’s housing market was way off London’s levels and it’s not like I lived in a desirable part either.
There was still a fair amount of money left too. Scott said I worked hard and played light. Clara was the same. We were having a Chinese tonight. She loved takeaways, and that was as extravagant as she got. She treated me then, even though she earned less than half what I did.
Our relationship was like an icebreaker on an Arctic Sea. Steady, consistent and reliable. We’d get to our destination at our own speed. We had sex for the first time about three months after the party. She insisted on getting steaming drunk and turning out the lights. It was an unusual feeling, being the experienced one. I liked that I was the only man she’d known intimately.
It got better as we relaxed although it was very different to how it was with Sara. I pushed away any thoughts of comparisons with her and our time in Cromer. I knew it wasn’t fair. Nine years had gone by, I needed to let go. I couldn’t decide if being twenty-six suited me or not. I did know I felt much happier than I had in a long time.
Clara came barrelling through the back door with a sweaty face.
‘My lord, did you get a set meal for five by mistake?’
‘The guy in the shop gave me extra for free. You know how he has a soft spot for me.’
Hard spot more like but I let it go. I slid the plates out of the oven where I’d put them to keep warm. Clara laughed her head off the first time I did that, thinking it weird. I wasn’t sure what was so funny as she used the microwave to heat her non-microwavable plates up. She spread the food out on the table. Five people was an underestimate. We had a lot of routines like that. We were like a married couple before we’d tied the knot. Before I’d even asked her.
She was in high spirits.
‘I can’t believe you’re a homeowner, Vinnie. That’s so exciting.’
‘Hard to believe, you mean.’
‘No, you work long hours and deserve it. Is having a mortgage scary?’
She wasn't aware of the finer points of my financial situation. I hadn’t told her before as I worried it would fall through. For a while I wondered if it was because I didn’t want her to know. It wasn’t though. I wanted to impress her.’
‘Here’s the final paperwork and the monthly payments.’
Clara stared hard at the sheet of paper, Chinese food wedged between her teeth. The chicken ball dropped onto her plate with an unhealthy splodge as the amounts hit home.
‘It says balance outstanding zero and monthly payment zero.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You own it outright?’
‘Yep, every dusty brick and flaking piece of paint.’
‘How?’
‘The government paid nearly half and I covered the rest from all the overtime I’ve done over the years. I didn’t even know what I was saving it for.’
‘Vinnie, you’re so clever. Now you have something that nobody can take away. Yours forever.’
‘Ours forever.’
She looked at me with her mouth opening and closing. It wasn’t a great look to be honest, but I was swept along by the emotion and going on one knee seemed to be the most natural thing in the world.
‘Will you marry me?’
‘Oh my God, of course.’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got a ring.’
‘Fuck the ring, Vincent. You’ve got a house.’
She kissed me with a fervent desire that no amount of alcohol had been able to resurrect so far. I was dragged upstairs so fast I jarred my shoulder on the banister and my knee on numerous steps.
She ripped my T-shirt pulling it over my head. She pushed me on the bed and she mounted me, eyes boring into mine. I realised the lights were still on as she moaned and slid with an intensity I would never have believed she possessed. It was bloody amazing.
My mind was all over the place, but my body knew its destination. I tried to get her to slow down so my lack of control wouldn’t disappoint.
‘The food will be cold.’
She gave me a demonic grin.
‘We can eat it between sex sessions.’
Chapter 17
1993 – Age: 27
My brother’s timing, for once, was bad. Yet again I hadn’t heard from him for a long time. He would never be a candidate for letter writer of the year; in fact, I wasn’t sure he could write. It was a shame he was so poor at keeping in touch, or, failing that, it was a pity he didn’t return a few weeks before he did.
The simple notion that someone wanted to marry her invigorated Clara. It lit a fire under our bed and gave her a burst of confidence that brought about a startling difference to her normal demeanour. She wasn’t a bridezilla as such, but she couldn’t stop telling people about it. Then inviting them to the wedding, despite us not having set the date.
She would display the ring we purchased together and then talk. Some of what came out of her mouth was true, however a lot of it she made up on the spot. Either that or, more likely, she spent most of her waking hours imagining the wonderful life we'd have and just talked about one of those scenarios. I didn’t worry too much and assumed she would calm down in time.
She wanted to have children. Lots of them. ‘I will be the best housewife and mother in the world,’ she would say. Okay, it was a little scary. I would provide for them, amongst other things. I realised that I hadn’t thought about what a woman might want from life. Although I hadn’t paid my own existence much attention either.
The security of owning a house had given Clara access to her dreams of a perfect married life. As we got to know each other I found her time at school had been similar to mine. Whereas I immersed myself in books, she seemed to have fantasised and created different lives for herself.
That didn’t make her crazy, I hoped. Far from it, in fact. Now she was so close to her plans she became eminently sensible. The ring cost less than the thick leather jacket she had bought me the previous Christmas. Clara saved money for a rainy day like a squirrel planning for Armageddon.
Despite inviting total strangers, an extravagant wedding wasn’t required, and she was happy to wear a relative’s old dress to cut costs. She wasn’t superstitious as Aunt Tessa was killed by a tram in Blackpool. Although I don’t think she was wearing the dress at the time.
The problem came from me. I didn’t have much understanding of what a wedding involved. I did know I wanted Frank there. He was all the family I had left and would be my best man. He was the only person from my childhood that knew me well. The bit of my childhood I remembered anyway. Having him there would be an anchor to the past so I knew who I was.
Fifty Years of Fear Page 6