“We grew up.”
“No, that’s the common excuse. We became cowards, that’s what happened. We all became scared of the shadows of what might lurk around the corner, and forgot to be excited about all the good things that were definitely there.”
“Yes,” I reply. “I remember my mum once said to me, once, when I was younger and had started to worry about things… She said, ‘instead of going on holiday and worrying ‘What if I get sick and am ill’, why not think, ‘what if I have the best holiday of my life, and feel wonderful the whole holiday?’ She taught me that whenever you have a negative ‘what if?’ moment, that you just turn it around and make it a more positive opposite. What if I go on holiday and meet the girl of my dreams? What if I see the most wonderful and beautiful sunset on the beach I’ve ever seen? What if I scuba dive on a coral reef and find a gold coin dropped by a pirate? What if it’s worth millions? And by turning something so scary around, we can make the positive so attractive, it’s hard to turn anything down!”
“Exactly!” Caroline says, banging the table with her hand. “That’s exactly what we need. It’s just a bloody shame your mum isn’t still alive. We could do with her on the Cabinet!”
“To my mum!” I say, filling up both our glasses from the second bottle of champagne we’d already opened. “And to tomorrow, and all it offers, and not what it threatens!”
“Exactly!” Caroline shouts again. “Here’s to tomorrow!”
We finish our glasses. By now, I’ve got the bite. I want more.
I stand up.
“I’m getting some more. I’ve got a crate of beer, or there’s a few bottles of whisky and rum or vodka, I think. What do fancy?”
“Apart from you?” she says.
I frown at her, but feel a slight tingle of excitement as I realise what she has actually said. But then I decide it’s perhaps best to ignore it.
“That wasn’t an answer. So I’ll get a selection.”
I come back a few minutes later with a few bottles under my arms and a small box of lagers.
Caroline points at the rum, and I pour her a glass, and take the lid off the bottle of beer on the side of the table.
She drinks the glass of rum, finishing it off. I drink my bottle of beer.
“I wasn’t joking, James.” Caroline eventually says. “You fascinate me. I don’t know… I don’t know if it’s because you’re just so bloody good looking, or because you’re good and easy to talk to, or if it’s because you’re my first time traveller.” She laughs. “Or if it’s because I keep catching you looking at my breasts!”
At which point, I almost fall off my chair. Helped a little, I suppose, by the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve drunk tonight.
“Ah… sorry… I… eh… had hoped you hadn’t noticed.”
“But I have. And my nipples have got really hard, knowing that you have…”
I cough.
I look at her. She’s looking straight back.
“I’m sorry, James… I think I’m getting quite drunk. And you know what? It’s quite wonderful. This whole evening… it’s been quite wonderful. But, I think… it’s probably best if I get home to bed. Because if I stay, I will almost certainly want to kiss you. And that… well, that would be highly insensitive of me, given that you’ve got a wife and a lover already, both called Sarah, and each of whom you love just as much as the other.”
“Thank you. Perhaps it would be best…” I agree. “Things are complicated enough. The last thing I need just now is to meet some attractive woman with wonderful breasts who wants to sleep with me, when I’m drunk, all alone in a strange new world, and when the last time I kissed a woman was over eight years ago!”
We both stare at each other, and then laugh.
The attraction is electric. I do want her. And for some strange reason, I sense that she wants me too.
But, and this is the thing, she’s right. And we both know it.
“How will you get home?” I ask.
“My car will take me there. I’m too drunk to drive, but I haven’t really driven in a long time. Robert drives me everywhere nowadays.”
“Robert?”
“My husband. It was his name.”
“Mine’s called Sarah.”
I watch as Caroline lifts herself from her chair across to her wheelchair.
“May I use the facilities, before I go?” she asks.
“Obviously, you may, and not the least because you’re paying for them for me!”
“Thank you. I know where it is. I’ve been here before several times. In fact, the last time I was here was when I had dinner with Angela Merkel from Germany. Just a few months ago before the latest lock-in!”
Caroline is away for a few minutes. I’m left on the patio by myself with a million thoughts, and hormones, going around my system at the same time.
I’m drunk. I’m alone. I’m bloody lost. Depressed. A little scared. Frustrated. Angry.
And now confused.
Normally I would never ever think of sleeping with another woman, ever. NEVER! But a thought does occur to me.
The first doubt I have had since I began to fight to find my way back to Sarah.
Am I a fool?
Is the truth, actually, that I’m never going to find her again? Is the universe not trying to give me a message!?
I turn, and Caroline is watching me.
“You really love her, don’t you?” she asks.
I nod.
“Then I shall try to help you find her. This is for you.”
She holds up a brown envelope.
“It’s what I wanted to give you this evening, and one of the reasons I came over. I just didn’t want to give it to you earlier, once I’d met you. Once we’d started to talk. Because by then, I didn’t think it would be right.”
“Why?” I ask, a little worried.
“You’re best to read it tomorrow morning when you wake up. I’ll leave it by the door on the floor. You’ll understand when you read it.”
She spins her chair around and is about to leave, but thinks twice about it. She turns back.
“James Quinn. You are a special man. I am highly attracted to you, I must admit. But, I say that only because I am a good judge of character. I’m known for it. So, when I say that to you now, that YOU are a good man, and are nothing like the other James that all the evidence seems to point to, then you must believe it. You must not give up. James. It’s not about, ‘What if, you do, and you never find her?’, it’s definitely, ‘What if you don’t give up, what if you do find her, and what if you spend the rest of your life with her? And what if she is waiting for you to come home, now?’ ”
Caroline turns around in her wheelchair, and wheels herself away.
A few minutes later, I hear the door in the corridor close.
When I hear the door close behind her, an immense feeling of loneliness descends upon me.
This evening has been an unexpected joy. For the first time in ages I have met someone new and got on with them. Enormously.
I can’t deny, my attraction to her has been huge.
Her company was welcome at a time when I am probably at the most vulnerable I have been in a long time.
I’m tired.
And yes, I am drunk.
I almost wish she had not gone, but it was right that she did.
Picking up another fresh bottle of beer and flicking it open, I walk slowly through the apartment to the door.
On the floor, as promised, is a brown envelope.
I pick it up…
Chapter Thirty Five
Being human
.
Sliding down against the wall, I study the envelope in my hand.
Instinctively, I know it has something to do with Sarah. I asked Caroline to do some research, and it would seem that she already has.
The envelope contains the results.
My heart starts to race, and my spirits lift.
I could be seconds away from finding o
ut where Sarah is.
Tomorrow night, if all goes well, I may be able to hold her in my arms again…
And I can play football with my son!
I rip the letter open and pull out its contents, discarding the envelope on the floor.
It’s four folded pieces of paper.
I unfold them and examine the first page.
It’s an address, and a telephone number, typed on two lines.
The second page is a birth certificate.
It’s for a boy called Kenneth Quinn.
My heart almost stops, and I can’t stop staring at it.
My son.
And Sarah has given him my name.
I am one hundred percent, legally, the father!
I hold up the third piece of paper and examine it.
It’s a photocopy of a passport.
I immediately recognise Sarah’s photograph. She’s beautiful. Amazing. Not a day older than the last time I saw her.
The last page is a copy of the passport page for Kenneth.
Kenneth Quinn.
Born January 5th 2014
Which makes him seven years old now...
I study his face on the photograph and memorise every pixel.
He looks just like Sarah. And at the moment he’s in his cute phase. Adorable.
Later, his jaw will square off, and he’ll look less like an angel, and some of my hormones might kick in. Then he’ll look more like me.
My wee boy!
A few tears pour down my face.
I may be drunk, but I shall never forget this moment for the rest of my life.
And as soon as I can, I’m going to frame this passport copy!
Holding the picture of Sarah alongside the picture of Kenneth, I compare the faces. Definitely a mummy’s boy!
Then, almost as an afterthought, my eyes scan the other details on Sarah’s passport page.
Something’s wrong.
They’ve spelt her last name wrong.
It's not Turnstone.
It should be Turnstone.
But here…they’ve written her name as Sarah Williams.
It’s a mistake…
The wrong person!
But when I study her photograph one more time, the truth dawns, and in that moment the world falls out from underneath me and I am cast into the depths of hell.
Sara Turnstone is married.
--------------------
Everything… all this is for nothing!
What the hell am I doing here?
Why has fate thrown me into the future, only to find out that Sarah is married?
I’ve lost everything!
Dropping the pieces of paper on the floor, I pick up the beer from the ground beside me, and drink it down in one.
Fuck!
Sarah!!!!!
I feel myself sliding down the wall, and when the ground comes up to meet me, I curl into a ball and close my eyes.
Fuck!
I close my eyes.
And scream.
--------------------
“James? Are you okay? Please, let me in…”
I hear a voice. A woman’s voice… Is it Sarah?
Has she come to me?
I open my eyes and try to sit up.
“James, Please open the door!”
I pull myself up using the wall, and stagger the few steps to the door, flicking open the lock, pulling it open.
Outside, it isn’t Sarah.
It’s Caroline.
“I’m sorry, I left my purse in the toilet… I’m an idiot I know… but it’s got my key fob for the car, and I need it to get home…”
I see her look down at the papers scattered on the floor, and the empty bottle of beer, and then at my eyes, red with anguish, and tears, and alcohol.
“Can I come in?” she asks, gently, her words a little slurred. Drunk like me.
I nod, don’t speak, and step backwards so she can manoeuvre herself through the opening. I close the door, and sink back to the ground.
“You read what I gave you?” she asks.
A bloody stupid question. She can see that I did.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Honestly?” she asks back.
“I know you’re a politician, but try…” I say, knowing that she probably didn’t deserve that as soon as I said it.
“I was going to,… but then the moment you opened the door, things changed. I was instantly attracted to you. And I wanted to get to know you. And then, as soon as we started speaking, I felt it was mutual,… and then my own instincts took over. I wanted to enjoy your company. By then I realised that it wasn’t the best time to tell you…”
“Why not?” I ask, leaning against the door behind me.
“Because I’m a woman. I’m lonely. Sexually frustrated. And haven’t met someone like you in years. And I knew that given the mood you were in when I got here, that letting you find out that your wife was married to someone else, would give me an unfair advantage. It would make you feel even worse. And then I could take advantage of you.”
She turns in her wheelchair and pushes herself away from me and through to the bathroom. A moment later she returns, her bag in her lap.
“But you didn’t take advantage of me…” I point out.
“I may be a very direct woman, someone who speaks her mind, and normally gets what I want, but tonight I didn’t want you to sleep with me as a substitute for someone else. I wanted you to want me for me!”
I laugh, wiping away the tears from my face.
“Your timing is either perfect, or terrible. I can’t decide.” I reply, picking up the debris on the floor, and walking through to the lounge and dropping it on the table.
“Come over here, Caroline, there’s more drinking to be done.”
She looks at me, scanning my face for answers. I don’t think she finds any.
“Are you sure?” she enquires.
“Yes, right now I could do with the company. But I warn you, I don’t know what will happen next. The way I feel right now, and given the cards that the bloody ‘universe’ has just dealt me, I can’t guarantee that I won’t try to take advantage of you…”
“Did you hear what I said just a minute ago, James.”
“I did, Caroline, and honestly, if I do find myself ripping your clothes off and ravishing you, it will be because I am actually, unfortunately, very attracted to you too.”
“What makes you think that I will want to let you rip my clothes off?” she asks, her face flushing slightly, I think more from arousal than from the alcohol or embarrassment.
“Ah…” I say, returning from the fridge with a bottle of Sancerre, “Having been warned of my ungentlemanly intentions, I will assume, my dearest Caroline, that if you decide to stay, that you will in fact, be prepared to allow me to remove your clothes, and kiss your body all over, from head to toe, and stopping, perhaps, for quite a lot of enjoyable exploration in the middle. Somewhere. Soft. And wherever there is something beautiful to kiss, or suck, or caress…”
I drink my large glass of expensive white wine down in one. I know I am heading for oblivion, but perhaps I am already there. Oblivion has already found me. I am lost.
Again, that terrible feeling… Pressing down on me…. Wiggling around within me…
I refill my glass and look back over at Caroline.
“So, what will it be, Caroline, dearest… will you drink with me some more, and discuss the fates that have been dealt to us both, or would you rather I immediately pour this beautiful wine over your breasts… and lick it all off? Slowly, or passionately, as you would prefer or desire…?” I pause, blink away a wave of alcohol as it washes over me, then finish the sentence. “Or will you leave, and regret it tomorrow?”
The words that come from my mouth feel rather alien, perhaps more forward, more direct than I would normally utter,… but… fuck it… I don’t care.
I see Caroline breathe deeply a few times.
Alread
y I know what her choice will be.
Her skin, and her outward arousal, has betrayed her even before she opens her mouth.
She moves towards me.
She draws up her wheelchair beside the chair, and lifts herself out and over onto the sofa, where she starts to remove her coat.
I sit down beside her. Give her her wine glass.
Looking deeply into my eyes, and holding the glass in one hand, she opens the buttons on her blouse with the other, and slips it off her shoulders.
Her hand disappears behind her back, and unclips her bra, which, under pressure from her large breasts, pops forward, and falls down, but catches on her engorged nipples.
She catches the bra with her fingers as she moves it around to her chest, and pulls it free.
Then she lifts the glass of wine above her chest, and pours half the glass over her breasts.
The rest she drinks.
Then she lies back against the sofa, closes her eyes, and says,
“Help yourself.”
Chapter Thirty Six
Guilt
.
Frankly, it’s hard to believe my eyes. Caroline is beautiful.
The curves and shape and size of her breasts are perfect. Wonderful.
I blink. Finish my third glass of wine from our now second bottle of Sancerre, and move closer to Caroline on the couch.
Her eyes are closed. Waiting for me.
Am I Dead? Page 24