by Steve Hester
CHAPTER 7
Jennifer Gibson really didn't deserve what happened to her. She lived a very simple and uncomplicated life in the suburb of Bolton. She regularly visited her mum in her care home, always bringing the staff a little present or two as a thank you. She worked hard, tried to be as friendly as possible and kept the tiny flat she had tidy. She was in every way a nice normal and friendly human being but despite all her best efforts not to, she really hated Caroline.
Some people exist in life to be winners. They get all the good luck, they get all the glory. They're the ones that find wallets full of tenners on payday after the accounting department and the bank have made errors in their favours. They're the ones who have the good looks and are always confident and are always right. They have lots of friends and are always seen in the best bars with them. They're always funny. They never make mistakes.
Most sensible folks hate people like this.
Then there is the other end of the spectrum. The ones who end up copping for the double shift because the winner can't make it to work and is a best friend of the boss so they don't get into trouble. The people who get splashed by the cabs the winners are riding in as they walk home in the rain. The ones who get stung for bank charges after their cancelled TV service doesn't get the memo and keeps billing you for money you don't have and don't owe. The people whose sole purpose in life is to be the butt of existences joke.
Caroline had called in saying she couldn't come into work yesterday because her agent had got her a modelling job. Jennifer and Caroline's boss, a fat letch who seemed to permanently be sweating even if he was stuck in a snow drift in the dead of winter, had taken the call and joked that he hoped it was lingerie shoot ‘ha ha’. Jennifer had overheard it and felt her skin crawl.
Sure enough her boss had come over to her desk and dumped a selection of Caroline's work on it and informed her that she'd be working late. That had been last night and tonight hadn't been much better.
Caroline had called up to tell her about the shoot. It was wonderful, she'd said, there were make-up artists and big lights and they were talking about a permanent contract! This could be the start of something huge, wasn't that amazing??
Jennifer had just gritted her teeth. She wanted to bitch about being left in the lurch with double the workload. She wanted to scream down the phone and tell Caroline to stop being such an airhead. She wanted to slam the phone down, slap her boss and stomp out of the office never to return. But she didn't.
Instead she just nodded and kept her responses short. “Uh-huh.... Oh wow... Yeah... Sounds good...”
She'd heard of a trick that telephonists used where they smiled and it put across more of a friendly air to the conversation. The person on the other need of the line couldn’t see it of course but they could usually tell by the operator’s voice and it put them at ease. The smile Jennifer had been wearing when Caroline called was in serious danger of splitting her head in two.
When it had ended she sat by herself for a few minutes fiddling with her pen and staring at the pile of work in her in tray, her eyes unfocused and slightly watery. A laugh shook her from her reverie and she looked across the small office where her boss was laughing with Sandra by the kitchenette. He was standing way too close to her thought Jennifer.
Jennifer was never going to be the target of her boss's wandering hands and she found at that moment that she was a little annoyed about it. Jennifer had been cursed by life to have the kind of body that is usually associated with a “bubbly” personality. She'd been big for as long as she could remember and certainly before she finished primary school. It had dogged her adult life at every turn. She'd had her heart broken several times when the men she'd fallen for had run off after a Caroline and now had resigned herself to living alone with a black and white tom cat called Musty.
She'd tried the gym but never got far as she couldn't keep the momentum going and fell back into bad eating habits so she'd tried various diets. Nothing had worked either as the lure of cake and takeaway to help salve the loneliness was always too strong.
She looked back at her boss with Sandra. He had his hand pressed very lightly on her back in a way that hinted at physical contact but could never be proved in court. She saw him laugh again and shook herself out of her little daydream. No, even if she were desperate she would never be THAT desperate!!
The hours passed, the clock on the office wall had ticked round to 5:30 and the other staff members were slowly all going home. Jennifer sat there ploughing away at the mountain until she felt like she'd made enough headway and checked the clock again. It was 7:30. Her boss had long since gone out with Sandra, probably for what he called a “development meeting” at the local pub and her only company now was the cleaner.
Well, sod it! She thought. It's late now; I can't be expected to keep going at all hours now can I?
She finished off the current folder, put it into the out tray and picked up her things. She said bye to the cleaner on the way out and headed out into the street. He boss would indeed go mad at the work left unfinished but by then it was too late to do anything about it.
Outside the wind had blown up carrying with it a chill that cut through Jennifer's thick duffle coat and thicker body till it bored into her bones. The bus was sat at its lay-by about 150 yards away. Jennifer wasn't built for running, she was built for sitting on the couch and eating chocolate in family sized bars, but she gave it a damn good go! Unfortunately it wasn't good enough.
As she got within ten yards of the bus its indicator came on and she could hear to sound of the engine revving up. She tried to yell but the mix of the freezing cold and her general lack of fitness meant that all that came out of her mouth was a hoarse wheezing punctuated by gasps for air.
By the time she had reached the bus stop the bus itself was already getting up to speed and was slowly vanishing into the traffic. She stomped and cursed as best she could and checked the plastic covered notice board stuck on the shelter. Much to her disappointment there hadn't been a change to the timetable and the next bus was due in about forty-five minutes. She put her hand out on the shelter in a way that would suggest frustration to any onlooker whilst hiding the fact that she was starting to feel light headed from the run and needed to hold onto something before she keeled over.
After catching her breath she started the long walk home. Her rucksack was full of paperwork and started to dig into her shoulder. It would make a lot of sense to put it across both shoulders but lessons learned at school that hadn't been unlearnt said that it would be uncool. Jennifer had never been cool, cool had always been something that had happened to other people but here and now she was determined to try and be as cool as possible, even if she was also very cold. The wind was biting now and cutting through her in a relentless way that made it clear the two of them were going to be very close friends for the next hour or so.
Long stretches of Victorian stone buildings lead down the hill and into Bolton town centre. From here she could see the lights wink in and out as they played hide and seek behind the chimneys further on. The only good thing she could see about the next hour was going to be this hill, at least this way gravity was going to be on her side for a short while. Missing the bus had also meant that she'd missed the connecting bus from the station, the one that went up another hill to her house.
“Well,” she said to herself “at least it's not raining.”
There was a moment’s pause before she slyly cocked an eye skywards. It was mostly clear and the few clouds that were out just seemed to be lounging round the night sky the same way a cat lounges on a sofa. There didn't seem to be any pressing need to get up and do anything so energetic as rain.
Jennifer allowed herself a brief smile. At least she'd won that battle, she thought. The sound of a Diesel engine echoed across the street and a bus roared past her, almost empty. As she watched it disappear down the hill she noted the number on the back. It was the one she needed. There must have been a delay somewhere and now this one was
trying to make up for lost time.
She stopped and panted. The day was just getting worse. A small tear started to form in Jennifer's eye and she quickly wiped it away. Not here. Not in the street. Save it for when no one can see you, girl. She raised her head and started back down the hill wearing a mask of grim determination.
In the centre she had caught a taxi to her house. The driver hadn't, against all expectation, said a word to her. He'd been too busy talking to his friend on the phone. A white ear bud and cable snaked out of one ear and into the phone on his lap. She wanted to say something about it but her ingrained Britishness stopped her so instead she busied herself staring out of the window and pretending that she hadn't wanted any human interaction in the first place.
By the time Jennifer opened her front door the tears were ready to flow. Her rucksack was dumped in one corner of the lounge and she collapsed on to the couch in tears. All she wanted was to be noticed! Everyone just seemed to regard her as a piece of the furniture and either used her like one or just ignored her and right now she was reaching breaking point. Even the cab driver had ignored her! Usually if someone's giving you money you owe them a little of your time!
Musty sauntered in from the kitchen and started to rub up against Jennifer's legs. She reached down, her hand clutching a near sodden handkerchief and stroked him behind the ears.
“Well at least someone loves me.” She said.
Before too long Musty had his face buried in a bowl of cat food and was chasing it around the linoleum covered kitchen floor licking it clean as he went. Jennifer had changed into her night clothes which comprised of an old, once black t-shirt whose elastic had given up the ghost at the same time that the colour had faded to a dark grey and a pair of pink bottoms with a laughing kitten motif. She'd dragged her duvet in from her bedroom and tucked herself under it on the couch watching the TV.
The news was full of all the usual stuff. Political scandals featuring a government minister who had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, fighting in the Middle East, the president of the United States was on a good will tour of Australia and then it handed over to the local news. The main headline there had been the sudden power cut to the centre of Manchester that had happened a couple of hours earlier had disrupted the mad evening commute and had no obvious cause.
It had only been out for a couple of minutes and a representative from one of the electric companies had been on saying how it mysterious it was and how, in a roundabout way, he knew even less about it that the woman interviewing him. Jennifer sighed before breaking off a block of chocolate with one hand and channel hopping with the other.
Cats, despite what popular stories will tell you, are not in any way psychic. They have no more contact with the supernatural than any other animal. The thing is that animals haven't got the blinkered view of reality that humans have. They're not distracted by work, drinking, paying bills or any host of things that keep people occupied and blind to the realities of the world around them. Because of this they don't need mediums to contact the other side, they could do it naturally and because of this, before the doorbell rang, Musty was already growling with his ears flattened against the side of his head.
Jennifer looked up at the old doorbell box mounted above the living room door. She never got visitors at this time of night.... She never got visitors full stop now she thought about it. She felt under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat her mother had brought her back from holiday several years before as a moving in present. It was a perfectly good weapon spoiled only be being coloured bright blue and having donkeys painted on it.
Musty bolted into the kitchen. There was a gap in the facia board under one of the cupboards beneath the sink. He slunk under and sat as far back into the corner as he could, hissing and growling as he did. Jennifer watched him for a moment and then made her way downstairs. She went into the communal hallway and saw a shadowy figure through the frosted glass in the door. The outline of his silhouette was tinted yellow by the streetlights across the road.
She made her way slowly across the tiled floor and onto the doormat.
“Yes?” She said.
“Hello? Hi! My cars died on me just round the corner. I saw your light on from the street. I hate to ask this but my mobiles died on me too, I was wondering if I could just use your phone for a minute or so just to call the AA? Can't see any phone boxes round here you see!”
The voice sounded young, innocent and very sincere. Jennifer checked the chain was on and opened the door.
The man was pretty much what she was expecting. He looked like he was in his late twenties, pretty good looking and wearing a decent suit. He tilted his head and waved limply at her through the crack.
“I'm really sorry to ask, it's just been one of those days! Everything's gone wrong and now this!” He said.
Jennifer felt a twinge of sympathy. She knew exactly how he felt. There was a small nagging doubt though still at the back of her mind but she chose to ignore it. The man was easily half her size and had arms that looked like pipe cleaners! Unless he was one of those sinewy sportsmen, he looked like she could snap him in half but still…
“Do you have any I.D.?” she asked.
He fumbled in his pockets for a moment and then passed his wallet through the gap in the door. Jennifer flipped it open and checked the driver’s license that read ‘Michael Hoffman’. The photo checked out too but the picture didn’t have the same eyes that seemed to draw you in.
She closed the door momentarily and unhooked the chain, hiding the bat behind the door where he couldn't see it.
“There's no phone down here but there's one in my flat.” She said.
“Heh, didn't realise these were flats, looks like a house from the outside.” said the stranger.
“It was at one point.” said Jennifer. “Come in.”
She held the door open and the stranger walked in. He took the time to wipe his feet, she noticed.
“Thank you so much! Thank you! You don't know what kind of day I've had!”
“I think I might.” She replied faint smile. He was actually pretty cute she thought.
“My flats upstairs on the left, flat 3. You go up, I'll lock the door.”
“Up here is it?” He said.
“Yeah and to the left.”
She watched him go up the stairs and closed the main door. She knew full well that she shouldn't be letting strange men in, especially this late, but there was something so vulnerable about him, vulnerable and slightly sad. She wanted to wrap him up and mother him for some reason. All in all, she thought, he was looked like a very sympathetic man.
As she walked up the stairs it never occurred to her to pick up the bat again but even if she had it wouldn't have helped. She pushed open the door to her flat.
“Phones in the corner. Would you like a cup of tea?” She said. As last words go it wasn't the best but it was better than some. The door clicked shut.
She really didn't deserve what happened to her.