Four Steps

by Wendy Hudson

  She had told him she was going away so this only confirmed her accusation that he never listened to her.

  “Message three: Lori, please don’t be like this. We’re both adults here aren’t we? I hit a crappy round on the course this afternoon, I was so distracted…”

  Delete. Was he kidding?

  “Message four: Lori, you need to…” Delete.

  “Message five: Lori, why are you…” Delete.

  The next two messages were also Andrew, getting more and more flustered that she hadn’t called back. She was pretty certain he was drunk in them both. It was his own doing. If he’d paid attention he would have known she’d be unreachable this weekend, saving himself the childish tantrum he’d finally worked himself up to in his last message.

  Well, he could stew. His barrage of messages and lack of thought that she might just need some time to think had well and truly nailed the coffin containing their relationship shut.

  “Message eight: Hey, sweetie, it’s Stella. I know you’re away and won’t get this until late tonight, but I just wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you and I hope that mountain air helped clear your head and give you some perspective. I’ve got court tomorrow afternoon, but it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, so expect me on your doorstep around six. Make sure there’s wine. Love you, bye.”

  Smiling at her best friend’s presumptuousness, she was happy that at least one person listened to her. Well, two now if she included Alex.

  Alex! She suddenly remembered the voicemail on her mobile and scrambled through the layers she’d just taken off to find her phone.

  “You have one new message. Message one: Hey Lori. It’s Alex. Um, so, I know you’re still driving, at least I hope you are and not just ignoring my call.” Lori chuckled hearing Alex’s nervous laugh “Or maybe you gave me a fake number. Damn that would be disappointing, and a little embarrassing given how awkward I’m being right now. Anyway, I wanted to say again what a great weekend I had and I hope you get home safely. Maybe you could give me a call sometime in the week? Okay. So, hopefully speak to you soon. Bye.”

  Lori smiled all the way to the shower. Her thoughts of the weekend and Alex running through her head as the powerful spray pounded her tired muscles with hot water.

  She wrapped thick towels around her head and body and then grabbed her mobile from the hall before falling exhausted onto her bed. It was after midnight, so probably too late to call and, besides, she was tired to the bone.

  Deciding to save her first call to Alex until the following day and wanting to let Stella know she was home okay, she instead sent a couple of texts so neither would worry.

  Hey Alex, that’s me home and mud free at last! Thought I’d put you out of your misery, you have the right number! Can’t say I’m not disappointed you waited a whole 2 hours after you got home to call though…ha-ha! Anyway, I’ll call you tomorrow. Sleep well. Lori x

  Stella, you’re a sweetheart. Thanks for your message. It made up for the previous seven I got from Andrew. Anyway, we can dissect that tomorrow if you want, but I’d much rather tell you about my interesting weekend and the person I shared it with! Bring food x

  She set her alarm and was about to put the phone on the nightstand when it pinged back at her twice in quick succession.

  Phew! Glad you’re home safely and I didn’t just leave that voicemail for Jim Smith in Manchester. Looking forward to chatting tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Alex x PS. You’re right, two hours of dialling and hanging up again is clearly too long. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you again! X

  Tease! I’m intrigued. Sod food, I’ll bring extra wine. S x

  Laughing at the pair of them, her mind started going over the events of the weekend again. Meeting Alex had been unexpected, but she couldn’t deny it had made the trip better than she could have imagined. She thought of Andrew, the messages, his anger towards her. She tried imagining what he was doing right now and let her hand drift to his empty side of the bed.

  She didn’t need the light to see all the things surrounding her that held memories of their past seven years together. The photos of them, pink cheeked and excited, about to do their first black run together in the Alps. There was her favourite one of Andrew in the early days, windswept, tanned, and handsome, tugging at the jib line, and grinning her way on their sail around the Greek Islands. A small, carved box held shells and pieces of coral from every beach they’d ever been to. Even the lamp on her bedside table had come from an antique shop in Italy. She’d fallen in love with the lamp and he had gone back to get it for her as a surprise.

  Feeling the loss in the pit of her stomach she knew she would miss him for a while to come. She didn’t relish the idea of dealing with Andrew and the fallout of their relationship, but it had to be a priority until everything was sorted. Lori wasn’t a cruel person and he was hurting. They shared a past and he deserved her time and understanding. Hopefully they could be grown up about it and maybe find a way to help each other move on, or at least not do anything to make things more difficult than they needed to be.

  Trying to shake the sadness off, her mind drifted back to Alex. She had few people in her life to call important and certainly wasn’t used to new people walking into her life and finding herself develop feelings for them. The feeling of warmth that spread through her as she pictured Alex’s smiling face felt good, if a little confusing. What it meant, she couldn’t comprehend right now. She was exhausted not just in body, but emotionally too. She held onto the feeling, pulling a spare pillow towards her and wrapping her arms around it for comfort, with Alex’s face fixed in her mind, she let sleep claim her.

  * * *

  Sleep didn’t come quickly to Alex so she gave up trying. She slipped out of bed and pulled on thick socks before padding through the farmhouse. Frank snored by the dying embers of the fire and didn’t stir as she filled a glass with water.

  The oven clock shone 2.03 am.

  She glanced toward the shelf full of whisky, and considered it seriously. Not helpful. She sighed and ducked through the low archway that led to her music room before she could change her mind about the alcohol.

  It hadn’t always been only hers. A beautiful, smiling face looked out from a picture nearby on a shelf. It never failed to raise a smile, followed by a heavy heart.

  She took the photo with her to the largest of the comfy chairs, curling up under a tartan throw she pulled from its back. She traced the smiling girl’s face, a face she knew better than her own, before propping the picture on the small side table. Beth. Her talented, beautiful, and hilarious little sister.

  Beth had spent countless nights sleeping in that very chair, a habit after practicing whatever instrument took her fancy that day or reading late into the night. It had become one more in a list of fateful choices that had led to her death.

  Alex closed her eyes as memories overwhelmed her, bringing with them their inevitable conclusion. Emptiness, anger, tears. She wiped furiously at her eyes, frustrated at her inability to break the cycle, before gulping at the water until calmness returned.

  Frank padded in. She would have normally kicked him out to his bed with Pedro in the barn, but he’d looked so cosy by the fire she didn’t have the heart. He was obviously feeling safe about being allowed to stay inside now given the time of night.

  Frank stretched out underneath her and she gently scratched around his ears. His gentle snoring started again, lulling her and dragging her thoughts back to Lori. She imagined Beth meeting Lori, instantly mimicking her accent and being secretly jealous she lived in ‘the big city’ that was London. She would insist that Lori listen to a Ryan sisters’ duet, maybe even trying to impress her by singing in French.

  She wondered what they would think of each other. Actually, she didn’t have to wonder. She knew.

  She squinted through her drooping lids and smiled again at Beth’s picture. “Yeah I know, smart arse. Whatever’s going on here, I’ll try not to mess it up.”

 
; Chapter 10

  He stood at the end of the street, looking back and forth. Each road looked identical with the same box houses on both sides and family cars in the driveways. Headlights came from the right and forced him to turn his back on them and head left. He was sure this was the way.

  The rain had eased but it still soaked through his flimsy slippers. Ignoring this and pushing his hands deep into his dressing gown pockets he dropped his head against the chill. Cars sped both ways intermittently, their occupants seemingly oblivious to the old man walking the street in his pyjamas. Safe in their warm metal boxes, while he was merely a shadow on the pavement.

  He reached another cross section and stopped. A gust blew him sideways and he jumped as a hedge caught his sleeve, sure it was someone grabbing him. He untangled himself and paused. It seemed late; dark and quiet on the roads. He felt his wrist and was irritated to find no watch. Closing his eyes he tried to picture where it might be. Should he go back for it?

  A hooded figure approached from the opposite direction, head down against the wind. It was too short to be his son, but he hid anyway. He pinned himself against a garden gate, and peered around the edge of its fir lined garden watching until the figure turned away from him down an alley.

  Something touched his leg. He instinctively kicked out, sorry to see it was only a cat. It hissed at him and his attention was drawn by its nametag glinting in the streetlight. His breath caught, a memory invaded his senses and from the corner of his eye, a hand was being raised, knife held firm in it. It swiftly plunged down silently until the dull thud of it meeting flesh vibrated in his ears. He cried out, raising his arm above his head as protection. The cat hissed again and he opened his eyes. There was no one else there. The knife was gone. He heard whimpering and it took him a moment to realise it was coming from him.

  Beth. He needed to keep moving, needed to get to the farm to help her.

  He reached a better lit area. The lights from a glass shop door illuminated its car park beyond, and beckoned him in. He looked left and right again, before crossing the road carefully, hopeful that someone inside could help with directions to the farm.

  A young girl behind the counter glanced up from her magazine at the sound of the door beeping. Her eyebrows rose as she looked him up and down. He felt the cold set in as he became aware of what he was wearing. “You all right, love?”

  He liked her smile. He was sure she would help. “I’m looking for the farm. I’m sure it’s not far but I’ve lost my way.”

  She stood up and leaned over the counter towards him, he watched the smile slip and wondered if she knew what had happened. “And what farm is that? Got to be a load around these parts?”

  He saw her reach for her phone and his own smile fell. She was calling his son. He knew it. He backed away, his feet barely reacting to his commands as he bumped into a shelf. He rubbed his wrist where he wished his watch was. “You know what, its okay. I’m sure I’ll find it. Thanks anyway.”

  Someone touched his shoulder, and he jumped, wheeling around to face them. “John?”

  He retreated further, lashing out in panic, knocking a display over and losing a slipper. He needed to get away from the woman who had touched him, but the girl was on his side of the counter now, taking his elbow and shushing him. He glared at the woman who knew his name. It was that neighbour woman his son always had spy on him when he went on trips.

  “John, what are you doing out here in your pyjamas?”

  He hung his head. He knew he was getting no further tonight. “Please don’t tell him. Please. He mustn’t know I was out.”

  But she wasn’t listening. She was already shepherding him out into the car park, into her car, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. He looked up as the shop girl watched through the window and he pleaded with his eyes to be saved.

  His heart thumped as the buckle clunked in place. He’d been stupid to stop and now he would pay the consequences.

  * * *

  He felt like a naughty child being handed back to their parents after running away. His son kept his expression fixed, not allowing the neighbour woman to see past his mask to the anger John knew would be simmering.

  John listened, head bowed as his son took the admonishment for letting him out of his sight. “He’s not a well man, Mr Murray. You really should consider getting more help.”

  His son nodded but didn’t speak, apart from a terse “Ta.” once she’d said her piece.

  As the door closed he shuffled back towards the stairs, pinned by his son’s stare he dared not turn his back.

  It took three strides before a meaty hand had a fistful of pyjamas and was pulling him up so only his tiptoes remained on the ground. His glasses steamed as his son breathed heavily in his face.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, old man?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I lost my watch. I went to find it.” He could think of no other explanation.

  The hand spun him into a tight head lock. Choking in surprise and clawing at his son’s shoulder to no avail, he kicked out with his feet, trying to find some traction as his body was dragged up the stairs like a rag doll. He cried out as his hip caught the spindles of the banister, but it only made the grip around his neck tighten.

  White spots appeared in his vision and he made a final gasp for air before feeling the wonderful release of his neck, leaving him on his knees inside his bedroom doorway.

  Down on all fours, he greedily gulped at the air, willing his vision to clear but realising his glasses had been lost in the struggle.

  He glanced up at the dark outline of his son’s shadow in the doorway, willing it to be over.

  “You and me are done, old man. Get in the fucking bed and don’t move until I say you can.”

  He nodded and crawled toward his bed. He only dared to look up again as the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 11

  Monday flew by for Lori, who’d found herself surrounded by an avalanche of documents that needed to be translated for an upcoming conference. It meant a day hiding out in her office with plenty of scope for daydreaming.

  No sooner had she closed her front door and kicked off her shoes when the bell rang to announce Stella’s arrival.

  “Sweetheart! Come here.” Lori opened the door, and her friend enveloped her in a warm hug. Wine bottles clinked in her large handbag.

  “I thought you were joking about the extra wine,” she said while stepping back to let Stella pass into the hallway.

  “When have I ever joked about wine?” She gave Lori one of her stern policewoman looks. “I plan on drinking the majority anyway because, honestly, Lori, this case is killing me.”

  “Well, maybe if you actually took a day off?” she scolded.

  “You’re the one joking now. I’ve forgotten what one of those holiday thingies is. I’ve at least allowed myself an extra hour in bed tomorrow to sleep the wine off, so it’s not all bad I guess.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not even a tiny bit. Now lead the way.”

  They moved through to the kitchen where Stella dumped her coat and bag before kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable on a stool at the large granite-topped island. Lori set about getting glasses and opening the first bottle of wine. She poured two large glasses and set them and the bottle down on the counter.

  “Hungry?” she asked, opening her fridge to the sorry sight of jam, pickled onions, and some rather bendy sticks of celery.

  “Don’t panic, pizza’s already on its way. I called from the taxi en route.”

  Lori chuckled as the bell rang again. “Speaking of which,” she said and went to collect the pizza.

  “How come the deal is you always order and I always pay?” she asked when she returned to the kitchen with a large, steaming box.

  “Let’s see,” Stella said as she stroked her chin, “because you, my dear, are loaded whilst I only earn a paltry detective’s salary. You must know by now, I’m only friends
with you for your money.” She winked, picking up both of their now full glasses. “C’mon, let’s go get comfy on that oversized, expensive sofa of yours. I’m dying to hear all about your weekend.”

  Lori wasn’t really sure where to begin once they were settled on the sofa. She’d tried to put Alex out of her head all day, immersing herself in document after document. But she’d failed miserably, finding herself on more than one occasion staring out of the window and wondering what Alex was doing, where she was, and who she was with.

  It didn’t help that she’d had two texts from her. Just a friendly good morning, hope you’re not too sore after the weekend and, later, another to say she had to head into Glasgow and wouldn’t be back until after ten o’clock that night, in case Lori was planning to call.

  She’d been relieved at the second one, thinking talking things through with Stella might help before she got in any deeper. The picture of Alex’s grinning face popped into her head.

  “So come on.” Stella snapped her fingers in front of Lori’s face. “Let’s get Andrew out of the way first. What on earth happened?”

  Lori took a sip of wine before giving the simple answer, “I guess I just fell out of love with him. That’s assuming I ever really loved him in the first place.”

  “Well that was obvious,” Stella replied, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, your relationship with Andrew seemed to suit you, however dull it was. But I have to say it’s been a long time since it gave off the warm and fuzzy vibe.”

  Lori stretched out a leg and poked her in the ribs with a toe. “Oi! Don’t be mean. Andrew is a good guy and ticked all the boxes, handsome, successful, committed, safe…”

  “Self-centred, tedious, manipulative, jealous,” Stella finished for her, feigning a yawn.

  Lori shook her head but couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, yes, he was boring and possessive. Still there was a time I saw my future with him and now that’s all up in the air and he’s been constantly calling begging me to take him back.”

  Mid-gulp, Stella pretended to choke for effect. “Don’t tell me you’re considering going back to him?”