by PH Morris
I was the first to break the silence. “I would like to see you again too. Alistair, I’m sorry if I am aloof; I’m not really, not in real life, but my heart has been damaged a few times, and I have learned to put a wall around it. It’s not that I don’t feel things, or that there isn’t a way to get through, but I can’t think through my emotions fast enough sometimes, and sometimes I read the signs wrong, so I have learned over the years to take my time and protect my heart. That’s all it is.”
He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his warm arms around me, and I lay my head on him and could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. It was a gesture, and I tried to pull away, but he held me tight.
“I do have one worry,” I mumbled into his chest.
He relaxed a little, grabbed my hand and started walking, and he said, “Oh no, just when I thought I was getting there, and there’s a condition. What is it?”
“Well, it’s not a condition, per se,” I muttered. “It’s a concern about the distance.”
“Ah yes, the distance. Well, I have information on that,” he smiled, as if he had an answer for everything. “As you know, I am a commercial manager, and I can pretty much work from anywhere if I have a PC and a phone. My work takes me all over the world anyway, and when I’m in the UK I work wherever my laptop is, therefore Manchester is seriously no problem.”
“But it’s a bit soon to be getting a place in Manchester, isn’t it?” This is a bit much, no matter how rich your daddy is, I thought unkindly.
“Well, my dad has a number of properties in different cities in the UK and overseas; they’re nothing special. It’s just that a few years ago my sister graduated from St Andrews in Economics and she said that she thought the stock market was likely to dip significantly. So, she persuaded him to take some of his investments out of equities and put them into a range of other investments, including property. About three months ago, my sister acquired a small property in Manchester; where, I have no idea. But it’s an investment so I can use it, and we can spend time together whenever it suits us both, I think it’s workable. Does that convince you that we could just give this a go, whatever this is? “He gestured between the two of us.
“Okay, sure, I would like to see you again; and I am not a wilting wallflower, I just keep my cards close to my chest, and that’s not because of the ex, it’s just the way I am.” I stuck my chin out defiantly to prove the point.
He smiled and said, “I know you aren’t soft, Mel, I wouldn’t be interested if you were; in fact, I can see you are a strong woman, and I like that you stand up for yourself and that you are a bit of a fighter, because it means that things are important enough to fight for. That’s a vital quality for me. People judge me because I’m the boss’s son, but my dad made me start at the bottom, and when my mum and dad first set up in business, they didn’t have a lot, and they nearly went bankrupt twice. People say we are lucky; I don’t believe that. We’ve worked hard, and anything we have is because of the work people put in, not because of some cosmic fortune.”
Wow, he sounded passionate about things, and it seemed that people judged him a lot and he felt wronged by this. I felt bad for my earlier ‘rich daddy thought’. I was quiet for a moment, thinking, but before I could say anything, he beat me to it.
“Sorry about the speech, but it does make me angry sometimes, you know?”
And the truth was I did. “Actually, I do know. If people find out you’re adopted, they want to know a million things: some things I don’t know or don’t want to answer; or they do this weird sympathetic face; my mum says it’s like a constipated duck. “Doing my best sad eyes, I stuck out my top and bottom lips slightly and tilted my head. “See?”
He was looking at me, puzzled. “Yeah, I can see that, but I have never seen a constipated duck; but I guess if it had problems in that department it would look like that,” he nodded his head at me.
He was sniggering now, and I was also trying not to laugh. “Well, let’s just see how it goes, then, take each date as it comes. Deal?” and he held out his hand to me.
I put my hand in his, gave it a firm shake and sealed the deal. Still grinning, he then refused to release it, and when I tried to pull it out of his grasp, he pulled me into his arms instead and kissed me.
“Come on,” he growled, “I need to get you in the car and on the way to the airport; if we don’t go now, I swear we won’t end up leaving this place.”
He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked back the way we had come, and he only released me when we got to the car. I opened the back door and retrieved my handbag before climbing in the front seat. I reached around and fastened my seatbelt, he did the same, and then we were through the gates and off down the road.
We sat quietly for a few minutes as we made our way down some country roads and Alistair handled the car with familiar ease. When we finally hit the A road, Alistair reached over to hold my hand and squeezed it. I was disappointed each time he had to let my hand go to change gears.
All too soon there was the airport sign, and I felt reluctant to be in the car, as it took me closer to the airport and therefore further away from Alistair. What a bizarre and wonderous couple of days it had been.
Alistair’s velvet voice broke my reverie, “You’re quiet. Are you okay?”
I glanced at him and replied, “Yeah, of course, I was just thinking about what a strange twenty-four hours it’s been. I travelled up here to deliver my presentation and meet a few new colleagues, and I end up meeting a guy I never thought I’d clap eyes on again. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Well, try not to overthink it,” he comforted me.
We slowed down on the approach to the airport, and he turned into the short-stay car park and pulled into the nearest space. He turned off the engine, sighed heavily and turned in his seat to face me. I mirrored him, unbuckling my seat belt.
I looked at my watch; I hated going on at the last minute, but I was at war with myself because I wanted to stay here; however, the plane would not wait.
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll walk you to the terminal.”
I climbed out of the car and rummaged in my bag for my boarding card and passport; he came around to my side, retrieved my carry-on from the back seat and popped the long handle. We walked the short journey to the terminal and through the electric door. I checked the display, and we had about twenty minutes before I needed to go through.
“Come on,” I offered, “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
There was a small Starbucks, and he grabbed a table while I queued up. Armed with a black Americano for him and a caramel latte for me, I looked up to see him looking at his mobile. I weaved my way past tables and put the two cups down.
He put his phone down and smiled, and I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. Knowing it was him, I grinned and removed the phone, looking at the message.
‘Saw the phone in your back pocket, close to your arse, and decided to buzz you. Al x’
I quickly typed a message back: ‘Who is this?’ Send.
He typed back: ‘Your number one arse fan.’
I turned and put my phone in my bag, and I deliberately bent at the waist, giving him a full few.
When I turned back, his eyes were burning, and he closed them. When he opened them again, he laughed at me and shook his head.
Pasting a look of innocence on my face, I just smiled.
Before too long I knew that I had to go through passport control and leave him behind.
I finished my coffee all too soon. “Right, I have to go now,” I announced.
I stood and grabbed my jacket and trolley case and manoeuvred my way out of the coffee shop and onto the general concourse.
We walked in comfortable silence to the security gate as far as he could go. I stopped and turned to him, and he reached for me, pulling me into a hug, and kissed the top of my head.
> “I’ll call you later, okay?” he muttered to the top of my head.
I inhaled the lovely man smell he was giving off as I rested my head on his chest.”Mmmm,” I affirmed. He pulled back and bent down to give me a quick series of chaste kisses; it wasn’t as passionate as before, but we were in the middle of the airport.
“I had better go,” I acquiesced.
I pulled away and turned to walk away; I looked back to see him looking at me with a mixed look on his face that I wasn’t sure I could read correctly and, with the hand clutching the passport and boarding card, I waved as best I could.
He smiled and held up his hand. I looked back a few times, and he was standing there watching me until I disappeared.
I was so happy, I felt on cloud nine. Could this be the thing I was looking for, something lovely, and for a moment I allowed myself to wish and hope that this could be good, but then the usual nagging doubt appeared in the back of my mind. What did he see in me? I wasn’t special. Maybe he had a bet on at work that he could bed me. Oh my god, was that it? No, no, stop it.
“Miss, Miss…”the disconnected voice said.
I was pulled from my self-deprecation by an insistent voice. I focused my attention on the stern face of an airport security employee who was trying to get me to move along in the line.
“Oh, sorry, I was miles away,” I gushed, embarrassed. I hurried forward and put my bag on the conveyor belt, and my jacket, phone and other items in the black plastic tray.
After collecting my things, I blindly trundled through to the lounge, found the nearest board and checked the boarding time. I was right on time, and I only had about ten minutes before the board changed to ‘Boarding Gate 2’.
As I made my way along, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I grinned like a Cheshire cat when I saw who it was.
“Hi, that was quick”. I laughed.
“Yes, as well as not been late, I am also a little impatient” he replied, and I could tell he was smiling. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice again, am I coming across a little stalkerish?” he added
“Well, lucky for you, I like your stalkerish tendencies. So, it’s fine. It’s great to hear your voice too”. I added.
“Okay, speak later. Bye for now,” he laughed.
I pressed end and arrived at the gate as my phone buzzed with a text from Al. Did he have it bad like me, I hoped so.
I decided that I needed to share with Kate, and I had about ten minutes to wait before we were boarding the plane. I called her number, and it went to voicemail. So, I left a breezy message and said I would call her later when I landed.
There were a few emails to reply to, including one from Nick, and it appeared that he had already had some good feedback on me from Mr Campbell senior. I fired off a quick reply saying that it had gone well and that I was about to fly back. I would see him on Monday.
I smiled absentmindedly about the look on Louise’s face on Monday at our important management meeting, as I queued patiently for access to the plane.
Before too long we were landing in Manchester. I always loved looking out over the Cheshire countryside on the approach. It also made me smile at the speed from the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign going out, to the click of the seat belts being undone. How much of a rush were these people in?
As soon as was legal, or should I say if the cabin crew didn’t catch me, I fired up my phone and quickly turned it to silent, and a number of messages popped onto the screen.
‘Hi, I have checked my diary, and I am going to be flying out to Germany on Monday afternoon, so I have bagged myself a stay in Manchester on Sunday if you are free.’
‘Sorry, I realised after I pressed send that I was being rather presumptuous. What I should have said was, I am flying to Germany on Monday and can fly easily from Manchester. Are you free to meet on Sunday? No pressure, either way, Alistair’
‘Hope you landed in Manchester safely. Hope my stalker tendencies haven’t scared you off. Alistair’
Honestly, I quite liked the attentiveness, and I thought I should put him out of his misery, so I replied:
‘Hi, landed safely, no delays, was a good flight, thankfully. Only trolleys going up and down were from the cabin crew serving teas and coffees. I am free on Sunday and would love to catch up. I don’t mind the stalker tendencies. Mel x’
He replied almost immediately:
‘That’s great, just sorting the details at work this afternoon. I will text you later, can’t wait, A x’.
I realised that I was the last off the small plane and the crew were waiting patiently to do their usual thank-you’s. I thought I would ask David later if they swapped their thank you and goodbyes around. He too was going to freak out.
It was only 2pm, and I was walking through the door of the empty apartment. I had been gone just two days, and it seemed like a lifetime.
I knew that David would be back soon as he was on standby at the airport. I hadn’t seen him when I landed, but I didn’t expect him.
I dumped my case in the hall and kicked off my shoes. Surprisingly, Marmalade was out, the fat git; maybe he had also bagged himself a lady.
I flicked the switch on the kettle and grabbed a chocolate Hobnob out of the cupboard while I waited for the kettle to boil. I had a few letters; I instantly spotted my credit card bill, which was very modest due to my mum’s regular pep talks on the pitfalls of the ‘buy now pay later’ generation that I was in, on account of my age profile.
I picked up another letter, which was typed and was bulky like it had something in it; I figured it was one of those charities that gave you a personalised pen. There was also what looked like a birthday card-shaped envelope, so I opted for that one first and ripped across the top of the envelope and pulled out a greetings card.
On the front was a picture of a snowdrop in a meadow, and across the top there were the words ‘In deepest sympathy’. I was puzzled and opened the card; this had apparently been sent to the wrong person and hadn’t reached the intended recipient. My blood ran cold at the words inside – which had been cut out of newspapers like some sick ransom note. It said:
‘You are nothing but a spoilt bitch. This card is for your pathetic life, with sympathy, you sad loser.’
I couldn’t understand what I was reading, and I picked up the envelope – it was addressed to me at this apartment. First the ornaments and now hate mail. I hadn’t done anything to anyone. Of course, in my job you could make enemies if people thought you had treated them wrong, but there hadn’t been a problem dismissal or dodgy leaver for about five years, so that couldn’t be it.
But you never know. I turned the card over and over, re-reading the words, trying to see any clues in what was written and how it was worded.
I wanted to cry with frustration. I’d had a fantastic few days and now this. I looked at the other post, and I couldn’t bring myself to open anything without some support.
I turned the card face down, so I didn’t need to look at it, made myself a cup of tea and grabbed the whole packet of Hobnobs.
Chapter 11
I didn’t need to wait long; I heard keys in the door, and for a moment my heart stopped – what if it wasn’t David? I stood and faced the door, scanning the room for an idea of what I could use to defend myself, but it was a fleeting thought, and the door swung open, and David yelped, “Jeysus, Mel, you scared me half to friggin’ death. Why are you standing there like that?”
Concern then crossed his face. “What’s up, Mel?”
I lifted the card up, and he crossed the room to grab it. He dumped his case next to mine and laid his jacket over the back of the nearest chair.
He looked at me with worry and frowned as he turned the card over to the front. He slowly opened the card as if afraid something might jump out, read the short words, and then, with serious eyes, finally looked at me.
; “This was in the post pile?” he asked.
“Yes. I do have other post, but I can’t face opening anything on my own.”
David pinched the card by the corner as if he were holding some forensic evidence, and I realised that I should have been more cautious – maybe there was DNA or something, that could be traced.
“I don’t know what to do, David; this is getting weird and scary.”
David pulled me towards him and hugged me. “Don’t worry, Mel, we will find out who this is, and we can find out what the law says about harassment. Do you want to phone the police?”
Police? Did I want to get them involved? Probably not highest on the priority list.
“I don’t know, not yet I don’t think. I need time to think. What a cluster fuck.” I pulled away from David’s hug. “You know what is the most upsetting?” I went on, “It’s the comment about me being spoilt and my pathetic life; how the fuck can you be both spoilt and pathetic at the same time?”
“This is beyond my capability, Mel; I think we should get Kat over, or Shelle, probably both. Kat is the voice of reason, and I am pretty sure Shelle was dating a copper about six months ago, so she might, if they’re on speaking terms, be able to pick his brains. She probably left him hanging, so he’ll be more than happy to help.”
“Thanks, David, I think that’s a good idea. I can’t think straight.”
Less than an hour later, Kate and Shelle were in the apartment. Having had the full update on the mail issue in terms of the ornaments and now the hate mail, attention turned to the unopened mail. David agreed he would open the post: one was a charity flyer with a pen as I had thought; and the other was my credit card bill. David passed both innocuous documents to me. I casually glanced at both and then stopped in my tracks when I noticed that my credit card balance was almost six thousand pounds. “What the fuck?” I exploded, standing up.