by PH Morris
I ended up drying my hair and having an early night. The next day I had back-to-back meetings and the whole day was a blur. David texted me to say he wasn’t back until Wednesday, and I would be gone by then, so another evening alone, groan.
The smell in the lift was there again. I would mention it to David and see if he could speak to the management team about whatever they were using to clean or spray it, as it was knocking me sick.
I was on the train from Manchester by 6am and was rather knackered, with minimal make-up and my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. On the train I marvelled at the bravery of one woman, who got on the train in Manchester, sat a few seats down from me and within ten minutes had taken out not only her make-up bag and applied a full face of make-up, but had then got her straighteners out, plugged them into the socket under the table and proceeded to straighten her hair without a sideways glance at other passengers; in fact, the other passengers hardly paid her any attention either. Maybe they had seen this before, but I was impressed. We arrived in London Euston by 8am, and I have got to say she looked pretty good.
I had a short journey across London, and luckily the course was being hosted in a hotel near Paddington, and Suzy, Nick’s PA, had got me a room in the same hotel which would just make the whole stay a lot less stressful. I could lie in, or go for a bit of a shop, and wouldn’t have to keep crossing London to get to and from things. I made it in good time for registration and checked in, leaving my bags with the concierge.
I had a few messages from Alistair asking how I was and saying we could try and catch up about 11pm UK time, which would be about 6pm in Canada, which I was looking forward to.
The course was pretty good, and I made a few new ‘friends’, as Louise would call them. There was a lot of reading for the next day, but I planned to have some time to myself in the room; have room service delivered; generally chill in the huge bath and wait for Alistair to call. At about 10.30pm my phone rang, and at the end of the phone was the silky voice of my man.
After a few minutes of small talk, I said, “Your voice sounds more American than last time we spoke.”
“Yeah, people say that; you know what it’s like when you spend time with others and then you adopt their accent,” he laughed.
“Well, with a bit of luck, I can get you talking like a Mancunian,” I chuckled.
“Or maybe we can get you talking Scottish?” he offered.
“Maybe I will,” I did the best, or worst, Scottish accent I could muster.
We talked for a few more minutes about the days to go and the weekend at my folks and how he needed to show interest in my dad’s tomatoes. Alistair agreed he could do that.
Before too long he had to go, and we joked with the whole ‘you hang up, no you hang up’ game. Eventually, I hung up, and regretted it immediately when Alistair sent me a ‘Hey’ message on WhatsApp.
That night I slept well, despite not being in my own bed. I hoped no trolleys would be going up and down all night.
By the time Friday came around, I had enjoyed the change from thinking about my erratic and unpredictable life.
I wanted to go home at the end of the day, but I couldn’t because I had committed to stay until the very end, including an end-of-session meal and drinks with the others on the course. This had been booked when my life was boring, so it had sounded like good fun. I had taken the chance to go to Harrods and pick up a new dog collar for Archie and a leather-bound notebook for Alistair. Both cost me a small fortune, but hey, I was going to be loaded soon. As I walked around the streets, I walked past fancy boutiques and wondered if I would change my shopping habits or whether I would still be the cheap and cheerful girl I had always been. Well, maybe I would treat myself to a few nice things and mix and match. The idea was alien to me, so maybe I would just buy a house and go back to being frugal when it came to buying clothes or treating myself.
Friday started just like the other days and we worked through the morning agenda, but I had to admit my mind drifted; a few times I found myself tuning out and thinking about my man. He had probably landed by now, perhaps he would text me. He had the charity dinner this evening and I had my evening dinner in London. Why were we always 200 miles apart? I would see him tomorrow and that couldn’t come soon enough.
As if a secret prayer had gone up to the gods above; just after eleven, the fire alarm sounded with a high-pitched two-tone wa-wa sound.
We dutifully exited the building in a relaxed, but bored style, expecting to be back in within the hour. Once outside, we heard the distant sounds of sirens, and it was only then that someone pointed out a trail of smoke from the back of the building visible over the rooftops. We stood around for a while so that a roll call could be done, and we were all accounted for. This, it seems, was not a drill after all.
We were advised to wait in a nearby café, for an update. After about an hour, Sue the lecturer arrived and confirmed that there had been a small fire in the kitchens. Everything was under control and fully extinguished, however, there had been some water and smoke damage and the hotel needed to close some of the common areas. This meant that the course was finishing early, and we were advised that the last day would need to be reorganised.
A few of us were staying at the hotel and, with a bit of a discussion with the hotel staff, we were allowed back into get our personal belongings. Whilst everyone was moaning and complaining, there were a few of us who lived further away who were very glad to get away early.
It was then that I decided to hatch a plan to surprise Alistair. If I could get an earlier train, I could get back in time. I called Suzy and explained. She was a total whizz and said she would get me a seat on the train home. By the time I arrived at Euston, I had an email with the confirmation and E-tickets. That woman was awesome. I would need to do something with my hair, but I would have time on the train.
I was buzzing; I got a text from Alistair saying that he had landed a while ago and wished I was there with him. I continued with the ruse and said I would see him tomorrow and wished I was there too. I said I couldn’t speak as I had to go back into the training session. Meanwhile, I was racing northwards, heading home.
Whilst the plug socket clearly stated: ‘laptops and mobiles only’, I surely could get away with it as long as I wasn’t caught. I knew that I could get my hair looking lovely by the time I got into Manchester. I had to get home, quick shower without wetting my hair, change into that silver-grey dress I bought last year for a wedding, new make-up, and hey presto. I texted David with the plan and he was in on it.
I got back to the apartment at 6pm, David had the heated rollers ready to go. After the shower, I applied my make-up and he set to work adding the hot rollers to my hair. Bless him; he even ironed the grey dress – which was flattering as it had a cowl neck and was cut on the bias, making it skim my curves.
My hair was in soft waves; David had suggested a little purple to my eye make-up, which did make the green in my eyes more prominent. I told him he could be my personal stylist when I got my money through, and he said he would bill me.
I got an update from Alastair saying he was going to be unavailable, on and off and that he was sitting down for the meal at about 7.30pm.
By 7pm, David applied a quick spritz of hairspray, and I was ready. He was such as star. I genuinely felt like Cinderella. He ordered a cab for me and I was climbing into the back seat at 7.15pm feeling amazing.
I step out of the taxi a short five minutes later and nervously adjust my dress and touch my hair to make sure it’s still in place.
I carefully walk up the steps past the impressive columns that frame the building’s entrance, the concierge opens the door with a kind smile. There are a lot of people milling about and the crowd parts slightly, revealing a broad back in a dinner suit. His physique is in profile to me and it appears that he is about to turn and then see me; but at that point someone has caught his at
tention as he turns away from me. I step forward a few paces and then stop dead in my tracks about ten metres from him. A beautiful woman appears from a door way to the side. Her hair is blonde and in a sleek bob. I can see her smiling warmly and lovingly at him. A second later a little blonde-haired boy appears from behind his mum’s dress, holding her hand. On seeing Alistair, he shouts, “Dada!” and barrels towards him. Alistair sweeps him up and kisses him, before reaching forward and kissing the woman on the cheek.
I can’t breathe; I literally can’t breathe. I simply turn on my tottering heels and walk in a fog outside and into a cloud of vape smoke, the smell knocking me sick and bringing me to my senses. Grinning at me like the cat that got the cream and looking over my shoulder is Anne Marie. With a sneer of pure joy on her face, having seen it all, she smiles broadly.
“Someone special?” She sneers. “Looks like someone is playing happy families.” She takes a puff on the e-cigarette she is holding, and blows the smoke right in my face, engulfing me in the very familiar, godawful smell of burnt popcorn.
“Looks like you got what you deserve; you are just a spoilt little bitch playing at being a big girl. Let’s face it, you are a pathetic sad loser,” she laughs.
All things come into focus at once. “Those words; it was you,” I state, stunned.
“What’s that, sister dearest?” She looks suddenly unsettled.
“The hate mail; the parcels; the smell in the building; the lift; even when Marmalade went missing. It was all you!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammers. “I haven’t even seen your stupid cat,” and she sticks out her chin defiantly taking another drag on the e-cigarette.
“I never said anything about a cat,” I state numbly.
“Mel?” I hear Alistair’s voice somewhere over my shoulder and Anne Marie smiles the wickedest of grins.
I don’t turn to even look at him. My eyes are full of unshed tears, and I race down the steps as fast as my heels can carry me and jump into a taxi idling at the kerb, and it whisks me away into the night, away from all the hurt.
The End.