It makes Ava forget about her earlier outburst completely. Until, half way through their starter of chicken wings, Mark sits up straight and looks at her, a slither of sauce drooling down his chin.
“What?” she giggles.
“What did you say earlier about new shoes?”
“These?” Ava struggles a leg out from under the table and kicks a heel in the air for him to see.
“When did you get them?”
Tucking her leg back in, Ava blinks at him.
“Today. You got me them?”
“I did?” Mark laughs.
“Yeah?”
“Erm… No, I didn’t.”
“They were waiting at my front door when I got back from work. They had a note in the box saying ‘love you’ and signed ‘M.’”
Mark wipes his chin whilst shaking his head.
“That wasn’t me.”
Ava drops her half-eaten chicken wing and squints at him.
“It has to be you.”
“It wasn’t, babe. I swear. What would I know about shoes?”
Ava nods. It’s true. They’ve been together three years now and every birthday, Christmas or anniversary he’d always present her with jewellery. His aunt works in a jewellers and although neither of them mention it, it’s an unspoken agreement that it’s her that tells him what to buy.
“Definitely ‘M?’”
“Definitely.”
“You wouldn’t have read the writing wrong?”
“It was printed.”
Another hint that made her believe it was Mark, his handwriting is awful. The cards he gets her are special prints from Moonpig or some similar site.
“Who else do you think it could be?”
Ava goes through her contacts in her head. Matthew? Melissa? Mikayla? No, none of them would ever buy her a present, let alone tell her they love her.
“What about your man in work?”
“Who?”
“The one you headlined the conference with today?”
Lightbulb.
“Michael?”
“Aye, him.”
She turns her nose up at the thought.
“He’s an ol’ man.”
“And? Pretty girl like you should be fighting them off with a shitty stick.”
She laughs and continues eating.
“But the ‘I love you’ part?”
“Did it definitely say ‘I love you?’”
Ava stares at the painting behind Mark, wracking her brain to remember.
“I’m sure it did.”
“Would it have said, ‘Love, M?’”
She shrugs.
“But that’s still weird.”
“You’ve always said he’s very overly friendly.”
“Yeah, but towards everyone. It’s just his personality. I don’t think he has a special interest in me. And he knows I have a boy- … Have you.”
“Snake,” he winks.
They laugh.
“Maybe he bought them for your conference? Wanted you to look your best?”
“I can buy my own shoes, I don’t need his help,” she frowns. “But if he did, then he would’ve asked why I wasn’t wearing them this morning?”
“Maybe he was too embarrassed? In case you didn’t like them or something?”
“Maybe…” Ava purses her lips as the waitress picks up their plates filled with chicken carcasses.
She can’t imagine him doing such a thing. He’s never been anything other than professional. And she has the strong impression he’s gay. But the thought of a co-worker wanting her to look her best for an important conference makes her feel better other than the looming feeling that had come over her head once Mark had denied all involvement.
“…Maybe…”
Chapter Four:
Landing home to the sight of Robyn’s car in Ava’s driveway makes Mark give her a look of contempt. It’s going to be a long night. Parking on the pavement, Ava sighs as she steps out of the passenger side of the car. All the attention is going to be on Robyn now, and all she’s itching to do is check that note.
Stepping into her hallway, she hears the calls of Robyn from the sitting room. Painting a smile on, she throws her jacket onto the seat and gazes over at Robyn on the sofa, her feet on the pouffe with the TV on. You’d swear she lives here.
“Well, what have you two love birds been up to?” Robyn winks at Mark as he pops his head around the door.
“Just out for dinner,” he smiles back, before retreating and giving Ava a face that makes her know he’s in no mood to deal with Robyn tonight.
Coughing slightly and taking a seat beside her, Ava looks deep into Robyn’s eyes.
“Rob, what have I told you about that spare key? It’s for emergencies only.”
“Oh, I know. I do know, Ava. But I just couldn’t be cooped up in that house any longer. Since Damien left, I’ve just been so lonely. You understand that, don’t you?”
Ava stares at the TV and sighs as discreetly as she can. Always the guilt trip with Robyn. The golden paper catches her eyes as she gazes over at where she discarded the box, just beside the fireplace.
“I know, Robyn. But I’ve had a long day at work. And I’m with Mark. We’ve just came back from a date night.”
Robyn does an overexaggerated gasp, her hand pressed against her chest and her eyes wide, as if she had no idea.
“How silly of me. I should’ve known you’d be with Mark. Where is he now?”
Ava blinks repeatedly and stares at her aunt. Surely she can’t be getting that bad?
“You just saw him. Just now. At the door,” she turns and points at her living room door.
Turning back to Robyn, she watches her nod and smile in the way she does when Ava knows she has no idea what’s going on.
“Right you be, I’ll leave you sure. Don’t need some gooseberry ruining things for you.”
She stumbles to her feet, Ava also standing with relief. Usually it’s not this easy. Robyn coughs as she picks up her handbag, but Ava still hears it. The clinking noise.
“What was that?” she narrows her eyes.
“What was what?” Robyn puckers her lip in delusion.
“Let me see your bag,” Ava extends her hands.
Robyn rolls her eyes and hands it over. Unzipping the handbag, Ava roots around through the cigarettes, perfume and money until she finds what she’s looking for. Mini bottles of wine.
“Rob. You know you’re not supposed to drink with the tablets you’re on. The doctor said-“
Robyn waves away her nagging.
“The doctors don’t know shit. I’m grand,” she gazes into Ava’s eyes, as if trying to hypnotise her.
Ava stares back, looking her aunt up and down. She doesn’t seem as bad as she normally is when she does drink. So, putting down the two full bottles and giving Robyn the bag back, the other two empties tucked under her arm, she escorts her out to the car. She might’ve had a few glasses of bubbly and half a daiquiri, but she’s in a far better state to drive than Robyn is.
Chapter Five:
When Ava has Robyn safely in her own house, she apologises before leaving and driving the ten-minute journey back. Thankful that she meets no police on the way home, she groans as she pulls in behind Mark’s car. Robyn’s been hard work this past year. After everything that’s happened, she was so helpful and there for Ava, which makes her feel even more guilty for feeling annoyed with her.
Doctors still don’t know what’s wrong. They thought maybe it was the early signs of dementia, but there isn’t enough evidence for a diagnosis. And it’s almost as if she picks and chooses her moods and when she doesn’t remember things. Mark thinks it’s the trauma. The drink doesn’t help. Since everything that happened, she’s been drinking a lot and on loads of different medications to help with her anxiety and sleeping. She only stopped shaking a year after it happened, ten failed prescriptions later. People seem to think that because she was so strong for Ava that she took a backseat
to her own emotions, and they finally caught up with her.
The brain’s an odd thing, Ava thinks, as she climbs her drive. Her bedroom curtains are closed, meaning Mark’s already gone to bed. She checks her watch, it’s only gone 10pm. Mark’s been so patient with her and her family’s issues, but sometimes he just can’t take a lot of it.
After taking a few moments to tidy up after Robyn, she climbs the stairs to see Mark in bed, his back to the door. Slipping into her shorts and an old t-shirt, she climbs in beside him and wraps an arm around him.
“You awake?”
He moans sleepily.
“I’ll leave you to sleep,” she goes to pull away, but he holds her hand tightly.
“No, I want to see you,” he turns and smiles at her, his eyes still full of dreams. “Did you get her home okay?”
“Aye, sorry about her. Just having one of her episodes.”
“There’s no reason to apologise. It’s me that should be. I’ve had a long day and just wanted to come back and crawl into bed with you.”
She smiles as he slides his hands under her top and up her front. He leans in to kiss her lips and she lets go of all the stress of the day as he migrates down to her neck.
Chapter Six:
Lying afterwards on her damp sheets, Ava allows herself to relax as she rests her head on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat slow down to normal, and his breathing get deeper and longer until the hint of a snore is audible. She smiles and pulls in closer beside him. He grumbles incomprehensibly as she gives way to sleep.
She finds herself at the front of a long table in a conference room, lined with suits and scowled expressions. At the head of the table sits Darrell Boyle, the politician from this afternoon’s meeting. He’s standing with one hand on the table and the other pointing accusatorily towards her.
“Why do you care? It’s all your fault anyway,” he bellows, spit flying from his mouth.
The suits nod in unison before their featureless faces blur with the oncoming of her tears. She blinks them away and turns towards the door, but it’s not there. She follows the walls around four corners, palms pressed flat against them. But it’s no use. There isn’t one. She’s trapped. All the while, they shout abuse and hurl scrunched up balls of paper at her.
“It’s all your fault.”
“She never loved you.”
“Kill yourself!”
She shakes her head, sliding down the wall until she’s on the ground, pressing her hands against her ears and wrapping her elbows around her knees, willing for them to stop.
“Ava?”
Through the chaos, she opens one eye and looks up. There stands Michael, the shoebox thrust in her face, a wide grin on his face.
“What do you think, Ava? Nice, aren’t they? I picked them myself,” he purses his lips in the smug, camp way he presents new information to her.
“What do you want?” she hisses, the chants getting louder and louder as the crowd circles Michael and get closer and closer, their mind-numbing faces inches from her own.
“What do you want?” Ava screams.
Then, she’s awake. She bolts upright, fresh sweat on her body and sheets. Mark grunts and rolls on his side, sliding the duvet off her. She slaps her hands to her head, forcing herself to calm down until the shadows engulfing her room return to normal from their hypersensitive, demonic form. She has to know.
Gazing at Mark for a few more moments, his snores building, she knows he’s in a heavy sleep. Picking up her clothes from the foot of the bed, she struggles into them, sticking to her sweaty body as soon as she pulls them on. She pads down the stairs, thankful for the concrete below the carpet, for wood would give her mission away.
Reaching the living room, she turns on the tiny lamp and gets down on her knees on the rug to pull the shoebox towards her. Her hands trembling as she pushes the tissue paper out of the way to find the note.
‘Ava, I love you, M x.’
She knew it. She knew it said ‘I love you.’
Dropping her hands from her face, she shakes her head and stares into the corner. Who would send this? Could it be Michael? She doubts it, but she’ll see him in the office tomorrow, so she can slyly bring it up then. She doesn’t want too much attention brought to it. She’ll mention to Mark tomorrow to not tell anyone else either.
A shadow crossing the window makes her jump. She falls back onto her bum, her hand flying out to steady the landing. She gazes out of the massive window which takes up the majority of the wall. Out onto her lawn, the lonely tree swaying in the wind, and the desolate street. Her neighbour’s houses darkened apart from the one solitary light she knows Mrs McVeigh uses in her hall to help her guide her way to the toilet in the middle of the night.
It could’ve been a flicker of her imagination, or a bat or bird flying past the streetlamp, temporarily blocking the light shining into her window. Nonetheless, she struggles to her feet, hastily draws her curtains and stands with her back to them. Too petrified to make the two-step journey from her living room door to the stairs, leaving herself fully vulnerable to the front door and the windows either side.
****
I remember the first time I met Chris. I was forced into a work night out, closing the shop that night and taken by surprise. At ten minutes to six, the remaining staff that weren’t working strutted into the shop.
“It’s your birthday, we’re obviously heading out,” Rachel had hugged Christina.
I pursed my lips, a bit annoyed that Christina had joined the troops up the stairs to finish getting ready, leaving me alone on the shop floor. Luckily, Phil joined me.
“It’s the girl’s birthday, we can spare her for a few minutes to get her face on,” he cackled, clinging onto my arm.
I always had a soft spot for Phil. Ever since the day I’d interviewed him. I’d been really strict and cold with my colleagues as I’d travelled up the career ladder. But he brought something out in me. Something that made me forget about the shy little girl that I once was. I just clicked with him instantly. We got each other. He got on with everyone else as well, ultimately making me form relationships more with the other staff.
As soon as I put down the shutter, I climbed the stairs with the till drawer, bypassing the gaggle of girls gathered around the lonely mirror in the hall. After I banked the money in the safe, I was looking forward to getting home. Even thought about swinging by Robyn and Damien’s for a takeaway. But I was also annoyed that they’d all left without even saying goodbye.
A juvenile thought, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. My other friends had pissed off to London and the likes. I was the only one in my group to remain in Derry. The troubles driving people away. The clothes shop was struggling as it was, despite being in the middle of the city centre. But when I exited the office, all the girls were still there.
“Oh, alright guys? Just gonna close up now if you are nearly done?”
Phil put his arms around me.
“We’re waiting for you, Fee.”
I was shocked.
“Me?”
“Aye, we’re going to the bar. C’mon with us.”
“Awk, I haven’t been out in the town in years.”
“Even more reason to head out then,” Phil sang as he basically dragged me down the stairs.
Chapter Seven:
She sits in the carpark, people watching, to give herself time to collect her thoughts. Almost everyone that parks here are either doing so to run the small stretch of Spencer Road to their places of work, or going to the new Waterside Health Centre on the same street, the giant windows giving the patients a beautiful vista of the River Foyle and the city embanking it.
She’d finally found the strength and courage to belt it up the stairs after a half hour of battling with herself last night. What followed was a very sleepless night, with Mark snoring beside her. Not that that’s what was keeping her awake. Every creak of the house, passing car or rustling of leaves made her ears strain for signs of life. She must’ve dr
ifted into a fitful slumber after five o’clock, but the alarm came too quick and she feels like the less than two-hour snooze has made her feel worse rather than better.
Mark coiled when she suggested that he keep the mystery of the shoes a secret. Advocating in the signature grumpy manner he resides in until his third cup of coffee that maybe by failing to ask anyone that she was building it up too much in her head. She knows he is right. But who could it be?
Almost as if on cue, Michael pulls up in his Mercedes beside her. He smiles and waves, mouthing to her dramatically, asking if she’s coming in. She raises two fingers and flaunts her phone in front of her. Nodding, she can hear the faint whistling as he turns at the bank, making the two-minute walk to the office cheerily on this sunny morning.
Sighing and giving herself a light pep-talk, she steps out of her car, locking it and following him in the shoes that she fell in love with at first sight, only for recent revelations to taint them. But she knows it’s the only way he could willingly mention them to her.
Chapter Eight:
The wind chimes jingle to announce her presence as she opens the door and crosses the threshold into the space they’ve rented for just over a year. Despite not having a lot of money when she set up the charity, the landlord seemed to recognise her from her appearances in the local rags and dropped the rent significantly. A rumour circulated from the tiny, five-man team that his nephew had committed suicide almost a decade earlier, so it seemed he had a soft spot for them. Not only that, but he let her design the space, sending in his own men and paying them himself.
In Too Deep Page 2