Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (22 page)

“Oh thank you,” gasped Kerry, surprised at Mrs Llewellyn’s
generosity.  “You’d better come in.” 

As she stepped aside the man came to the light, and she was
surprised by his age; expecting a teenager, but faced by a man probably in his
thirties.  Owen smiled confidently as he walked through the door. 
Holding back his shoulder length, black hair from his face with one hand, he
stooped down to watch the still sleeping baby.

“Pretty little thing isn’t she, so peaceful look.”

He stood up to face Kerry, allowing his curls to fall on his
face once more.  She studied him, her eyes drawn to a scar running down
the left-hand side of his face.

“Barbed wire,” he explained, touching it and smiling.

“Sorry,” whispered Kerry.  “I didn’t mean to stare.
It's not noticeable or anything, it’s just that…”  Kerry broke off her
sentence, realising she was about to say 'it makes you more handsome.' 
She couldn’t say it to a perfect stranger, plus she was shocked, she was even
thinking it.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it. I’ve had it since I
was a nipper.  To tell the truth it’s quite a hit with the ladies.”

Kerry felt herself colour up and turned away from
Owen.  “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked to hide her embarrassment.

Owen laughed behind her.  “Not until I’ve put your gas
on, but yes that would be nice, thanks.”  He strode out of the caravan
leaving Kerry feeling like a teenager again.

After a few minutes, he came back in, wiping his dirty hands
on his denim jacket.

“Should be okay now, so I’ll have that cuppa, two sugars,”
he said, smiling widely.

As Kerry made the tea, she avoided eye contact with Owen,
not really knowing why.  She was usually so confident with men; she worked
with men. She had three brothers and Kelvin’s friends were always visiting the
house, and she was never shy in front of any of them.  When she turned
around Owen was reading a magazine that he’d picked up from the top of her bag;
she handed him his tea, and he put the magazine down, smiling at her.

“Ta, just what I needed that is.  So are you staying
long then, or only long enough to give your husband a fright.”

Kerry was taken aback at his forthrightness, and immediately
her feistiness returned. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business, do
you?” she said pointedly.

He smiled disarmingly.  “Fair enough, but I bet you
tell me what your story is before you leave here.  So how old is the baba
then?” he said, picking up the magazine again and started leafing through it
once more.

“She’s just one; her birthday was on Boxing Day
actually.  Do you live here all the time then?” she asked, aware that she
may have offended him, trying to make amends.

“I don’t really think that’s any of your business, do
you?  But, I bet I tell you before you leave here.”  Owen stood up
and placed his still full cup of tea in the sink.  “Thanks for the tea,
tara now.”

“Err, bye,” stuttered Kerry, suddenly alone as the door
slammed shut.  She got up and moved to the orange and brown flowered
curtains, pulling them back slightly so that she could watch him from the
window.   He strode across the yard purposefully, only stopping to
try and stroke the growling farm dog.  He continued on and then as he
reached the door into the house he turned and waved towards the caravan, before
disappearing from view.  Kerry quickly let the curtains drop back,
horrified at being caught spying, but more horrified at wanting to.

It had been two days since Kerry’s disappearance, and Kelvin
was getting more and more frantic by the day.  He tried everyone whom he
could think of, even swallowing his pride and visiting Caroline across the
road; however, she didn't know anything either.  After speaking to Sheila,
they’d both agreed that it would be better for him to leave Russell’s and move
home, if Kerry came back that would surely be her first port of call.  So
here he was unpacking once more.  It felt strange. He'd imagined that the
day he moved back he would have been really happy, but he wasn’t.  He was
frightened and deeply unhappy, all he wanted was for things to be back to
normal.  Suddenly, the telephone rang at the side of the bed, and he
rushed to answer it.

“Kerry?”

“No Kelvin, it’s me Charlotte.  I take it that you
haven’t heard anything then?”

Kelvin sat upon the edge of the bed and rubbed his tired
eyes.  “No, neither has Sheila; I assume that the same goes for you and
Bets.”

“Sorry love, but no word.  I’ve just spoken to Bets.
She's about to start ringing around now.”  Bets, after tearing a strip off
Kelvin, had offered to call all their old school friends to find out whether
any of them had heard from Kerry.

“Yes, she eventually forgave me,” whispered Kelvin with a
hint of laughter.  “She really gave me what for, but it’s what I should
have expected, I know what you three are like about each other.”

“Well, let’s forget that you are one stupid pillock for a
while, the main thing is we try to find Kerry and get her home.  Look I
won’t hold the line up, in case Kerry is trying to call you.  Take care
Kelvin and I’ll call you later.”

“Thanks Charlotte, bye.”  With that he replaced the
receiver and allowed a stray tear to fall down his cheek. 

He looked at his watch, three more daylight hours, time
enough to search some more.  The one positive point during the day had
been finding Kerry’s passport in the kitchen drawer where they kept all their
documents; at least, she was still in the country.  He picked up a picture
of Kerry and Esme, from the day after she’d been born, and stroked the image of
their faces with his finger; he had to find them and bring them home.

Bets invariably reduced the salon opening hours over
Christmas and New Year; no one ever had any money left to spend on being
pampered.  It was usually a bad time trade wise, thus she could spend the
day ringing around to help Kelvin.  It was quite a difficult job. She
hadn’t seen, never mind spoken, to half the people for over fourteen years, and
it wasn’t as though she had liked them at school; however, Kerry was different.
Kerry kept in touch with almost everyone, even some of their old
teachers.  Bets had nearly died when Kelvin had dropped the list of names
off yesterday; there were hundreds, well forty at least.  Bets had been
ringing around all day, since she had spoken to Charlotte at nine o’clock that
morning, and had almost finished apart from two or three that she couldn’t get
hold of; not one of them had heard from Kerry.  She’d been underhand about
it, lying through her teeth and saying she was organising a reunion, something
that had caused great hilarity with most of the old ‘schoolies'.  
They could not imagine Bets wanting to do such a thing.  She had gone on
to mention Kerry to each of them, dropping her name into the subject and then,
depending upon their reaction, she gauged whether they knew anything, but no
one did. 

Bets stood up and stretched. All her muscles were aching
from sitting in the same position for such a great length of time.  As she
flexed her arms over her head, the doorbell rang in three short bursts. 
She sighed and dragged her feet towards the hallway; all she wanted to do was
have a long soak not entertain visitors.

“Oh hello, what are you doing here?” she asked, as there
stood armed with a bottle of wine and a big grin was Tom. “Let me guess. You
want a favour, am I right?” she asked, nodding towards the bottle.

Tom stepped inside and feigned disappointment.  “Don’t
be like that, I don’t only visit people when I want a favour.”

“What do you want me to do Tom?”  Bets took the bottle
of wine from his grasp and took it to the kitchen, and after getting two
glasses from the cupboard, started to uncork it.

Tom didn’t answer straight away as he was too busy looking
over the list of names next to the telephone.  “What are these then, past
conquests that you’re ringing to apologise to?”

“No actually,” snapped Bets, shoving a glass of wine at
him.  “If you must know I’ve been ringing around old school friends to try
to find Kerry.”

“Oh, sorry,” whispered Tom, slightly colouring up.  “No
news then?”

Bets shook her head.  “No, not one hint of anyone
seeing her since before Christmas.  So what do you want Tom?”  Bets
sat down and couldn’t help but smile at him as he so obviously wanted a favour.

“I shouldn’t ask, what with Kerry being missing and everything,
but you’re right I could do with your help.  Isabel is back tomorrow, but
she’s got some cousin of hers staying.  Des. I think his name is. 
Well, I really would like to spend some time with her, alone.  So I was
wondering whether you would come to Manchester with me, and sort of entertain
Des for the evening.”  Suddenly, a cushion hit Tom directly.

“What do you think I am, some cheap escort girl?” blasted
Bets indignantly.

“No, no, not at all.  I’m going to take us all for
dinner, but I didn’t want him to be sat in the middle of us playing
gooseberry.”  Tom was now embarrassed.  He didn't want Bets to think
that he wanted her to be some sort of concubine for the evening; he’d never ask
her to do that.

“I don’t know Tom. I really should be here in case Kerry
calls.  We are all staying by the telephone as much as possible.”

“I know Charlotte told me, but she was the one that told me
to ask you.  She said that you could divert your home calls to your
mobile, and there was no point you both having a weekend of worry.”

Bets shook her head as she took a sip from her wine. 
“So you’ve already asked Charlotte and when she said no you thought of me?”

“Honestly it wasn’t like that, I mentioned to her that I
could do with some help, and she said ‘ask Bets,’ so here I am.  I
understand though if you’d rather stay nearby."

Bets was silent for a few moments as she thought about Tom’s
proposition.  “I suppose Charlotte is right. I could divert my
calls.  What time would we be back?”

“Well that’s the thing,” said Tom dropping his head. 
“We’d be staying overnight.  Isabel has a two bed roomed apartment at the
docks and Des has already offered to sleep on the sofa.”  Tom smiled at
her, willing her to agree.

“Let me think about it,” she replied at last.  “Can I
let you know tomorrow?”

Tom nodded.  “Sure, but if it helps to clinch the deal
dinner is at Yang Sing.”

Bets licked her lips at the thought of one of the area’s
best Chinese restaurants.  “Like I said I’ll think about it. It's just the
situation with Kerry, and to be honest I’m still a little concerned about your
sister.”

Tom nodded once more.  “I know it must be awful, not
knowing where Kerry is, and as for Charlotte I think you’re right.  She’s
not over that Irish bloke, no matter what she might say.  I caught her watching
River Dance yesterday.”

Bets let out a snort of laughter.  “You idiot, I
watched Sesame Street this morning, but it doesn’t mean I’m pining for a ten
feet tall, yellow bloke that looks like Big Bird.”

“So, if it’s not the Irish bloke, why are you worried about
her?” He asked indignantly.

“Well yes the Irish bloke I admit, but it’s not her watching
River Dance that has worried me.  Before this Kerry thing, she was just
too perky, and according to her ‘so over him’, it just didn’t ring true.”

“Now I think about it; I did notice the box for Gone with
the Wind on the floor, next to the T.V.” Tom sighed.

A hand shot to Bets’ mouth.  “Oh my God she’s more
depressed than I thought.”

In her home, Charlotte was indeed watching with Gone with
the Wind; again. Tom was right; she was upset about Niall, but that wasn’t why
she had been watching River Dance.  Charlotte had been crying over
Scarlett and Rhett as Tom had arrived, and knowing that he would have scolded
her for watching it for the umpteenth time, she had switched the film off; only
for River Dance to be showing. As the music sounded to signal Scarlett looking
forward to another day, Charlotte decided to make herself something to
eat.  The rumbling in her tummy reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day.
She had worried about Kerry and Kelvin since she’d spoken to Kelvin earlier in
day.  She was probably more worried about Kelvin than Kerry.  
Kerry would be hurting, but was capable of taking good care of herself,
especially as she had Esme with her, but Kelvin was a different kettle of fish.
He was driving around until all hours looking for them. Charlotte thought that
it was useless, Kerry wasn’t going to show herself if she didn’t want to be
found, but she knew there was no point in telling Kelvin that; it made him feel
useful.

Charlotte opened the fridge door to take out some food.
Petula stood next to her feet, rubbing herself up and down Charlotte’s
leg.  Once she had finished feeding Petula, she concentrated on herself,
making a cheese sandwich.

She was just about to sit and eat her food, when the
doorbell rang. Putting down her plate Charlotte sighed, wondering whether to
pretend that she wasn’t in; but then it struck her. It could be Kerry, so she
rushed to open it. Once she had pulled it open she was shocked beyond words at
the face peering at her through the darkness.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in then?”  Charlotte
didn’t say anything she just stood aside to let her visitor into the
hall.  “Shall I go through, or are we going to stay here?” She nodded,
still silent, following them into the lounge.  “You’ve decorated. It's
nice,” he said.

She now found the power of speech.  “It’s been three
years Grant, what did you expect, Miss Haversham’s drawing room?” Grant looked
blankly at her, and then she remembered that he wasn’t very well read. 
“Excuse my French, but what the fuck are you doing here?” she yelled.

Charlotte was angry now, yet surprisingly her heart wasn’t
pounding as she had always imagined it would.  She looked at him closely.
He was a little heavier and definitely more stylish, with a few specks of grey
in his hair, and he was just as handsome, but she felt nothing, nothing except
rage.

“I don’t know really,” he said, interrupting her
thoughts.  “Niall had been talking about you, and I just thought that it
would be nice to catch up.

Now her heart started thudding in her chest, and she felt
herself blush at the mention of his name; the bastard.  “Okay, so what did
he have to say about me?”  She had to know. She needed to find out whether
he was pining for her and whether he’d had a miserable Christmas like her, then
she remembered that he’d gone home for Christmas, therefore, whatever Grant
told her would be old news.

“Nothing much, he mentioned something about hiding behind a
bin with your chest on show,” he said, nonchalantly looking round the room.

Charlotte felt sick, had he been laughing at her with
Grant?  “I suppose that you had a good old laugh about it then?” 
Grant didn’t reply, but Charlotte needed to know more.  “Did he go home
for Christmas then?” she asked, trying to sound disinterested; she indicated
for Grant to sit down.

“Nah, Ingrid wasn’t very well, so they stayed here. 
Anyway what are we talking about him for, what have you been up to?”

Charlotte wanted to scream at him, never mind about me, what
did Niall say, did he enjoy kissing me, is there any chance that Ingrid could
be dying?  However, she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly let Grant know how
she felt about Niall, in any case she wanted to know what the hell he was doing
here.

“So,” he insisted, interrupting her thoughts, “what have you
been doing with yourself since I last saw you?”

Charlotte looked at him open mouthed. He made it sound like
they were friends who hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks.  “Well
actually I’ve been getting on with my life since you shat on me from a great
height,” she spat at him.

Grant lowered his head and played with his watch, one that
Charlotte recognised as a present from herself.  “Yeah I’m sorry about
that.   Niall tells me that you’re doing okay for yourself at
Palmers, well done.”

There’s that name again, she thought, feeling a light
crimson colour creeping up her neck.  “Look Grant, I really can’t do this
small talk thing, particularly with a dick head, good for nothing, two timing,
piece of shit like you.  Now if you don’t mind I think that you’d better
leave.”  Charlotte stood up, hoping to prompt Grant to do the same, but he
didn’t so she flopped back down again wishing that she had slammed the door in
his face; and what possessed her to offer him a seat?  Maybe a part of her
wanted him to stay so that she could talk about Niall, but when she looked at
the arrogant tilt to his head, she thought smacking him in the face was preferable.

“Come on Charlotte,” he whispered.  “Can’t we behave
like adults over this?  I am truly sorry about how it finished, so can we
just talk for a while?”

Charlotte looked into his big blue eyes and, despite her
better judgement, her anger subsided.  She stood up.  “Do you want a
beer or something; if you’re driving I could make you a cup of tea?”

“Beer would be great. I'm staying at Craig’s, you remember
Craig don’t you?”

“Hmm, I do,” muttered Charlotte, recalling Craig of the
wandering hands.  “I’ll get you that beer.”  She flounced through to
the kitchen determined to make him leave once he’d finished his drink.