Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (34 page)

Kerry lifted her head away and smiled up at him.  “How
did you find me?  I was coming home," she explained.

“Your mum suddenly realised where you might be, it was what
you said in your letter to Charlotte.  About it being exciting, and being
like a kid again.  She remembered how excited you got when you used to
come and stay here.  God, I’m so glad I found you, don’t ever leave me
again. I've been shattered without you,” he whispered, holding her close once
more.

“What about your girlfriend, is it all off with her?” 
Kerry didn’t want to ask, but she knew she must.

Kelvin laughed gently, and kissed her.  “There never
was anyone, but I’ll tell you all about that when we get home.  I’d better
ring the police before he wakes up.”

He fished inside his coat pocket, and taking out his mobile
phone, dialled 999.  Within minutes their headlights were flashing across the
yard, and Owen still hadn’t stirred.

Kerry, now in her dressing gown, gave a statement to a WPC
as a groggy Owen was dragged away behind her.  Throughout it all, Kelvin
sat holding her hand, gazing at her, thankful to be by her side once more.

Later, as Kelvin was giving his statement, there was a timid
knock at the caravan door; it was Mr Llewellyn.

“Sorry, I know that I’m probably the last person that you
want to see, but can I come in?” he asked, timidly.

Kelvin opened his mouth to protest, but Kerry nodded.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for Owen’s behaviour. 
His mam is absolutely heartbroken over there.”  Mr Llewellyn hung his head
as he finished speaking.

Kerry placed a comforting hand on his arm.  “It’s not
your fault Mr Llewellyn, its Owen, who is to blame he was the one who did it.”

“Yes, but we should have known. He's our son, and he’s
always been trouble.  I asked my wife to tell you what he was like,
instead of giving you half-baked warnings.  I told her, he’s set his cap
at that young girl and won’t be happy until he has her.  When you told him
where to go, I dreaded how he would react. I nearly came around here, and
begged you to leave, but then he went away.”

Kelvin stood up from his seat, next to the WPC.  “So if
you knew what he was capable of why didn’t you tell her, instead of letting
this happen?  Kerry could have been raped tonight, or worse, and our baby
was in the next room.” Kelvin’s eyes shone with anger that the whole nightmare
could have been avoided, if only the Llewellyn’s had been more honest.

“There’s nothing that you can say Mr Johnson that won’t make
me feel any worse than I already do.  He was lucky to escape prison last
time.”

“LAST TIME!”  This time Kelvin flew at the older man,
but Kerry and the WPC pulled him back.

“Mr Johnson, sit down, or I’m going to have to ask you to go
in another room.  Maybe you should go too Mr Llewellyn. This isn't helping
anything.”  The WPC spoke softly now, nodding toward the door.

“No,” said Kerry, “its okay, let him explain.”  Kerry
shot a warning glance at Kelvin, begging him to keep quiet.

Mr Llewellyn smiled gently at Kerry as he continued. 
“He had a girlfriend, Abby,” Mr Llewellyn whispered.  “We thought that he
had settled down.  She was a nice girl, good for him, but then he went back
to his old ways.  Going out, drinking and gambling until all hours; so she
ended it all.  Well, he went mad see. He just flipped and attacked her on
the night that she was moving all her things from the house.  He knocked
Abby about, made a real mess of her face he did; of course, she was too scared
to go to the police.  He threatened to get her arrested as well for
cutting him with a bread knife when she was trying to protect herself. 
Apparently, he said that if he did go to prison, when he came out he would find
her and do her properly next time.”  Mr Llewellyn rubbed his aching
temples with gnarled fingers.  “She got her own back mind, she told all
his mates what he’d done and put photographs of her injuries on all the
lamp-posts.   So, he was run out of town and scared witless enough to
come running back here, turning up like a bad penny.”  The old man paused,
looking in turn at Kerry and Kelvin.  “Look, I know that we should have
done more to stop this, but the missus wanted to give him another chance, let
him put his life back together. You must understand why she would do that,
being a mother yourself?” 

Kerry nodded.  “I do, to a certain extent, but you
should have told me when you could see it happening all over again.”

Mr Llewellyn’s head was bowed.  “I know. I should have
stood up to her, but then I only ever want to make her happy. A thank you; I
suppose for agreeing to marry me.”

“But she’s not happy now though is she?” whispered Kelvin,
turning his head away from the man sat opposite.

As Mr Llewellyn shook his head, large tears dropped from the
end of his nose.  “I’d best get back to her, check she’s okay.” He stood
up to leave, and pushed a brown envelope across the table to Kerry.  “For
you, it’s the least we can do in the circumstances.”

Kerry looked at him quizzically, as she thumbed through a
bundle of notes.

“It’s all the rent that you’ve paid.  We were saving it
up to help Owen out,” he explained.  “I don’t reckon he needs, or
deserves, it now.”

“I can’t Mr Llewellyn,” Kerry whispered, trying to hand it
back.

“No,” he replied, gently pushing the bundle away. 
“Please Mrs Johnson leave us with just a little of pride.”  He turned and
slowly walked out of the caravan; shoulders stooped, and head bowed; a broken
man.

An hour later, when the police had finished everything that
they needed to do, Kerry and Kelvin were finally alone, sitting holding each
other.  After a little while Kerry pulled herself away from Kelvin, and
stood up.

“I can’t believe that Esme has slept through most of this. 
That WPC said that she just gave Esme her teddy, and she dropped off again,
straight away.  Did you want to see her? I bet that you’ve missed her
loads.”

Kerry made to go to Esme’s room, but Kelvin pulled her back.

“No, I’ll see her soon enough when she wakes up. I just want
to spend some time alone with you, to tell you how much I love you.”

Kerry started to cry, as relief flooded through her body.

“I’m so sorry that I put you through all this, but I just
thought…”

“Ssh, listen let’s make this bed up in here, and we’ll talk
about everything in the morning. I think that you really need some sleep;
unless of course, you want to go home now?” Kelvin asked, as he gently stroked
Kerry’s hair, desperate to protect her.

“No, as long as we don’t have to sleep in there, the morning
will be fine.  I just want you to hold me,” she whispered.

“Of course I will, and I’m never going to let you go again.”

Niall and Charlotte lay on the floor in a post-coital glow.
Almost three hours after they had entered the bedroom.  The duvet was now
a twisted ball in the middle of the bed and the pillows were thrown aside like
discarded rubbish, very definite signs of wonderful, exciting lovemaking. 
Charlotte lay next to Niall, her head in the crook of his arm, playing with his
thumb, twisting round the silver ring.

“This is nice, where did you get it from, a present from
someone?”  Charlotte knew that she was fishing, but even so, she wanted to
know whether Ingrid had given the ring to Niall.

“Hmm.”  Niall nodded.  “My ma bought it for me,
when I graduated.  It’s not a thumb ring really, but she got her sizing
all wrong and that’s the only finger it would fit.  Here you have it,” he
said, pulling the ring from his, thumb and popping it onto to Charlotte’s much
smaller one.

Charlotte started to protest.  “Niall, I can’t, your
mum gave it to you.  No take it back.”  She tried to take it off, but
Niall wrapped his strong fingers around hers.  “But Niall it’s massive. I
could lose it. I can’t possibly accept it.”  Charlotte looked up at him
pleadingly, but Niall merely shook his head.

“No, keep it then you’ll always have a part of me. 
Wear it around your neck, on a chain or something.”

“Well if you’re sure, won’t it be missed?”

Niall knew what she meant, despite not mentioning the Ingrid
word.  “No, she probably won’t notice.  I’m not even sure that she
has ever noticed that I wear it.”

“Oh I’m sure she does.”

“Look I don’t want to talk about her, so give us a
kiss.”  Niall pulled Charlotte on top of him, leaving no doubt in her mind
that she was all that he was thinking about at the present moment.

“God Niall, you are insatiable,” she groaned, dropping her
head onto his chest.  “I don’t know whether I can take much more. I
already feel like I’ve got a horse between my legs as it is.”

“I can’t help being a total love God, would you prefer it if
we sat in bed and did the crossword, then?” he joked.

Charlotte grabbed a pillow and landed him full in the face,
then tried to scramble to her feet and run away.

Niall, too quick for her, grabbed Charlotte’s ankles and
dragged her back towards him, her bare bottom stuck up in the air.

“You are not going anywhere,” he laughed, landing a
passionate kiss on her lips, as he turned Charlotte to face him. 

As they pulled away from each other, Charlotte sighed
deeply, unable to believe her luck.

“I love you,” she sighed, gently tracing Niall’s nose with
her finger.

“I know, but I love you more,” Niall whispered, kissing her
with even more vigour than before.

When Charlotte woke she was still wrapped in Niall’s arms,
warm, safe and happy, but then she glanced at the clock glowing in the
early-morning darkness.  5:15; she felt sad knowing that their time
together was soon to end.  He would be off to his conference, and in a
couple of days, his life with Ingrid would continue, in preparation for their
wedding and then the birth of their child.  Charlotte would have no more
part in his life.  She spun the silver ring around on her thumb, amazed
that she hadn’t lost it. It was very loose.  As she stared at the ring it
suddenly hit Charlotte; she couldn’t say goodbye.

After a few minutes of deliberation, Charlotte eased herself
out of bed, careful not to disturb Niall as she edged away from his loving
hold.  She took a quick shower and dressed, before quietly emptying her
drawer, and throwing the contents into her suitcase.  She marvelled that
Niall didn’t even stir as she moved around the room; he must have been dog
tired.  If he felt like her he probably hadn’t slept a lot over the last
few weeks, worrying about their situation.  As Charlotte gazed at him, she
could see the peacefulness in his face, enabling a deep and happy sleep.

As Charlotte placed the final few things into her case, she
heard Niall move behind her.  Holding her breath, Charlotte turned around,
but he had just shifted position, and was still sleeping.  She couldn’t
have handled it if he had woken; it would have been so difficult to leave. At
least, this way she could get through it.

With her case by the door Charlotte picked up the silver
ring from the dressing table, where she had left it while she showered, and
tenderly put it to her lips.  She couldn’t take it. It wasn’t fair to put
Niall in the position where he may get found out; anyway, it would be too
painful looking at it every day.  Placing it next to Niall’s watch,
Charlotte fished around in her bag for a lipstick.  She smiled, as she
thought of what Bets’ reaction would be to what she was about to do with a
Givenchy lipstick.  She unscrewed the lid and wrote in scarlet on the
mirror.

I’ll never forget you. I love you with all my heart,
Charlotte xx

Then quiet as a mouse she moved
towards her suitcase, next to the door.  As she opened it, she took one last
look back, her resolve almost failing, but she stood firm, telling herself that
it was better this way.  With tears silently rolling down her cheeks
Charlotte went downstairs and checked out, realising that she had just done the
hardest thing that she had ever had to do.  If she didn’t go now one night
would become two nights, and so it would go on.  Niall had a child to
think of now, and she couldn’t face the possibility of him having to
choose.  Somehow she knew that she would come off second best, this way
was better for everyone; well, everyone except Charlotte maybe.

When Niall woke, a few hours after Charlotte’s escape, he
was not totally surprised to find that she had gone.  He knew that it had
taken a lot for her to have spent the night with him.  A few weeks ago,
she wouldn’t let him kiss her because he had a fiancée, so Niall realised that
bringing a baby into the equation would just serve to make her feel even
guiltier.  That, coupled with their feelings for each other, would make it
harder to say good-bye, so perhaps her sneaking away was the right thing to do
for both.   Even so, Niall felt terrible. He should have been the one
accountable for their actions last night, but he didn’t care, it had been the
best night of his life.

Wondering about his future, Niall wished he was even
slightly happy Ingrid was carrying his child, but he wasn’t.  All he
wished was that it was Charlotte, who was pregnant.  It was strange how
she had affected him so much, after all he hardly knew her, but he knew that he
loved her.  As he thought about Charlotte, Niall realised that to say he
didn’t know Charlotte was wrong, yes they had just met, but he did know her, of
course he did.  She was the female version of him, she was his other half. 
He recognised that she was probably his soul mate, but it was too late because
nature had stepped in and thrown a spanner in the works.  It was going to
be hard, but he would try to make a go of things with Ingrid, for the baby’s
sake, after all he loved her once, at least he thought he had.  It was
only since meeting Charlotte that he had realised how he should feel about
Ingrid, but he didn’t, He felt that way about Charlotte.

Stumbling out of bed towards the bathroom Niall spotted the
message on the mirror; he smiled at the words, and touched them with his
fingers.

“You are one mad woman Charlotte Price, and I’m really going
to miss you,” he whispered.  As he started to walk away he noticed the
silver ring on the dressing table.

He picked it up and studied it, before putting it back onto
his thumb, his heart felt heavy because she hadn’t taken it.  He really
wanted her to have something to remember him by.  However, he knew that he
wouldn't be able to look at anything of Charlottes either, without wondering
and wishing all the time.  Maybe she’d done the right thing again, but
then the right thing would be for them to be together.

Kerry and Kelvin slept fitfully; desperate for daylight to
come so that they could escape the farm and go back home where they belonged. 
They talked during the wakening hours, both wanting to clear the air and start
again, agreeing that things would be different when they got home.  They
both conceded that they would spend more time together, just the two of
them.  They realised that no matter how much they both loved Esme, they
had loved each other first, but they seemed to have lost sight of that
fact.  Kerry also promised to go and see her doctor and ask for some help.
She knew that she had worked through the worst part of what was probably
depression, but agreed with Kelvin that the previous night’s trauma could have
set her back, and neither of them wanted to go through this again.  After
Kelvin had spent some time with Esme, for father and daughter to re-acquaint
themselves with each other, they packed up the rest of their things and drove
their cars away from the farm without a backward glance, both relieved that the
nightmare was over.

By the time Charlotte arrived home at around 11am Tom was
obviously at work.  She opened the front door with some trepidation,
convinced that a battle sight would meet her, but she was pleasantly surprised,
everywhere was clean and tidy.  Even Petula’s food bowels and litter tray
were washed and the dishwasher empty.

Charlotte gave Petula a welcoming cuddle and scratch and
then settled down to open up her post.  D that there was nothing from
Kerry, she made a mental note to call Kelvin later in the day.  After
making herself a cup of tea Charlotte decided to call Bets, who answered rather
too breezily.

“Bloody hell, you’re chirpy, on a promise are we?” Charlotte
asked dully.

Bets recognised instantly, that all was not well. 

“Charlotte! Hello, are you having a good time, or does your
tone answer my question?”

“I’m not there. I'm at home.”  Charlotte suddenly
wished that she hadn’t called, because at this precise moment, she didn’t want
to talk about what had happened in Kent.

“Before you ask, it’s to do with Niall, but I don’t want to
talk about it at the moment, can I ring you tomorrow?  I only wanted to
let you know that I was home.”

“Sure of course you can.  Listen, you sound tired, why
don’t you get your head down and get some rest? Tom is coming to my flat
tonight, to see Alfred, so I’ll ring him and get him to come straight from
work, will that help?”  Bets was worried about Charlotte. She understood
though that some time alone was all Charlotte needed, and that things weren’t a
total disaster.

“That would be great Bets. He can still stay here tonight.
I'm just not in conversation mode at the moment.  Will you ask him not to
say anything to my mum, about me being home? You know what she’s like, she’ll
be straight round otherwise.”

“Of course I will. You leave it to me, and I’ll speak to you
tomorrow.  Take care and go and get some sleep, bye darling.”

“Bye.”  Charlotte replaced the receiver.

Suddenly, she realised what Bets had already deduced, she
was absolutely shattered.  She had been driving since six this morning and
hadn’t had an awful lot of sleep the previous night.  Last night – the
memories came flooding back in vivid pictures; she felt a lump form in her
throat, and emptiness in her heart as she thought about Niall.  She slowly
trudged upstairs, knowing that the only way to get through today was to sleep
through it.  After closing her bedroom curtains, and falling into bed,
still dressed, she lay and sobbed for half an hour, before finally drifting off
to sleep.

Tom was worried about his sister after receiving Bets
telephone call, but he knew better than to go around to see Charlotte when she
had asked him not to.  Charlotte had invariably been the deep one, the one
who regularly wanted to be alone in her abject misery.  Tom remembered
once pushing a frog through her bedroom door, with a note.  She had fallen
out with Kerry and Bets over something trivial, and had decided to lock herself
away. 

As the frog jumped across the carpet, with Tom’s note
attached to its thick neck with a bright-red ribbon, Charlotte’s screams could
be heard for miles.  Obviously, Charlotte hadn’t read the note:

Charlotte, so that yue do not feel lonerley, from Tom xx

If she had read it, she may not have been so rude as to
squeal like a pig at such a thoughtful gift.

The frog was obviously a bad idea, but not to be beaten Tom got
hold of Kerry and Bet’s telephone numbers and called them, telling them off
about their treatment of his big sister.  Within an hour, they both turned
up bringing a Take That poster, and a bag of liquorice torpedoes by way of an
apology.  No one ever told Charlotte what Tom had done for her, he wanted
to many times over the years, especially when she was sitting on him trying to
make him submit, but then he would change his mind. It was gone, and as long as
she wasn’t sad, that was all that mattered.

Tom rang Bets' doorbell, still finding it strange not to
hear barking from the other side.  Then, as it was inched open, he heard a
little whimper and realised that Alfred was indeed back home.

“Hiya, come in, ooh thanks for that,” said Bets as she took
the bottle of wine from him, and clutched it to her chest. 

She nodded towards the lounge, where Alfred could be seen
wrapped in a blanket, in his basket.

“Well there he is, larger than life.  He’s feeling a
bit sorry for himself, but basically, he’s fine.”

Tom moved forward and stooped to give him a tickle under his
chin, Alfred, happy to see Tom, licked his hand.

“I can’t believe he’s home, how’s his side?” asked Tom,
gingerly lifting up his blanket.

“Not too bad, although the vet said it had been weeping slightly
today, which is why it's all bandaged up still.  I’ve got to take him on
Saturday morning, to have his dressing changed,” explained Bets.

Tom grinned at Alfred, who was now falling asleep, then at
Bets who grinned back, both very happy that the little dog was going to be
okay.

Tom and Bets enjoyed their sausage and mash, accompanied by
a bottle of wine, talking non-stop all the way through, pausing occasionally to
put food into their mouths. Finally, after a dessert of apple pie and custard,
they sat back in their seats replete.

Tom leaned across the dining table and filled Bets' wine
glass.

“That was lovely Bets. I didn’t realise you could cook.”

“Well there are many lights that I hide under my bushel,”
she giggled.

Tom smiled, as Bets winked at him, but he then started to
frown.

“So, what do you think the problem is with my big sister
then?” he asked, looking concerned.

Bets looked intently at Tom, realising that he was very
handsome, even when he was frowning.

“She said that it was something to do with Niall, but didn’t
want to talk about it.  I suppose we should be grateful that it’s not
Grant that’s upset her again,” sighed Bets.

“Ugh that idiot, I wish that she’d never set eyes on
him.  I can’t believe that he told the Irish fella that she’d slept with
him again, as if she would,” Tom said, exasperated at the situation.

Bets tried to hide the look of horror upon her face, but Tom
was too sharp not to pick up on it.

“Please don’t tell me she did!” he cried.

Bets nodded her head solemnly.  “She did I’m afraid,
but not when he said,” she added hastily.  “It was just after New Year, he
turned up out of the blue and caught her at a low ebb.  It certainly
wasn’t on the night that Niall had told her how he felt about her.”

Tom shook his head in despair, now filling his own glass up
from the second bottle of wine.

“If it wasn’t for Amanda and Dave, I would be convinced that
our generation is cursed when it comes to relationships,” he sighed.

Bets rested her head on her hand, looking at Tom
quizzically.

“Why do you say that, you’ve always got plenty of
women?”  She took a sip from her wine, waiting for Tom’s answer.

“Yeah maybe, but if I’m being totally honest none of them
have actually meant anything to me.  I did think that Isabel may have been
the one, for a short time, she wasn’t a bimbo like most of them, but on the
other hand,” he sighed, “she was a total control freak.”

Bets shuddered as she recalled the night of horror, staying
at Isabel’s apartment, particularly the bathroom incident.

“So,” she said, shaking the images from her head. 
“What sort of a woman would you like?”

“Well I know that it probably sounds corny, but someone like
Amanda and Charlotte, I suppose.  I don’t want to sound soppy, but I
really love my sisters. I know that we argue, but don’t all siblings?” 
Tom’s eyes glistened as he thought about them.

“Couldn’t tell you,” Bets replied nonchalantly, feeling a
slight twinge of jealousy.

“Oh sorry, I never thought.”  Tom shook his head, a
look of apology on his face.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter. I'm just glad that you realise how
lucky you are.”

Tom ran a finger along the rim of his wine glass, looking at
Bets intently but not saying anything.  She fidgeted, starting to feel
exposed under his gaze.

“What – what are you thinking.  I don’t like the look
upon your face?” she cried.

Tom smiled, flashing perfect white teeth.  “I was just
wondering, why a beautiful woman like you hasn’t got a regular bloke, or even
married?”

Bets thought about it for a few seconds, aware that it was
something that had crossed her mind nearly every day recently.

“I don’t know. I suppose the right man hasn’t come along, or
maybe he did and then died on me. I don’t know.  Anyway what is the right
man?  Kerry thought that Kelvin was the right one, but look at what has
happened to them, although I’m still convinced that they’ll work it out.”

“Never mind them,” Tom scolded.  “I asked about
you.  Why is it all you ever seem to do is have a string of one-night
stands, except for Stuart?”  He moved his chair closer, creating a
conspiratorial feeling between them.

“Mainly because...because I can’t stand the thought of being
abandoned,” Bets whispered; glad to admit to it for once.  “This in my
experience is what people tend to do; leave those that love them.”

Tom leaned across and placed his hand on Bets',
comfortingly.  “Hey you shouldn’t think like that, people do die
sometimes, and I know that you’ve had your more than your fair share of
bereavement, but Charlotte and Kerry have always been there for you.  Even
Alfred couldn’t bear to leave you to your own devices,” he said, moving his
hand to her arm

Bets smiled at Tom, realising that he had become a good
friend over the last few months.

“You really should trust in yourself, and your feelings, and
stop worrying that everyone you meet is going to croak,” Tom whispered. 
“I mean if I thought that was true, I wouldn’t go within ten yards of you,
would I?” he joked.

Bets laughed, wondering how he always managed to make light
of a serious subject, yet not trivialise it in anyway.

“Okay, let’s not be so depressed shall we, do you want a
coffee?”  Bets stood up and wandered over to the sink, dropping the
dessert dishes into it.

Following her, Tom rolled up his sleeves and started to run
some water over the plates and dishes.

“Okay, I’ll wash up while you make the coffee,” he said,
running water into the bowl.

“If you insist,” answered Bets, flipping his bottom with a
tea towel.  “Anyway, you didn’t finish telling me about your ideal
woman.  I know you want them to be like your sisters, which I have to say
is rather sick, but what exactly does that mean?” she asked, really very
interested.