Just Like a Woman (12 page)

‘Where did she get that dress?’ He asked last Saturday when he finally got to speak to her.

‘I don’t know. What was wrong with it?’

‘It didn’t fit. It was just, well just, I don’t know, but it looked like something that should’ve been in a charity shop.’ Was all he could think of.

‘She’s very young don’t forget, and you were her first date.’

‘Ever?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Ah, now I see. Ok I’ll call her again, tomorrow.’

‘I’m going to try her tonight, she didn’t turn up for her appointment on Tuesday. You have been honest? Nothing went wrong?’

‘Of course not. It was fine.’ Robert remembered the kiss goodbye but didn’t mention it. Surely she couldn’t be upset over that? He let it go and asked.

‘Do you think she’ll have guessed? Or knows even?’

‘Don’t be daft. You’ve met her now! It wouldn’t enter her mind.’ She hung up.

He saw his wife’s black head, she was sitting at the window table. She had her hair tied up on top of her head, and she wore glasses instead of the usual contacts, but she couldn’t hide her beauty that easily. As he pulled the Jag to a stop, a convenient space right outside the coffee shop became available. Whenever he saw her his heart beat slightly faster. Would he ever get used to looking at her?

She smiled towards him as he got out of the car, he raised his hand in a wave, partly to allow the wind to dry out the dampness before he entered the shop. For an instant as he walked towards her, an image of Becky came into his mind, but as soon as he opened the door and heard her voice, all thoughts of any other woman left him. She was still the only woman in the world he cared about. Possibly the only other person in the world, after himself.

‘So how are you?’ she asked quietly. He kissed the cheek offered to him.

‘Busy. You?’

‘Yes,’ she looked down at the menu she held. He was surprised. They would only be having coffee.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked her

‘Oh. No,’ she placed the menu back on the table, then looked at her hands for a moment.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she looked up smiling. ‘I’ll just have the cappuccino, skimmed milk.’

He left the table and went up to the counter to order the drinks. He looked up at the board offering various different coffees, teas and chocolates and decided to make life easy for the young girl by ordering two cappuccinos, with skimmed milk. He waited at the bar whilst the girl made them, looking back at his wife, wondering why she was so tense.

‘Here we go,’ he placed them in front of her and slid his legs under the table beside her. ‘So what’s wrong’ he persisted. She lifted the cup to her lips, but it was still too hot to drink. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked up at him, licked her lips, then back down at the coffee again, before raising her eyes to him,

‘There’s nothing wrong. Now why did you want to see me?’

‘I always want to see you!’

She laughed.

‘Won’t you come back?’

‘Robert! Don’t start that again. Surely its better this way for both of us. Anyway, I’m betting you’ve someone else?’

Becky flashed into his mind before he could stop it, and he knew she would notice the expression on his face. He tried to mask it by picking up his drink.

‘Ha, I knew it. Who is she? Tell me about her.’

He realized he wanted to tell her, maybe it was to make her jealous. He wanted her to be jealous, as he was. He knew she was only asking out of habit, and she didn’t really want to hear and didn’t care. She wouldn’t even care about the photos. He had never told her about them, no one knew. That was why they were so special. Nor the orange dress. Could he risk asking her if she had the orange dress still? Deciding against it, he told her about Becky, what she was like. She listened, nodding her head in all the right places, saying yes as it was required, but he was quite sure if he asked her any questions concerning what he had just told her, she would not have been able to answer them. He watched her as he spoke, how her face relaxed and she sat back in her chair. She laughed at Becky’s age, even though he exaggerated it to be several years older, admitting to himself he was slightly embarrassed by it. When he asked her if she was seeing anyone, he could read nothing on her face to say she was lying when she said she was not. But that meant nothing. The years he had spent living with her had taught him, she could make him believe whatever she wanted him to.

Finally she looked at her watch. She was going to leave him again.

‘You don’t have to go yet?’

‘Afraid I do. Work.’

‘At this hour.’

She didn’t reply.

He helped her on with her coat. ‘Can I walk you to your car?’

‘Come on you know better than to ask that. Don’t spoil it.’ She answered kindly. And then she smiled at him. He leaned down to kiss her once more on the cheek she offered. His arms ached to go around her and hold her to him. He stood back and watched her leave, walking away from the car park. She would have parked somewhere around the corner, somewhere he couldn’t see the car. All she let him have was her mobile phone number. Knowing it was his own fault didn’t make it easier, the restraining order stated he was not allowed within five miles of her work place or home, which was why she agreed to meet him all the way out there.

*****

Driving home from work it occurred to Stephanie the text messages, the flowers and the phone calls could be from Robert. But he would have had to go to all the bother of organizing it, and she knew enough about him to know he could be slightly unpleasant and devious, but he wasn’t that organized. Terry did everything for him. He would have had to change his telephone numbers and set up a different voicemail, because it was definitely not his voice. The voice was familiar to her, but it wasn’t Robert’s. It was so frustrating, knowing yet not knowing. Someone she hadn’t thought of yet, someone she knew. It had to be another client. Besides with the prospect of Sarah on the horizon, Robert wouldn’t risk upsetting her, surely? What would he gain from such behaviour? No, it couldn’t be Robert. He just wasn’t that clever. Another person checked off her mental list of stalkers.

Stephanie stopped for the red lights, and looked in the rear view mirror to inspect her make-up. Clearing the gloop in the corner of her eyes from her eyeliner she listed in her mind all the things that had so far happened. She wasn’t exactly being stalked, but it was still threatening; and obviously meant to be. The flowers and messages were not the real problem; it was the anonymity of it all.

Looking in the mirror she noticed the white van behind her. Hadn’t that van been behind her since she left the office? She looked up at the lights to check they hadn’t changed, chastising herself for being paranoid. A disagreeable feeling; it was getting to her.

She decided there and then as the car pulled away from the lights, she would get a new mobile phone. She checked in her mirror, the van turned left. She would give her new number to a few select people and be very specific with them. She couldn’t change her work number, that didn’t matter, Jane always answered the office phone, and nobody knew her home phone number; nobody even knew she had a land line, it was there for her convenience only. Turning into Blackberry Drive, she felt better. It was a sensible decision, and she was due an upgrade.

Blackberry Drive was off the main road, there were only a few houses and most of the other residents were as keen to maintain their privacy. Since moving she barely spoke to any of them, nodding good morning on the rare occasion anyone caught her eye. One new resident had attempted some community spirit, but soon gave up.

Pulling up outside her gate she got out of the car to open it; closing the gate when she went out had become a new habit. Crunching along the gravel she was grateful to her divorce solicitor. It wasn’t that she loved the house, she doubted she had the capacity to love anything or anyone, but it suited her. It just happened to be the ideal place for her to be. Parking by the front door, she made another decision; a security firm; security cameras; security lights. Getting out of the car, Stephanie heard the dogs bark, causing relief she hadn’t felt since finding the flowers. She was pleased with herself; objective thinking always worked.

.

Chapter Ten

‘T
erry! Terry!’ he yelled as he threw open the door. ‘Ter…’ he started to scream again, before she very quietly replied,

‘Yes.’ She was walking from the kitchen doorway towards him.

‘Get me that Becky girl on the phone,’ he pushed the door shut behind him and hung his car keys on the key holder.

‘Why?’

‘None of your fucking business, just do it!’ God she was unbelievable. Why could she not just do something for him without always questioning it?

‘What’re you up to?’

‘Fucking hell! Just do it!’

She stared back at him for a few seconds, before reaching for the hall phone and dialling the number. He walked to his piano under the circular staircase and sat on the stool. After a few more seconds she passed the receiver to him,

‘Becky for you. Sir.’

He noted her sarcasm, but chose not to reply as he heard Becky’s voice. Twisting on the stool, he turned his back on Terry, but she strolled round the piano facing him as he spoke to Becky. He could see her mouth the words.

Do not do this, they said very definitely.

Bitch, he thought, telling him what to do. He turned to face her, opening his legs in defiance letting her see the full extent of his excitement.

‘Terry’ll pick you up about eight… vegetarian? No problem’ he lied. She didn’t mention that before? Did she? He vaguely recalled something at the hotel. Oh, what the fuck! Was nothing simple and easy anymore? He hung up.

‘Meal for two tonight, and fucking vegetarian. Can you manage that?’ He made his sarcasm as obvious as hers.

‘What the hell are you doing, inviting her here? You’re mad. She’s a fan, remember! You can’t invite a fan here!’

‘Mind your own fucking business,’ he repeated, ‘It’s nothing to do with you, just get on with your job.’He stood up and walked towards the games room.

‘My job is to look after you! And inviting that girl here is as stupid as you can get! D’you even know her surname?’ she actually yelled back at him.

‘Your job is to do what I say. And you’re picking her up at eight. I guess you better find out where she lives as well.’ Just before slamming the door to the barn, he turned back and yelled ‘I’ll invite who I fucking want to my house, you bitch!’ She wouldn’t follow him, she knew better than to bother him when he was in his studio. He needed some relief.

Seeing his wife always left him feeling like this, and Becky was the best he could do at the moment. He thought about taking a swim, but knew it wasn’t enough. Striding towards his desk the sensation grew, tingling just above his groin, the hardness squashed by his jeans against his stomach, loving the warmth it gave him. The anticipation; the thought of the photographs; holding them in his hands. The argument with Terry had only enhanced his state, his anger moving him to near ecstasy. He had enjoyed flaunting himself in front of her whilst sitting at the piano. He had ached to touch himself, right in front of her, but by refraining he prolonged the pain and the thrill.

The image of the photograph drew him closer to his desk, the pleasure almost unbearable. He refused to touch himself, keeping his hands at his sides as he moved. Nearly there. His breath was short and hard. He allowed himself a small laugh at the thought that anyone would think he had been running. But he did not want to expend too much energy. He wanted to hold it. He wanted to keep it to himself. He could hear his breath, panting through his mouth, as he unlocked the drawer. His hand trembled. He could hold back no longer. His left hand stretched for the photo; the right softly caressed the outside of his trousers before he could bare it no longer and thrust his hand inside his pants. A groan emitted from his mouth as he grasped his erect penis and at the same time took hold of Becky’s photo. The synchronicity was too much and he could hold the erection no more. He came inside his pants; his anger absolute.

After smearing the photo of Becky with his cream covered hands, he removed the other photos, crushing them, crumpling them, tearing them into small pieces with his teeth. Look at them posing, whoring themselves; none of them had any shame. Why could he not be allowed to enjoy himself? Why was it always over so soon? Bitches, fucking bitches, the lot of them. Tears ran down his face. Tonight we would see. Tonight Becky would see what he was made of.

*****

Sarah had been looking through the magazines for articles about Robert, when she came across the story. She had not known nicotine was lethal, and so readily available. That poor baby dying. Sarah read the article and felt sad for the baby. She reread the article again, with great interest. Reading how the baby picked up a cigarette while playing in the garden; chewed and sucked it. By the time her mother realized something was wrong it was too late. The baby was dead. Sarah thought perhaps the baby had died to save her. She hadn’t realized how dangerous tobacco was. And the idea began to formulate and take shape in her mind.

After reading the story, Sarah started to believe that seeing Robert again was a possible reality. She thought of his face and his hands, the smell of the leather in his car and the pictures of his house. She ignored the image of dry cracked lips pressing down on hers. They could be together.

She found a book at the surgery. A big book listing poisons, all the poisons known to man, it claimed. Poisons she had never heard of, and there in the middle, was nicotine; one of the most dangerous poisons, it said. And so simple.

‘I’ll make us a nice stew tonight, shall I mum?’

‘Make what you want.’ She turns her head back to the television. ‘’ But soon, I’m starving.’

Sarah goes into the kitchen and takes out the steak she has bought, the best the butcher had. Her mother will love it and eat it all. She is such a greedy pig. Sarah cuts up onions and carrots. She sings as she slices.