The Waiting Game (8 page)

Adam drained his glass and signalled for Bel to give him a refill. There was a sour taste to the wine he didn’t enjoy, but the warm buzz it gave made up for that.

Bel took his glass but hesitated. ‘Are you sure, Adam? You never normally have a second one.’

‘It’s not like I do it every night,’ he said. ‘Besides, nothing like a bit of wine to get us in the mood, hey?’

He winked, irritated when she didn’t smile back. What on earth was wrong with her this evening? She was always encouraging him to relax a little. And now, when he was doing just that, she acted like she disapproved. It wasn’t as if he was about to get legless and go on some drunken rampage. Surely she knew him better than that? That was women for you, though. Never knew
where you were with them.

‘I’m just worried about you,’ she said. ‘You haven’t been yourself all day. Are you sure there’s nothing the matter?’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Now go on. Get us a drink like a good girl?’

When she went to get the wine, different parts of the morning played back through his head. He wished he could tell Bel about it, ask her what she thought and if he should be worried. Or if Monica was all talk and nothing more than that.

Bel was back.

‘You not having any yourself?’ he asked as she handed the glass to him.

She shook her head.

He watched her, standing in front of him, waiting for her next instruction. His little servant, he called her. Meant it as a compliment, although he wasn’t sure she always took it as that. But what did she expect, waiting on him hand and foot the way she did?

She wasn’t the prettiest woman he’d ever met. Nose too big, eyes too close together for that. Nothing wrong with her body, though. And definitely nothing wrong with the way she used it.

He took a deep slug from the glass and smiled. Feeling a bit tipsy now. Something else too. He looked up at Bel, about to suggest it when he noticed her hair.

‘You’ve untied it,’ he said. ‘I told you before, I don’t like it. It’s messy when it’s down. Doesn’t suit you at all.’

She stared at him and for a moment, from the expression on her face, it was like she hated him. But then she shrugged, lifted
it back and tied it in place with the tieback she kept on her wrist. He tried to look at it, checking she’d remembered to replace it this morning. Some days, she forgot and he had to remind her.

‘Not only coughs and sneezes that spread diseases,’ he’d say, trying to smile but not always succeeding. Surely she knew how disgusting it was?

With her hair back her nose looked even bigger, but he didn’t mind that. Besides, it wasn’t like she could help it. He smiled, wanting her to know he was pleased. He held his hand out for her to take. ‘Don’t be like that, Bel. Let’s kiss and make up, hey?’

She took his hand and rubbed it slowly along the outline of her breast.

He groaned. Ever since the accident, he’d thought this type of thing was behind him. Oh the doctor had said ‘relationships of a sort’ were still possible. But he never thought he’d find a woman willing to do what it took to help him reach the level of relief he craved so terribly. And then she’d come along. Poor, ugly Bel. And his life was transformed.

Gently, he reached up and traced a finger across her face. She winced and tried to pull away, but he held her head with his other hand so she couldn’t move.

‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,’ he said. ‘I love you, Bel. You know that?’

She leaned forward, her body pressing into his, and kissed the top of the head.

‘Silly boy,’ she said. ‘All this talk of love. You’re more drunk
than I thought.’

It wasn’t the drink talking, though. He did love her and was determined to show her he meant it.

Behind her, on the mantelpiece, images of his ex-wife stared out at him. His beloved Annie. Could it be true what Monica told him? Best not to think about it. Maybe it was time the photos went. Without them there as a reminder, he could put it all out of his mind, once and for all. Focus on what he had here and now, not what he’d once had but lost. Monica and Annie, they were his past. Bel, lovely Bel, was what mattered now. Nothing else.

Katy Perry was her new role model. Katy who’d come back from a bad relationship with a roar and an attitude Chloe could only dream of. She listened to Katy every spare minute she had. Like now.

Prism
was the best album. The one Chloe identified most closely with. She had it on now. Volume up loud. Making sure she couldn’t hear anything except the music. She was halfway through her second glass of wine and the alcohol gave her the courage she needed to be here on her own.

She sang along with Katy as she got ready for her night out. Scowling and prowling in front of the mirror, shouting out the chorus to
Roar
. Imagined herself singing to Ricky, showing him she was so much tougher than he’d ever thought. After
Roar
,
Legendary Lover
. She loved that one, too. Made her think of Carl.

Some of the lines were a bit weird and difficult to make any sense of. But when Katy got to the bit about her heart beating like a drum, Chloe was right there with her.

Since yesterday, everything felt different. The upset in the shopping centre, it felt like a turning-point. Carl had been so sweet and lovely. Completely different from how he usually was. They stayed on the bench for ages. She told him all about Ricky, the flowers and everything else. He seemed really interested. More than that, he helped her get some perspective on it.

Had anything happened since the piece in the newspaper, he’d asked. When she really thought about it, she had to admit nothing had. No flowers, no cups of tea. No waking up with the feeling that someone had been in the house. Yes, there’d been the scare the other night. But thinking about that, she knew there was a chance she’d over-reacted. She’d heard footsteps and assumed it was Ricky. But it could have just been someone walking down the street and she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Like she did in the shopping centre.

Plus she had the alarm and that made a difference. She might be a heavy sleeper, but even she couldn’t sleep through that racket. And now here she was, getting ready to go out with her new friend. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Smiled, thinking what Ricky would say if he saw her. Hair wild and loose, not straightened the way she used to do it for him. And the dress! Tight and short. She turned around and bent over,
craning her head around, making sure she couldn’t see her knickers. She was going for sophisticated, not tarty.

She turned back to the mirror, examining her face. Another thing she had in common with Katy. Mostly, people didn’t notice. That was because Chloe had blonde hair. But there was this one time, she’d worn a dark wig to a fancy-dress party and everyone had commented on the resemblance. She’d been flattered, at first. Until they got home and Ricky pulled the wig off and threw it in the bin, telling her she shouldn’t go out dressed like a tart.

Well, Ricky wasn’t here now and if she wanted to dress like a tart, she would. Even though it wasn’t what she wanted. She examined the dress again, worried now that maybe it did make her look a bit cheap and easy. She tried to imagine what Anne would be wearing. Even thought about calling her, but was afraid that would make her look stupid.

She was looking forward to some girly time. It had been too long. It wasn’t just her mother she’d lost touch with when she got together with Ricky. By the time she’d found the courage to leave him, there was no one left. Tonight was her first girls’ night out in years. If only she could be sure about the dress…

She closed her eyes. Counted to ten, then opened them again. First impressions were important. The first impression, when she opened her eyes, was good. The dress suited her. If she was honest, she thought she looked pretty amazing. Pity Carl wasn’t here to see her.

Her phone rang and she ran to answer it, thinking yes, yes, yes! Except it was Nathan, not Carl.

‘Wondered if you fancied going for a drink and something to eat,’ he said.

When she told him she already had arrangements, he insisted on knowing more.

‘It’s just a friend,’ she said. ‘A woman.’ Why did she say that? It was none of his business. ‘She’s thinking of moving house. Wants my advice.’

Nathan chuckled. ‘Well make sure you don’t give her duff information. Tell you what, why don’t you let me know where you’re going and I’ll try to swing by later? Give her the benefit of my wisdom. She hoping to rent or buy?’

‘I don’t know,’ Chloe said.

The dress was too short. She could see that now as she continued looking at herself. She looked cheap. Nothing like the sort of woman she was trying so hard to become.

Nathan sighed. ‘Chloe, pet, if you don’t know that, how on earth will you be able to offer any advice?’

‘I’ll ask her,’ Chloe said. ‘And I don’t want you to come. Thanks, Nathan, but I’ll be fine by myself.’

She hung up, angry and guilty at the same time. Angry with herself for being so foolish. Angry with him for making her feel stupid. Even though she knew that’s not what he was trying to do. Which was why she felt guilty. She’d been really mean to him and he was only offering to help. What was wrong with her?

She stripped off, threw her tights and the dress on the bed, put on an old pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, pale pink shirt. When she looked in the mirror again, the resemblance to Katy was gone.

In the background, Katy was still singing. A soft, sweet song about loving someone unconditionally. Chloe switched the music off and called Nathan back.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said ‘If Anne wants help, I’ll probably say the wrong thing and make myself look stupid. Why don’t you come along like you suggested? I’m sure she’d love to meet you.’

If she was honest, part of her was a little bit disappointed. She’d been looking forward to it. But another part of her – the better part – knew it was the right thing to do. Nathan had been good to her. A real friend, in fact. Turning her back on him now, just because things were starting to get better, well, it just didn’t feel right.

Ellen was in the Vanbrugh, having a quiet drink with Jim. Trying to unwind after an unproductive day at work. The hearing had eventually gone ahead yesterday and Lewis Dayton was in Wandsworth prison, awaiting trial. Today, Ellen spent her morning ensuring all the paperwork was in order before sending it across to the CPS. In the afternoon, she’d done bits and pieces of work, but nothing that felt very substantial. The memory of Darlene crying into her granddaughter’s hair was a constant distraction. She was trying not to think about it but her mind kept going back to it, no matter how hard she tried.

Jim seemed distracted tonight as well. They barely spoke to each other during the first drink. Every few seconds, he’d check his phone for new messages. It was driving Ellen nuts. After the
second drink, she decided to call an end to the evening.

‘We should go,’ she said. ‘Mum’s babysitting. I promised her I wouldn’t be late.’

He looked surprised. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’

‘Neither of us are in form,’ she said. ‘I can’t stop thinking about work and I can see you’re miles away, too. More interested in your text messages than talking. Maybe it’s better to leave and grab an early night.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m waiting to hear about a possible job tomorrow. Very bad manners. Maybe you’re right. We should go.’

On the short walk home, he seemed to perk up. They spoke about things they wished they’d done but never had.

‘Have kids,’ Jim said.

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he said. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. You said yourself it’s the best thing you ever did and I can see when you’re with Pat and Eilish how happy they make you and how much you love them. I’d like to know what that feels like.’

‘It’s not too late,’ Ellen said. ‘Lots of men have kids in their forties.’

‘Not so many women, though,’ Jim said. ‘And right now, I can’t imagine that I’ll ever want to be with anyone except you.’

‘If kids are so important,’ Ellen said, ‘then maybe I’m the wrong woman for you.’

He stopped walking and turned to her. Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her – oh so softly – on the lips.

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘You’re most definitely not the wrong woman. I haven’t felt this right about anything in such a long time. These past few weeks with you, it’s been amazing, Ellen. You’re amazing. I don’t want this to end.’

‘Neither do I,’ she said. ‘But when you get to our age, life is complicated. Things like kids. Pat and Eilish are enough for me. I don’t want anymore. Besides, I’m too old. Don’t fancy my chances of being a mother again at forty-two. Forty-three, even. You know, if I got pregnant right now, I’d be forty-three before the child was born? There are too many risks for women of my age. I’d spend the nine months terrified.’

She was babbling and needed to shut up. He’d think she was a loon. She certainly sounded like one. Except now she’d started, she couldn’t stop.

‘I get scared,’ she continued, her tongue acting as if it had no connection to her brain. ‘So many things can go wrong. Having children, it makes you so vulnerable. Pat and Eilish are my life. I love them so much, but all the time I’m aware how precarious it all is. At any moment, something bad could happen and if it did, I wouldn’t survive it, Jim. I know that sounds mad and I’m sure it’s not normal to feel like this and I know a shrink would tell me it’s all to do with my mother and what happened to Vinny, but I can’t help it, you see. I’ve tried to be different, but the fear is always there.’

She would have kept going if he hadn’t leaned in right then and kissed her. Soft, at first, like before, then changing to something
else. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. She melted into him, desire blocking out everything except the feel of his mouth on hers, his body against her, his warmth. Him. All of him.

When they pulled away from each other, she was dazed. The world had tilted. Moments ago, she hadn’t been able to stop talking. Now, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He was still holding her and she knew if he wasn’t, she would fall over.

‘Hey,’ he said, nodding at something behind her. ‘Look at that.’

She turned her head. A full moon hovered over Greenwich, against the lit-up backdrop of Docklands and the O2. A bat flew across the sky, in front of the moon, its silhouette black against the white gold. Ellen started to comment on the bat but found herself kissing Jim again instead. He kissed her back, his intensity matching hers. In that instant she knew it would happen tonight. It felt right and natural.

They walked back to the house. Fast. Somehow, her shaking hands managed to get the keys from her bag and open the front door. She pulled him in after her.

‘Ellen?’

Her mother. How could she have forgotten her mother was here? Putting her finger on his lips, Ellen told him to go into the kitchen and pour himself a glass of wine. Said she’d be there in a minute.

‘It’s not wine I want,’ he whispered. ‘Besides, if I don’t go and say hello, your mother may never forgive me.’

Ellen groaned.

‘I’ll need to drive her home,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t drive and normally insists on walking but I don’t like her doing that if I can help it.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Jim said. ‘Okay if I come back after dropping her off?’

‘You’d better,’ Ellen said.

Her parents lived on Fingal Street, two long minutes the other side of Trafalgar Road. While she waited for Jim, Ellen paced around, unsure what to do. She went to put a CD on, but couldn’t choose one that suited her mood. Everything reminded her of Vinny. She needed something new. Jim music. Stupid. What was she thinking? She wasn’t. That was the problem. Only it wasn’t a problem. It felt good to follow her heart for once. Do something without over-thinking it first. Still the problem of the music, though. She pulled out a Nick Drake album then put it back. Too depressing. Grabbed something at random without reading the spine. A compilation. The Tommy Dorsey orchestra with Frank Sinatra. Perfect.

Trombone, then the rest of the orchestra, followed by Frank’s pure, pure voice.
I’ll be seeing you
. When he hit the line about looking at the moon, Ellen smiled. She swayed out of the sitting room into the kitchen where she poured a glass of wine for Jim and water for herself.

A knock on the front door. He was back. In the hallway, she paused to check her face in the mirror. In the dim light, she
looked fine and she made a note to keep out of the unforgiving light of the kitchen. She wiped her damp hands down the front of her jeans and opened the door. Grinning like a bloody fool, ready to throw herself into his arms.

He was leaning against the doorframe, like he’d walked straight out of the album she was listening to. In the background, a new song.
That Face
. Something about lips and eyes. Jim spoke. She didn’t hear him. Mesmerised by his face. The tug of desire so strong it scared her. No turning back.

He walked in and scooped her into his arms. Something buzzed in her pocket. Her phone’s ring-tone blocked out Frank’s voice. Apologising, she pulled away. Took her phone out and saw Monica’s number on the display.

‘Leave it,’ Jim said.

‘I’ll only be a minute.’ She put the phone to her ear. ‘DI Kelly.’

Jim rolled his eyes but he smiled and she was relieved he wasn’t really upset.

‘I’ve poured you a glass of wine,’ she said. ‘In the kitchen. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

‘There’s someone outside my house,’ Monica said. ‘I’m scared, Ellen. Can you come over?’

Ellen glanced into the kitchen. Jim had his glass in his hand and seemed quite content browsing through her cookbooks. Vinny’s books, not that it mattered.

‘You have the emergency number,’ Ellen said. ‘You should call that instead.’

‘Sorry,’ Monica said. ‘I couldn’t find it. Please, Ellen. I’m really freaking out here.’

Her voice was slurring. Not a lot, but enough to tell Ellen that Monica had been drinking. Not that she blamed her.

‘I’ll get a car out to you,’ Ellen said. ‘I can’t come over myself. I can’t leave my children alone in the house.’

When Monica started crying, Ellen told her to hang up and wait by the front door. Ellen would organise a car and call her back, stay on the phone until the car arrived.

Through the glass doors that separated the sitting room from the kitchen, Ellen saw Jim. The thrill of him being here had gone, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. He needed to go. She couldn’t deal with Monica while he was here. He was too much of a delicious distraction.

He had a cookbook open in front of him and was flicking through the pages. As Ellen watched, he looked up, caught her starting at him and smiled. Ellen tried to smile back but couldn’t get her mouth to work.

When she told him what had happened, he couldn’t have been more understanding. Part of her wished he wouldn’t be so damn nice about it. Wished he’d plead with her to change her mind. He didn’t, of course. Simply kissed her on the forehead and said of course, he understood. Which he couldn’t because she didn’t understand herself, but she supposed it was good of him to say it. She stood by the front door and watched as he climbed into his battered green Saab and drove off.

And just like that, he was gone.

A cloud floated across the sky. It blocked out the moon and plunged the street into sudden darkness. Ellen waited for it to pass. Gradually, the moon came back – a sliver of white light that grew until it was a round whole once more. She went back inside and pulled the front door closed. It shut with a click. The sound echoed through the silent house, taunting her.