by Janet Preece
Welcome to the real world, guys, because when people get to know you, they will likely wish they never had.
Julie climbed into bed and switched the light off. The bed was cold; it was always cold. The warmth had long since left her relationship, and bed socks were a better bet. You always knew where you were with bed socks. With Dan out working late, she could sleep facing the centre of the bed. There would be no one to snore, nobody to complain if she took up more space or too much of the covers. She spread out, daring to move her legs across to his side. She would sleep at an angle, if only to annoy him – if he even bothered to grace her with his company at some point that night. The room was still, silent, dark and relaxing, and she soon dropped off into an exhausted sleep.
◆ ◆ ◆
‘Mum, it’s school time!’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, it’s like fucking Groundhog Day in this house!’
Tommy gasped. ‘You said a bad word! Mum said fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’
‘Tommy, stop that! You’re right, I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t know what I was saying! I was still half asleep when you woke me.’
He trailed out of the door repeating himself until his brothers joined in. Great. What had she started? Rolling over, Julie looked at Dan. Would he be annoyed? Nope. He was asleep. As. Per. Usual.
She reached over to her mobile and turned the alarm off. No point waiting another half hour for it to go off at the time she would have liked to get up. There was a message waiting from Rachel. Julie clicked to open it.
Rachel: Book club in two weeks! Free today for lunch? Twelve o’clock, coffee shop in Marble Arch, near work?
Julie smiled. She could make it there and back in the school day, and Dan wouldn’t notice. She would have to keep her eyes peeled though, as his office on Oxford Street sometimes brought him over that way. Best to keep a low profile.
She replied with a smiley emoji and a thumbs-up.
Julie: See you there!
Chapter Twenty
‘Hi, lovely lady, how are you?’ Julie greeted Rachel with a hug and a kiss, marvelling at how her flawless makeup had made it through to midday and wondering if any had transferred onto her own pale face.
‘All good, thanks, just a bit crazy at work, but we deffo needed a catch up. It’s been ages! What have you been up to? Are the kids pulling their weight more now? They’re a right needy lot! Did you get a job? I’m guessing not, or I would have heard.’ Rachel didn’t take a breath as she expertly beckoned for the waitress to come over and ordered a skinny caramel soya latte and a granola pot. The young girl repeated her order but didn’t write it down, then looked over expectantly at Julie.
‘Um, could I have a burger, chips and a Pepsi, please?’ She couldn’t look at her friend, knowing the judgement that would be staring back at her.
The waitress nodded, reached down to take their wine glasses and plates from the table and walked away. What was the point of it, table decoration? If she had ordered wine, would they have used that glass, topped it up or brought a fresh one out anyway? How many times had these plates sat pretty on a table, waiting, with people talking over them, spreading their germs, resting their grubby hands on top? What happened to the plates and glasses once they were back in the kitchen?
‘What’s the matter, Julie?’
‘Sorry, I just went off into my own world. What were we talking about?’
The waitress came over with the food and drinks. Julie couldn’t help but wonder how they’d managed to get the food cooked so quickly and whether the microwave had been involved. She watched Rachel as she dipped a long-handled teaspoon into the mini granola pot. It looked so dainty, covered in smooth white yoghurt, with a berry mix running in pretty rivulets over the edges of the artistic creation. Time seemed to slow down as she watched the spoon enter her friend’s mouth, perfectly painted lips parting to make way for the delicate flavours.
She looked down at her own plate, lifted her burger in two hands and bit into it as delicately as possible, ending up with a mouthful of bun, greasy hands and half the filling falling back onto the plate. Why had she chosen it? To rebel against Dan when he wasn’t even there? He was forever commenting on her weight and how she’d let herself go since having the kids, but she knew well enough it was nothing to do with that. It was the depression that engulfed her in every waking moment of her life, had done so since she became part of the furniture of the house; functional.
‘I’m going to leave,’ she blurted out.
Rachel put down her spoon and looked at her. ‘You have to leave already?’
‘No, not the restaurant! I’m going to leave Dan! And the kids and my life and everything. I want to run away and hide, and when I feel better, I want to start my life over again.’
Rachel laughed.
‘I’m not joking. I mean it! I’ve had enough. You’re the one who told me I should leave him. Well, I’m going to.’
‘But what about the kids? Will you take them with you? Where will you go?’
‘No, just me. I don’t care about the consequences. Let somebody else worry and plan and sort and skivvy – and care.’
‘Julie, I can’t believe you’re telling me this now, when’ – she glanced at her watch – ‘I have to head off in, like, five minutes! Why did you let me order food? This is massive!’ She put another spoonful of granola to her lips, and it flopped over the front of her blouse.
‘Wow, I’ve managed to flummox you!’ Julie laughed, as Rachel dabbed at her top, still in shock. If she had managed to shock her friend, what would it do to Dan and the kids? She hoped it would have the desired effect: she would go, they would miss her, she would return, and they would welcome her home like the prodigal son, prodigal mother – whatever.
‘Fuck, I need to clean this up. Don’t move out of that chair, Mrs!’ Rachel rushed off to the bathroom, napkin in hand. ‘Soon-to-be Miss!’ she shouted from the doorway.
Julie sat surfing Facebook, not able to just sit on her own without having something to pass the time. She heard a buzz from Rachel’s bag.
Bugger, her mobile phone.
The loudest ringtone started to accompany it, making heads turn. Julie reached forwards and frantically rummaged through Rachel’s bag. How the hell did such a small, compact holdall contain so much makeup?
Where the fuck is that phone?
People around the room were frowning, all eyes on her as the accompanying tuts started up. Well, it’s not my fucking phone, she thought, brandishing her own in the air to demonstrate. Don’t shoot the messenger. Actually, shoot the messenger; if they hadn’t bloody called, the phone wouldn’t be disturbing everyone.
Finally! She pulled the phone out just as the ringing stopped. Missed call. She rolled her eyes to the sky and was just about to return it when she noticed the number. It was Dan’s. Why was he calling? Always checking up on her and tormenting her friends as well now! For Christ’s sake, when would it end?
Fuck off, Dan.
‘What are you doing in my bag?’ Rachel shouted, snatching it, the contents falling to the floor where Julie hadn’t quite finished closing the zip. ‘Oh, great, thanks for that!’
‘Sorry, it’s just your phone rang, and people were looking, and I went to turn it off but it stopped before I reached it. It was Dan, by the way! Checking up on me. God knows how he knew I was out with you. If he rings again, do me a favour and just say you haven’t seen me, please.’
Rachel nodded slowly, the smile gone from her lips. She mumbled something about having to get back to work, grabbed her coat and started to walk towards the door.
‘Rachel, are we all right?’ Julie asked, not wanting to end on a sour note.
‘Sure, Julie, I’ve just got to go.’
‘Okay, sorry again about your bag.’
She watched as her friend left the restaurant, reality dawning on
her that if she walked away from her life, she might not ever see her again. She was sad as she got out her bank card to pay the bill, then remembered how tight Rachel was and wondered if the whole overreaction had been to get out of paying. Ridiculous but quite likely, knowing Rachel. And she did know her – they’d been best friends for nearly fifteen years.
What a sneaky trick. She threw some cash down on the table in frustration at being blanked by the waitress. It always flummoxed her. Why were they so quick to take your order but not your money? It should be the other way around.
Outside, it was cold – always cold. As she walked along, Julie hugged herself.
‘Miss! Miss! Stop, Miss!’
Oh, shit. The waitress was running after her. Had it been more than that? She’d probably underestimated the cost of that granola.
‘Miss, you dropped your phone!’ The woman handed over a mobile.
‘That’s not mine but thank you anyway!’
‘Maybe it’s your friend’s? It was on the floor, under your table.’
No. She remembered Rachel’s phone from earlier, and this wasn’t hers. Julie pressed the home screen button, and a photo popped up: Rachel in her work clothes at her desk, posing with a pen in hand, pouting her lips.
‘Oh, yes, it is! Thanks. I must have been mistaken.’
The waitress ran off back to the warm, leaving Julie staring at the phone. It was definitely not the phone Dan had called. Rachel had two phones? A second phone? For a split second, Julie wondered, Could it be?
Don’t be silly.
Rachel was a high-flying business woman; she must have one phone for business, and another for…home? But a nagging doubt overtook her. There was Dan’s number again, another missed call showing. How did he know she had two phones?
Julie reached into her own bag, withheld her number and tried to call that illusive number.
Rachel’s photo lit up as the mobile started to vibrate.
Why was it ringing? Why, Rachel? What? Was her friend spying on her for Dan? She unlocked the phone, Rachel always so predictable with her codes. The wallpaper changed to a different photo: Rachel dressed up as a pilot.
What’s going on?
It was so intrusive, but Julie couldn’t help clicking into her friend’s photos, feeling a guilty pleasure as she browsed through image after image of Rachel posing, pouting, thrusting her breasts at the camera, bulging them out of her negligee – unrecognisable as the Rachel she knew so well, strangely mesmerising. Julie flicked through a few more, wondering who had taken the photos, what secret life her friend had been living, fascinated by her body: pert, perfect, an obvious delight to the photographer.
Then, Dan.
Naked Dan.
Naked Dan and naked Rachel.
Naked Dan and naked Rachel having sex.
She dropped the phone to the ground, watched the screen crack, the pictures still leering back at her. It didn’t make sense. How could she? How could they? With each other?
Julie heaved, a lump of burger threatening to block her airways as a further heave followed. All of the arguments over Dan, Rachel pushing Julie, making out that he was terrible, that they weren’t suited. The breakdown of Rachel’s own marriage a couple of years ago – had her husband known? Julie had thought Rachel the stronger woman, breaking free from an abusive relationship, but had she been lying about that too? Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion. How many times had Rachel manipulated her into attending parties and then left her on her own for hours when she was running late? Had she been meeting with Dan? Oh, my God. Had she hidden, watched her, waited for her to leave the house so she could pounce and take over? And Dan – maybe he didn’t trust Rachel to keep their secret? Had she been pushing for more? Threatening to tell Julie? That would explain why he hadn’t wanted them to spend time together, always making a fuss when they arranged to meet up. Or was that all an act, all part of a long-term plan?
She reached down and retrieved the phone. It was still working, the cracked screen a perfect metaphor for her life. Julie willed herself to skim the photos, cold shivers running through her, cheeks burning up with fury and humiliation. She checked the dates the photos had been taken, looking back to find the first images. How long had they been at it behind her back? The pictures kept scrolling. Then, the two of them seated at a table, arm in arm, ‘Happy Anniversary!’ written across their dessert plates as they sat in white bathrobes. The spa.
Julie threw the phone into a homeless man’s hat. ‘Enjoy the view,’ she muttered as she walked away.
Anger? Relief? She wouldn’t be going home that night or anytime soon – this had made her decision concrete. Let him wonder where she was, who she was with; let him worry about her, see what life would be like when she was gone. Revenge was best served cold – wasn’t that what her mother used to say? Dan had brought this upon himself.
Chapter Twenty-One
As the sun’s first rays prised their way between her eyelashes, Julie welcomed the day, a new dawn at last was rising. She had never been one for getting up early, before, but it’s surprising how welcoming the morning can be when the day is spent in self-indulgence.
Three months had passed since her discovery of Rachel and Dan’s affair, and since leaving she had enjoyed the freedom more than she ever thought she could. You only live once, she told herself daily, revelling in every moment, no matter how trivial.
Life was a pleasure. There was nobody to nag, no more demands. She lived on minimum wage, worked in kitchens or cleaning jobs, enjoyed the variation of fruit-picking out under the hot sun when the opportunity presented itself – everybody working together, comrades in arms, appreciative. Her only stress was physical; it was exhausting work but it left her satisfied at the end of the day, gave her a sense of achievement plus a smile and a chat with those around her. As long as the body kept working, the mind was free.
Had Dan and Rachel worked out that she knew? More likely, they thought she’d had a breakdown! No doubt Rachel would have told Dan all about their meeting, the things they’d chatted about, Julie’s admission she felt undervalued and was threatening to walk out. Would she have mentioned Dan’s missed call, the bag dropping? Had Rachel noticed her other phone was missing, perhaps suspected Julie of taking it? She had so much time to think over every scenario and only wished she could be a fly on the wall, hacking into their conversations.
She thought about the kids but not as often as she had expected to. There was a little niggling pang of guilt over leaving Tommy to fend for himself. It will be the making of him, she told herself, and the other boys. Her absence would teach them all a bit of independence, force them to look after each other like brothers should, kill off their selfish streak. She was itching to find out but couldn’t bring herself to return. Life was so short, and she was enjoying the time she had. She had played her part in procreation, used her body to supply the next generation, the continuation of humanity, but for what purpose? If she didn’t enjoy her life – if humanity didn’t enjoy life – why continue the human race? Since leaving, Julie had found an inner peace; a strong sense of self. She knew what she wanted from her life. She was free in body and mind and was excited to plan for the future, feeling no remorse about what would come next.
She planned to borrow a car. Her boss wouldn’t miss her for a day or two – he was a free spirit too. Julie would find Rachel, and they would ‘talk’.
She smiled. Tomorrow would be the start of something beautiful.
◆ ◆ ◆
The keys had been left inside the Land Rover. It looked a bit battered and certainly wasn’t a flashy number to drive down the street, but it was perfect for what Julie needed: large enough to carry a body in the boot under a well-placed tarpaulin, and not dirty enough to be pulled over as unroadworthy. The number plate was old, a jumbled mess of letters, less memorable than a newer plate. Ideal. Julie smiled at the irony
of the spade and gloves in the boot. Maybe this vehicle knew its own fate, or maybe it already had stories to tell.
She looked forward to the drive; to the beginning of the end. She scrawled ‘Clean Me’ on the back of the car before getting in, then smirked. She turned the keys in the ignition, attempted to tune the radio and was on her way. Julie felt like Alice in Wonderland – everything provided for her, even a full tank of diesel to get her on her way towards her adventures.
No delays, just drive.
The road ahead was clear, so she put her foot down and tried to bring the old car up to the speed limit, finding herself singing along with some Eighties tunes. They were ingrained in her being and made her feel free. She let her imagination wander to everything she had planned, what to do first. As much as she relished the thought of scraping her eyes out, burning her hair, pulling her fingernails one by one, she didn’t want Rachel to pass out too quickly. She would need to make a list, order everything correctly – but how do you find out that kind of information? As she mulled over the gruesome reality, she wondered what unforetold problems might come up. It’s going to be messy, is it really worth all that cleaning or is there another way?
Capture, incarcerate, instil fear, push for confession, question, watch her beg for forgiveness – then rev up to more extreme torture, ensuring Rachel remained conscious to endure the pain. Note to self, save her eyes till last, make her watch. If she passed out that would be no fun. At that point, she might as well just end the party.
Julie tapped her handbag on the seat next to her, smiling, knowing the solution at the end was inside. She’d taken some of the treasures from her bottom drawer when she’d left her family, wanted to be prepared in case she couldn’t cope. She told herself that if she had a weak moment, a few pills would help it pass to help her regain her conviction, but she hadn’t needed any. Now those pills would help when the end came for Rachel, perhaps she would join her in the final cocktail. She hummed along to the radio once more, smiling at the road ahead. The clear straight path ahead, trafficless, nothing standing in her way at last.
