Using the bannister he pulls himself up and turns, only to be rooted to the spot again when the outside buzzer sounds. He knows it’s not for him; the old lady will probably be in bed with her hot chocolate so … he resumes the position and listens hard.
Charlotte’s voice carries the length and breadth of the hallway and, for once, he’s grateful for that. “No. Who are you? Wait there.”
Dan holds back on a smirk. ‘Way to go Charlotte, you always were a charmer.’ Doors slam, the new guy joins the party.
Back at base, standing in the darkness, Dan checks out the new vehicle. “Another chauffeur driven Rolls. What is it with these posers, can’t any of them drive?” He can’t make out the registration, but doesn’t have to. His instincts tell him this guy is a lightweight compared to Stone.
He sees Charlotte leave, followed by guy number two. What a night! “There’s more drama here than the West End,” he announces, throwing a used tea bag into the sink. “People would pay good money to get a load of this.”
With a chocolate digestive in one hand a mug of tea in the other, he saunters into the bedroom. Everything he bought has been installed and is ready. If it were possible, he’d give himself a pat on the back.
Finishing his tea, he puts down the empty cup by the mattress and reaches into the box of latex gloves. They are sticky like toffee paper and have to be peeled apart so he can wriggle his fat fingers into them; they’re snug and need some adjusting before becoming a comfortable fit. He looks down at them, feeling a wave of something uncontrollable rippling around his groin. The thought of removing her from her safe little world stirs him into arousal. He grabs his hardening cock through his jeans and instinctively closes his eyes. She’s no longer a ghost but a living, breathing, seductive little girl: his girl.
Hearing the security door shut with a bang downstairs, he dashes to his observation post. No sooner does one Rolls leave than another arrives. It looks familiar. His chest inflates and bile fills his mouth, “Stone! You just can’t keep your fucking hands off her can you?”
Gloved fingers, the colour of stale yogurt, appear on the glass in the shape of an elongated strangle hold. Dan stomps off into the bedroom and rips off the gloves in a frenzied display of brutish rage; they lay by the mattress shredded. His plan of attack is on hold and Stone’s intervention has put a spanner in the works: it’s a non-starter. He checks his watch, picks up his rucksack and prepares to leave. There’s always tomorrow …
12
The tap, tap, tap of busy fingers on laptop keys stirs me into wakefulness. What’s he doing at five thirty in the morning? I throw on his T-shirt and stumble into the kitchen but he’s so engrossed in his composition that I have to cough to get his attention.
By the light of a small lamp he’s typing away furiously. I walk over and stand behind him, draping my arms around his shoulders.
“Whatcha doing there?” I glance at his lengthy email. Shit! I rub my eyelids and fear the worse.
“I’m composing an email, excusing myself from the Conference in LA. tomorrow. I won’t be attending.” He continues typing.
“Why?”
“Because I have other commitments, like being here with you,” he answers, planting a kiss on the upturned palm of my right hand.
This is not good!
Trying to conceal my panic, I remind him: “But I won’t be here.” Thank God he can’t see my face.
“You will tonight. I’ll plan something special, take you out to dinner. I know a romantic restaurant in Chelsea.”
Before he can finish I interject, desperate times call for desperate measures. “But, like I said, I won’t be here. I’ve made other plans.” I hate lying.
“When?” He asks pulling me around to sit across his knee.
“Ages ago.” Think of something, think of something. “It’s Charlie’s birthday next week and I said I would help her organise her party.”
“On a school night?”
A chuckle escapes my mouth. “Yes, on a school night.”
“Ok. Then what time will you get back?” He presses me further.
For added effect I gesticulate with my hands. “I’ll probably stop over and go to work from there. There’ll be wine.”
“Right.” He looks disappointed but, thankfully, he’s stopped typing and is considering his options. The moment his forefinger finds his lower lip, I know he’s halfway there. I go in for the kill.
“Wednesday night’s likely to be a write-off too. I’ll probably stay on at school to finish off my marking and sort out photocopying for next term. I doubt I’ll be good company after all that.” I run my fingers through his hair and offer a smile of resignation. “I’m really sorry. Anyway, what’s happening in L.A?”
“It’s the annual meeting for CEO’s and MD’s. Leading players in global communications.”
I present my widest stare. “Isn’t that you?”
He nods, but his eyes remain glued to the screen.
“Then you’re taking yourself out of the game because of me?” I launch a loaded question and let it fly.
“Not exactly.”
“Yes, exactly. If you’re writing an apology then you’re expected to attend?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to be giving the opening speech.”
“What! And, because of me, you’re throwing away an opportunity like that?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
“It looks like that from where I’m sitting.” My attention moves from the screen to him. Taking his face in my hands, I prepare for my final assault. “Ayden, you had a life before me, remember. Your company is everything to you. I don’t want you to look back on this and blame me for a missed opportunity.”
He rests his hand on my thigh. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“No, but I would. You have to go.”
“I don’t have to do anything Beth.” I detect an inflection.
“You have to do this, besides, I’ve got Charlie’s party to help plan and books to mark before half term; I want to tidy up the apartment ...”
His neck takes the brunt of my attack and his hand massages it roughly. “I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. Nothing will change. I’ll still love you when you get back. I may even love you more. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
He’s thinking.
How long must I keep this up?
“I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to give you some time to yourself.” He’s folding.
“It’ll hurt a little, but you’re right it won’t kill either of us.”
“Maybe I should?”
He’s going.
Stretching, I slither off his knee and go for broke. “It’s your decision, but hurry up, decide and come back to bed. My alarm will be going off in an hour and a half.” I take a quick look at the screen and watch him press ‘discard.’
Thank God!
***
Tuesday morning comes much too soon. I hit the alarm with such force it bounces off the bedside cabinet, and it insists on torturing me with its muffled cries from the floor. Leaning across Ayden’s vacant space, my hand finds it and turns it off. There’s the aroma of coffee; it’s drifting through the apartment urging me to rise and shine. The accustomed sound of typing holds my attention. Surely, he’s not redrafting his apology? I don’t have the strength to talk him round, not again.
I make myself presentable and slip on a school blouse and a skirt, before tying back my hair in preparation for another working day spent stressing the importance of accurate spelling and punctuation to a generation of texting fanatics.
With a spring in my step, I enter the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Hey, you decided to get up then?” A cheeky smile appears from round the screen.
“I had no choice, what with the alarm, the smell of coffee and your incessant typing.” Why do I sound so grouchy?
“I’ve only been up half an hour. I wanted to make a start on my speech.”
My
sprits leap but I suppress a triumphant smile. “Do you want to read it back to me, I’m pretty good with words.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” He offers a knowing smile. “It’s still in the early stages.”
“Ok but if you need to, you can ask for help. That’s what I’m here for, amongst other things.” I blow him a kiss: he sends one back. “Don’t think of it as a power struggle Ayden. We’re combining forces. That’s all.”
“I know, no need to call the therapist Beth, I get it.”
I munch on cereal. “Good. Have you got a theme in mind?”
“I did, but I’ve changed it due to recent events.” He’s winking at me.
What does that mean?
I look at my watch. “Look, I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to go.” I punch my arm into my black Mango jacket. “What time’s your flight?”
“Midday. I’ll call you when I land, but I’ll be seven hours back, so I won’t leave it too late.”
I nod, grateful for his explanation.
“By the way, I’ve organised something for us on Thursday.”
“Another picnic?”
“No, I’m taking you to Rome for a couple of days.”
I can’t conceal my excitement. He remembered our first date.
“To check out intercity parking?”
A smile of remembrance plays on his lips. “Not quite.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. It’s called the Eternal City, you know?”
“No I didn’t know that.” He pulls me onto his knee, inching in towards my face with every word. “I’ll pick you up at eleven Thursday morning. I’ll have slept on the flight back.”
“And showered?”
“And showered.” We laugh and share the joke.
I trace the shape of his face with my right hand and enjoy the feel of overnight stubble. This is the first time I’ve caught him unshaven and I love the look.
“You see, everything’s working out. Now you won’t get under my feet while I’m packing and planning for our trip, and you’ll be out there being my Mr. P.”
“Your what?”
“My Mr. P. for Powerful.”
“We’ll have to see about that.” He can’t conceal his amusement; the way his mouth twitches and his eyes sparkle is a tell-tale sign.
I taste his lips and inhale the coffee on his breath one last time. “Have a safe flight Ayden. I’ll miss you.”
His hands frame my face. “I’ll miss you more.” Our kiss has to last over three days so we savour it. With immeasurable tenderness he kisses me good bye, making me regret ever having promised to get him on that damn plane.
“By the way, don’t be surprised to see a silver Audi behind you. I’ve organised some security to and from work and through the night, until we can get you fixed up with some security in this place.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you, what would I do without you?”
He has no answer to that and can only shrug. “Go, you’ll be late.”
“Bye.” He releases me.
“Bye baby. Be good.”
I blow him a kiss over my shoulder and make my way to my car, giving my escort a wave as I pass. First order of the day is to speak with Charlie; she’s my alibi and must be able to corroborate my story. En route I call her mobile and put her on speakerphone.
“Hey honey, I’ve been waiting for your call. How’s things” she sounds bright and breezy.
“Oh, how long have you got?”
“Not long.”
“Then, you’d better take a rain check. I’m calling because I need a favour.” I know I only have to ask, but it’s only polite not to assume.
“Fire away.”
“I had to get Ayden to go to an important meeting in L.A. so I told him we had plans tonight.”
“Ok?” She sounds unsure.
“We’re meeting up so I can help arrange your birthday party, alright?”
“Sounds plausible enough. And are we?”
“Sure, if you don’t have plans. I had to think on my feet and you were my best alibi.”
“Happy to help, and are you stopping over?”
“I said I might.”
“Then why don’t you? It seems like ages since we had a girlie night.” In the background I can hear the sound of car horns. “And the same to you mister!” She calls out.
“So I’ll see you later then? Say around 6 o’clock?”
“Sounds good. Bring wine, I plan on getting you very drunk.” She laughs loudly.
I’m smiling. “I bet you are. Anyway, I’ve got school tomorrow, it’s my last day and then I’m off for a fortnight.”
“You lucky sod. I wish I worked part time.” I refuse to take the bait. “Look, I’ve got to park up. See you later honey. Have a nice day.”
“I plan to, same to you, Char.”
“See ya.”
“Bye.”
I give a little sigh of relief, having sorted out my cover story. If Ayden rings her, for whatever reason, I know I won’t be caught out. I hate being devious but it’s done with the best of intentions. Besides, it’s a magnanimous gesture on my part, I’d much rather be spending time with Ayden than trying to shake myself free from Charlie’s thumb screws.
***
Morning lessons come and go and break is enjoyed by one and all; the Head of Music is celebrating her birthday and there is a selection of cakes and biscuits laid out in the staffroom. I take myself to a quiet corner to text Ayden a safe flight and send him my love. His reply is instantaneous, as is the promise of more love.
Having had my sugar fix, I skip lunch and settle for an apple and a bottle of water. My new wardrobe is full of snug fitting clothes. The last thing I want to do is stack on the pounds, risking burst seems and uncomfortable waistbands.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted but I make an effort to check the duration of Ayden’s flight: it’s eleven hours. I don’t expect to hear from him until midnight. That gives him ample time to fine-tune his speech.
Before heading over to Canary Wharf to see Charlie, I decide to call home to change and pick up a bottle of Charlie’s favourite Carsi Vineyard Chardonnay. Just as I’m about to exit my bedroom, I notice something on my pillow, it’s my platinum kiss necklace. I grasp it tightly in my right hand until my fingertips glow: he’s so thoughtful. It feels good to have it around my neck, simply wearing it sends a warm, fuzzy feeling through my body, much like the one I felt the day we met. I miss you already Ayden.
After a morning spent unblocking drains and repairing a leaking roof, Dan is ready for some rest and recuperation. Unfortunately, neither activity features on his mental, ‘to do’ list. Getting to his new apartment before she arrives home from work is his number one priority, and that is why he is pushing his dilapidated BMW to its limit in the outside lane. The finger on the speedometer is twitching between seventy and eighty and still he’s being pushed to go faster by impatient motorists.
“I can see you, I’m not fucking blind!” He calls out when the glow from the flashing headlights in his rear view mirror pierces his eyes. Reluctantly, he pulls into the middle lane and stays there, allowing his car to take a well-earned breather.
By 1600hrs, he’s pulling up outside Elm Gardens, checking the parking area for a black Fiesta, he assumes that’s her car. He gives himself the ‘all clear’ and makes a run for it: in through the door, straight up the stairs and into his apartment. A little breathless, he leans against the front door, his eyes are darting from left to right. He has his thinking face on. Last night’s events were a setback, that’s for sure, but he won’t be deterred. He’s ready to take it on the chin and move on.
He strategically places a folding chairs by the window. Standing, waiting and watching plays havoc with his back. He learned that seven years ago and ended up having to take painkillers around the clock but, it was a small price to pay. Some of his best photographs were taken as a result of dedicated surveillance.
Earlier than he had antic
ipated, a black Fiesta parks up at the end of the cul-de-sac and out she steps looking all business like and lovely. The tripod holds the camera steady and the zoom lens captures her, unguarded and alone. Dan cannot conceal his joy, he rubs his hands together with tenacious swipes: there’s no stopping him now. In his eagerness to get to her, he kicks the lightweight chair away and a half empty cup of tea spills over the carpet.
“Shit!” He calls out seeing the mocha coloured stain forming on the plush, fibres. Cursing all the way, he by-passes the bedroom and heads for the bathroom. He tugs at the toilet roll and wraps waves and waves of it around his hand.
The paper absorbs the seeping liquid and quickly turns into a sickly, brown mush. His feeble attempt at clearing up his mess has flustered him. He had not planned for that and a little detail he could not have anticipated has become a costly distraction.
He takes a minute to calm down and to mentally prepare for what he has to do. Once again, he slips on the latex gloves, he’s done it before and this time he has no trouble sliding in his fingers. They fit like a second skin. He checks his watch: 1700hrs.
Time to face the music.
With no more than his physical strength and the element of surprise on his side, he prepares to move onto the next stage of ‘Operation Snatch Back.’ He slips his keys into his back pocket and heads out of the apartment, but halts on pulling the door to. There are voices on the stairs.
“I’m off to see a friend in Canary Wharf.”
“Oh that’s nice. You won’t have met the new tenant upstairs then?”
Not yet, but you will …
“No, I’ve been busy.”
Busy fighting off that fucking poser Stone …
“He’s called Daniel, I think.”
“Really? I’m sure we’ll meet at some point.”
You can count on it princess …
“Bye Pat.”
“Bye Beth, have fun.”
Beth?
The sound of the security door closing hits him hard. Quickly, before the lady downstairs gets to her apartment, he nips inside and pulls his door shut with the softest of clicks. He sprints over to the window only to witness the Fiesta disappearing out of sight.
Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play Page 25
