Stand by Me

by S. D. Robertson

  He had a point. Aldham wasn’t exactly a tourist hot spot and The Grange, a grand four-star hotel and golf course, was the sole option for several miles. Located in spacious grounds on the edge of the village, it specialised in business functions and weddings. Hardly a cheap option, and yet it was probably exactly the kind of place Elliot was used to staying nowadays, in light of his financial success.

  Although Lisa protested that he would have been welcome to stay at the house, she was secretly glad to hear this. The spare room was choc-a-bloc with accumulated junk and in no current state for visitors – especially ones she wanted to impress. Plus, there was the ticking time bomb of her husband to think about. His eventual arrival home would be bad enough without having to explain an unexpected male houseguest. Not least one who happened to be her childhood best friend and the kind of good-looking guy who no doubt had women falling at his feet.

  Lisa couldn’t get her head around El’s physical transformation from a plump, self-conscious schoolboy to the hunky man here in her home. No wonder she hadn’t recognised him straight away. The only recent photo she’d seen of him, thanks to her aversion to joining Facebook and so on, had been a headshot accompanying the Sydney Morning Herald article she’d found online last Christmas. That obviously hadn’t been a very recent or flattering photo, because although some weight loss had been evident, the picture really hadn’t done him justice.

  Was this why she felt so self-conscious as she led him into her lounge? Or did that have more to do with the kind of beachside mansion she pictured when she imagined his home in Sydney? He’d gone places – literally and figuratively. Meanwhile here she was, following in her mother’s unexciting footsteps as a primary school teacher and still living in Aldham. The house was actually smaller than the one she’d grown up in. It was nice enough: a simple four-bedroom detached from the late sixties. But through Elliot’s eyes it probably looked poky and cluttered.

  ‘Sorry it’s a mess,’ she said. ‘But at least it matches me in my scruffy dressing gown. Do grab a seat while I nip upstairs to change.’

  ‘Gosh, I’ve made you feel awkward, haven’t I? I knew I shouldn’t have turned up unannounced so late. I ought to have waited until tomorrow and then called ahead. But the truth is that once I got here, I couldn’t wait.’ Elliot scratched his head. ‘The whole trip back to the UK was a last-minute thing.’

  ‘No need to apologise,’ Lisa replied, tidying up some of the various remote controls, pens, magazines and newspaper sections strewn across the lounge furniture. ‘It’s fantastic to see you.’

  ‘Please don’t clear up on my account, Lise. You should check out my study at home if you think this is untidy. Honestly, it would turn your stomach.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing that didn’t need doing anyway. Right, make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back in two ticks. Can I get you a drink on my way: tea, coffee, something stronger?’

  ‘I’d love a glass of water when you’re ready, but no rush.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  ‘Where’s the rest of the family?’

  ‘The kids are out for the night, staying with friends; Mike should be back later.’

  Lisa raced up to her bedroom. She scowled at her unruly reflection in the mirror: her messed-up hairstyle and exposed roots; her dumpy figure and pale, blotchy skin. Wishing this hadn’t been Elliot’s first impression of her, she eyed her black dress. It was still lying on the bed where she’d discarded it earlier. She considered putting it back on, only to accept that doing so would look even stranger than running upstairs to change. So instead she pulled on the light-blue linen trousers she’d worn to work, adding a fresh white T-shirt. After completing a brisk repair job on her make-up, she was on her way back downstairs when the doorbell sounded.

  Shit. This time it had to be Mike for real.

  She considered darting to the lounge to give El a heads up before letting Mike in, but then the bell rang again. Dammit. This was going to get messy. Heart in mouth, she swung open the door, only to find herself facing another man who wasn’t her husband. What the hell?

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I bloody hope so,’ the man replied. He looked to be in his early forties, casually dressed, curly grey hair, stocky with a beer gut. ‘Is this where Michael Adams lives?’

  His brusque tone put Lisa on the defensive. ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘The knackered cabbie who foolishly agreed to bring him home.’

  ‘What? Where is he?’ Lisa asked, looking behind her latest visitor and seeing for the first time a black cab parked in front of the drive.

  ‘He’s sprawled out in the back, pissed up; dead to the world. I can’t shift him. Are you his missus?’

  Lisa nodded.

  ‘Here, take this.’ The taxi driver handed her Mike’s wallet. ‘I had to get it out of his pocket so I could find out where he lived. Luckily, his driving licence is in there. And don’t be thinking I’ve robbed anything. Some folk would. They’d have probably dumped his drunken arse at the side of the road too, but that’s not me.’

  ‘How much is the fare?’ she asked, looking at the two ten pound notes still in the wallet and wondering if that would be enough.

  ‘That’s already sorted, love. I got him to pay upfront, seeing the state he was in. He was at least still conscious then. Are you going to help me get him out? If he spews in there, that’ll cost you.’

  Lisa heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Elliot in the hallway. ‘Everything all right?’ he said. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. Why don’t I give this bloke a hand, instead of you? It sounds like heavy work.’

  Putting her embarrassment aside, Lisa accepted his kind offer. It was at least better than the prospect of injuring her back by hauling Mike’s boozy bulk out of the taxi.

  After wrestling him off the back seat, the two men carried his lifeless form between them, one arm around each of their necks. He didn’t even open his eyes. They were good enough to take him all the way inside and up the stairs to their bedroom, leaving him on the bed in something approximating the recovery position.

  Lisa offered the cabbie an extra ten pounds for his trouble. He declined but she insisted.

  ‘I’m so sorry about this, El,’ she said once they were alone again.

  ‘No worries. These things happen.’ He asked if she’d rather he went back to his hotel, but she told him to stay. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.

  ‘Let me check on him and then I promise I really will be back with your drink of water. Unless you want something alcoholic. I could do with a nightcap.’

  ‘Go on then. Whatever you’re having, but I’ll still take the water too, please.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  In the bedroom, Lisa tried again to speak to her husband but got no response. Goodness knows how much more he’d had to drink after she’d left. She could smell the booze oozing out of his every pore. Oh well. As embarrassing as his arrival had been, at least their inevitable row had been delayed until morning. Hopefully they’d both be in a better mental state to deal with it then.

  She’d also managed to avoid the potential car crash of the two men meeting for the first time when Mike was drunk and angry. She pulled off his trousers and socks but, despite her best efforts, was unable to remove his shirt. The idea had been to pop it straight in the wash, in a bid to shift the huge red wine stain on the front. But it had dried now and Lisa suspected there was little chance of removing it whatever she did.

  Mike stirred, muttered something incomprehensible and then farted, which Lisa took as her cue to leave, tiptoeing out of the room and pulling the door to.

  In the kitchen she filled Elliot’s water from the tap and poured them both a large Baileys over ice. She took a deep breath and carried the drinks through to the lounge. Elliot was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading a computer magazine that belonged to her son, Ben.

  ‘Here I am, at last,’ she said, leaning over to place the
drinks on the coffee table. ‘I hope Baileys is okay.’

  Elliot put down the magazine and smiled. ‘Perfect, thanks. Everything all right?’

  ‘With Mike, you mean? I think so. He’s fast asleep. I’ll check on him in a bit, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. I suspect he might have a hangover in the morning. You’re probably wondering what happened.’

  Elliot held up his hands. ‘Hey, everyone needs to get off their face once in a while, I reckon. Looks like he did it in style.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Listen, if you want to talk about it, here I am. If not, no worries. I’d say we’ve got plenty of other stuff to catch up on.’

  Lisa didn’t feel like going into it now. What had happened between her and Mike tonight was far too complicated to explain in a quick conversation. It was the latest in a long line of problems; not a can of worms she wanted to open at the moment. She’d already blown it in terms of making a good first impression of the life she’d built over the last two decades. So instead she turned the conversation back on Elliot.

  ‘Well, that’s true,’ she said. ‘Such as what finally brought you back home for the first time in all these years. Are you here on your own, actually, or—’

  ‘Are you trying to ask if I’ve got a girlfriend?’ Elliot said, straight-faced, before bursting into a big grin. ‘No, I don’t. And yes, I’m here alone.’

  To her annoyance, Lisa could feel her cheeks flushing, but she tried to ignore it, taking a sip of her drink before replying. ‘I was actually thinking more about your mother. I thought she might also want to catch up with old friends and so on. How is Wendy? Still as gorgeous and glamorous as ever, I bet.’

  Elliot grinned. ‘Mum’s good, thanks. And yes, time’s been kind to her. She probably would have liked to come, but as I say, it was all very last minute. Boring business stuff, but at least it means we get a chance to catch up after so long.’

  It seemed odd to Lisa that he would have business here – or even in Manchester, as opposed to London – but Elliot didn’t seem especially keen to talk about that or his success in general. Despite several probing questions on her part, Lisa discovered very little, other than the fact that he was single with no kids and he wasn’t sure how long his trip would last. It was almost like he had something to hide, or at least that he wasn’t telling her everything. He seemed far more eager to talk about her life: how her job was going, for instance, and what Mike and the children were like. He was especially interested in Ben and Chloe, which she found surprising for someone without children of their own.

  ‘So Ben’s sixteen now?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost. His birthday’s next month. That was his magazine you were reading, actually. He’s very into computers and technology. He’ll probably be in awe of you when you meet. I’m sure he’d love to have a job like yours one day.’

  ‘Really? That’s cool. And what about Chloe? What age is she?’

  ‘Twelve. She’s just finished her first year at secondary school.’

  ‘So not much older than we were when we first met. That’s the two of them in the photo on the mantelpiece, right? Wow, look at those lovely light green eyes of hers. What a striking colour. She looks an awful lot like you did at that age.’

  ‘Don’t tell her that, El. No girl wants to look like her mother.’

  ‘Ben’s a lot like his dad too, isn’t he?’ He laughed. ‘It’s like you’ve both got your own mini-me.’

  Lisa giggled.

  ‘Where do they go to school? Are they at King George’s and Queen Anne’s, like we were?’

  ‘You’re kidding, right? Like we could afford those fees! Did you hear that the two schools have merged now, by the way, so boys and girls are together? Queen Anne’s has recently been converted into apartments and everything’s based on the King George’s site. They’re calling it The Royal School, Westwich.’

  ‘Seriously? No I hadn’t heard that. Strewth. So where do your two go, then: Waterside?’

  ‘That’s right. It’s a very good school.’

  ‘Hey, I’m no private school snob. I’m sure it’s great. Plus they’re following in the footsteps of their uncle.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How is Jamie? Still local?’

  ‘Good. Yes, he lives in the village.’

  ‘Any family?’

  ‘Two young daughters: Hannah, who’s seven, and Emily, who’s five. He’s not with their mum any more, but they share custody.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He works in sales, for a chemical manufacturer. It keeps him out of trouble. You must see him while you’re here. He’d love that.’

  ‘Definitely. What about your mum? Does she still live in the old house?’

  ‘She’s fine. Still in Aldham; still teaching part-time. But no, she moved to a smaller place after Dad died. She’s away on a coach trip around Eastern Europe at the moment.’

  Despite Elliot’s apparent reluctance to talk much about himself, Lisa really enjoyed their conversation. It flowed easily between them, as it always had when they were younger, which was great after so long apart.

  And yet she still couldn’t get over how much her friend had changed. After they’d said goodnight and he’d headed back to his hotel, promising to return the next day to meet her family, Lisa found herself thinking about this as she struggled to get to sleep next to a snoring Mike.

  For one thing there was the voice: the strange accent she hadn’t been able to place when she’d first answered the door. He didn’t exactly sound Australian or English, but rather a hybrid of the two, occasionally more one than the other. It amused her how he often ended sentences with a raised pitch in his voice, as if asking a question when he wasn’t, which she’d heard Australians do before. She wondered if this would change while he was here and, surrounded by his old countryfolk, whether he’d slip back into how he used to sound.

  Physically, although she could now recognise her old friend from his facial features and the way he smiled, he was almost like a different person. He could easily walk past old acquaintances in the village without them realising. Part of that was the fact he’d got himself into shape and no longer wore the glasses he’d had to live in as a boy. (He’d had laser surgery, apparently, so no longer needed them.)

  But it was also down to the way he held himself: so self-assured. When they were younger, he’d always been very chatty with her and other people he knew well, but he could be painfully shy around strangers. However, there hadn’t been any sign of that around the taxi driver, or even with her, as there might have been after so long apart.

  He had the confidence of someone successful, Lisa decided. So why hadn’t he wanted to talk about any of that, or to elaborate on the details of his last-minute business trip?

  Maybe she was the reason. Since she’d obviously done so little of note with her life and was married to the kind of man who came home unconscious in a taxi on a Friday night, perhaps he was too embarrassed to discuss his own exciting world, not wanting to rub salt in her wounds. She really hoped that wasn’t true.

  It was on this depressing note that the tiredness lurking in the shadows finally took hold and Lisa drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  THEN

  Friday, 9 August 1991

  Elliot had butterflies in his stomach as he opened the low wrought-iron gate at the top of the driveway. He half expected Boris, his best mate Christopher’s pet Jack Russell, to fly around the corner from the back garden to greet him with barks and licks. But of course he didn’t, because they no longer lived here. They’d moved away. Now this house, which he’d visited countless times before, belonged to a different family. Weird.

  Walking into the unknown in a familiar setting was part of the reason he was nervous. There was also the fact that the new occupant he’d come to visit was Lisa. He’d yet to see her close up with his glasses on, but he was pretty sure she was gorgeous: the kind of girl he wouldn’t usually dare to
approach. He’d thought of little else since she’d rescued him yesterday.

  Elliot pushed his old glasses up on his nose, wishing they fitted as well as the new ones he no longer had. He reached up and rapped three times on the shiny brass knocker. He remembered Christopher’s dad replacing it and repainting the white door. ‘It’s the little things that help sell houses,’ he’d told Elliot, who’d hoped his efforts would fail, so his friend could stay.

  Rather than Lisa, the door was answered by a slim woman around his mum’s age with long and luscious wavy red hair, hazel eyes and a warm smile.

  ‘Hello. Can I help you?’

  ‘Um, yes. I’m here to see Lisa. We met yesterday. My name’s Elliot Turner.’

  He offered her his right hand, having swung his left – holding a plastic bag containing Lisa’s clothes and flip-flops – behind his back.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Elliot,’ she replied, graciously accepting his handshake. ‘I’m Mrs Benson, Lisa’s mother. I didn’t know that she’d already made a friend. How nice. Do you also live in the village?’

  He nodded as Lisa appeared in the hallway behind her.

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Lisa said. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mrs Benson replied, backing away. ‘But don’t leave your new friend on the doorstep. I’m sure he’d like to come in, wouldn’t you, Elliot? The house is a mess, but—’

  ‘Muuum!’

  Mrs Benson held up her hands. ‘Sorry, I’m cramping your style, aren’t I? I’ll make myself scarce.’ She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Elliot handed the plastic bag through the open door to Lisa, glad to see her in focus this time, looking amazing. Tall and slim, dressed in denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, she had the same beautiful hazel eyes as her mum but with long, straight auburn hair. Way out of his league. ‘Your things, as promised.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sorry about Mum. Would you like to come in?’

  ‘Sure, if that’s okay.’