“Do you think I should, Jeannie? I’m not sure. I mean look at me, I’m a mess!” I point at myself to emphasise my point.
“Sweetheart, you’re beautiful, as always. Besides, you’re not asking for a date, just if he can pop by and check out the car. To be honest, it’s the least he can do. I reckon he sold you a dud!”
As if the conversation is already over, and she’s won her argument, she hands me the phone. I look at her for a moment, assessing if I might still have a chance but the furrowed look in her eyes tells me she’s not about to take any arguments. She stands defiantly, holding the phone out to me. She is so damn annoying! “You don’t think he’ll find it strange, given that the car is booked in already?”
She shakes her head firmly and jabs the phone towards me.
“OK, OK, I’ll phone him!” I exclaim exasperated, much to Jeannie’s amusement. I take the phone from her hand and dial.
Despite having the car booked into the garage that coming weekend, Dan happily agrees to meet me at the supermarket carpark in Crannock Heath. He’s apparently looking for an excuse to get away at lunchtime and of course, I don’t have to ask Jeannie twice for the time off. It’s an amicable arrangement and I am relieved I don’t have to explain why I don’t want him to know where I live. Which, I realise, is stupid. He already knows where I live, the garage has all my details. Still, it’s important to keep my space at home secure. The idea of someone coming there, even someone as nice as Dan, is too risky and to be honest, I don’t entirely trust my own judgement. After all, Daryl had been so charming when I met him and look how that turned out. No, a nice public space like a supermarket car park is ideal. Plenty of people milling about will keep me safe.
As Dan sets to work, cranking open the fuse box underneath the steering wheel, I take a seat on the passenger side and watch him work. His theory is that a fuse is on the blink, or perhaps a loose wire is causing feedback. My theory is it’s nice to see him in action. Perhaps it’s time to find out Dan’s surname? I chuckled a little to myself.
“Something amusing, Katie?”
His head pops up and I laugh some more as my cheeks fill with the heat of a pink flush. Then I remember that it is Dan who sold me the car in the first place. I wipe the smile off my face and realise it's time for some answers. “So Dan, want to tell me why it took so long to sell this car? You do realise it’s broken down once already and now the bloody electrics are on the blink. I’m pretty peeved, you know.”
“I promise you this car is as sound as any we’ve ever sold,” Dan replies.
“Well, that’s not very encouraging. Maybe all your cars are rubbish!” I see his face drop a little and immediately wish I can take it back.
“The car was on the lot for a while, I’ll admit. It’s just every time anyone sat in it, or tried to give it a test drive, they said it gave them the creeps. Honestly, I’ve no idea why. Believe me, we’ve seen some awful sights in our time. Especially those from auction. Cars that smell of ten years of smoke, or worse, mouldy feet. You’d be amazed how many folks treat them like a rubbish bin. Those things are hard to remove. That’s where Rick comes in. You met him, the Saturday boy? He’s the elbow grease...”
Smiling, I nod to tell him to go on.
“But this one had been treated beautifully. You’ve seen yourself, there’s hardly a mark on it and the mileage is so low for the year. It just seemed no one liked it. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“So you’re telling me that you’ve sold me a car that’s what, got bad vibes, or something?”
Ignoring my question, he says, “Give it a whirl now. I’ve swapped the fuse and tightened up the wires. Pop round the front, I’ll try out the lights.”
As he goes through a circuit of switches and tries each set out in turn, I give him a thumbs up to show that they are all working properly.
Smiling, he turns to me before he leaves and says, “I don’t believe in bad vibes Katie, only good ones that have yet to happen.”
Waving him off, I can’t help but think, damn you, Dan, don’t pull this crazy nice stuff on me. I’m trying to keep my shit together here.
Chapter Three
I sometimes think I’m living my life backwards to other people. The week days fly past and the weekends drag. Working in the shop with Jeannie, meeting all the customers, there is always something to busy myself with and someone to speak to. I need that, the things that weigh heavily on my mind are like rocks I carry everywhere and so the time in the shop is good for me.
It gives my mind a chance to be distracted and to be, if not still, at least filled with mundane and ordinary things. The weekends, on the contrary, seem to drag out between one TV show and another with no purpose or direction, and that’s when I’d find myself thinking about things. Thinking about Daryl. He knows where I work, he knows where I am. I suppose I could move away, perhaps I should? I don’t know what holds me to this silly town, full of people who don’t really notice or care about me. Apart from Jeannie that is. But when I’m alone, I wonder if I should call him. I wonder if he is sorry. Thoughts of what could have been circle endlessly around my head like the re-runs of the shows I watch.
But this weekend is going to be different. I am going to see Dan again.
Saturday comes around fast and once more I am en route to the showroom/garage to visit him. Oddly, the car has been running as smooth as a purring kitten the entire week. Funny to think of a car running smoothly as an odd thing. I feel a bit of a fake taking it in for a free service but ‘she’ and I are beginning to get quite close. She deserves the best and it’s a chance to see Dan again. I admit it, I’ve been thinking about him. I’d vowed to learn from my mistakes but to hell with it, if I’m not just walking down the same old path again.
She, the car, still doesn’t have a name but I know I am going to give her one. As I gently squeeze the steering wheel between my fingers, she responds to the gentlest of touches, purring as I slip the clutch down and shift the gears. We slip in front of cars and go through every light on green. I imagine that at any minute she might spring wings and simply take to the air. Nestled in the leather seat, it feels as if she is alive, breathing. Real.
“Katie,” Dan exclaims as I walk into the now familiar Altos Motors. “So good to see you again.”
“Hi Dan,” I reply softly, raising my head to meet his beautiful blue eyes. I rest a while there, surprised at the easiness I find at being around him.
Smiling as if delighted to see me, he says, “You’re right on time. Brought in the Toyota, good, good.” Dan looks behind him to the same Saturday boy I’d seen on the day I’d collected the car. Good for him, he’s obviously sticking it out.
“Katie, if you’d like to give the keys to Rick here, he’ll sort it all out.”
Rick disappears into the back and I expect Dan to tell me to wait. I’m not looking forward to the prospect of another wait in those sweat-making machines they call chairs, but maybe it will be worth it for a bit of window shopping of a different kind. I can happily daydream if Dan is here.
Instead, Dan swings his jacket off the back of the chair and turns to me. “Katie, I’m erm, heading out on my break. Fancy joining me for a coffee?”
I look over at the chairs and back at Dan. I hesitate for only a moment, there is no contest. Handsome man or plastic chairs. Obviously, Dan wins.
Inside a Costa coffee house which is only five minutes away, I take a window seat and wait for Dan. I try to figure out if I am doing the right thing. Am I making another stupid mistake? What about Daryl? Whilst I wait I try desperately to reconcile myself with what I am doing but only succeed in giving myself a headache from the confusion. In the end, it’s futile, I am already here, and only a moment later Dan reappears wearing a sunny smile and carrying the order.
He knows how to charm a lady. “I got us some cake too, I trust that’s Ok with you?” he asks tentatively, spying my eyes on the food in his hand.
“No, it’s
great, thank you,” I reply hesitantly.
Dan looks across at me. “Are you alright? You look a bit peaky?”
“I’m ok, don’t worry about me. You might want to worry about your slice of cake though, I’m starving.”
Laughing, the fog around me begins to lift and with it goes the apprehension. I no longer feel contradicted. Instead, I enjoy the feeling of being wanted and important to someone. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of human contact, it is a precious gift, one I’ve not truly appreciated for its simple pleasure before. Even the spring sun decides it’s time to come out and prove to us that nicer weather is well and truly on its way.
“Tell me something about yourself? Got any secret talents I should know about?” Dan asks.
“Erm, not unless you count being able to stuff my mouth full of chocolate cake!” I laugh.
“Well, what about family, friends then? Got a boyfriend?” He raises his eyebrows and leans forward as if listening intently for my answer.
“No, no boyfriend but it is…complicated,” I reply. “And you Dan, are you seeing anyone right now? I can just imagine a smooth-talking salesman like you...you probably make it a habit, taking your customers out for coffee and cake!”
“Oh my God, is that what you think?” As if realising that of course I think this, he quickly adds, “Never, no, not at all!” He shrugs his shoulders. “This is the first time, but…I like you Katie, I think we could be friends.”
He reaches out his hand and strokes my fingers across the table. My head screams at me to take them back but instead, I look up and into his eyes, which are sparkling with joy, and enjoy the warmth that tingles in my stomach.
“So tell me about this complicated boyfriend who’s not a boyfriend, then!”
For some unknown reason, I find myself telling him everything. About Daryl, Mum, me. I leave nothing out and I watch closely as his face contorts through a whole series of expressions. I see some emotions I don’t quite recognise.
I’d just like to say for the record, talking about your ex on a first date is not entirely a great place to start, but he stays quiet and listens through it all. Despite what he said about not making a habit of this, I get the feeling he has done this before. Listened, that is. He has the knack for it, for sure. I think it’s the most I’ve ever talked in one go in my entire life, and when I am done, and there is no more liquid to drink and no more emotions to spill, Dan smiles at me and offers me his cake. Stabbing my fork into its oozing chocolate goodness, I devour it.
Chapter Four
I am running late again and the pain behind my left eye throbbing somewhat viciously isn’t helping matters. That’s the booze, turning out just like your mother, only have yourself to blame, I think absentmindedly. If I had a penny for every time I’ve said something horrible about myself this morning, my debt problems would be gone. I tighten up my belt a notch and know the weight I’ve put on since leaving Daryl has already started to come off. All booze and no food makes for a super healthy diet. Not. It is medicinal though, the alcohol. To get me through the nights. I can’t sleep without it. Not with the memories, the flashbacks. Lately, my dreams have been filled with a girl and something bad, something awful happening to her.
Daryl is there too, but who can make sense of dreams? If my self-conscious is trying to tell me something, I have no idea what it is. Living like a queen last month to celebrate my new car hasn’t helped my situation any. I now have next to no money after shelling out the bills on the flat and the car. I put the worry on a mental list in the back of my mind and scoop up the mail from the doormat. I stuff it in my handbag to open it later, in the shop.
The two little toy rabbits, the same ones we bring out every year, sit next to a delicious looking set of Easter eggs inside the shop window. Looking good enough to eat, the window display is a winner, even down to the plastic flowers and grass. It almost makes you want to hop right in. Jeannie greets me and I prepare myself for what is inevitably going to be a busy day. It’s good to know I have this to rely on. The wages barely cover all my expenses but I scrape by and it feels good, a constant thing in my life. Dan and I are getting closer, it’s true, but it’s early days and I’ve decided men are not something to be relied on as a constant fixture in a woman’s life. Perhaps quite rightly so.
My feet ache inside my ballet pumps, and as things have quietened down a bit over lunch time, like they often do, I think this is a good time for a rest. “Jeannie, mind if I take my break now? I want to check my emails and grab a bite.”
“Sure thing, kiddo.”
I wonder sometimes if Jeannie thinks of me as a surrogate kid. There’s enough of an age gap between us for it to be true. She doesn’t have kids of her own and I’ve never found the right time to ask her why. She and her husband are happy and I can’t recall her ever talking sadly about it. In truth, it’s never mentioned, so I guess it just never happened for them. I’m not sure how my mum would feel about the possibility of another woman trying to take her role on, but I like how Jeannie cares about me.
One of the perks of the job is being able to use the computer in the backroom. Jeannie lets me use her wi-fi and I have my own email account set up. I mostly use it for surfing and prying on how great my old school friends are doing. Social media, the hub of all things good and bad. A simple way to make yourself feel wonderful or horrendous, with just one click. Although it had come in handy when I was searching for a car, so I feel a little better about having it.
I’m not wondering how Daryl is doing. I’m not going to go into his account to see if his relationship status has changed.
I unwrap my chicken sandwich and munch on some crisps, waiting for the computer to load. Slipping off my pump, I lean down and rub at my toes. I notice something sticking up out of my bag. A letter. Pulling it out, I realise it is the new vehicle ownership documents from all the stuff I picked up in the morning. The computer taking forever, I open it up. Dan has kindly taken care of sorting out all the details for me, making sure ownership is transferred to me, but there is a little bit of curiosity gnawing at me, like I am some old bone. I can’t help but wonder who the previous owner was.
Just then the screen comes alive, the ancient computer has finally loaded up. Clicking on my account, I bring up my emails. Popping up larger than life, I can’t fail to see the one from Daryl. I’d known it was coming; after all, he knows where to find me. I am only surprised I’ve not heard from him earlier, and breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not decided to come in person. Daryl had taken charge of every part of my life when we were together. After all he’d been through with his ex, I could almost understand his need to control me. Almost. It was so he could feel protected. A simple logic, run my life so he could feel safe in his.
Real love is imperfect, messy, awkward and full on. It’s part of the reason I’d loved him so much. None of us are perfect, least of all me, but ours had felt like a proper relationship. Grown up, fiery and fierce, at least that’s what Daryl always told me. Perhaps now that’s just his controlling voice talking inside my head, I don’t know for sure.
Staring at his name on the screen brings back all the memories of the night I left him. I don’t want to recall them but I must, I need to remember how dangerous he is. I must stay strong, I don’t need him to live, I am free. Almost. Flashes of myself lying on the floor spring to my mind, desperately trying to find air as his hands squeeze around my throat. Seeing his eyes that burn with rage and contempt as he holds my life in his hands, thinking that this is no way for a girl to die. I remember being picked up off the floor, rescued, and knowing I was terrified of him. That’s when I’d understood that he would have killed me, had Jeannie and Chris not rescued me. As I look at the screen, I need to remember, I need to block out that voice of his in my head that keeps telling me I need him. I had to.
Now here he is, larger than life in front of me. My hand trembles a little and I pause before opening the email.
I’m distracted b
ack to the physical letter in my hands. I glance down at the information; the previous owner before me had been a girl, Eva Prescott. No one I know. I like the sound of the name, Eva, though. Something about it is vaguely familiar. I half smile, thinking about Dan and the car. Turning my attention back to the computer, I draw in a deep breath and open the email.
Katie,
I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you are OK. You know how much I love you. Anyway, I thought I’d email you to let you know I’ve got some of your things. Perhaps you want to meet and we can talk a bit? Like I said, I love you so much. I can’t bear to be away from you. I’m so sorry for everything. Let’s say we’ll meet somewhere neutral. You choose. Anywhere you like. I can give you your suitcase, your things and we’ll just talk, no pressure. I promise. Katie, I’m getting help now and it would be great to see you. Just so I know you are OK. Let me know when.
Yours always,
D x
“Are you about done, Kat? I don’t think I can put this grumbling stomach off any longer.”
I wipe the tear away from my cheek. “Sorry hun, I’m done. I’ll be right out.”
Before I came along, Jeannie either had to eat on the run or close up the shop. These days we take it in turns and I’ve left her on her own for well over an hour. She’s been unusually patient. I decide Daryl can wait, perhaps I’ll email him later. After all, I do want to get the last of my things back.
She's Not Gone Page 9
