She seemed puzzled, but shook it off. “Oh well, doesn’t matter now.” She began to pour the boiling water into the cups. “So how was your day, babe?”
He paused for a moment before answering. “Exhilarating.”
Watching the television mounted on the bedroom wall, Richard struggled to stay awake. Nicky’s eyes were half-shut as she lay beside him, on her side, facing him. “How long are you going to keep that thing on for?” Nicky asked. The quilt was pulled high up to her neck, her arm buried underneath her pillow.
He turned to her. “Sorry—is it keeping you up?”
“No, it’s all right. Just wondering.”
Picking up the remote control from his bedside cabinet, he switched it off. The room became almost pitch black.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, eyes now shut. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”
“No, it’s all right. It’s not fair on you. You’re the one who has to work in the morning.”
“Thanks babe,” she said. “Goodnight. Will you close the bedroom door? It’s chilly in here tonight.”
Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “Will do. Good night, hon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
As he lay in the darkness, listening to Nicky’s gentle breathing as she slept beside him, he thought about work again. And then the fret of the new website launch returned as he stared up at the ceiling. What if it wasn’t ready on time? How much money would they lose? How was he ever going to relax with such a problem hanging over him? Why did he have to collapse? Couldn’t he have waited just a few more days? At least until the weekend? If he had had his funny turn on Saturday, he could have simply taken the Sunday to recover, and then be back in work by Monday—right as rain.
Damn his awful timing!
Now sleep seemed impossible as the minutes, turning into hours, passed by. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for morning. He hated feeling like this. He desperately wanted to go back to his usual routine, away from his house, away from boredom. God, what’s wrong with me? It’s only been two bloody days. Why can’t I just enjoy my time off? Why can’t I put work to one side and relax like an ordinary person? God! Get a grip, Gardener. Focus!
Turning onto his side to face the door, he noticed that it was still wide open. Groaning, he started to climb out of bed.
The door slammed shut with a loud thud.
Nicky jolted up in fright. “Jesus! What’s wrong with you? I was sleeping.”
“What do you mean?” Richard asked, his body clenched in fright. “It wasn’t me. It just slammed shut on its own.”
Nicky sighed as she lay back down, pulling the quilt up around her, clearly annoyed. “There’s probably a window open somewhere.”
Richard took a breath to steady his running heart, and then lay back down. He glanced at the door for a few seconds until finally closing his eyes.
As the minutes passed, tossing and turning, he tried to think of other things, like Nicky, and what to do tomorrow, or Saturday. But as TSH Computers continued to push its way back in, all he could think was, Only twelve more days to go. Only twelve more days to go. Only twelve more days to go…
Chapter 3
Day 3: Thursday
For the first time all week, Richard had managed to sleep until 9:45 a.m., missing Nicky’s departure for work. He didn’t mind; at least he had shaved off a few hours of another long and tedious day.
After breakfast, he decided to take his coffee outside to drink on the patio since the sun was out and the sky was clear. Placing his cup on the table, he sat, feeling a bit more positive about the day ahead. He loved the springtime, loved the warmth. Summer had been a washout the last two years, but April and May had almost never let him down.
Sipping his coffee, he gazed up at the blue sky. What shall I do today? Watch another movie? No, read a book out here, enjoy the sun. Nicky’ll be jealous, slaving away in her stuffy office. He leaned back on his chair and put his bare feet up onto the table. This is the life. He smirked. I could get used to this.
Closing his eyes, he put his hands behind his head. Maybe I should sunbathe, get a tan. Naaa, too boring. I’ll just sit here and read my book.
Richard tucked into his sandwich as the rain crashed against the living room window. Stupid British weather.
The news channel was on TV, but he wasn’t paying much attention. He glanced at the time on his phone, wondering if the website had gone live yet. He was desperate to go online and check, but couldn’t. He thought about asking one of his neighbors if he could use theirs, but realized that he still didn’t know most of their names, and it had gone far too long to ask now. If only he had written them down when they first moved in, he could have saved himself a lot of hassle during Christmas when sending out cards. Ilene was the only neighbor he knew, but she was at least eighty with little to no chance of owning a computer.
He tried to use the Internet on his cell phone again, but it didn’t work. He even contemplated going to the library, but couldn’t face the six-mile drive into town. Not in the rain. There was never anywhere to park. No, he was going to have to face up to not knowing. He had eleven more days to go. How hard could it be?
The forecast on the news showed more sunny weather to come by the evening, going into tomorrow. He shook his head in disappointment. “What about now?” he shouted at the television, then switched it off with the remote control.
Picking up one of Nicky’s books, he started to read. By the third chapter, his eyelids weighed a ton. He fought hard to stay awake but couldn’t. Dropping the book on his lap, he slipped into a doze.
He dreamed of sitting at his desk, trying to finish the monthly reports, while Nicky stood by his side. He felt at ease knowing she was so close. He glanced up at her and beamed. Funny for her to be at work. She’s only been here twice before. Nicky smiled back at him. But then, standing in her place was a woman he had never seen before. She was drenched in sweat, with long, brown hair clinging to her face, down over her chest. She wore a white dress covered in stains, and had bruising on her arms. The woman was around mid-thirties, curvy, with a look of deep torment in her eyes. There was something unsettling about her, about the way she stared at him. Watching her lips as she tried to mouth something, he moved his head closer to listen. The sound was faint and inaudible, so he asked, “What do you want?” Still her words were muffled. He leaned in even closer, but as he did, her mouth opened wide as if to scream.
But nothing came out.
“What do you want?” he asked again, moving even closer to her. Then a screeching noise pieced his eardrums, forcing him to wake up. The racket was still there with him on the couch, in the living room, away from his dream. He put his hands over his ears to shield them from the howl.
It was the smoke detector again.
He leapt off the couch, almost tripping over the coffee table in front of him, and sprinted into the hallway to investigate. There was no smoke, yet again. Frowning, still a little disoriented, he climbed a few steps to get at it—and it stopped. Just as before.
This time he unhooked the plastic detector from the ceiling. Grasping its round shape, he twisted it and it popped off. He pulled out the battery and took it into the kitchen, leaving the detector on the stairs. Throwing the battery into the garbage, he found a new one in a drawer. He took it over to the detector and replaced it, returning it back up onto the ceiling. “Piece of shit,” he said, rubbing his ringing ears.
“Keep still!” Nicky ordered, huddled up to Richard on the couch. “I’m trying to watch the film. What’s wrong with you?”
Richard shuffled in his sitting position. “This couch is itchy, that’s all. I can’t get comfortable.”
Turning to face him, she scowled. “No, you can’t keep still because you’re bored.”
“That’s not true,” he replied, still trying to find a better position. “I’m not bored. And I don’t mind watching a film.”
“No, you’d rather be sat in front o
f that computer.”
Sitting up straight, he moved away from her. “So what if I do? It’s not only work-stuff I use the PC for—what about the Internet?”
“I think you can survive two bloody weeks without checking your e-mails and surfing for bloody porn.”
He frowned, as if shocked and offended by her statement. “What are you talking about? I don’t look at porn.”
She gave out a loud fake laugh. “Of course you do. I’m not naïve. You know, for someone who works for a computer company, you don’t know an awful lot.”
“What the hell are you going on about?”
“The computer has a ‘History’ section,” she said. “And sometimes I check.”
Silence gripped him as he searched for a quick answer. When he couldn’t think of anything, he said, “Well, you shouldn’t be checking up on me.”
“I don’t care if you look at porn. You can do what you like.”
“Then why would you feel the need to check up on me?”
“I check the ‘History’ to look at shopping websites I’ve visited. How sad do you think I am? I know all men look at porn and I don’t care. I’m not a complete prude.”
Shaking his head in irritation, he couldn’t think of a suitable retort.
Nicky sat, pretending to be still watching the movie. She then picked up the remote control and switched it off.
“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to watch the film?”
Standing, she dropped the remote onto the couch. “I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t be like that, Nic.”
“I’m not being like anything.”
“Yes you are—you’re in a mood with me over nothing.”
She turned to him. “I’m not in a mood, I’m just tired.”
Exhaling, he watched her exit the living room, closing the door behind her. “Bloody women,” he muttered.
He sat back and scanned through the channels, looking for something of interest. After finding nothing he switched it off. All these channels and nothing on, he thought, as he stared at the blank screen. He considered following her up to bed, but not wanting to give in too soon he opted to stay downstairs for a little while longer—at least until she had calmed down.
Deep in thought, he watched his reflection mirrored on the television screen. I can’t wait to get back to the office. If anything, just to catch up with Mike. Never thought I’d miss his sick jokes. I wonder what stinker he shagged last weekend. I bet she was rough. Maybe I’ll call his desk tomorrow. No, I better not. Leah might find out and think I’m checking up on her. No, better leave it. Only another week or so left. I’ll catch up with him then. He groaned. Another week stuck in this house is gonna finish me off. God help me if I was ever unemployed. I’d go nuts.
Well, at least I could surf for porn in peace.
As he trailed off into his thoughts, he saw the living room door open in the screen’s reflection. Well, there’s a first: Nicky coming down to apologize before me. It’s a bloody miracle. He turned his head to greet her.
The door was still closed.
He shuddered. “Nic?” he whispered. With no response, he got up and opened the door, expecting to see his wife standing outside. The hallway was deserted, and the only light was a faint glow coming from the upstairs bathroom. Perplexed, he turned the downstairs lights off, checked that the front door was locked, and headed up to bed.
Nicky was still in the bathroom, so he waited outside the door. “Nic?” he called out, tapping the door.
“Yeah?” she replied, turning the faucet off.
“You still mad with me?” he asked, half-joking.
The door opened and out walked his wife, grinning. “Of course I’m not mad. Sorry, it was a stupid tiff.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry too. Friends?”
Smiling, she kissed him on the lips. “Friends.”
Richard stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain smash against the bedroom window.
He was wide-awake. Nicky had fallen asleep over an hour ago, already talking in her sleep. Most of the time she just mumbled incoherent words, but sometimes she spoke complete sentences, giving the impression that she was fully conscious. He found it amusing, especially when he would tease her about it the next day. But she always denied it.
He wondered what to do with his day tomorrow, and whether the rain would subside. He didn’t mind the rain—especially when it hit the window at night—but it was going on May, and the thought of sitting indoors again turned his stomach.
As one o’ clock approached, the rain settled, leaving the house in silence.
He hated being the last to fall asleep. Every movement he made seemed like bombs exploding as he tried to get comfortable. The last thing he wanted was to wake his wife this late at night. He rolled over onto his left side, facing the wardrobe, hoping to find the perfect position. After less than five seconds he felt the need to move again. Turning onto his back again, he lay in discomfort, eyes wide open, glaring up at the ceiling, annoyed that he was about to face yet another sleepless night. He sat up, groaned, and quietly fluffed his pillow. Lying back down, still uncomfortable and restless, he groaned again, and moved onto his side. Bloody hell.
As he turned to face the bedroom door, the sound of footsteps from outside the room made him freeze.
Listening intently, he waited for the sound to happen again. When it failed to return, he started to lie on his back. Just as his shoulder blades touched the soft mattress, the footsteps sounded again. His heart filled with terror as he clenched his fists. His initial thoughts—being a movie fan—were that the footsteps belonged to something supernatural. But then his rational mind took over, and the idea of a burglar seemed like the more logical explanation.
Creeping out of the bed, fists still clenched, he edged to the door. His heart raced as the handle came within inches of his grasp. He reached for the handle and carefully turned it. Just as the door was about to open, the bedroom suddenly came alive with light.
“What are you doing?”
He jumped in fright. “Dammit!” he shouted, staring at Nicky sitting up in bed. “I almost wet my pants!”
Chuckling, she asked, “Why are you sneaking ’round?”
Exhaling, trying to shake off his shock, he ran a hand over his face. “I thought I heard footsteps outside the door.” He opened the door to check and found the landing empty.
“It was probably just the rain outside. You’re a nervous wreck. Come back to bed. It’s late.”
Nodding, he closed the door, only to open it again to double check. “Thought it was a burglar.”
He climbed back into bed, huddling up close to her.
Sniggering, she turned to face him. “No, I bet you thought it was a ghost, didn’t you?”
He closed his eyes as he draped his arm over her side. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Chapter 4
Day 4: Friday
Richard leaned against the kitchen worktop, waiting for the kettle to boil, contemplating whether or not to call Leah again. It had been three days since his last conversation. A quick chat to see how things were going wouldn’t do any harm. Yeah, a quick chat. No more. Even just to say hi. She’s still a friend after all. He reached for the phone and dialed the number for work. After a few seconds Leah answered. “Hi, Leah. It’s Richard. How’s—” But before he could finish she hung up the phone, leaving him with a piercing beeping sound in his ear.
“Bitch,” he said, shaking his head in astonishment. Doesn’t she realize I’d be able to relax more knowing that everything is running smoothly? What’s wrong with her? “Stubborn cow.”
Still frustrated, he took his coffee outside and sat on the patio. The sun was out again with no sign of rain. The heat felt good against his face as he leaned back on his plastic chair.
Sipping his coffee, he tried to block out thoughts of work. Instead, he focused on other things, like maybe taking Nicky away for the summer. Someplace warm—away from this house. He i
magined lying on a nice deserted beach, drinking ice-cold beer, watching the blue sea crash against the rocks. He thought of Nicky beside him, her smiling face, her slender body, her deep blue eyes. And then a sudden feeling of sadness and guilt washed over him. They hadn’t been away on holiday since their honeymoon, almost three years ago.
How could I do that to her? After all she sacrificed to follow me to Bristol, leaving her family, friends, and job behind just so I could start a new job. How selfish is that! What’s wrong with me? No, it’s not selfish, it’s for our future. She knows that. Best to get some money behind us before we start a family. No point struggling. It’ll be worth it in the long run. And besides, I don’t plan to work there forever.
Staring at the wooden fence in front of him, he couldn’t shake off the remorse in his stomach, despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise.
He checked the time on his cell phone. 12:14 p.m.
Lunchtime.
Walking back into the house, he went straight to the freezer and pulled out a frozen lasagne, kicking the door shut as he walked through to the kitchen. He popped the ready-meal into the microwave and waited. God, I miss my computer. I’d be screwed on a desert island. Can’t cope with much more of this. Wonder where she’s hidden it. Probably not in the house. Maybe at her mum’s. Or at Julie’s.
After the microwave pinged, he removed the piping hot container and scooped its contents onto a plate. Filling a glass of water from the tap, he carried both outside.
He tucked into his food, trying to read his book at the same time, still with work on his mind. Page after page failed to sink in, so he found himself repeating sections just to keep up with the storyline, even though it wasn’t a difficult piece of fiction. It was one of Nicky’s thrillers that she had gone on about for the past six months, almost forcing him at gunpoint to read.
He closed the book just a quarter of the way through and sighed. Yawning, he massaged his eyes with his palms. “God, it’s warm.” He pulled off his tee shirt and threw it onto one of the other patio chairs. Leaning back, he set his feet up on the table. After just thirty seconds, he dropped them back down to the concrete floor. He had the urge to urinate.
Fourteen Days Page 3
