I Know Your Every Move

by Diane Ezzard

“I don’t know Matt but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” replied Mark

  “The baby will stop whining after a while,” Mark answered with a loud raucous laugh.

  A regular one they would shout out when someone made a brew for the office was, “Where are all the cups, Mark?”

  In unison came back the reply, “Well, they’re not in City’s trophy cabinet that’s for sure.”

  Monday morning always began with an analysis of the weekend’s football results. When the Derby was on, the room would get decorated in the winning team’s colours and newspaper clippings.

  Mark was in a relationship with Harriet who worked on reception. She was always immaculately dressed with nails to match. Her nail varnish was normally the first thing I noticed when I signed in every morning. Mark and Harriet lived together, and he was always complaining about the bills.

  He told us a story about when his gas boiler broke down once.

  He said, “I phoned the gas board, and they told me it would be up to two weeks until they could come and repair it. Two weeks, I thought. I’m not having that, it’s winter time. I wasn’t impressed, especially ‘cos we paid for boiler cover on our insurance. What on earth were we paying for? We couldn’t sit for two weeks without any heating in the freezing cold. So I decided to phone them back and told them I thought I could smell a leak. I knew they’d have to come out straightaway if I did that. To be honest, all I could smell was gone off chip fat.” We all laughed at his recollection.

  He continued, “Not only did they come round immediately, but they evacuated the whole street.” By now we were all howling with laughter. “It wasn’t funny guys, I was in a right panic. I just wanted the boiler repaired so I could keep warm. If the neighbours found out what I’d done, they’d have lynched me.”

  I started to look forward to Friday nights. I think the rest of the team were surprised I joined them at first because they knew I had a boyfriend. After the first weekend’s jaunt, there were no more raised eyebrows. I became one of the lads, drinking as much as them if not more. Sally, Eve and Damien from IT normally also tagged along, together with Harriet, Mark’s girlfriend and sometimes my boss Simon would make a guest appearance. Even though he was our manager, he behaved like all of us when he came out. He did the same sort of standard pranks like playing around with roadwork cones and supermarket trolleys. These were the signs that confirmed we were drunk when we started dancing around with them.

  Simon had a great sense of humour and he didn’t let his position hold him back. If anything he was more of the ringleader when it came to practical jokes. His good looks, being tall with dark hair and crystal blue eyes meant he could get away with murder. Women always looked on with envy when we were out. Sometimes, they would approach him and try to get his attention. He would amuse them for a while then give me a knowing wink. He was married with a young son and he proudly displayed a photograph of his family on his desk at work. I was impressed with his loyalty to them.

  Most Fridays we all got trashed and found it amusing, especially when we went into the office on the Monday mornings.

  “Where did we end up on Friday, lads?” Mark asked the others.

  “What, you mean you can’t remember?” Luke asked.

  “No, did we go for a curry?” he asked

  “I can’t remember either,” Luke said.

  Everyone was in fits of laughter then Matt piped up, “I think we had a kebab after we were thrown out of Yates’s.”

  “I don’t remember going in there,” Mark frowned.

  “Neither do I,” said Joe, “I think he’s making it up.” and so it went on as we tried to piece together where we’d ended up on Friday, whether we’d had a kebab or a curry, or where we’d been turfed out of for unruly behaviour. We thought it was hilarious.

  Most of our Friday nights were a blur to us but we would laugh about our escapades and thought we’d enjoyed ourselves. On one occasion we’d gone into Manchester and towards the end of the night, all being a bit worse for wear, we swayed up one of the back streets. There were roadworks in the middle of the road and thankfully traffic had been stopped from coming down. This central obstruction had a large deep hole that had been left. Cones and fencing had been put round as a barrier. Harriet had been swinging her handbag at Mark and let go and it landed down inside the hole. She got on her hands and knees and tried to reach it but to no avail so she decided to climb down into the hole. She jumped down into it all right but the problem was being very drunk she then couldn’t get back up again.

  We were all amused by it and cried laughing at her shouting for help. Eventually, I took pity on her and put out my arm to help her up. Unfortunately, her weight and my unsteady balance made me topple over and the next thing I knew, I was in the hole alongside her. We were doing a poor job of climbing out so Mark came down to join us and said he would lift us out. Just at that moment, an older couple were walking past. They hadn’t noticed us in the hole as our heads only skimmed the surface level. Mark poked his head up and gazed at them. The couple looked shocked when they saw his smiling face.

  They watched on as he helped us out and he said, “We thought this was the way to Amarillo.” We were beside ourselves with laughter but they hadn’t understood the joke.

  The woman, shaking her head, said, “No it’s not round here, mate. You’d probably be better asking at the bus station.”

  They may have twigged what the joke was when they spotted us marching down the road singing “Is This The Way To Amarillo” in fits of giggles.

  I enjoyed our nights out and the others were all heavy drinkers like me. What they didn’t know and what I didn’t tell anyone was I was now drinking that sort of amount virtually every night mainly because I wanted to block out my home life. Kyle didn’t suspect either. He was too busy on his computer. We would generally have a bottle of wine with our evening meal and then I would carry on, putting brandy or whisky in my coffee. I would normally have some vodka hidden somewhere in the bedroom and make my excuses to go upstairs. Kyle would think I had fallen asleep early most nights, but the truth was I usually passed out from the amount of alcohol I drank.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THEN

  One Friday, we’d all been sitting discussing where we were going to go that night. We weren’t creatures of habit who went to the same place every week. In the main, we’d go into Bolton or Manchester, but it worked out expensive getting home as most of us lived near Bury. This week we voted on doing the Rammy mile which meant visiting all the pubs in Ramsbottom. A lot of the guys would start the session straight after work but I tended to go home first to get changed. I’d check Kyle was okay and make him a bite to eat to ease the guilt I felt about going out and enjoying myself. He never complained about me leaving him. I think he knew he was on to a good thing with me still being there and he trusted me implicitly.

  This week, for a change, I was talked into having a drink straight after work. I thought I was something of a rebel texting Kyle rather than speaking to him on the phone to tell him to get his own tea. Really, I was doing it to avoid talking to him. The reply I got back eased my conscience. I looked down at my phone with nervous anticipation as the pinging sound told me a message had been left. All it said was Sweet. I smiled. That was Kyle, a man of few words. I was in the mood to let my hair down tonight.

  Most of us started drinking straight after work, going for a drink round the corner at five-thirty. We got to Ramsbottom for about seven, which was when Simon joined us. I thought he looked more handsome than usual. He had a grey and white t-shirt on, showing off his well-toned arms and body, and jeans with rips in which made me look twice. His aftershave smelt good and, when he caught my eye, the butterflies started flapping in my stomach. Our eyes remained locked, and I didn’t want the excitement I felt to go but then I began to go red with embarrassment and looked away for fear anyone would suspect what just happened. I was unsure myself what was going on, but it was electrifying. I’d never looked at Sim
on before as anything other than my boss and these feelings disturbed me. I quickly moved away to talk to Mark.

  “How do you think the Blues are going to do against Arsenal on Sunday?” I asked him.

  “We should hammer them. They’ve got a few injuries so hopefully, we can capitalise on that.”

  “Well, I hope you’re wrong,” I smiled. Being a typical United fan I never wanted City to win whoever they were playing. We continued our discussion about football. I glanced back at Simon. He was now deep in conversation with Matt. I stared at Simon’s long eyelashes. I’d never noticed them before. He looked over at me and I turned my head away. I was worried he’d realised what was going through my mind and I blushed. I made a mental note to keep away from him as I didn’t want to do anything I might regret.

  My next drink didn’t even touch the sides as the cold liquid went down. A warm glow enrobed me as my muscles relaxed. Mark nudged me and my glass sloshed onto my wrist. Licking it, I looked over at Simon. He was watching me. I whispered to Mark to get another round in as I drained my glass. The alcohol was working its magic on me and I wanted more. A drink was placed in my hand and I looked down at it. Smiling, I took a sip of the strawberry daiquiri and the adrenaline rush was sublime. I felt the liquid seeping into my bloodstream, taking over my body like a drug. I knew I was drinking too quickly. I felt giddy.

  If I didn’t slow down I didn’t know what might happen. I couldn’t think straight. I blinked slowly. The room became hazy. My head flopped around my shoulders. The lights flickered on and off and the sounds of music and people chattering seemed distant. My legs were like jelly. I grabbed hold of something to steady myself and gradually looked around and saw it was an arm I’d latched on to. I slowly followed the length of the arm up from where my hand was and realised it was Simon, who then put his arm around me to steady my unstable stance.

  He whispered something in my ear. The music was so loud I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly.

  “Do you know I go to bed at night dreaming of kissing you?” I needed another drink. That was not what I expected to hear. My body felt like it had been ignited. Simon petted at my neck, his lips were warm. I looked round in a blind panic. Had anyone seen? All the others seemed to be deep in conversation. My head screamed to run away but my whole being was cemented to the spot. My eyes felt droopy, and then I jolted to as Luke tugged at my sleeve. His blond hair flopped over his eyes.

  “It’s your round, Sophie.” He pushed me towards the bar. I stood blinking, wondering if I’d imagined what just happened. I needed to stay well clear of Simon. My head was banging as if a siren had gone off. I started chatting to Luke, about what I can’t remember. The rest of the night was a blackout to me. The drink had taken over, and I was happily but firmly planted in oblivion.

  Next morning I woke up with a massive headache. I reached out and covered my head with my hands in the hope the thunderclap occurring between my ears would disappear. No joy. I opened one eye and peered through my fingers. Nothing. No recognition. I rubbed my head, opened both eyes and glanced around the room. I saw a picture of a New York skyline on the wall. I didn’t recognise that. The pain in my head was excruciating. I lay still in the bed.

  A dim light shone through the beige velvet curtains. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The stench of stale tobacco made me heave. I don’t smoke though, I thought. Suddenly an arm came over and encompassed my body. I looked round in horror. I wasn’t alone.

  Lying in bed beside me was Simon, snoring loudly. A fierce knot jolted in my abdomen. The anxiety inside me overwhelmed me but I felt nauseous and I knew I must find the bathroom quickly before I emptied the contents of my stomach. I was naked, so I gathered up my crumpled clothes off the floor and rushed out of the bedroom, knocking over an empty vodka bottle on the way. I found the toilet and two seconds later vomited the remnants of last night’s food and drink down the pan. I felt terrible. I didn’t know where I was or why Simon was there but I didn’t have any intention of staying around to find out. I cleaned myself up, dressed and grabbed my bag and tiptoed as silently as possible out the front door, closing it softly behind me.

  Once I got outside, I realised I must have been at Matt’s house because I remembered he lived down this road. The cold crisp morning air hit me immediately. Last night was a virtual blank and now I had to do the walk of shame. I realised I had drunk too much and fear started to take over. What had I said or done that was inappropriate I wondered?

  The alcohol seeped out of my pores and my shaking hand felt into my handbag to find a tissue to wipe away the perspiration. Anxiety continued to grip me as I checked to see if my purse, phone and keys were still there. This ritual of checking the contents of my bag became something of a habit after Friday nights as it was becoming more and more common for me to lose things.

  I’d lost shoes, jackets, and credit cards in the past but I’d never stayed out all night before. Now my drinking was starting to affect my feeling of self-worth and all my self-respect was slipping away. My purse was empty and the phone battery was flat. At least that was a good excuse as to why I wouldn’t have been able to contact Kyle. I walked for a while when I glanced up and saw a bus approaching.

  Thankfully I recognised where it was heading. I had my bus pass in my pocket so I jumped on and slumped down on the back seat. It wasn’t long before the familiar sights of Bury town centre came into view. I changed buses at the station and got on my bus to Unsworth.

  I still felt nauseous when I reached my stop. I got off the bus and trudged up the road, trying to put a story together for Kyle that might sound convincing. I slowly walked up the path. I hoped Kyle wouldn’t be home as I wasn’t looking forward to any conflict or any unwelcome questioning. I slid the key in the lock and opened the front door. I looked down at my feet and my eyes rose and came face to face with Kyle, whose angry expression met me.

  “How could you do this to me?” he shouted. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry Kyle. I’d had too much to drink and didn’t have enough money for a taxi home so Eve said I could sleep at hers.” I hoped I sounded convincing.

  “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “I’m so sorry. My phone died.”

  “Surely someone had a phone or a charger you could have used.” He was not amused.

  “I’m really sorry. I was so drunk I crashed out.” Kyle looked livid. He stormed past me not saying anything else and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been let off lightly. When I fired up my phone and looked through it, there were a series of messages from Kyle, each one expressing more annoyance. As I read through them all, the knot in my stomach tightened, compounding the feelings of regret and remorse I had. Also, I still had to face work on Monday.

  I went upstairs to lie down, still feeling terrible. I tried desperately to remember what happened the previous night. As much as I would have loved to have pushed away how I felt right now, I knew I could not. I was going to feel wretched all day. That was always the case when I drank too much. The guilt and shame were unbearable. I’d have brief pockets where my mood would start to improve then the waves of fear would splash over me again. The tightness in my stomach rose into my chest and it would not disappear.

  Going into work on Monday would be a nightmare. I didn’t know if I could cope with it. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t the worst thing I’d done in my life but the embarrassment and humiliation I currently felt, I thought maybe it was. How could I bear to face everyone? They’d all know. Walking into the office would be a terrifying ordeal.

  I counted down the hours until I went back to work, fearing the worst but wanting to get it over with. I walked in on that Monday morning. I had been dreading it. I hadn’t had the best of weekends with Kyle not speaking to me. Thankfully the workmates who had been out with me on Friday were all pretty vague about where we’d been and the events of the evening because they’d all had too much to drink like me.

  “You were a bit worse for wear,
weren’t you, Sophie,” smiled Joe.

  “Yes, I liked the part when you took your shoes off and climbed that lamppost,” burst out Mark. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth and I didn’t want them divulging anything else.

  “That’s it, I’m not drinking anymore,” I said as I sat down at my desk and quickly fired up my computer and I heard Mark muttering.

  “Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.” I chose to ignore their comments. Nothing further was said about the night, much to my relief but I still had to face Simon, which I was dreading.

  He’d arrived at work before me and hadn’t surfaced out of his office for a chat like he normally did. Then, late morning he popped his head round his office door and stood there.

  “Can I have a quick word Sophie and can you bring the Patterson file with you?” My nerves got the better of me as I searched the drawer for the file. What on earth does he want that for? My hands shook as I found the file and took it into the office with me. He looked up from his papers as I walked in and he beckoned me to sit down. I had this horrible dread he would pretend nothing had happened. Mind you that might have been better than the embarrassment of having to agree what a mistake it had been.

  “It’s okay, I don’t really need the file, I wanted to talk to you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. He took the file from me and started flicking through the pages. Looking at the papers rather than me he said, “Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I told Matt nothing happened between us so your reputation is intact.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so I smiled at him over the desk, “So, did anything happen?” I asked. Simon smiled back.

  He put the file down and still smiling said, “You want the truth, Sophie?” I looked at him, my eyes imploring him to be honest with me and nodded.

  “I wished something had happened.” Suddenly, my breathing increased as I let it sink in what he said. Was he flirting with me? My heart started to flutter. I thought my feelings would give the game away. I stuttered to get my words out.