‘What about you, Elise?’ Philip asked, quickly averting his gaze from me.
‘I’m going to my sister’s for Christmas. Can’t wait to spend it with my baby niece and nephew. My dad’s across from Spain at the moment, so he’ll be there too. Should be lovely. As for New Year, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. What about you?’
Everyone continued to chat about their plans while I shrank back into my chair, hoping nobody would try to bring me into the conversation. Surely my response to Philip had given the very clear message that Christmas and New Year were taboo subjects. The group discussion turned into a few individual conversations. Yes! The ordeal was over! Or was it? Ben turned to me and said, ‘If you’ve got no plans for Christmas, why don’t you join me at Mum and Dad’s? It’ll be strange with no Sarah.’
I was very aware of Elise listening and could almost hear her willing me to say yes. No doubt, she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone being on their own on Christmas Day. ‘Thank you, but no thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m fine on my own.’
‘New Year, then?’
‘No, again.’
‘Please.’
‘Why? Why would anyone subject themselves to hot, smelly pubs packed with obnoxious, drunk eejits, then pay five times the normal taxi fare to get back home? Assuming someone hasn’t already nicked their pre-booked taxi, that is. I can’t think of a more hideous way to spend an evening.’
‘And that’s not how we’d be spending it,’ Ben countered. ‘I’m going to a party at Pete’s house and it’s walking distance from mine, so you can crash in your old room.’
‘No thanks.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s New Year’s Eve. I don’t care whether it’s spent in a pub, at a house party or at home in front of the TV. I still hate it.’
‘But…’
‘Ben! I suggest you drop the subject. Right now!’
Elise shuffled in her seat. ‘What are you doing, Stevie?’ she asked.
I didn’t hear the answer, or anything else that was said, until a female voice made an announcement over the microphone about vacating the room so they could prepare it for the evening’s entertainment. Desperate for some space away from the questions and judgemental looks, I grabbed my empty wine glass and a part-finished bottle. ‘I’m going to freshen up,’ I muttered to nobody in particular. ‘See you later.’ Without waiting for a response, I stormed across the room, through reception, then took the stairs two at a time until I reached my bedroom. Empty wine glass and bottle still in my hands, I pushed open the doors to the Juliet balcony and gulped in the cool night air, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal and the butterflies in my stomach to settle. Every year. Every single year. They’d done this to me. They’d turned me into this. I hated this time of year, thanks to them. Hated it.
But I hated them more.
Chapter 3
My 20-minute time-out – and half a bottle of wine – calmed me down considerably. I returned to the bar feeling a bit childish for having stormed out earlier. It wasn’t Philip’s or Ben’s fault that I hated Christmas and New Year.
‘Ah! Here she is!’ Stevie announced, as I joined him, Ben, Elise, Sarah and a few others in the bar. ‘Your ears must have been burning, Clare. We were just talking about you!’
Anger flashed through me again. How dare they discuss me behind my back? ‘Can’t you just accept that some people don’t like this time of year?’ I snapped.
Ben flung his arm around me. ‘Relax, Irish! That’s not what we were talking about. I was just telling everyone that you can’t resist a dare and how our last challenge nearly got me arrested.’
I relaxed against him. Phew! I didn’t mind them discussing that. ‘Will that be the challenge where you did a lap of the Indian with only a rapidly disintegrating poppadom to protect your dignity?’
‘That would be the one.’ Ben hung his head in mock shame. ‘The worst part was that I ran outside straight into a passing PCSO.’
Gasps of horror came from the group. ‘Oh my God! How do I not know about this, Ben?’ Sarah demanded.
‘It’s a tad embarrassing.’
‘Fortunately, the PCSO was female and clearly a huge Ben fan,’ I said.
‘Huge Ben? I didn’t think you’d noticed.’
I grimaced and elbowed him. ‘Gross! And not something you should be discussing in front of your sister, either!’
Ben laughed. ‘Fortunately, I knew her through work so she let me off as long as I re-dressed immediately and disposed of what was left of the poppadom in the nearest bin.’
‘So, what possessed you to strip off and streak in the first place?’ Stevie asked.
‘This.’ Ben withdrew the king from his pocket.
‘It’s a chess piece,’ Elise said.
‘That’s right. The black king.’
She shrugged. ‘And that made you strip off and streak because…?’
‘Have you seen the film The Count of Monte Cristo?’ Ben asked her.
As Head of English and Drama at a local comprehensive, this was bound to be Elise’s specialist subject. ‘The 1975 version, the 2002 one, and I’ve read the book,’ she said. ‘Oh! I get it!’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Stevie said. ‘Care to explain?’
Ben and I took it in turns to explain how the king came into his possession, how it was used in the film and our very first challenge that evening.
‘The king’s gone back and forth several times since then,’ I said, ‘but Ben’s had him too long this time. I need to win him back.’
‘And I know how.’ Ben dangled the king in front of my eyes. ‘It doesn’t involve stripping off, eating anything gross or doing anything embarrassing. I’d say it’s the easiest challenge you’ll ever have to face.’
‘Doesn’t sound like much of a challenge,’ Stevie said.
‘It is, because it’s something she’s already said no to.’
My heartbeat quickened. I knew where this was going.
‘If you want to win the king back, you’ll join me at that New Year’s Eve party at Pete’s and you’ll stay until midnight.’
I felt all eyes on me.
‘Ben! You know I hate New Year!’
‘Do you think I liked stripping off and streaking round The Taj Mahal?’
‘No.’
‘Exactly. The point of the challenges is about facing your fears or doing things you hate. You’ll hate this. It’s therefore a challenge.’
I planted my hands on my hips. ‘Why are you so keen for me to join you at this stupid party?’
He shrugged. ‘No reason, other than I hate the thought of you being alone. Besides, it might be fun. And if it isn’t, we can get drunk and pretend we’re somewhere else on a different day of the year, if that makes you happy.’
I sighed. ‘If I agree to come – and it’s a big if – you promise we can leave at midnight?’
‘As soon as the clock’s struck 12, I’ll declare you king of the moment and we’re out of there.’
I sighed again and stared at the king sitting on his outstretched palm. Arse! I might have started off thinking of it as a scabby item that belonged in the bin, but my competitive streak had taken over after the chilli challenge, and winning had become an obsession. I needed him! ‘I might live to regret this, but you’re on. King’s mine, Saint Ben. King’s mine.’
‘Oi! Saint Ben! Will you remind me again why I let you drag me here?’ I gulped back the last couple of mouthfuls of cheap, warm Chardonnay out of a paper cup, shuddered, crumpled the cup and tossed it in the direction of the overflowing bin in the corner of Pete’s dining room.
Ben smiled. ‘Because, Irish, you’re desperate to get your mitts on this, aren’t you?’ He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the king. I tried to snatch it out of his hand, but he was too quick.
&
nbsp; ‘You know it doesn’t work like that. King’s still mine if you don’t make it past midnight.’
‘Bollocks. You’re a mean boy.’ I gave him a playful shove as he put the king back in his pocket. ‘By the way, can we put it on record that this is the crappiest house party ever?’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Ben said. We both gazed around the large dining room. The table, pushed against the fireplace, housed empty tubes of Pringles, cremated sausage rolls, some wilted sticks of celery and about 30 or so discarded beer cans. In one corner of the room, a couple were eating each other’s faces. In the opposite corner, another couple were having a domestic about who’d forgotten to renew the Sky subscription. Slumped on the floor between them, snoring loudly, lay a scruffy-looking twentysomething with ‘I’m a twat’ written across his forehead, a Poirot-style moustache and glasses. Ben laughed. ‘I wonder how long it takes to remove permanent marker pen.’
‘I think the clue is in the word “permanent”, don’t you?’
‘Okay, it is that bad,’ Ben admitted. ‘Really bad. I’m sorry, Irish.’
‘Home time?’ I didn’t want to lose the challenge, but this was torture. A chilli I could cope with; the house party from hell on the worst evening of the year was another matter.
Ben looked at his watch. ‘It’s only 11.20. Pete’ll be insulted if we don’t stay to at least see the New Year in.’
‘Seriously? Pete’s in the bathroom driving the porcelain bus and has been for the last hour. I don’t think he’d know if everyone left before midnight.’
‘Five past midnight, Irish. I promise. Please.’ He looked at me with big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.
‘You know that stupid expression gets you nowhere.’
He widened his hazel eyes even more and pushed out his bottom lip.
‘Jesus. Stop it. I submit. I’ll stay, but only because I’ve already suffered three hours of this so I may as well do another 40 minutes and embrace the stupid midnight thing. And win the king.’
‘It’ll be a worthy win.’
I poked him in the ribs. ‘I hope you realise that the next challenge will be something you’re going to really hate, just to piss you off.’
Ben grabbed two cans of lager from a box on the table and passed me one. ‘Get one of these down your neck and quit moaning. I’m going to check on Pete. I won’t leave you alone for long.’
‘You’d better not.’ I sighed as Ben left the room. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves… Well, everyone apart from Pete, the arguing couple and the body on the floor. Why couldn’t I? That was an easy one. New Year’s Eve was the day my life changed forever, thanks to them.
I sighed again and swigged on the warm lager. I really should have stuck to my guns and ignored Ben’s stupid challenge this time.
Stomach rumbling, I peered into the tubes of Pringles, but they were all empty.
‘Excuse me, but have you got a sticking plaster?’ I turned around to see a tall man with a wild mop of dark hair beside me.
‘No. Do I look like the sort of person who carries a first-aid kit in case of emergency?’
‘Oh. It’s just that I scraped my knee falling for you.’
I stared at him for a moment. On any other night, I’d have cringed at the cheesiness but turned on the charm offensive anyway. But this wasn’t any other night. This was New Year’s Eve. ‘Please tell me you didn’t just say that bollocks. You must be very pissed.’
He shook his head. ‘Not pissed,’ he slurred. ‘Just intoxicated by you. I think you’re the most—’
I put my hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture. ‘Can I just stop you there?’
He waited expectantly. ‘You were going to say something?’
‘No. I just wanted to stop you there before I join Pete on that porcelain bus.’
He looked confused. He wobbled a bit and grabbed the table for support, knocking the empty Pringles tubes over in a domino effect. ‘If I were to ask you out on a date, would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?’
I opened my mouth to hurl another insult, then smiled. I’d give him his due for that one. ‘That’s actually quite clever. Not so cheesy. I’m Clare.’
‘I’m Taz.’
‘What sort of name’s Taz?’
‘Short for Tasmanian Devil.’ He gave a little growl.
I shrugged. ‘Not getting it.’
‘Because of the hair.’
‘Ah. You’ll be a friend of Pete’s?’
‘No. I’ve come with a mate who knows Pete. You?’
‘Same. My friend works with him.’
Taz picked up a burnt sausage roll, squinted at it, then tossed it towards the bin in apparent disgust. Wise decision. It sounded like a stone as it hit the wooden floor.
‘I’ve got a serious question for you,’ he said. ‘Was your dad an alien?’
I bristled at the mention of Da, even though I knew the line.
‘Because there’s nothing else like you on this planet,’ he finished.
I squirmed. If I hadn’t felt stone-cold sober, I’d probably have engaged in a little flirting with Taz and maybe tried to out-cheese him, but not tonight. I was on a countdown to midnight, then I was out of there.
I gave Taz what I hoped was a polite yet dismissive smile. ‘Will you excuse me? I could do with some fresh air.’ I stepped over the ‘dead body’ and headed into the kitchen. I closed the door to the garden firmly behind me, a clear message that I didn’t want Taz to follow. I’d probably pissed him off by not responding to his lines, but who cared? I didn’t invite him to talk to me; he was the persistent one. Being a lone female didn’t make me fair game.
In the dim light emitting from the kitchen window, I could just about make out the shape of a swing in the middle of the lawn, where I decided to take a seat with my back towards the house, in the hope that I could shut out the sights and sounds of a hideous evening. I shivered as a cool breeze wrapped around me. Granted, it was mild for the time of year, but it certainly wasn’t the weather for sitting on a swing in the dark wearing an LBD and no coat. I managed about five minutes before having to admit defeat. Shivering, I stood up and took a few steps towards the house, then smacked straight into someone.
‘Sorry.’ I stepped backwards and looked up. ‘Taz? How long have you been there?’
‘A few minutes.’ He made no attempt to move. He just stood there staring at me.
I shivered again… but not from the cold this time. ‘I’m just going in.’ I moved to step around him, but he sidestepped in the same direction. I moved the other way, but he mirrored my move. ‘That’s not funny, Taz. Will you not let me past? I’m freezing. I want to go in.’
‘Why did you walk away when I was talking to you?’
Crap. I had pissed him off. ‘I needed some air, but I’ve had plenty now. Anyway, I didn’t just walk away. I excused myself first.’ I tried to step around him again, but he grabbed my arms, his rough hands digging into my bare flesh. I tried to wriggle free, but he tightened his hold and leaned closer. I could smell a mix of whiskey, cigarettes and pot on his breath.
‘You’re all the same, you women. Prick teases. You want a guy to tell you how beautiful you are and, when he does, you throw it back in his face.’
I wriggled again. Christ, he was strong. My heart started racing and I felt sick. ‘You’re the one who approached me.’ I tried to keep my voice calm and steady. ‘I didn’t ask you to come over.’
‘But you wanted me to. They all do.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’ With all my strength, I sidestepped again, but he was far too strong. I couldn’t shake him off. He pushed me towards the side of the house and pinned me against the wall by my wrists.
‘Stop trying to fight it. You know you want it.’
‘I don’t—’ He rammed his hand over my mouth before I could utter another
word. The back of my head scraped against the rough bricks as I tried to wriggle free.
‘Enough talking. It’s time for action.’ He ground his crotch against me. I closed my eyes, shuddering at the feel. ‘You like that, don’t you?’
He took his hand off my mouth and immediately thrust his lips against mine, ramming his tongue down my throat. I seized my opportunity and bit down hard. He released his hold with a yelp, then I drew my knee up between his legs. He cried out and dropped to the ground, clutching himself.
‘You were right. It was time for action,’ I yelled, as I legged it into the kitchen and slammed the back door.
‘Clare? What’s happened?’ Ben ran towards me.
‘We need to go. Now.’ I glanced towards the back door, shaking.
‘Who’s out there?’ Ben grabbed my hand. ‘Clare? Who’s out there?’
I glanced towards the door again. ‘Not now. Where are our coats?’
‘Was it Taz?’ Ben’s jaw tightened.
‘How…?’
‘Right. That’s it. Is he still out there?’
I nodded slightly. Ben grabbed the door handle.
‘Ben. No. Leave it.’ But I was too late. He’d already stormed out into the garden.
‘Taz? Where are you, you piece of shit?’ he yelled.
I ran after him. ‘Ben!’
Taz had made it to his feet and was leaning against the same wall to which he’d pinned me moments earlier. He looked at Ben, then leered at me. ‘Realised what you’re missing and come back for more? No wonder you came looking for me if that’s what you’ve been shagging. A dirty bitch like you needs a real man.’
‘Don’t speak to her like that.’ Ben’s fists were clenched by his side. My stomach churned. He’d never hit anyone in his life. He’d never win against Taz. The man was huge. And strong.
‘Why? What you gonna do about it?’ Taz squared his shoulders as he sauntered towards us.
Dreaming About Daran (Whitsborough BayTrilogy Book 3) Page 2
