by Fox Brison
“No… no it isn’t. Who asked who?”
She raised her eyebrows sardonically. “Do I look like I’d wait for a woman to ask me out?”
“Not really, but then you don’t look like the sort of woman who would start a possible long term relationship after a chance meeting. I figure you’re more of the one night will do brigade.”
“Ouch.” She winced and held her hand over her heart.
“Ouch because I was so wrong or ouch because I was so right?”
“A bit of both,” she confessed. “If I date, and that’s a huge and rare if, I’d lean towards a casual dalliance.”
“And you don’t look even a bit chagrined about that fact,” I said with a knowing smile and a rueful shake of my head.
“I’m not, not really. I never lie about who I am and what I want.” She looked askance at me, almost as if waiting for my condemnation which I didn’t give.
“So we crashed into each other and our hearts collided, and you asked me out.” I was aware the task of persuading the rest of the world we were in love was made all the more problematical by the fact my darling Adele was who she was.
“We went for a coffee and I swept you off your feet with my charm and wit. Yeah, that scenario works.” She smirked and took a bite of her haggis, moaning in pleasure.
Wow. Okay. Libido registering one thousand on the arousal scale. God help me if she ever tried to turn me on, I’d be a gonner. “Yeah, ’cos that’s exactly how it happened, Romeo. Well apart from the sweeping and the wit. And the charm,” I added, getting back on track before I did something totally stupid.
“Fine. We had a drink and you fell for my charms.”
“There’s the whole falling for your charms line again,” I said, entertained by her cockiness. “I think it would be more believable if you were the one who fell for my enigmatic allure.”
“How about it was fifty/fifty?” She was grinning now at our banter. It was a good look on her. What was even better was she hadn’t reached for her scarf once.
“And that, my friend, is compromise,” I praised. “Adam would be so proud of you!”
“Hmm, so it is. Maybe I’m not such a lost cause after all.”
Taking a bite of tapas, a little sour cream lingered on the corner of her mouth. I reached over with my napkin and wiped it. I made the mistake of looking into her eyes after I did so. They were filled with an indecipherable emotion, one which I briefly wondered was mirrored in my own. A clatter from the adjoining table shattered the captivating moment. “You… erm…”
“Yeah,” she said. “At least you didn’t lick the napkin before wiping. Is it all gone?” Her tongue flicked the corner of her mouth, totally unconsciously, and the tension ratcheted up several notches.
Who am I kidding? It was more like several thousand notches.
Dear. Fucking. God. I laughed, attempting to release the tightness and she echoed the effort. “So the opera will be our third date.” We both stopped laughing. Third date. That was sex date territory. Actually, for a lot of my friends the third hour of a successful date was sex territory but not me. “I’m old fashioned,” I immediately cautioned.
“Me too.”
“I expect to be treated with respect,” I teased trying to lighten the, for me anyway, charged atmosphere.
“And you will be.” She bit her bottom lip nervously. “There’s an app for that, right?”
“Are you joking?” I exclaimed. She guffawed and I felt a bit of a fool. “Okay we have the circumstances straight; now it’s time for the players in this dramedy.” Stay on course, damn it!
“Right. Try to avoid too much interaction with Aileen,” Adele warned.
“She’s your nemesis, and her wife is Helen?” I lifted my glass of water and winked. “Insert evil broo ha ha.”
“Nice sound effects. Yes. Helen worked with UNICEF, but left to be a stay at home mum.”
“So steer clear of the dynamic duo, gotcha.” I grimaced. Should I tell her about the incident in the bathroom? What would I achieve except to hurt Adele’s feelings and the last thing I wanted to do was spoil the evening.
“So I’m wearing a trouser suit, and a scarf to compliment your dress,” Adele continued.
“But no heels right? Please god, no heels,” I moaned pathetically.
“Feeling small?”
“Totally,” I said honestly. “You’re already, what, six inches taller, without adding any more height. It’s a wonder you don’t get a nosebleed when you’ve those shit kicking heels on!”
“Excuse me, ladies,” the waitress who interrupted us, was beet red. “The gentleman at the bar asked me to bring this over to you.” She placed a cocktail down in front of me.
“Really?” Adele scowled. “How about you take it straight back and assure the… gentleman, a misnomer if ever there was one, that she’s taken.”
“Wait, Adele.” I placed a restraining hand on her forearm. “Could you point the guy out?”
“Sure.” We all turned to look towards the bar. “He’s at the far end in the red baseball… wait, he’s gone.” She frowned. “I’m really sorry about this, but he was insistent and getting loud. I didn’t want him to make a scene. Please forgive me for disturbing your evening.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a grace I didn’t feel. I stood and walked to the door, ignoring the rapid tattoo Adele’s fingers were beating on the table. There was no sign of anyone in a red hat outside. “Huh,” I grunted when I returned to the table.
“Couldn’t find your prince charming?” she asked acerbically.
“Adele, simmer down, it’s a long and boring story and when we have nothing else to talk about, I’ll share the details. Now back to what you’re wearing.”
She seemed appeased but played with her scarf whilst I tore pieces of my paper napkin into confetti. Each to their own nervous twitch, I guess.
Chapter 23
Joanne
I woke up on Wednesday morning with a sense of dread mitigated by a stronger sense of happiness and hope. Today was the day my mother’s life would begin again. I hoped. It felt like that kind of moment, you know the one… the moment when you turn a corner, the moment when your life begins anew, the moment when you abide the things you can’t change and change the things you can’t abide.
Her bag was packed and leaning against the wall by the front door and we sat in the kitchen waiting for Ashleigh who was giving us a lift. Mam was still quivering, although the shakes weren’t as bad as the last time. One day off the wagon after twenty nine on made the transition back to sobriety easier.
The thick jumper she was wearing on one of the hottest days of the year so far was an old favourite, and I resisted the temptation to comment; we’d already discussed at length her pathetic parasitic clinging to the past, another row minutes before she left for rehab wasn’t going to get us anywhere. I’d learned my lesson about saying words in haste because damn was I repenting in leisure. I spent a heartbeat remembering the night before; maybe I could say I was repenting in pleasure now.
Ashleigh’s tooting fractured the silence; it was like an air raid siren waking us from our catatonic state and we both jumped. “I love you, Mam. I’m ever so proud of you.” I grabbed her into a tight hug.
“I love you too, Jo-Jo. I shouldae done this years ago. I let you down,” she said for the fifth time that morning.
“A little,” I admitted honestly. “But you’re doing the right thing now and when you get better you’ll have loads of time to make it up to me.” I tried to lighten the mood.
“Doll, I don’t think I’ll live to be two hundred,” she chuckled. “Come on before Ashleigh breaks that horn of hers.”
The air in the car was thick with tension. I sat in the back holding my mother’s hand and tried not to think too deeply about what was going to happen to her over the next eight weeks. I kept staring out of the window and then back at her, not sure what to say, and everything that did come to mind seemed weak.
�
�Idiot,” Ashleigh growled and her breaks were given a workout.
“What happened?” I asked as she leant on the horn whilst overtaking a dark blue car.
“That fucker went past us a few miles back and has been playing silly buggers ever since. Slowing down and then speeding up!”
I checked out of the back window, but there was no one behind us. “He must’ve turned off,” I placated an irate Ashleigh who was prone to the odd outbreak (in fairness it was more like frequent outbreak) of road rage. It did, however, take our minds off the purpose of the journey. Thankfully.
Twenty five minutes later we reached our destination and all turned our heads left towards the one storey brick building. Utilitarian and stark, it could have been an army barracks. Finally, my mother bobbed her head and climbed out. I wish I could say her actions were determined, but they weren’t; if anything I’d say they were resigned.
“We won’t be long, Ash,” I said as I lifted my mother’s bag out of the boot. We were met at the door by a lovely woman, a social worker attached to the centre.
“Hi, I’m Gemma McGill. You must be Mary and Joanne Cassidy?” Unable to find my voice I nodded. Ms McGill gave me a compassionate smile and then said, “It’s good to meet you both. Now, does Mary have everything from the list I emailed you, Joanne?”
“Aye, it’s all in her bag here. When can I come and visit?” This was what I wanted and yet nerves nipped at my heart at the thought of leaving my mam alone. We’d never been apart for more than a few nights since I was five years old.
“Not until the weekend,” Ms McGill said with a compassionate smile. “She needs to settle in. Ready, Mary?”
“Aye.” She gripped my hand tightly. “I love you, Jo-Jo. I will get better. I promise you, I will get better.” She shuffled away, her head bent toward the floor.
But for the first time in twenty years, I believed her solemn and heartfelt oath.
***
The journey home was spent in floods of tears. I hadn’t realised how hard leaving her would be. The rehab centre was locked up tight and bore more resemblance to a prison than a hospital – to my mind anyway. Was I doing the right thing? She owned the air of someone beaten into a pulp, even with the gentle guidance of Gemma McGill by her side.
I took the rest of the day to be by myself. Right now, it was probably a good job I was supplementing my income as Adele’s escort, because my pay packet was going to be incredibly light this week. However, I would not miss college. If nothing else it would occupy my mind. Ashleigh couldn’t make it because her eldest Jack had been sent home from school poorly, so I caught the bus.
After spending two hours in the company of Geoff Standish, I sorely regretted my decision; he was really starting to creep me out.
My teeth chattered as Lorna, another woman in my English class, and I walked towards the bus stop. “It’s turned bloody chankin the night.” I said, rubbing my hands together.
“It was roasting when I left home. Wish I’d brought a jacket… uh, oh.” She nudged me. Damn. Geoff was following us, quite hurriedly. Trust this to happen on a night Ashleigh wasn’t there. “He’s insistent, isn’t he?”
“It’s getting a bit annoying,” I said quietly. “He uses every excuse in the book, and then some I haven’t even heard of, to try and get me to go out with him.” We saw the bus approaching.
“Sorry, Jo,” she said, “I’ve got to get back for my babysitter, Jo, otherwise-”
“I’ll be right, Lorna, just me being haddy.”
“Yer no stupid,” she whispered as he caught up to us.
“Ladies, sorry to chase after you but I was wondering if I could have a quick word, Joanne,” he said, smiling weirdly. It was one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, nor feel particularly friendly.
“Sure, erm… maybe before the lesson next week?” Lorna waved and continued crossing the dark tarmac towards the bus stop, but I daren’t be rude because he held my future, loosely, in the palm of his hand.
“I was thinking now? There’s a nice pub around the corner, we can grab a drink and I could fill you in on the scholarship program that Heriot Watt are offering.” The top of his lip held a fine sheen of sweat as did his near bald head. It was curious to see because it was far too cold for that level of perspiration. “I’m parked right over there.” He pointed towards a dark hatchback.
The night closed in; I knew in a few minutes the building would be locked up and that made me feel even more nervous. “I really have to go, Geoff, I don’t want to miss my bus,” I explained and started edging away.
“Looks like you already have,” he said as the bus pulled away. “I could give you a lift, and we could discuss your options in the car.”
Jesus, take the fucking hint, Geoff. “Really, thanks, but I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not.” He reached out and touched my arm. I tried not to flinch, but it was instinctive.
“Joanne?”
I spun round. “Adele!” Oh thank god. I practically ran into her arms.
“Sorry I’m late, you must have thought I’d stood you up.” I know Geoff was possibly innocent of the brush I was tarring him with, but I couldn’t ignore my nerve endings standing up and screaming hysterically, ‘run and run fast.’
“I tried calling but there was no answer,” she added, pulling me closer.
I inhaled her scent, the musk she wore filled me with a sense of security. “I put my phone on charge and then left it on the kitchen counter.” Geoff oozed into the shadows - and that didn’t make him seem even more sinister. “I’m sorry, Geoff, this is Adele, my girlfriend. Maybe we can discuss the scholarship program before our lesson next week.”
“Of course.” He stropped off into the darkness and I was so relieved I reached up and kissed Adele on the cheek. It was something I’d been desperate to do ever since our first shared moment in her office. Did it live up to that memory?
Oh hell yes it did.
“Thanks, that’s the third time in a row you’ve come to my rescue now.”
“What can I say, just call me Super Architect, rescuer of damsels in distress at night, designer of homes for the rich and famous during the day.” She flexed her biceps, but stopped when she noticed I wasn’t smiling. “Hey, Joanne, are you alright? You’re trembling.” She stood back and holding me at arm’s length, looked into my eyes.
“I’m fine, he just wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight.” I brushed it off even though the litany of incidents (strange phone calls, the sensation of being watched, the drink sent by a random stranger at the bar in the city) were all starting to stack up.
“If he’s pestering you, you should say something. Or if you want I’ll say something. Believe me, he won’t bother you again once I’ve finished with him,” she growled.
“Thanks, Adele, but I only have a few weeks left until the end of this module and I won’t be taking his class next year.” Even if I needed to, I think I would choose another topic. Like pig farming in Syria.
“If you’re sure.” We walked quietly towards her car. “When you said you were getting the bus, I thought I might, you know, pick you up? Where’s Ashleigh?”
“Her bairn isn’t well. Why are you really here, Adele?” I studied her carefully.
“Just checking on my investment.” A few days ago I might have believed her, but now? Let’s just say her blush was telling.
“I have a nice minestrone soup at home,” because it’s made by Baxters, “if you haven’t eaten that is.” What the fuck are you doing Joanne Cassidy?
“Minestrone’s my fave… are you sure? I’d like… if that’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t.”
***
Even though I reassured Adele with regard to Geoff Standish, he disturbed me. I wasn’t what you would call a weak woman frightened of her own shadow by any stretch of even J.K. Rowling’s imagination. I was tough, grew up (or rather, as I’d been accused of on more than one occasion, been
dragged up) on the mean streets of Dalkeith. However, standing alone with him in the darkness, a feeling of dread inched over me. Geoff was a short yet exceptionally broad man, but scarier than that, there was something baleful in his eyes, something… almost covetous, like I was first prize in the pervy tutor raffle.
“Joanne,” Adele said softly.
“Hmm?”
“We’ve been sat outside your house long enough for the neighbour’s curtains to twitch.” Seriously? Where on earth had I been for the last fifteen minutes? “Want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
“Nothing to talk about, not really.” I got out of the small electric car, and walked purposefully towards my front door, keys in hand. Again I felt a distinct sensation of someone watching me and I was growing sick of it. I shivered and searched up and down the street. There was nothing there but parked cars and shadows. I narrowed my eyes and peered more intently at the vehicles on the other side of the road. I thought I knew every vehicle in the street, but I didn’t recognise the Ford Focus parked a few doors down. I gulped. The after effects of Geoff’s lecherous tenacity loitered long after I’d left the college.
“Now you’re making me nervous,” Adele chuckled, but she too examined the immediate vicinity, albeit far more negligently. I opened the door and turned on the hall lights, then proceeded to turn on every light in first the living room and then the kitchen. “Joanne?” Adele touched my shoulder and I started.
“Sorry. I’m not much in the way of company tonight,” I apologised.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked, disappointment apparent in the droop of her shoulders and tone of voice. She must really love minestrone soup.
“Actually,” I bit my cheek. Christ I really was jumping at shadows. “I’d like you to stay.”
“For as long as you want me to.” Her sincerity indicated she didn’t just mean for tonight.
Then again I had this tendency for hearing what I wanted to hear.
Chapter 24
Adele
When Joanne dished up our soup there was a distinct tremble in her hand which doubled after she checked her phone. It had stopped now we were eating, but I needed to find out what was going on. She was normally such a cool and collected individual, even when under pressure. I thought back to the crash. Especially when under pressure.
