The Look of Love

by David George Richards

  Victoria threw up.

  Louise held on to her, holding Victoria’s damp and untidy long hair out of the way as she leaned against the wall, retching. There was nothing left of the Barbie image that she had first seen in Edward’s Bar.

  A voice behind them said, “I thought it was you.”

  Louise looked round expecting to be attacked. But it was Jo. She was hand in hand with the boy she had been kissing. Louise sighed with relief. “You frightened the life out of me!”

  Jo smiled. “I see you found her then. Me and Mike are going for a curry, do you want to come?”

  Victoria retched even louder. Louise stroked her back and said, “I think we’ll give it a miss.”

  “Suit yourself. See ya! Come on, Mike!”

  Mike smiled drunkenly, and the two of them wandered off. It was almost as if they hadn’t noticed the state Victoria was in.

  After a few more violent heaves, Victoria finally stopped retching. She remained doubled up, her hands pressed against the wall and her head down. She was panting loudly. Louise bent down next to her, trying to see her face.

  “Are you alright?” she asked her, realising a moment later how stupid the question was.

  “No…,” Victoria gasped. “I don’t feel very well…my tummy hurts…and my head hurts…”

  “I’m not surprised. You’ve been beaten up. Do you want me to get an ambulance?”

  “No!” Victoria said more strongly.

  “Are you sure? There’s blood in your hair. You might be hurt!”

  Victoria straightened up. “I said no!” she snapped. And then she swayed, staggered, and fell into Louise’s arms.

  Louise got a quick clear glimpse of Victoria’s face before she fell forward. Her nose was bleeding, she had a split lip, there was a long scratch down one cheek, and her right eye was already swelling. Louise couldn’t help crying. She held on to Victoria tightly.

  “Oh, Vicky! What do you want me to do?”

  “Take me home,” Victoria gasped.

  Chapter Eleven

  An Accidental Meeting

  Chrissy crossed over into Spring Gardens at the end of King Street and walked quickly towards Fountain Street. She wasn’t thinking about where she was going. Her conversation with Scott was still fresh in her mind and she was already feeling the first pangs of guilt and remorse.

  Why had she done it? Scott was alright. He was nice, he liked her, and he had done his best to please her all night. She had thrown it all back in his face. She had practically called him a loser. But she had to, hadn’t she? If she had let herself fall in love with him she would have ended up living the very kind of life she despised. But she had liked him. And he knew it, the sod. No, better to kill it; stifle it, right at the beginning, before it was too late.

  Chrissy was walking past the Athenaeum when several young men all emerged from the entrance at once. They were rowdy and boisterous, and very drunk. They all cheered as soon as they saw her, and two of them lunged at her, grabbing her.

  Chrissy had been deep in thought and was taken by surprise. She was quickly surrounded, and she felt their hands on her body and in her hair. She panicked. She smacked and kicked at them, broke away, and ran. With a shout they chased after her.

  Chrissy ran across the road just outside Rosie’s Bar and was halfway across when her heel broke and she stumbled. She didn’t even feel the taxi hit her.

  It was her own fault, really. Her heels were much too high to be running in, and she should have waited for a longer gap in the stream of cars and taxis before trying to cross the road. But the men were chasing her, and she had only had the time for a quick glance. She had seen a gap in the traffic and she had thought she could get across in time. Then her heel broke.

  Why did fate conspire against you? Why did her heel have to break at that moment? Why was everything trying to destroy you from the moment you were born?

  All these thoughts passed through her mind as she lay in the road almost under the front wheels of the black cab. She could smell rubber tyres and diesel. She opened her eyes and looked up at some men pushing and shoving each other. She could hear them shouting. Why did men always have to show off like that? She stared at them. Most of them were young men in shirt sleeves, but the two men doing all the shouting looked older, and one of them wore an expensive looking coat.

  All of a sudden, Chrissy realised that she was lying on the ground in the middle of the road. She remembered what had happened, and why, and she scrambled angrily to her feet.

  Taking off her broken shoe, Chrissy screamed at the young men in shirt sleeves, “You bastards! You could have got me killed!” and threw it at them. Then she staggered and fell across the bonnet of the taxi.

  The shoe bounced off one man’s head, and with a yelp he fell over. All the young men cheered, grabbed their fallen comrade, and ran off. The taxi driver ran after them, but they were much too fast on their feet and he quickly gave up the chase.

  “Bloody maniacs!” he shouted. “I’ll have the law on to you!” He shook his fist at them, and then snatched up Chrissy’s shoe and began to walk back with it.

  The man in the expensive coat had quickly gone to Chrissy and helped her off the bonnet of the taxi. She was very unsteady on her feet, and he had to hold onto her to stop her falling over.

  “Are you alright, my dear?” he said with much concern.

  “Do I look alright?” Chrissy snapped. “My jacket and trousers are ruined! My stupid shoe’s broken! My side hurts! My bum hurts! Of course I’m not bloody well alright! I’ve been knocked down by a taxi!” As she spoke, she got more and more emotional and finally burst into tears.

  The man took off his coat, draped it around Chrissy’s shoulders and hugged her close.

  “There, there. You just cry it out,” he told her in a soft voice. “You’re probably still a little shocked. Take it easy now. You shouldn’t really have stood up so quickly.”

  Chrissy rested her head on his shoulder and cried and cried. She put on a really good performance, bawling her eyes out. The man held her in his arms, waiting patiently.

  There was the sound of horns as the traffic held up by the accident began to get impatient. The taxi driver waved at the cars behind.

  “Alright! Keep your hair on!” he shouted at them. Then he came over to the man with Chrissy, handed him her broken shoe, and said, “We’re going to have to go, mate, we’re blocking the road.”

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, and he began to walk Chrissy to the door of the taxi. She limped ungracefully on one shoe.

  Chrissy’s sobs quickly subsided as she found herself being put inside the cab. “No!” she said a little scared. “I want to go home!”

  “And so you shall,” the man said with a pleasant smile. “But first, I think we should go by way of the nearest Accident and Emergency ward. Please, share my taxi. It seems only fair after you flagged it down in such an unusual manner.”

  His smile was so disarming that Chrissy let herself be put inside. The man sat next to her and closed the door.

  “A & E at Manchester Royal,” he told the driver, and the taxi sped off.

  The man handed Chrissy a very clean and neatly folded white handkerchief. “My name is Adam Campbell,” he said. “And you are?”

  Chrissy wiped her tear-stained face and blew her snotty nose. “Chrissy Davis,” she replied nasally.

  “Did you know those boys?”

  “Not bloody likely!”

  “Why were you running from them?”

  “They were just drunk and they grabbed me when I was walking past.”

  “You were alone?”

  Chrissy nodded and handed Adam back his handkerchief. He took it without hesitation and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “Why –if you don’t mind me asking– was such a beautiful young woman as yourself walking the streets on your own?”

  Chrissy pointed out the girls wandering about outside as the taxi drove down Princess Street. “What’s so unusual
?” she said.

  “Do you have no companion?” he pressed.

  She shook her head.

  “Good. I too am alone. It has its advantages. I do as I like without having to consult a partner whose wishes may clash with my own. I have only myself to please, and my money is my own to waste or invest. But there are also disadvantages. My bed is empty at night, there is no one to share the ups and downs life has to offer, and I dine alone.”

  Chrissy stared at Adam as he sat back in the seat and sighed. He was older than her, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was brown and neatly cut, he was generally well groomed, and his light grey suit looked expensive. He had a square face and hard features, but his expression was soft. There was a faraway look in his ice-blue eyes as he continued.

  “This evening the meal was excellent, the wine superb, but the company was non-existent. And later, no one shared my delight and pain at the hands of the roulette wheel. No, solitude requires a cold heart, and I fear mine is too warm.”

  Chrissy tilted her head to one side, narrowed her eyes and said, “Are you chatting me up?”

  The taxi came to an abrupt halt with a squeal of brakes. “We’re here, mate!” the driver said, twisting round in his seat.

  “Good.” Adam leaned forward. “Please wait for us. Has the clock been on since we left the Casino?”

  “You bet it has.”

  “Then leave it on until we return.” Adam reached in his pocket for his wallet, took out a ten pound note, and handed it to the driver. “Take this as a deposit. Get yourself a hot drink. We maybe some time.”

  The taxi driver smiled. “I’ll be here, mate! Don’t you worry!”

  Adam helped Chrissy out of the cab. She limped on one shoe as before, so Adam quickly retrieved her broken shoe from the seat of the taxi. Chrissy stared at it. Without a heel she would end up limping just as badly as before. She gave up on the whole idea. With a sigh she took off her good shoe and threw both shoes back into the taxi.

  Standing on bare feet, Chrissy had shrunk four inches. It made Adam smile.

  “You are now my height,” he said.

  “You owe me a new pair,” she told him, prodding him with her finger.

  “I will be more than happy to oblige, and you may choose the most expensive pair you can find.”

  “I might just do that!” Chrissy replied.

  Adam took her arm and they went into the A & E department together.

  Inside was the usual Friday night crowd. Drunks with bloody handkerchiefs pressed to an assortment of head wounds and broken noses filled the waiting room. They were all ages and sexes, but predominantly young and male.

  Chrissy registered with the nurse at reception and then waited with the rest of them. She took a while to settle, as sitting down caused her obvious discomfort. She finally managed it with the help of Adam’s coat as extra padding. Adam sat down beside her.

  Chrissy pointed at his folded up coat. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked him.

  “No, of course not. I’m glad that you find it of some use.”

  Chrissy looked across at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “In the taxi? About chatting me up?”

  “Ah! Yes,” he said, remembering.

  “Well?”

  He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I have,” he began, “never been very successful at ‘chatting up’ the fairer sex. Mainly because they no longer seem to be as fair as they once were. The millennium woman is harshly independent, aggressive, and often abusive when approached in a clumsy manner. However, I am well off, and so this has a certain advantage. But this advantage brings with it a slightly different aspect to any relationship.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’re hopeless with women, and that the only women who like you, do so for your money?”

  He nodded, slowly at first, and then more briskly. “I suppose I am.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say so? Gosh! You don’t half spin things out! No wonder you’re hopeless with women! By the time you’ve finished chatting them up, they’re married with three kids!”

  Adam nodded again. “I think that did happen once.”

  Chrissy laughed and Adam smiled broadly.

  “Ah! The sun has risen at last!” he exclaimed. “I knew you were beautiful, but your expression has been dismal for so long, that I thought the accident had permanently set your features in a frown!”

  “There you go again!” Chrissy said.

  “I cannot help myself. I have always been–” he paused, thinking of the right words, “–a bit long winded. The result of a public school education. But please, don’t let this put you off.” He paused again, looking closely at Chrissy. “You were right, of course. I was, as you said, trying to ‘chat you up’. I am only human after all, and I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without making some effort. I hope I did not offend you.”

  Chrissy smiled. “No. As chat ups go, yours was pretty unusual. Do you often knock girls down just so that you can pick them up?”

  “No. But I see the idea has its merits.”

  “Have you no shame?” she said, mockingly.

  “Needs must. Now, to business. Dine with me tomorrow night. If you are well, that is.”

  Chrissy was unsure. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel so embarrassed. I made such a fool of myself before, shouting and swearing at those lads.”

  “This matters nothing. You were in shock. All of it is wiped from my mind. We will meet tomorrow night as if we had first met. We will be on level terms. There is no need to answer me now. I will wait here with you until you have seen the doctor and have returned. Then I will take you home.” He raised his hand at the first sign of Chrissy’s protests. “Please! No arguments! This is for my benefit, I assure you. I would not be able to sleep a wink tonight without being sure that you were safe and sound. And when I have taken you safely to your door, then you can tell me your answer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Indiscretion

  Louise was surprised to find that it was already after one thirty in the morning. She hadn’t noticed the time go by so quickly. She flagged down a black cab on Deansgate. When the taxi driver saw the state of Victoria, he was reluctant to let her and Louise into his cab.

  “I don’t want her throwing up inside,” he said rather sternly. “I’ve had enough of you girls. You’re worse than the lads. You have a belly full, jig around all night, and then you throw it up everywhere.”

  Louise told him that Victoria had already done just that, and that his cab interior was now quite safe. He let them in, more because of Louise’s obvious state of sobriety than because of her argument.

  “Where to?” he asked when they were inside.

  Louise gave her address in Sale. The words just came out of her mouth on their own. But what else could she do? She couldn’t just dump Victoria at her flat in the student’s residences and leave. And Victoria had said to take her home. If she had meant her own flat she would have said so when she heard Louise talking to the driver, wouldn’t she? Louise convinced herself that she was doing the right thing. Victoria didn’t look at all well and at least this way she could keep an eye on her and see that she was alright.

  All the way back to Sale, Victoria sat in Louise’s arms, leaning into her. She breathed loudly and held on to her stomach with both hands. One of her legs was drawn up across Louise’s lap and her head was resting on Louise’s shoulder. In response, Louise hugged her and stroked her head.

  Victoria was still wrapped in Louise’s jacket, which covered her from neck to hip. But all of her legs were still in view. Louise caught sight of the taxi driver’s eyes in the mirror. He kept glancing back at them. He was probably only checking what state Victoria was in, but Louise couldn’t help thinking of Victoria’s exposed legs. She reached down and placed her hand on Victoria’s thigh, drawing it towards her a little more, and covering as much of Victoria’s leg a
s she could with her arm. She didn’t know whether it had any effect or not, but the driver didn’t look again.

  When they got to Sale, Louise couldn’t get Victoria out of the cab. She seemed to be unconscious, and Louise struggled trying to lift her. Victoria had turned into an immense dead weight. At first the taxi driver just watched Louise struggle, but then he relented.

  “Here, I’ll do it,” he said pulling Louise out of the way. He reached inside the cab, grabbed Victoria and put her over his shoulder, fireman fashion. Then he backed out of the cab, straightened up and closed the door. “Alright, lead the way.”

  Louise opened the front door and led him upstairs to her flat. She was embarrassed but thankful. There would have been no way that she would have been able to get Victoria up the stairs on her own. Not without waking the whole house, anyway.

  The driver dumped Victoria down on the sofa. Louise’s jacket opened to reveal what Victoria wasn’t wearing underneath, and Louise quickly covered her again. She paid the driver and tipped him heavily. He grunted.

  “My daughter’s your age,” he muttered. “You all frighten the life out of me.” Then he turned and left.

  Louise stood at the top of the stairs and waited until she heard him close the front door, then she hurried back inside her flat, closed the door and leaned on it.

  She sighed with a great whoosh, relaxing at last. She put her bag down on the side table and stared at Victoria, sprawled on the sofa in front of her. She was snoring.

  Louise went over to her, snatched away her jacket and stared at Victoria. She had meant to feast her eyes on Victoria’s exposed body, but instead she saw the purple and yellow bruising that had already come up on her stomach and around her navel, and she was instantly overcome with guilt and worry. They weren’t the only damage either.

  Now that they were in proper light, Louise could see several more bruises and many cuts and scratches. The scratches were all over her body. Some of them might have been caused when she was on the floor in the toilets of the disco, but most of them were definitely caused by finger nails. Her attackers had clawed at her as well as punched her, and Victoria was covered in a thin pink film where the blood had mixed with the sweat and water. Along with the split lip, bloody nose and black eye, Victoria was a complete mess. There was only one thing to do, and Victoria was probably used to it by now.