by Lee Weeks
Coz, baby, we were born to run . . .
He turned back to the bed and saw that she was waiting, and said to himself: ‘Get it over with . . .’ He started his usual moves but today it wasn’t working for him. He changed positions. Maybe if he thought of someone else – that would do it for him? But it didn’t. He was having a difficult job staying hard, maintaining his interest. He stopped, sighed, smiled embarrassedly as he hovered over her.
‘Sorry, darling – been a long day for me. I feel under pressure with you looking so damn sexy in your red corset. And . . .’ He rolled away. ‘My client really took it out of me.’ He lay on his back, exhausted.
‘You can’t just give up – don’t be so selfish. I thought you were Mr Stud?’
Forty minutes later, Ellerman was given the signal that enough was enough.
Gillian rolled over and looked at her phone on the floor beside the bed. ‘Just in time – we have forty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. And God, I’m hungry. I hear this place is Michelin-starred – a hundred pounds a head. But then . . .’ She turned and looked defiantly at him as she opened the attic-bedroom door and went out on the landing to have a shower in the bathroom next door. ‘You owe me – all the meals and the bottles of wine you’ve had here in the last eighteen months and, to be honest, I’m beginning to think you’re mean with money . . .’ Ellerman turned over in bed and lifted his head in protest but didn’t speak. ‘Yeah . . .’ said Gillian. ‘Prove me wrong.’
Ellerman got dressed whilst he heard the shower running. He gathered up his things and stepped down the stairs from the attic bedroom. He was thinking it through. He’d lost his hard-on halfway and had to spend half an hour on his knees pleasuring Gillian and now he was going to have to pay two hundred quid for a meal he couldn’t afford. Enough was enough. Ellerman went downstairs and into the lounge and was just contemplating what would be the best plan of escape when Gillian hurried down the stairs wearing a white towelling robe, as if she knew what he was thinking.
‘You going somewhere, darling?’ she asked in a child’s petulant voice as she pulled the robe tight around her. Her eyes were set hard. He could see that she was still in the mood she’d been in before they’d had sex, despite his exhaustive efforts.
‘I’m so sorry, babe. Just had a call. I need to go.’
‘What about the restaurant, babe?’
‘I can’t this time, darling. I am truly sorry. I have to drive up North straight away. I’ve got a six-hour car drive ahead of me.’ Gillian shook her head in mock sympathy as she glared at him. He reached for her and rubbed her arms as if she were a needy relative. ‘Oh, bugger it – you’re so much more important to me than you realize. I’ll stay here but let’s relax, get cosy, get drunk together. I wanted to talk to you about the Spanish house. I wanted to give you an update. You know . . . I am so looking forward to us moving out there, darling.’
‘Really? All the money I’ve put into it these last eighteen months, I would have thought you could have built a fucking mansion by now.’
‘Yes . . . well . . . I wish.’ He pulled back to look at her. ‘It’s so nearly there, darling. You just need to keep the faith. It’s within our grasp and then we’ll be flying out there and living a life of luxury – lying in the sun – just you and me.’ He could see by her face that she’d been waiting for the chance to explode. The time was now. He braced himself. But then he saw a tiny chink of light. Her face was softening, her eyes melting. Was she going to relent? He knew why – she didn’t want to be on her own. She had missed the boat for having kids and had banked on a career that had not come through for her. Now she was lonely and brittle and too old to compromise.
He smiled as his eyes searched hers and he did his best dejected look.
‘I’m so sorry, darling – you know I wouldn’t let you down for the world but I’m finding it so hard at the moment with cash-flow problems. The architect in Spain needs paying or he’s threatening to stop working on the site and we don’t want that, do we?’ She shook her head. ‘Look – I can’t lie to you. I’m not mean – God forbid! But, you’re right, I haven’t had any money recently. It’s all tied up in building boats. I’m so pissed off I can’t take you to a fancy restaurant like I know I should. You deserve that and so much more and you will have it, I promise.’
She sighed. ‘Okay. But I wonder if you’re ever going to leave your wife.’
‘I promise you when Craig goes to uni in two years’ time, I will start divorce proceedings. Once I know that my son is away from home and old enough to make up his own mind. It’s not safe to leave my wife with him.’
‘You said – many times.’
‘She has bouts of depression. She hardly leaves the house. She is paranoid.’
‘Why don’t you put her on medication?’
‘I don’t want to have to stay and look after her. I need a life. I need you.’
He tried to kiss her but she turned her face from him.
‘I can’t wait for ever and I’ve seen you back on the dating site.’
He shook his head. ‘You know what the sites are like. I’m not paying a subscription. They get hold of your photo and then suddenly you’re on every site. I’ll get hold of Love Uniform Dating and I’ll demand that they delete my profile.’
‘I didn’t see it on there, I saw it on Single Parents Looking For Love.’
‘There, that proves my point. Why is my photo on that, for Christ’s sake? It makes me really angry.’
Gillian stared at him coldly.
‘My friend is on it and she sent you a message. You answered.’
‘Can’t have been me. Must have been a scam. You should tell your friend to be careful. All sorts of shady characters on the net. Anyway, darling, what were you doing on there? If you saw a photo of me then you must have been looking for men.’
‘Yeah, I had a look.’ Gillian stood, shoulders raised, eyes glaring. ‘I even had a drink with a policeman last week but he wasn’t right for me.’
‘I promise to come down more often. I’ll book us a weekend in Spain and we can see how the house is getting on. That’s if it hasn’t been repossessed. Is that what you want? Will that do?’
‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic! It better not have been repossessed. I’ve put a lot of money into it.’ Ellerman was seething as he watched her face turning the colour of her lingerie. ‘That’s another thing . . . I want some of it back now. You said it was just a loan. Otherwise I want it in writing that I own part of that house. I’ve put in twenty thousand. That would probably mean I’m entitled to a share of it, like a timeshare.’
Ellerman was beginning to feel like he was about to explode. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket – telling him he had received a message. He thought about the bank again. If he could get Gillian to transfer more money over via the Internet then he might just be able to swing it. Gillian handed him an official-looking letter.
He looked at it. ‘What’s this?’
‘I need some guarantee. I asked a girlfriend of mine who works in a solicitors’ office to help me draw up something.’
‘This is not for real?’ He read it through. ‘You want a share of the house – is that really it? Christ, you’ve really been waiting to spring this on me, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I have actually. I’ve been waiting and hoping that you would give back the money but you don’t seem to have any intention of doing that voluntarily.’
‘It was a loan between friends, for God’s sake.’
‘Then why do I feel less and less like a friend and more like someone who’s been conned? Added to that – you can’t even get it up. So what do I have left? I should charge you bed-and-breakfast rates. Sign that or I’m going to the police to see about bringing fraud charges against you.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘You took my money.’
‘You gave it to me.’
‘No, I didn’t. I lent it to you to do up the Spanish house and now
I want proof that the Spanish house exists and that I own part of it.’
‘I can’t give you that. It’s too complicated.’
‘Doesn’t seem complicated to me. You sign it or I’m going to your house to see your wife and tell her that I own part of a house that her husband is renovating in Spain. I’m sure she’d like to know that you intend to leave her.’
‘She knows I intend to leave her. She’s got to be given time to deal with it. She’s unbalanced. I told you. Now promise me you won’t go near her. You will put my son at risk if you do.’
‘Then sign it.’
‘I can’t. You know I can’t. It’s not as easy as that. It would be stupid . . .’
‘So now you’re calling me stupid.’
‘No. Of course not. But naïve maybe?’
‘Naïve? Does that mean you conned me and I didn’t notice?’
‘Look, I’ve had enough. I’m leaving. We’ll talk later. Hopefully, you’ll have seen sense by then.’ Ellerman picked up his bag and coat and started walking towards the door.
‘I know where you live. I traced you. Say hello to your wife and tell her I’ll be up to see her soon.’
Ellerman turned round when he got to the front door.
‘Gillian – I’m warning you – don’t go near my family. Just think about it. We’ve had good times. They may be a bit thin on the ground at the moment but they’ll come back. When I get this contract for the yachts done and dusted, I’ll give you your money back and much more besides. Don’t blow it now. Don’t throw what we have away. I am very fond of you.’ Ellerman pinched the bridge of his nose and his eyes began to sting with tears. ‘I’ll phone you later.’
Ellerman pulled up at a services outside Exeter. He went in and bought a sandwich and a drink and came back to sit in the car park with the lorries that were there for the night. He hadn’t yet decided where he was going to go for the night. He had intended to stay at Gillian’s, before she kicked off. He looked at the message he’d just received from her.
‘Jesus Christ. Why does it have to be so hard?’ he said out loud as he reread her text demanding that he give her back her money in the next twenty-four hours or it was over and she’d go to the police and she’d be paying his wife a visit as well. He knew she was capable. Ellerman scrolled down his list of recent messages and thought about where he could get some help with paying off Gillian. It was too soon to ask Megan – he hadn’t reeled her in far enough yet – but he needed to speak to her.
‘Have you had a good day, darling? I’ve done nothing but think of you,’ he asked as soon as Megan answered the phone. ‘I’m in a service station in God knows where and I wish I could be back in your bedroom, holding you close. I can still smell you.’ He knew she would be smiling. He heard her sigh contentedly.
‘I must admit I half-expected you to be tucked up with someone else by now,’ she said.
‘Really?’ He laughed. ‘You must be joking. You wore me out.’
She giggled. ‘Yeah. I had to sit down to paint earlier. For some reason my legs were wobbly.’
‘Good. I hope I always have that effect on you.’
Ellerman ended the call and looked at Gillian’s message again. He switched his music on as he sat in the dusk and thought what he should do. Nothing mattered now but the end prize. He turned his music up loud. Alice Cooper was belting out ‘Fire’. He sent a text to his wife:
I’m coming home tonight.
After Carter and Willis left, Harding stayed logged on to the Naughties website. She watched Mark washing down the dissecting tables. She could see him through the window in her office. She loved the way his hands moved. They were a ballet to watch; they were beautiful: light, soft, gentle. She turned back to the screen. But they weren’t what she needed, even if he was interested, which he wasn’t. She looked at her messages. Ellerman had viewed her profile. She looked at his. She smiled to herself – tempting . . .
A message came up on her phone:
Want to play? Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you – decided to keep you waiting. I know what you like. You like to be controlled. You like to be made to submit.
Who is this? She didn’t have a name against the number. She looked for previous messages – there weren’t any.
You gave me your number a few weeks ago. You don’t remember? I remember what you said – you like people to watch. You like living dangerously. Ever tried dogging?
Interesting.
Meet me next to the lorry park in Shadwell – in the adjoining car park. See you there at eleven.
Harding looked at her watch – it was seven. She poured herself another glass of wine and contemplated what to do. Another text came through:
I’ll be waiting.
Chapter 15
At seven o’clock, Gillian put three ice cubes in her vodka and tonic and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom. She plonked herself down onto her bed and rested the glass on her chest and lay looking at the ceiling. She thought it through. She didn’t regret the text. She didn’t regret finishing it and she meant it – but then, if that was true, why did she feel so sad? She sat up and opened her laptop and logged onto Love Uniform Dating. She scanned through the men – nobody new, nobody worth looking at. There was the policeman again. There were all the same men that had been on there the last two years. She gave a heavy sigh and lay back on the bed that still smelt of Ellerman’s aftershave. Maybe she should ring him and give him another ultimatum and try to force him along a bit? She wished he’d come back and she could talk it through with him. She’d been hasty maybe. Gillian regretted it now. She’d got into such a state about things. Two weeks of waiting for him to turn up, missing him like mad. She had too much time on her own to stew over things and some things just didn’t add up. But she didn’t want to finish it. She hadn’t meant to get so angry. Now she was lying here on her own; that was not what she wanted. She heard the squeak of her letterbox and waited for the sound of junk mail landing on the mat – it didn’t come; she picked up her drink as she sat up on the bed. It was then she smelt smoke.
She scrambled off the bed and ran to the loft stairwell. Between her and the front door was a wall of fire. She closed the door and grabbed her duvet – jamming it at the bottom of the door. She was crying, her hands were shaking as she found her phone and dialled 999.
‘Help me – I’m on fire – my house is on fire!’
Gillian ran back and forth from the locked window to the door with the phone in her hand as she waited for the sound of the fire engine. She felt the heat building in the room as she coughed and choked on the thin smoky air. She stared at the door and prayed as she listened to the roar from the other side. Then she heard the fire engine and ran back to the window and started to bang on the glass . . . She slammed her hand against it as she saw the firemen running towards her house.
‘Help me . . . help . . .’
She looked back towards the door. It was starting to blacken and smoulder and smoke was beginning to pour through.
The heat was burning her lungs. She felt dizzy.
She screamed as she banged on the window. The front of the house was on fire now. She tried to open the window and her hand stuck to the metal handle. In that second all the holes in the burning door joined up and it exploded inwards.
Chapter 16
At just before eleven, Lolly made her way towards the lorry park in Shadwell. Her legs were so weary that she could hardly move them. Her backpack felt as if it contained rocks instead of her few possessions. The day had taken its toll on her as she hid from the cold, and the last few nights had been all about staying warm. She had nowhere to go. She’d been kicked out of all the hostels because, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop taking heroin. The heroin helped her to forget the happy life she’d once had. It was five years ago that her boss discovered she was sleeping in the offices he employed her to clean at nights; that was after she lost her home, after her husband left her with nothing but debts and memories th
at were too painful. The heroin helped.
Now she knew she had to lie down somewhere before she fell down.
She saw the flicker of a television in the cab as she approached the lorry. She saw the man inside shovelling pot noodles into his mouth as he watched television. She tapped on his window. He opened his door.
‘Suck and fuck?’
He looked at her, disgusted. ‘Wouldn’t give you a pound for it.’
‘Not asking for a pound. Just need a bed for the night.’
‘All night?’
‘Yeah. We can do it again in the morning.’
The driver stuck his head out and made sure none of the other lorry drivers were watching. Then he looked back at Lolly, looked her up and down and nodded as he slid across to open the passenger door.
‘Get in quick.’
She heaved herself up into the cab as the driver turned his attention to a car driving into the adjoining car park. It was an Audi TT, a convertible. He watched it circle and then stop.
Harding drove round to the entrance to the car park and paused as she took stock of the lorries in the adjoining park. She saw the cars to her right. As she drove in one of the lorries flashed its headlights and she was about to make her way towards it when she felt the car begin to rock. Faces grinned at her through the windows – including a mixed-race lad with a nasty-looking dog – and hands yanked at the door handles and started smashing at her window. One of them jumped onto her bonnet and onto her roof. His boot tearing into the fabric. She felt a hand grab at her as an arm came through the hole in her driver’s window and reached in to open the door. She slammed the car into reverse and hit the accelerator hard as they ran after her. She slammed on the brakes and skidded on a frozen corner of the car park as she turned, pulled and locked her door shut, and sped off down the road.
