Digging Deeper

by Barbara Elsborg

  At first Flick found it to be the relaxing experience she’d hoped for as the jets sprayed up to her waist and then down again. When they moved higher up her body, she took a deep breath to find the jets seemed to have slowed to the speed of a sloth. Although Flick could hold her breath for a whole length of the pool, she now needed air and as the spray hit her face, the desperation to breathe in overwhelmed her. The jets descended and she filled her lungs. The stuff smelled awful. By the time she’d changed 203

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  the position of her arms and gone through the whole thing again, Flick felt anxious, not relaxed. She turned so that the treatment could continue on her back and waited. Waited and waited. Nothing happened.

  She stood, arms akimbo, brown liquid dripping down the front of her body as though it had rained black coffee. When the machine powered down, Flick accepted something had gone wrong. She pressed every button in sight but resuscitation proved impossible. The machine was supposed to blast you dry afterwards but it hadn’t got around to that. Now she had to get the stuff off before it did dry because otherwise she’d look like a piece of streaky bacon, well cooked on one side. The showers were in the ladies changing rooms, fifteen yards away down a communal corridor. Flick had no towel, not even a short, thin, germ-ridden one. If she put her clothes on, they’d get covered in brown sludge and she’d have to put them back on again afterwards which would reapply the dye to her body. She had to do something and quickly. There was a roll of paper toweling on the floor so she wiped off some of the liquid with that, then wrapped the green paper round and round her body until she resembled a moldy Egyptian mummy.

  Flick expected to bump into someone on the corridor and with her luck, fully expected it to be Beck. So when she unlocked the door, she opened it with considerable care. No one. Three steps toward safety when Marcus walked out of the men’s toilet. Flick was so shocked, she dropped her clothes. When she bent to pick them up she heard the paper rip at the back. Bollocks.

  She kept her head and body down and keeping her back to the wall, edged sideways along the carpet like an alien caterpillar. Maybe he hadn’t recognized her.

  “Flick, is that you?” Marcus followed her down the corridor. Of course he’d recognized her. She was bent over like an old woman, striped like a suntanned zebra, wrapped in pieces of torn green paper and wearing a very fetching shower hat spattered with brown gunk. It was obviously her. As she wondered how things could get any worse, the paper began to disintegrate. The pieces she’d wrapped around her legs already drooped onto the floor. She made a futile attempt to slap a few pieces back in place in the manner of applying papier mache. They didn’t stick so Flick gave in, stood up and pulled off the shower cap. She had some dignity.

  “Hi, Marcus. Have a good trip?”

  “Fabulous.”

  “Well, I’d love to stop and chat, but as you can see I’m busy. Testing a new product.”

  Flick knew as she turned that her naked bottom would be in full view but she was so desperate to get to the shower she didn’t care. She took the last few steps to the changing room, tapped in the security code and raced to the showers. Flick sighed with relief when the dye ran off her body. Only then did she wonder at the chance of meeting Marcus at that exact moment. What did God have against her? Had He timed 204

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  Marcus’ return from Australia in order to inflict the maximum humiliation? Did things like this happen to other people?

  As the water cascaded over her body, Flick realized that although she’d been embarrassed, something else had been missing. No zing of pleasure at seeing him. Her heart hadn’t twanged because she didn’t care about him anymore. She’d been telling herself that for weeks but part of her couldn’t help wondering if it was because he wasn’t around. Now he was and she’d felt nothing, because she loved Beck. Flick gasped and slumped against the shower wall. I love Beck. The arrow had gone straight into her heart. Flick stopped soaping her breasts in case she knocked it out. When she emerged ten minutes later, a lone towel hung on a peg with no one else around.

  “Thanks, God. Better late than never.”

  Grabbing the towel, she locked herself in the only private changing cubicle. One deep breath before she looked in the mirror but there were no streaks, in fact she looked the same as she had before. Flick dried herself off, combed her hair and dressed. When she stepped into the corridor, Marcus leaned against the wall opposite. Somehow not a surprise.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?” he asked.

  She gave him a blank look. Did he want them to get back together?

  “On the product you tested.”

  “Excellent,” Flick said with a bright smile. “Just wish I’d remembered my towel.”

  “I’m rather glad you didn’t.” He winked at her and she itched to slap him. “Why don’t you have a go? No charge. You take your clothes off and stand there. It sprays you all over. Rather nice sensation. Sexy.” Please fall for it.

  “I think Australia gave me enough of a tan.”

  Blast.

  “Anyway I’ve only come in for a drink with the crew. Did you see the news? We’ve been filming locally. I did an item about the dig at Hartington Hall. You featured for a few minutes.”

  Flick tried not to let her face change.

  “Got to get back to work.” As she passed him she muttered, “Rot in hell.”

  “What time do you finish? I’ll take you for a drink.”

  “Midnight,” Flick lied and ran up the stairs.

  She spent the next hour thinking about Marcus despite trying not to. He kept jumping back into her mind like an annoying computer pop-up. Click to get rid, only it won’t go away. Why did he want to take her for a drink? Why didn’t she want to go?

  Her shift finished at ten fifteen but when the cleaner called in sick, she volunteered for the extra hour and a half, and for the early shift the following day. The job wasn’t well 205

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  paid but at least it paid something and it kept her away from Kirsten and Josh and Hartington Hall.

  * * * * *

  Flick worried Marcus might be outside in his car waiting for her. He wasn’t but when she got back to Timble, Kirsten and Josh sat in the kitchen. Flick wanted to run upstairs to bed without talking to them.

  “Still up? I’m exhausted. See you tomorrow.” She edged out.

  “Flick,” Josh called. “We want to talk to you.”

  She sighed and returned to the doorway.

  “We stayed up to tell you we’re sorry,” Kirsten said, “about the letter. Willow rang and told us.”

  “Great. Okay. Good night.”

  “Flick, let’s talk,” Josh said.

  “Too tired.”

  “Can we take you out tomorrow evening? We could go for a picnic at the Cow and Calf,” Kirsten asked.

  “No, you go. Don’t bother about me. I might be working.”

  “Okay, you’re tired now but we need to talk to you. Properly,” Josh said.

  “Can’t think why. Nothing left to say.” Flick plastered a smile on her face. “I saw Marcus today.”

  “Marcus?” Flick saw the look of concern on Kirsten’s face. “Where?”

  “The gym.”

  “What did he have to say for himself?” Josh traded glances with Kirsten.

  “Nothing I wanted to listen to.”

  “Good,” Josh and Kirsten said in unison.

  Kirsten walked toward her. “Please, Flick. Come on the picnic. We want things to be right again.”

  And how were they going to manage that, she wondered.

  “I’ll make those sandwiches you like,” Kirsten offered.

  “I don’t feel like going for a picnic.”

  But they wouldn’t accept anything but yes and eventually Flick gave in. Easier to agree than argue.

  * * * * *

  When Flick finished her shift at the gym at lunchtime the following day, this time Marcus was waiting for her. He stoo
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  and Flick sighed because he did look seductive and handsome. She remembered exactly what she’d seen in him.

  “Want to get something to eat?” he asked.

  Free food sounded good. “Okay.”

  He drove her to a brasserie in Guiseley a few miles away.

  “Like the car?” Marcus asked. “It’s a BMW Z4.”

  “Is it?” Flick said. “I thought it was one of those kit cars.”

  Marcus laughed and pulled into the leisure center car park. “Still driving your clapped out deathtrap?”

  “Only while the Mercedes is being serviced. The bloody mechanics are so slow.”

  It was one of the lines Marcus had used the first time he’d met her. She wondered if he remembered. When she looked across he smiled. He had a lovely smile. The rat.

  “So, how long have you been back?” Flick asked.

  “A week.”

  “You look good.” He always did but he was tanned and leaner.

  “So do you. You want a bottle of wine?”

  “No. We’re both driving.”

  “We could get a taxi.”

  Flick shook her head. “Water’s fine.”

  She chose from the menu and hoped they’d hurry with the food.

  “It only lasted a couple of weeks,” Marcus said.

  “Mmm.” Flick did not want this conversation.

  “She was a mistake.”

  “Right.”

  “Why didn’t you answer any of my emails?”

  “I didn’t read them.”

  Flick felt a shiver of pleasure at his shocked expression. She didn’t want to row before the food came.

  “Flick, can we try again?”

  A million years and a Beck too late.

  “Is this because you saw my bum?” she muttered. “It was an accident. I wasn’t flirting.”

  “We were good together. I’ve missed you.”

  “Did you see Ayres Rock?” Flick tried in desperation to delay the words “fuck off”

  coming out of her mouth.

  “Yes. Fantastic. I think you’re f—”

  “Great Barrier Reef?”

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  “That was fantastic too. The fish were amazing. I went scuba diving. I wish you could have been there with me.”

  “Didn’t Briony want to do things with you?”

  “I was wrong about her. She gave me the impression she’d be up for anything but she was up for nothing. The flies bothered her, the kangaroos bothered her and apparently I bothered her. Anything that jumped on or near her she didn’t like. Never an issue with you. I seem to remember you did most of the jumping when we were together.”

  Flick inspected the table. The arrival of the food saved her having to respond. Chicken stir-fry with cashews in teriyaki sauce. Yum.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Marcus said.

  “What us?” Flick asked, more confident now that she had food in front of her. “You dumped me. I moved on and I’m still mad at you.” She chewed frantically. She intended to set a record for the fastest consumption of a plate of food.

  “It’s good you’re still mad,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “It shows you still care. I shouldn’t have done it. Sorry.”

  “No, you should. Just not in that way.” Flick chose her words with care. “You could have told me you’d met someone, not let me see you with her at the airport. You should have guessed I’d want to come and say goodbye. All that crap about finding yourself when you really meant you’d found someone else.”

  “But I did want to find myself, Flick. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted out of life. I had it all planned but I made a mistake. I want us to get back together. I see us with a long-term future. We had a lot of fun. We can again.”

  Flick froze with the fork in her mouth. The words “long-term future” had not been ones she’d expected to hear from Marcus.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

  She swallowed, the ball of food struggling down her throat. “But you dumped me.”

  “I know and I told you I made a mistake. That’s what I said in my emails.”

  Flick looked at her food and wondered if she had time to eat it all before Marcus lost his temper. Was a full stomach worth the price of listening to a guy she simply had no time for anymore? But if she upset him he might get up and walk out, leaving her with the bill. Eat faster.

  “Slow down, there’s no hurry,” Marcus said. “I don’t have to be back at work until 3:00.”

  Flick knew what that meant.

  “I missed you, sweetheart. I miss talking to you. I miss the way you used to moan in my ear.” Marcus moved his leg against hers under the table. “I want to hear you moan again.”

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  Flick smiled. “Okay. I didn’t like the way you squeezed my toothpaste from the bottom. You never cleaned the basin after you’d shaved. You left the seat up on the—”

  “I didn’t mean that sort of moan.” Marcus huffed. “I meant moaning in pleasure.”

  “Oh, that.” Flick put down her fork. Still some chicken left but she’d lost her appetite. “Marcus, you’re not a nice person. You lied to me. That’s reason enough for me never to speak to you again but I’ll make this easy for you. You remember Grinstead’s? You remember what happened before you went away? Something you’ve not even thought to ask me about? Well, I’m going to get taken to court by them and I’ll probably end up going to prison. So do you still see a future for us? Will you come on visiting day?”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “I thought not.” Flick walked out. Only when she stood in the sunshine did she remember how far away she was from her car. Shit. She should have waited until he’d driven her back.

  * * * * *

  Seeing the “For Sale” sign outside the house depressed Flick further. She was hot and miserable and she hadn’t forgotten Kirsten and Josh expected her to go on a happy clappy picnic when they got back from work. Flick had lots of jobs she needed to do but she found herself climbing into the attic above the garage to retrieve an old paddling pool. She used the hosepipe to fill it and spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the water with her feet draped over the side of the pool, reading a paperback thriller.

  “Aren’t you ready?” Kirsten called as she walked into the garden.

  “I don’t want to go,” Flick said.

  “Of course you don’t, but you’ll enjoy it when you get there.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “Flick, Kirsten has gone to so much trouble,” Josh said. “She’s put together a delicious picnic. You could at least make the effort.”

  “You sound like my father.”

  Kirsten burst into a flood of make-believe tears and rushed back to the house.

  “And that’s Stef’s trick,” Flick muttered.

  “Stop being selfish. Kirsten and I are worried about you. All we’re trying to do is cheer you up. You could be a little bit grateful.”

  “I’m grateful, now leave me alone.”

  “No, I’m not going to leave you alone,” Josh said. “I know you feel your life is shit, but it could be a lot worse.”

  “How?” Flick turned to look at him.

  “You could…you might…” Josh paused. “Well, you could be dead.”

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  “And how would that be worse?” Flick asked, but he looked so worried she gave in. “Okay, I’ll come but I’m driving.”

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  Chapter Thirty

  By the time they’d carried everything to the top of the Cow and Calf rocks above the town of Ilkley, Flick panted with exhaustion.

  “We can sit here.” She dropped the blanket on the nearest spot of flat ground.

  “No,” Kirsten said. �
�Over there is better.” She pointed to a spot about thirty yards away. “We’ll be out of the wind.”

  Flick looked up. What wind? The air was as heavy and flat as a carpet, but because she’d been accused of being selfish when it was the one thing in the world she felt she wasn’t, she picked up the blanket and followed Kirsten.

  “Not there,” Kirsten called as Flick picked another spot. Her face a mask of resignation, Flick moved again.

  Kirsten took the picnic blanket out of her hand and flapped it in the air several times.

  “What are you doing?” Flick asked. “Sending semaphore messages?”

  “Getting the right feng shui.”

  Flick laughed.

  “Don’t mock,” Kirsten said in a gruff voice. “Right, you sit here, Josh you’re there and leave the sandwiches alone. We can’t eat straightaway. We have to absorb the karma.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Flick asked.

  “Shhh, close your eyes. For me,” Kirsten pleaded. “Sit with your back to the valley and think of a beach.”

  * * * * *

  “Don’t pull into the car park in case we get blocked in,” Giles told Beck. “Go a bit further along and park on the grass. We can walk up from there.”

  Beck locked his car and looked down at the ribbon development of Ilkley snaking along the bottom of the valley. His gaze moved up the hill to Middleton and Hartington Hall and even higher to the horizon, because over the hill and not so far away was Timble and Flick. He turned and trudged up the slope after Giles and Willow who showed uncharacteristic energy.

  He realized he and Flick been set up when he saw her sitting on a rug with her back toward him.

  “So what’s your plan,” he murmured behind Giles.

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  “Shut up and keep walking for a start.”

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “We’re trying to help you out and besides, having a best man with a face like a monkey’s arse is not what we’d planned for our wedding. You’ll ruin the photographs. Meet us part way.”

  Against his better judgment Beck kept walking.

  When Flick looked up and saw him, her organs rearranged themselves and left no room for her stomach, forcing it to rise to the back of her throat. She started to get up and Kirsten slapped a hand on her knee. Willow sat next to Josh and Giles sidled up to Willow, so Beck had no choice but to sit next to Flick, though there was room for a couple of sheep between them. Alerted to the possibility of sandwiches by the sound of rustling paper, several sheep already eyed the vacant spots. The conversation was lively, interesting and awkward all at the same time because neither Beck nor Flick said a word, apart from “please” and “thank you”. Willow talked about the wedding and some of the strange presents they’d received. She and Giles were convinced the wedding list company, wrapitupforus.com, had confused them with another couple because neither remembered asking for the recently delivered