Chloe's Rescue Mission

by Dean, Rosie

  ‘I can and I will. You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Chlo – Sweetheart – I don’t mean to,’ he said in a wheedling voice he always used when he wanted his own way.

  I lowered my voice, ‘What kind of weirdo hides out waiting for someone to come home? It’s called stalking, Warren. And it’s illegal.’

  ‘You never answer my calls or my texts. I’m just desperate to talk to you. I’m sure we can sort this out. We’ve been together too long to give up on us.’

  I really had nothing left to say to him. We’d come to the end of the road, as far as I was concerned. How many times did I have to tell him? Sooner or later he had to get the message. Maybe it was kinder to be cruel.

  ‘Please, Chloe,’ there was a break in his voice. ‘We’ve been through so much. You have my heart in your hand. Please.’

  I walked away from the door, into my bedroom and picked up my phone. I walked back to the hall. I sent a text:

  LEAVE NOW OR THE NEXT CALL I MAKE IS TO THE POLICE.

  Seconds later, I heard the chime of his mobile as the message landed.

  ‘You don’t mean it,’ he said quietly, through the door.

  I MEAN IT.

  ‘I still love you,’ he croaked. Then he sniffed. After an eternity, I heard his footsteps move away down the corridor. I listened intently as he waited for the lift. I heard the swish and clunk of the lift doors. I rushed to the kitchen window, hauled myself onto the sink unit and peered out through the blinds. Moments later, he was in the street, walking slowly away, head hanging. I watched him all the way down the street, and turn right down Elms Lane and out of sight.

  Now, here we were, face to face for the first time since that night.

  He sat on a couch in the foyer but I elected to stand. He clasped his hands in front of him and beamed up at me. ‘So, how’ve you been? I heard you went abroad. How was it?’

  Was he genuinely interested? No recriminations? No bleating over missed opportunities? I folded my arms and crossed my legs. ‘Great. Really good. So, what do you need from the theatre to persuade your company to help us?’

  Warren nodded, like he understood I’d rather avoid discussing anything controversial. ‘Okay; a full break down of all the building work that’s required – I’m sure you’ve got a surveyor’s report?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Details of any other potential investors, sponsors – you know – anyone you’re signing up as a result of your TV appearance…’

  ‘Why do you need those?’

  ‘Well, if we’re getting involved, it’s important we know who the other partners are – cut some of our costs, maybe? We could form a consortium…’

  ‘Hang on,’ I could feel my head thrust forward. ‘It sounds like you see King Lloyd managing this whole project.’

  ‘Of course. They’re in construction.’

  ‘I thought they were specialist engineers.’

  ‘They are. Heating, ventilation, air conditioning, electrical distribution. You name it, they’ve got a digit in it.’

  Euw! I’d forgotten that particular phrase of his. ‘Okay, well, maybe if you send me your proposals, I can discuss them with the family…’

  He held a hand up to quieten me. ‘First,’ he said, ‘I really need to see the building – you know – where the problems are.’

  I looked back at him. ‘But you’re not a surveyor, are you? I mean, the report will give you all the detail you need.’

  In any case, I didn’t fancy going deeper into the theatre with him. At least in the foyer, there were enormous glass doors looking out over the car-park. And with the lights on, we were visible to anyone passing by. Not that I believed him capable of murdering me or even committing GBH, but there’s always a first time.

  He pulled a small camera from his pocket. ‘Told the bosses I’d take some pictures back. They’ve seen the posh pictures on the website, they want to see the cracks.’

  ‘Of course,’ I stood up. ‘Just a sec. I need to text Beth. I said I’d drop round after our meeting.’ I looked at my watch. ‘We’ll be through in half an hour, I guess.’

  I typed the text into my phone: WARREN AT THEATRE!!! CALL ME IN 30 MIN.

  Within seconds of hitting SEND, my phone rang with Beth on the other end. ‘You okay. What’s he want? Tell the little shit I’m sending hit-men round. With dogs.’

  ‘Hi babe,’ I said, forcing cheeriness. ‘Yep, just got to do a quick tour of the theatre with the chap from King Lloyd, and then I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘What?! Why are you saying this. Tell him I know he’s there. Tell him I’ll call the police.’

  ‘No, no trouble, I’ll nip to the shops on the way.’

  ‘Has he got a knife?’

  Warren waved. ‘Tell her it’s me. I don’t mind.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘He has, hasn’t he? Oh, crap.’

  ‘Actually, Beth, the chap from King Lloyd Holdings, would you believe, is Warren. He’s responsible for community projects. And the theatre falls into that category.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Amazing isn’t it? Now,’ I continued over her curses at the other end, ‘I’ll see you in a bit, okay?’

  I hung up after she told me I needed my head examining.

  ‘Follow me.’ I said to Warren, and strode past him into the auditorium.

  He tried to strike up a friendly chat about the theatre, and the times he’d been to see shows there.

  I remembered those visits too. He’d first seen me on stage in Cabaret, and thrown a proper tantrum because I’d been ‘flaunting’ myself in front of an audience. He didn’t want the woman he loved doing that, he’d said. I’d laughed. Surely he was joking? ‘Chloe. You’re the most special thing in my life. Walking out on stage, all tarted up, has tainted that. I’m sorry but I don’t want you doing it again.’

  Well, that had triggered the mother of all rows and I’d dumped him. But he’d come back, contrite and desolate. He was a fool. He was sorry. He just loved me so much he found it difficult to share me. He’d adjust. We’d be okay. And because he was, in all other respects, so smart and funny and full of life, I’d bought it.

  Till the next time.

  ‘The most serious problems are in here.’ I flicked the light on in the dressing room. ‘Over there.’

  Warren peered up at the jagged crack running the length of one wall. ‘Hmmm. I can see why they’d want to condemn it.’ I clenched my teeth. He took some photos. ‘Next?’ He followed me to the costume store, took more photos and shook his head sympathetically. ‘It’s a tall order, isn’t it?’

  ‘But achievable, with some financial backing.’

  ‘Oh sure.’ His head tilted to one side as he looked at me with a familiar, lop-sided smile; the one I’d once confessed was guaranteed to make me melt.

  Shit, I thought. He’s cranking up to make a move on me.

  The door out of the costume store was behind him. ‘I haven’t shown you the toilets, yet,’ I busked, turning back with my arm outstretched like a tour guide. Not that there was anything wrong with the toilets, other than needing a lick of paint, but the smell of bleach over urine might dampen his ardour. He declined the opportunity to photograph those, and I hurried back to the foyer, ignoring all signals he wanted to loiter in the quiet area backstage.

  ‘So,’ I said, standing close to the exit doors and beaming at him – my hands clasped tightly in front of me. ‘I’ll send you the reports and you can send me your proposals, and we’ll take it from there, yes?’

  He tested that lop-sided smile, again. ‘It’s good to see you, Chlo.’

  ‘Thanks. Good to see you too. Especially in more positive circumstances, don’t you think?’

  He moved forward. I snatched at the door handle. He almost laughed. Digging into a folder, he pulled out a community projects brochure. ‘Most of what you want to know about us is in there.’

  I took it and he held out his hand to shake mine. I shook it manfully. ‘Thanks
, Warren. Good to see you looking so well.’

  As if psychic, Beth rang before he’d even left the car-park. ‘Has he gone yet?’

  ‘Yes. Got any cake?’

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Fine. Do I need to go to the shop?’

  ‘No. We have Jaffa Cakes.’

  ‘Then I’m going in search of doughnuts – the really bad ones. See you soon.’

  ‘Did The Clingon make a move on you?’ Beth asked, as I walked into her flat.

  ‘No. Is the kettle on?’

  ‘Just boiled. Were you in any way disappointed that he didn’t?’

  ‘Duh!’ I headed through to the kitchen.

  ‘Seems very out of character. Unless the poor sucker’s had a year in rehab.’

  ‘Oh, don’t.’

  ‘How did it feel, seeing him again?’

  I considered my answer as I opened the box of doughnuts. The syrupy smell of sugar, chocolate and jam was making my mouth water.

  ‘Ooh, Chloe,’ she said, ‘I’m thinking, after the initial shock, you started to warm to him, no?’

  I pulled out a caramel one, hovered my nose over it for a second and took a bite. The reward of crispy coating, sweet icing and buttery dough was sensational and comforting. I leaned back against the fridge and rolled my eyes.

  ‘Well?’ Beth grabbed her favourite with blackberry jam, and looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Delicious.’

  ‘Warren! How did you feel about Warren…really?’

  ‘It was creepy. At any moment I thought he was going to make a case for our reunion. But, he didn’t. He only talked about the theatre.’

  ‘Seriously freaky, though. Just turning up like that. I thought you were meeting some other guy.’

  I told her Warren’s story.

  ‘Well I reckon you should phone the company, first thing, and check his credentials.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘So are you saying he was just being professional?’

  ‘Mmmm. Although…’

  ‘Here we go.’

  ‘It kind of felt like he was trying to woo me again.’

  ‘Oh-oh...’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not interested.’

  Beth tore off a piece of doughnut, exposing an oasis of jam. ‘But you used to be, and that’s what he’s banking on.’

  ‘Odd how someone so weird, clingy and insecure, could look so cute.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘You know it! I wasn’t the only girl who had the hots for him.’

  ‘He reminded me of an over-enthusiastic sheep dog doing agility training – lithe and athletic with boundless enthusiasm,’ she said, licking jam off her fingers.

  It was a good image. His zest for life and his appreciation of the smaller things that went into it were what had drawn me to him. ‘You have to admit, after Jonathan, he was very appealing.’

  ‘Jono-Thug, you mean.’

  ‘He wasn’t that bad.’

  She stared at me like I’d grown another head.

  ‘Okay, one too many bomb-shots and he could start a fight in an empty bar.’

  He’d never hit me, I’m glad to say, but I’d always felt the threat of it. Jono had preceded Warren. Sober, he was serious and brooding with what I mistook to be an attractive sexual menace. Pissed he became more gregarious but could turn aggressive at the drop of an Irish whiskey into a Guinness.

  ‘So, what makes you think Warren was buttering you up for a romantic revival?’

  ‘I dunno. A kind of charm offensive. Smiling at me in a certain way…’

  ‘A Come-to-Daddy kind of way?’ Her nose wrinkled with distaste.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m being super-sensitive as usual.’ The doughnut comforted me for a moment. ‘He’s had his hair cut and looks, kind of, grown-up, now.’

  ‘Warren all grown up – from puppy-dog to lurcher.’

  My mobile rang: Out of Area. ‘Hello?’

  There was a delay and then, ‘Hi! Chloe, it’s Alicia-May, here.’

  ‘Alicia-May!’ I exclaimed. ‘Let me put you on speaker phone, I’m with Beth.’ I clicked to speaker.

  ‘Hi Beth! I’m so excited to be speaking to you both!’

  ‘You’re excited?’ Beth replied. ‘Is this Hollywood calling?’

  Chapter 6

  Alicia-May cackled with delight. ‘Sure is, honey-child,’ she said in a mock Southern drawl. ‘I’m sitting in the Four Seasons, drinking a strawberry daiquiri and waiting for Idris Elba.’

  ‘No!’ we chorused.

  ‘Hell, I’m always waiting for Idris Elba. Bastard never turns up, though.’ The line erupted with her laugh. ‘But I got your email. Of course I’m going to help you – any way I can.’

  ‘That’s fantastic! Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve just got the shooting schedule for my next movie – how good does that sound – not bad for a girl from Barnworth with six GCSEs, hey?’

  ‘A-May, I’m sooo unbelievably sick with jealousy,’ Beth crooned. ‘If it weren’t for me getting pregnant and you being so freekin’ talented, it could be me drinking strawberry daiquiris and waiting for Idris Elba, Ryan Reynolds or any other A-list hunk out there.’

  Alicia-May laughed again. ‘I am one lucky girl, I’m telling you. The breaks I’ve had. But, you know what? Joshua got me started in his theatre – and I haven’t forgotten that.’

  ‘Kitten Heels and Kinky Boots,’ we all said, and shrieked with laughter. It was the first play we were in together. Still teenagers – just.

  ‘So,’ I began, ‘any chance of you coming to the UK in the next few months?’

  ‘Well, here’s the thing, we’ve got a six-week shoot in London so I’ll be coming over at the company’s expense. I’ll get my assistant to free up some time for an interview or a photo-shoot. Whatever you girls need, I’ll do my best to squeeze it in.’

  ‘That’s brilliant. Thank you so much.’

  ‘And I thought I could donate my basque from my Broadway performance of Chicago. Maybe you could auction it off? It’s a bit sweaty. I ought to get it cleaned, really.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Beth leaned into the phone. ‘Sweat sells.’

  ‘Oh, gross!’ I slapped her arm.

  ‘So how’s it going back in Barnworth. Fill me in on the goss.’

  Twenty minutes later, I hung up the phone and looked at Beth. ‘She still sounds the same, doesn’t she?’

  Beth nodded. ‘Well, she’s still full of herself, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be? At least she’s not so far up herself she ignored our request. It could’ve gone either way.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m being a bitch. I’ve only myself to blame for those nights of torrid sex with Zak and missing that London agent.’

  ‘Beth – he was looking for a black girl.’

  ‘That’s just a detail.’

  ‘Yeah, and Caribbean Princess would have worked just as well with you in the lead.’

  She shrugged. ‘He could’ve kept me in mind for his next quirky little British movie. Then I’d have been signed by Disney, and doing my shopping on Rodeo Drive instead of Gloucester Quays.’

  ‘But there’d be no Tom.’

  ‘No Tom.’

  ‘You could always see A-May had a special quality; she was destined to be a star.’

  ‘Based on that theory, I was destined to be a single mother.’ She switched the kettle on again.

  ‘And me – what’s my destiny?’

  ‘Your own little castle, darling. And gorgeous, sexy men. It’s all before you. Nothing holding you back at all.’

  Except the theatre, I nearly said, but stuffed more doughnut in my mouth.

  If it hadn’t been for the theatre, I’d still have my lovely apartment, instead of a collection of furniture piled up in my mother’s spare room. I’d worked so hard to buy it all. Sacrificed and saved because having my own place was a huge deal. I’d let the flat while I was in Costa Rica but it had been a nightmare. The rent h
ad barely covered my mortgage, and the tenant had driven Mum crazy with her demands and imagined problems; ‘Someone is letting themselves in and stealing my food. I want the locks changed!’ Mum changed her locks, three times. She’s a handy woman, my mother. Luckily, the tenant moved out when her twelve month tenancy was up, which pretty much tied in with the theatre’s shit hitting the fan and my decision to sell it to raise some cash.

  Beth scooped instant coffee into a couple of mugs. Back at Mum’s, I had a state-of-the-art, cherry-red coffee maker – also packed away in the spare room. Buying capsules to go in it was a luxury I couldn’t afford, right now. Oh how I missed my coffee machine. Call me sad but I used to polish it every day and stroke its glossiness whenever I used it, just like I’d stroked my first pair of patent leather party shoes.

  I kept the party shoes by my bed for weeks.

  I’m not sad enough to sleep with my coffee machine.

  ‘You’re right. The world is my oyster,’ I said, after swallowing the last mouthful of sugary goo.

  Beth turned to me. ‘And if you think the grit inside it is the theatre, just remember what an oyster does with grit.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Look on it as a fabulous opportunity. You’ve already met Duncan. He could be great for the theatre and he’s extremely eligible.’

  ‘Beth, keep with the programme, huh?’ I shook my head but a thought crossed my mind. ‘I bet he looks really hot in a kilt.’

  ‘Hey, you could save the theatre and bag yourself a Scottish hunk while you’re at it. And if not Duncan, you’re still gonna meet all sorts of other people in TV and business. Remember – Grandee always said something like, “Nothing we experience is wasted,” didn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, but an actor would say that. Which reminds me. I’ve decided once the theatre is sorted, I want to get the rest of my life back on track. I was derailed by Warren, remember? I’m planning on going back to college.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘If I can. But this time, I’d like to change my area of study.’

  ‘To what?’

  ‘Counselling. I’d like to use drama and role-play to help people rebuild their confidence.’

  ‘Like you did in Costa Rica?’

  ‘That kind of thing.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Chlo! Good for you.’ She gave me a big hug. ‘Good for you.’