Beginnings

by L. T. Smith

  Once. Twice. Three times. The paper folded in my hands, before I slipped it into my jacket pocket.

  Slam. The tray hit the table with such a force the salt and pepper pots fell backwards in complete submission.

  ‘What the fuc…’

  ‘Lasagne. You like Italian, right?’

  Then she was gone. The lasagne was half off the plate and leaning nonchalantly on the tray. What on earth had gotten into her?

  I shook my head from side to side. One minute she was playful and the next she was throwing food at me. I couldn’t work it out. I looked over to the Servery to see if she’d had an altercation with someone there, but there was only one rotund elderly woman wiping down the glass. She seemed perfectly happy … although slightly demented if her grinning at her reflection gave any indication.

  ‘Y’all right dear?’

  I nodded and looked back at the tray, then around the room. Empty. Even the card sharks had pissed off and left me to my slopped out dinner and own company.

  But, as they say, the beast must be fed. I don’t know who said it … maybe it was just me (and my stomach, who decided now was as good a time as any to start whimpering again).

  Fork in hand, intention clear. Dinner … gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘FUCK IT!’

  Once again, Ash let rip with the same two words. This time the two words were accompanied by a violent picking up of a stack of papers and throwing across the room. Well. When I say throwing, what I actually mean is ‘attempt’ at throwing, as they didn’t go more than a foot away from her. The resistance in the air halted their journey and decided to lift them up, swirl them into total chaos and then spew them back down again.

  Obviously the same two words came out again, but this time more vehemently than the last, and accompanied by ‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’

  I couldn’t help it. I swear. The laugh just popped out, honestly. I would’ve told Ash this too if I hadn’t been pinned by her stare. Jesus! That woman could stare. I think I even felt a little trickle of pee escape into my panties. And like all idiots … I laughed again, but this time it was out of nerves. Once again – no time to explain …

  ‘You think this is funny do you? Read is walking in two hours if we don’t do something.’

  ‘I thought you were letting him walk anyway?’ I took a tissue from my pocket and pretended to wipe my face, but was in fact using it to stop myself laughing again. I decided that I would avoid going down that path.

  ‘It would have been nice if we could’ve got information from him before he was released.’

  I had tried again to talk to Read, but he wasn’t haven’t any of it. His main concern was trying to intimidate me. And like I was going to be intimidated by that wankstain. Therefore, the gig was up as far as my getting him to squeal. I doubted he would give me the dirt from under his fingernails, and believe me, there was quite a bit there.

  ‘Do you want me to call Gemma?’ By this stage, Ash was on the floor gathering her rage. She stopped, and gripped the papers tightly in her hand. I saw them screw up and the knuckles grow white.

  ‘Do what you like. It’s your life.’ Each word was cut out of stone.

  ‘I know it’s my life. But I was thinking about getting her to talk to Read again. He quite likes her … kept on saying how he’d like to give her one when he got out.’

  ‘Must be contagious then.’

  By this time I was getting pissed off with her snide comments about everything and everyone, especially when they were connected to me, or something I had said.

  ‘Look, Lady Muck. I don’t have to be here you know. I’m …’

  ‘Why don’t you go then? You can always see Read when he gets back to school. That is your job after all isn’t it?’

  The anger I had felt bubbling inside me for the last few minutes was screaming to be released. My hands gripped the table edge and I raised myself up out of the chair.

  ‘You are an ungrateful bitch. Do you know that?’ She just stared up at me from her crouched position on the floor, one eyebrow rising into her hairline, her lips curling slightly. No answer, which got my dander up even more. ‘I have spent all fucking day trying to help you out and all you can do is pick fault.’ Still no answer.

  I leaned over the table, my hands taking the weight. When I knew I had her full attention, I was off again. ‘What is your problem? What the fuck have I done to warrant you being a pain in the arse?’

  Ash pushed herself back onto her haunches and then stood up, the papers firmly in her grip. It seemed as if she had grown since she had been down there. The trickle of wee was back.

  The shadow from her tall frame hit the table and landed across my chest. ‘You want to know what the problem is?’ The papers were thrown onto the table, and I followed their journey across the veneer and onto the floor again. ‘The problem …’ I looked into her eyes; such cold eyes … eyes that showed nothing but contempt. ‘The problem is you.’ The last word was spat out. Honestly. I felt the metaphorical wetness hit my face like a slap.

  Most people would have shrunk back and crawled into a corner. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those people. I do wish I was though … on many occasions, and not just this one.

  ‘Me? You weren’t saying that at two thirty this morning when you were nearly begging me to help solve your little problem.’ I kicked the chair away from me. ‘Link my arse.’ Bag snatched up from the floor. ‘And you, can kiss it.’ The last sentence was accompanied by a liberal slapping of the aforementioned body part.

  Within two minutes my feet were hitting concrete and I was storming away from the station. I could hear her calling after me, but I just lifted my hand and gave her the two-fingered salute and kept walking without even looking back.

  If I had, she would have seen the tears glistening on my face. She would have known that she had broken my heart all over again.

  Never again. Never ever again. This I would make sure of … I couldn’t handle going through it all again.

  Two days later saw me snug and cosy in my front room with Gemma Jackson. Honestly, I invited her over to talk about Read who, funnily enough, had not been to school since his release. I should have guessed that talking about the case would have been the last thing on her mind. I should have known this from the minute she realised it was me on the phone.

  It was amazing how the professional ‘I take no shit from anybody’ voice changed and wrapped itself around her mouth to fall like velvet covered love letters from silken lips.

  Yeah … corny crap. But that’s what it sounded like, or would sound like if you were into all that mushy stuff. In retrospect, I should have worn a chastity belt and swallowed the key. But we are not all gifted with the art of prophecy are we.

  It wasn’t too bad to start off with. Or should I say she wasn’t too bad to start off with? She was quite the lady… even sat on the far end of the settee. She was slick though, I’ll give her that. Every gesture or piece of information she thought I should look at was handed to me in such a way that she was steadily getting closer and closer. Me, being me … and thick as custard, didn’t even notice until she was just about to make her move. And even then I had to have it nearly spelled out to me. I know I give the impression I am a bit of a Lady Thriller – I’m not. My motto is ‘If it falls on your lap and is willing then go for it.’

  I flirt. I am a flirt. But an innocent kind of one. The kind that is shocked when it actually works. The kind that when a woman smiles at me in an empty room, I still look over my shoulder just to make sure. Then look over it again.

  So.

  The move.

  Gemma’s plan of attack.

  As I said before, she edged her way slowly but surely, very much like a snail on tranquillisers, until she was right next to me. I was reading the court minutes of Read’s last hearing … skimming through it really, when I could feel her eyes on me. Eyes that two minutes ago had seemed a bit further away.

  Have you ever noticed
that when you feel someone staring at you, you can’t help but look at them? It works in kind of the same way as a tractor beam … you’re pinned … and then get sucked in. That’s what happened. I didn’t intend it to. It sort of happened in a weird Star Trek way.

  It felt as if I was slowly falling forwards and into her. It was millimetres … honestly … millimetres until touch down and then …

  ‘Brrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnng! Brrrrinnnng! Brrrrinnnng!

  ‘Brrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnng!’ Saved by the bell. My eyes, which had been slowly closing by this stage, shot open to reveal Gemma’s face up close and personal.

  ‘Ignore it,’ slipped softly and effortlessly from her parted lips.

  ‘Brrrrinnnng! Brrrrinnnng! Brrrrinnnng!’ Whomever it was, definitely wanted to be let in. And for that I was thankful.

  ‘Just let me …’ I trailed off as I nearly sprinted away. Fuck. What was I doing? Two thoughts rampaged through my head. One was … ‘She’s offering herself on a plate! She’s hot and willing. Why are you answering the door?’ The second one was …

  ‘Ash.’

  There she stood, or slouched, against the wall. One arm languished against the brickwork, whilst the other dangled behind her back. If I hadn’t heard her insistent doorbell ringing I would have thought she was as laid back as she pretended to be.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Can we talk?’ She pushed herself away from the wall in one fluid movement and stood erect, straightening her jacket as she did so. ‘Inside.’

  I just stood there, paralysed for a moment. She was here. Waiting for me to let her in. Wanting to talk … not shout or hurl abuse … to talk.

  I stepped aside to let her in, as I was unable to answer her. The biggest and boldest lump in my throat had taken root, a bit like I had swallowed an apple whole. It wasn’t until she had put her foot inside the door that I remembered Gemma sitting in the front room.

  Shit.

  Once again. Why shit?

  I don’t know … but it’s a good a word as any. To say I knew Ash didn’t like Gemma would be saying I knew England’s weather is a bit crap. It’s redundant. But why get in a tizzy about it? Why resort to toilet language to express this knowledge? The knowledge that Ash didn’t like Gemma, and that Gemma knew it.

  ‘Erm .. I’m not alone.’ Ash’s body stiffened slightly, but forced itself to relax. The eyebrow raised itself and she looked at me as if to say ‘go on’. ‘Gemma’s here.’

  The eyebrow was joined by its twin, leaving her eyes wide and her expression open. Obviously shock.

  Wait a minute.

  Why shock?

  Didn’t she think I would call Gemma because I knew she didn’t like her? Stuff that. I know … I know … irrational. But you must remember that every time I saw this woman, rationality flew out if the window.

  ‘If I’m interrupting …’ The voice was cold and reminded me of a slap I had received from a girl at school, who, by the way, had very cold hands.

  ‘Wait!’ She had her back to me by this point and was stepping back outside. ‘I thought you wanted to talk?’ Blue eyes scrutinised me from over her shoulder, her body rigid, her hands clenched for some unknown reason. God. I knew she didn’t like her, but this was a little on the extreme side. This wasn’t the Ash I had known … that Ash had been happy and sociable … even when I knew she didn’t like someone. Like Tracy for example – the Goth queen.

  ‘It can wait – it’s no biggie.’

  Before I knew it, I was outside, my hand clenching her arm, holding her back. I knew I didn’t pull her around, I knew she only half-heartedly wanted to walk away, but the relief in my chest when she turned to face me was unbelievable. ‘Look. Come inside. Have a coffee …’ I saw doubt flit across her face, ‘Tea even …’ Was I begging? ‘Orange juice?’ The last came out more like a squeak. But it worked. I saw the smile glimmer around her lips, felt the muscles relax in her arm, and throughout her body.

  ‘Ok. Just a cuppa then.’ I released the breath I had been holding; a breath I didn’t realise I had held captive in my lungs until it hit the air outside with an audible oof.

  Gemma’s face was a Kodak moment if ever I had seen one when I led a grinning Ash back into the lounge. She had made herself comfortable on the settee … shoes off … hands behind her head, the perfect example of, as my mum always says ‘Getting your feet under the table.’

  Upon spotting Ash, she nearly broke her neck sitting upright, but then stopped, and lounged back again, almost like she was announcing we had been doing something a little risqué.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Ash slapped her foot, indicating she wanted to sit down next to her. Another Kodak moment. I would have loved to have filmed it … sent it off to one of those TV shows where they pay money for people fuck ups. Couple of hundred quid in the bank.

  Gemma made a song and dance about getting herself straight. Huffing and puffing her way into a seating position. Ash stared at her for a while before asking, ‘Do you work out?’ A glare … from both of them. ‘Or is it asthma?’

  I saw Gemma open her mouth to respond … ‘Coffee? Tea? Anything?’ They both looked in my direction, back at ach other, and then back at me.

  ‘Coffee.’

  ‘Tea.’

  Spoken at the same time.

  I didn’t get it. Why did they dislike each other so much? I mean, they both had a job to do, and if they were civil to each other, they could scratch each other’s backs, if you know what I mean.

  But no. It was like having two hateful teenagers sitting there – sulking. And we all know how teenagers can sulk. Big time.

  I took my time in the kitchen. My main thought was ‘Leave them to it’. I couldn’t be bothered getting involved with petty squabbles and tiffs. For Christ sake, we were all in our thirties. We should have grown out of it by now.

  Initially, the next room was quiet. I believe I could even hear the clock ticking… Come to think of it … I should have known – and I definitely shouldn’t have left them alone together.

  Raised voices seeped into the room, and I couldn’t quite make out what was being said – just knew they weren’t talking about the price of bacon. Then Ash’s voice came thundering in, blanketing out all other sounds.

  ‘I’m just saying … don’t fuck us about!’ Bollocks. At this rate, they would never be able to come to a compromise over Sam Read’s case. The shit was definitely hitting the proverbial fan, and the only person to stop it was making the scrappers a cuppa.

  I lifted the mugs, took a deep breath, stepped through the doorway and into the hall, just in time to hear Ash’s ‘Fuck you’ farewell, and then see her storm out of the door.

  I stood there. Steaming beverages tightly gripped in each hand, looking all the world like a learner driver gripping the steering wheel. I felt the colour drain from my face (must be test day), but I knew that this situation must be resolved. I would have to work with Gemma again, and Ash … well … it was Ash wasn’t it?

  Cups thrown to the wayside … or in reality, placed carefully on the sideboard making sure to balance on coasters … and I was off, tearing down the hallway, out of the front door and down the road.

  Her car door was open, and she was just lowering herself into the driver’s seat when I finally caught up with her. It sounds like quite a way, but it was only the matters of about thirty metres.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I was breathless. Yeah … I know … thirty metres and breathless … it was more from nerves than anything else.

  The look she gave me could melt concrete, just before she slammed the door shut in my face. Not one to be deterred I banged on the window and motioned for her to lower it. I could see her lips moving but couldn’t make out the words. So I motioned again.

  This time she begrudgingly slapped her hand on the button eliminating the barrier between us, turning her head in my direction in one sharp movement. ‘Why are you going? I’ve made you a cuppa.’ Good call, Turner. An
y more gems like that one hiding up your sleeve?

  I saw her bite her lip before she answered. Saw her try to contain something from bubbling out … and I knew that for that small mercy, I would be grateful. A couple of swallows … ‘Look. You’re busy with … with … what’s-her-face … we can chat later without Big Ears listening.’

  I should have said okay and walked away. Should have. But no … Miss High and Mighty came out to play. ‘Her name’s Gemma …’ Ash glared. ‘And I don’t think its right you slagging her off behind her back.’

  She tried to deny it … saying she wasn’t slagging her off, that she was telling the truth. Gemma did have big ears. But, I was on a roll … I think it was out of panic or something very much like it. You must have been in the situation where you feel one way and act in the complete opposite. You know … like when your child nearly gets hit by a car, and you grab him and give him a good telling off, but inside you’re thinking ‘My baby … my angel … I was so scared …’. The sentences coming out of your mouth resemble someone who had problems stringing a sentence together … ‘Why you little …’ and ‘When I get you home you …’.. Disjointed because of the deletion of nouns that should never be spoken to a child.

  Obviously, this antagonised her. Obviously. And when I got to the part where I shouted ‘What’s your problem?’ I should have known what was coming next.

  Next thing I knew I was half way back to my house, the anger pouring from me with every footstep … the hand gestures not fit for the faint hearted … all I could hear were two things. The blood rushing past my ears and the roaring of her car engine as she sped away.

  Gemma was waiting for me at the door, coffee cup ensconced in her hand, the look of ‘Oh poor you’ fixed firmly in place.

  Do you know what the first thing I thought when I looked at her? Nope … not about the kiss … and where it could lead. Not about how she could help me with my case.

  Not even what she and Ash had argued about.

  None of the above.