The Waiting List (Strong Women Book 5)

by Sarah Till

  “Doesn't your mum talk to anyone?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, yes. She has to get used to you first. She's always been like that, Mum. She's got a slight personality disorder and social phobia.” He explained his mother’s psychological history as if he was explaining how they went to the supermarket. “She takes a range of tablets for it and some of them make her tired. Others make her dizzy. But she needs them. I collect all her prescriptions for her. That's why I couldn't go and live with...”

  “Caroline.”

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “Tim, it's OK. We've all got exes. I don't mind you talking about her. But preferably when we've got our clothes on.”

  It was an awkward moment as we sat there on the bed sipping our tea. The bed was an old steel-framed Victorian bedstead and my feet barely touched the floor when I sat on it. It creaked and moaned every time I moved and I idly wondered if I should get him to oil it before I jumped on him. He finished his tea and jumped further back towards the headboard.

  “Look, Clem, I've taken the picture down and I've moved all her things into the spare room. I'll give them back to her as soon as I can. Meeting you has really made me realise I can't hold onto her forever. I really want to make a go of this.”

  His hand went to my hair and he twirled it round his fingers. I looked into his eyes and the familiar tingle was back. I wriggled a little closer to him and he pulled off my hat and scarf. His fingers were on the buttons of my jumper. Slowly unbuttoning each one, his eyes following the line of my cleavage. He pulled the jumper over my head smoothly and I felt a little exposed in the cold room. It was lit by a small bedside lamp and I was grateful for the dimness. He kissed me hard and eased me backwards onto the bed. Fumbling with my jeans, he eventually unbuttoned me and tugged them down over my knees, unbuttoning his own as he moved back towards me. My body became hot and I was lost in the moment. I could feel his excitement pressing against me and I guided his hand between my legs. His fingers reached gently inside my pants and he moved them expertly round and round until he reached exactly the right spot. I groaned with pleasure and he moved on top of me. He pulled down his jeans and his erection sprung up against my thigh.

  “Are you ready, Clem? I want you.”

  His whispered words were close to my ear and this time I was ready.

  “Yes. Yes. But have you got a something?”

  “What?”

  “You know, something we can use.”

  “Sorry. I don't know what you mean.”

  “A condom, Tim. Have you got a condom?”

  My voice was urgent. I wanted him inside me that minute.

  “Oh. Right.”

  The action stopped and he lay on top of me, very still. I prised my arm out from under him and sighed.

  “I'm guessing that you and Caroline didn't use condoms then.”

  He sounded near to tears.

  “No. There was no need. She was on the pill and I trusted her. We always said we wanted to have a baby someday. I would have liked to be a dad. But that's over now.”

  I was starting to feel sorry for him. Here he was, with his new girlfriend, in a compromising position; I could still feel his erection pulsing against me and I wanted him to feel better. But I just couldn’t, because instead of looking at me, his eyeline followed the edge of the bed to the bedside table where a bunch of keys lay. I rose and sat on the bed, glancing over at the bunch of keys and the keyring with a picture of Caroline on it.

  I didn't know if I should just get dressed and walk out or if he thought I hadn't seen him fantasise about his ex while he was about have sex with me. I definitely hadn't imagined him looking at the tiny picture, but I'd seen where his gaze rested. I'd expected him to sexily catch my stare and connect with me, but all the while he had been thinking about her. I looked at him as he pulled his pants back on. He seemed oblivious to what had just happened and now I didn't know how to broach it. My mind was already congratulating me for not having full sex with him. My little plan had backfired. Where I'd planned to get a cheap thrill myself, I'd ended up almost facilitating his little fantasy world. “I'm just going to the toilet.”

  He nodded and looked at me with puppy dog eyes. I pulled my jeans on and then my jumper and left, shutting the door firmly behind me. I tiptoed along the hallway to the bedroom containing the shrine. I could see the lights were on under the door and when I opened it fully, thousands of tiny fairy lights adorned the huge picture of Caroline that had formerly been in Tim's room. He had hung it on the wall opposite the dressing table and hung strands and strands of lights around it until the wall was covered. He certainly had been busy. A pile of neatly ironed clothes lay on a chair next to the window and two pairs of shoes were tucked neatly under a leather handbag. In the corner, the screen showed a paused DVD, Tim and Caroline in Venice, him clearly holding the video camera as they kissed in a gondola. I felt sick. I reached inside the dressing table drawer and pulled out a ream of letters and receipts. I stuffed them down my jeans. Then I opened another drawer and took some more photographs. I quickly left the room and went into the toilet and flushed the chain. Returning to the bedroom, I grabbed my bag, scarf and shoes.

  He sat on the bed grinning.

  “You OK, Clem?”

  “Yes, I'm just a bit tired. I might go now.”

  “Oh, right. Look, I'm sorry about the condoms. I feel bad now. But it was...fun.”

  He was right. He had all the fun ogling his ex. He got all the pleasure and once again I got all the pain.

  “Well, there'll be another time. Next time, I'll bring my own.”

  He laughed but I didn't.

  “Will there be a next time, Clem? You seem, well, sad.”

  “Why would I be sad? What could you possibly have done to upset me?”

  Except thinking about my sister during foreplay.

  “Don't know.”

  I glanced at the table and the keyring had disappeared. He was either guilty about what he had done or he thought I hadn't seen it and moved it so I wouldn't. His eyes held no challenge for me so I guessed it was the latter. It was a shame. He was so gorgeous. My heart told me that things had improved; at least he had removed the poster. My head bellowed that he had reinstated it in the room where he was probably watching a DVD of the two of them just before I arrived.

  “Nothing, Tim. I'm just tired.”

  He got up and held me. He kissed my neck and stroked my hair.

  “I will see you again, won't I?”

  I nodded and tried to smile.

  “Yes, Tim. You'll see me again. Call me.”

  I rushed down the stairs and out to the car. It was all too much for me. The fairy light overkill still stung my vision and I started to cry. I rested my head on the steering wheel and cried loudly, what was left of my make-up streaming down my face. I just couldn't understand it. My heart told me he was getting over her and he wanted me. My head shook vigorously in the negative. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the window. Tim stood in the pelting rain holding my hat. I opened the window.

  “You forgot this.” I took the hat and stared at him blankly. “I'm trying, Clem, I really am. I like you a lot. I'm trying. Please give me a chance. Let's go out somewhere? I'll take you for a meal. Indian. Chinese. You pick, I'm easy.”

  No, I'm easy, cajoled my head.

  “Call me tomorrow. I'll have to think.”

  I started the engine and slowly drove away leaving him standing barefoot in the rain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once home, I rushed into the house and straight into the dining room. Jenni and Johnny were laughing loudly in the lounge and I felt a twinge of happiness for them. At least someone was enjoying a relationship. I dragged the letter and photographs from down my jeans and threw them in the drawer. I took the list from my bag and stared at it. Surely now it was time to put it with the other failed attempts at love. It wasn’t looking good. The many and varied reasons were circling in my mind, ready to make a crash landing.
I smoothed out the crinkled paper. The list had been in my bag for a while and its surface was slightly dirty, particularly around the edges. One corner was dog-eared and I unfolded it as I re-read the contents.

  I stopped at the 'not too hairy' and changed it to a simple yes. Tim had explained why he lived with his mother. She had a medical condition. Obviously, he had to stay there and I'd completely misjudged the situation based on him being a 'Mummy's boy'. I crossed out this line. My pen hovered over 'faithful'. It was true that he hadn't cheated on me in person, but was thinking about someone else whilst with me being unfaithful? I rinsed my face at the kitchen sink, and as I turned, Jenni and Johnny emerged into the hallway.

  “So, I'll see you tomorrow then?”

  Johnny was staring at Jenni, intent on getting an answer. She nodded slowly and put her arms round his neck.

  “Yes. Tomorrow. I'll see you then.”

  They kissed and eventually Johnny released her and headed for the door.

  “Bye, Clem. See you in the morning.”

  I smiled at Jenni.

  “Bye, Johnny!”

  The door slammed and she skipped through to the dining room. I waited until she sat down then started my interrogation.

  “What happened then? Give me all the gossip.”

  “Well, we're seeing each other. He told me he thinks he's in love with me. That he cares and it's not just about the physical attraction. He wants to look after me.”

  I avoided her eyes as I remembered that my relationship with Tim had, so far, been all about the physical. Did I really care or was I just in it for the information about my sister, with benefits?

  “Aw, that's wonderful, Jenn. I'm happy for you.”

  “He's going to help me find a place to live.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  My fears about their financial mismatch resurfaced involuntarily and Jenni sighed.

  “Right, what? You think I'm using him, don't you?”

  “Not using him. It's just that he suddenly comes along with his good job and his money and helps you out. Just seems strange.”

  “Strange? What's strange about someone caring about someone else? What's that got to do with money and a job? Anyway, he won't be paying my bloody rent, girl. It's not all about money you know. It's about respect and care and love. Not drunken lust. Actual caring love.”

  I fumed now.

  “Are you having a go at me? It's not my fault I always meet men in clubs. I'm just not attracted to those fucking boring types who work in my office.”

  I folded my arms and Jenni set her jaw.

  “Are you saying Johnny is boring? Fucking hell, Clem. He's everything you have on your list.” She grabbed the list and waved it in the air. “Reliable, faithful, sense of humour, generous. Why is it fair for you to have someone with all those qualities but I shouldn't?” She tore the list in two and it dropped to the floor.

  “Because I've waited for it. I've spent my whole life looking for him. Looking for a man who fits with everything on my list. I never compromised or settled and had kids with someone who I probably wouldn't stay with. You, you've done all of that and still got what you want.”

  Jenni sat open-mouthed for a while.

  “OK. I get it. All that you said about baggage last week, that's where it comes from, isn’t it? Having a go at people who've made mistakes. Not that I'm saying my kids are mistakes, because they aren't and I would never wish them away. But my marriage was. He didn't love me. In fact, he didn't even care about me or the children. It was a mistake but I don't regret it, even though it was a living hell, because I gained experience. I learned what to avoid, what sort of man was better for me. I didn't have a fucking list, just shitloads of experience. Without that marriage, I wouldn’t have the kids. I wouldn't know how to cook or budget, how to apply for benefits, how to find a job when I lose one through lack of childcare. Or what sort of lazy fucking drunken bastard to avoid in the future. You just don't get it, Clem. You and your fucking waiting list. Just you and some pieces of paper, a get-out clause before you have to learn anything. And you wonder why you get lumbered with crazy boy?”

  I was crying now. Jenni threw a box of tissues across the table from the side as I sniffed into my sleeve.

  “Oh, and while we're on the subject of baggage, you're not as lightweight as you think. When you told me about your sister it all made sense. I fucking knew there was something. All the going home with different men, the attention seeking, the constant questioning, the perfectionism, I fucking knew. You're jealous of her, Clem. Fucking jealous of how everyone keeps going on about Charlotte and how no one talks about you.”

  I nodded.

  “That's right, I am. But it's not a crime, is it? My sister goes missing and my parents devote their whole existence to building a memorial to her.” I flashed back to Tim's back bedroom to the other Charlotte shrine. “It's made me selfish. All that time spent on my own when everyone else was looking for her gave me lots of time to think what I want. I just want what's on the list. And for your information, Johnny doesn't fit everything on the list. He's got red hair.”

  We both burst out laughing now. I was laughing with relief but I guessed that Jenni was laughing at my shallowness.

  “So, if he dyed his hair would you want him? Is it really that, Clem? No. He's got all the qualities you say you want but you don't want him just because of the colour of his hair. Get real, girl. By the way, you got back early. How did it go with Mr Freaky?”

  I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

  “Not good. He's still got the shrine to her but he moved the huge poster out of his bedroom.”

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “No.”

  I suppose it was true.

  “Did you get the feeling he was over her a bit?”

  “Well it has only been a couple of weeks. I don't know how long it would take to get over someone?”

  Jenni smiled.

  “Well, they reckon it’s the number of months you have been with them halved and turned into weeks. So, if it's twenty-four months, its twelve weeks.”

  I mentally calculated.

  “Fucking hell. That'll be two years give or take a week.”

  We laughed again and I was glad the argument was over.

  “Long time to wait, Clem, girl, long time to wait. What you've got to decide now is if he's worth it.”

  “You've just given me a lecture about being choosier and now you're asking me if I think someone who still thinks about his ex is worth it.”

  “I do know how much you like him, girl. It's written all over your face. You're falling in love with him. You get that little twinkle in your eye when I mention him. Actually, I think you do care about him, about what he's going through. What other possible fucking reason could you have for seeing him?”

  Falling in love with him? Was I? It was true that I couldn't really explain why I was still seeing him. In the back of my mind, the bedroom complete with hair, clothes, shoes, makeup, all laid out carefully, chipped away at any sense of future we might have. I thought about telling Jenni but held off because I knew she would tell me to stop seeing him. She might even tell me to call the police. I wanted to keep seeing him. Somewhere inside, I wanted him. Not just for his body, although that would be a nice bonus if we ever got to have sex. An inviting tangent appeared, suggesting that the lack of sex had happened for a reason. I debated if the reason was to let us get to know each other before we slept together, or to tell us that we were actually incompatible. Jenni stared at me, waiting for an answer.

  “Hmm. I think that's it. I'm falling in love with him.”

  “Even though he doesn't tick your boxes?” She picked up the torn list and handed it to me. “Sorry. It just annoys me. I still don't see how you can make a set of rules for what someone will be like before you meet them. Where's the surprise and spontaneity?”

  “He sort of does tick my boxes. Anyway, he's made me think about some of them. I met his mum again. I'd as
sumed she was weird and strange but he's explained now that she's got a personality disorder. I suppose I haven't been fair. Made a lot of assumptions about people's choices. I suppose when I made the list, I thought everyone was like me. A bit selfish, being about to make decisive choices about my own life and not having to think about anyone else. That's what my life's been like since I left home. All about me. But not everyone's like that, are they?”

  “No. Definitely not. Men do seem to be more selfish than women, especially about sex. But I would say that most people have to take into account at least one other person when they make decisions.”

  Again, a mental picture of Tim's ecstasy as he stared at Caroline filled my senses. I wanted to share with Jenni, to open up and get her advice. I felt like I was struggling alone with a concept that would only ever be solved when the Charlotte dilemma was out of the way. I decided against talking about Tim's problem and tell her about my parents instead.

  “Well, now I have to be accountable to my parents again. They've become like Posh and Becks again now Charlotte's back in the frame. And don't forget, Jenn, she's Tim's ex. If it does turn out to be her and I keep seeing him, she’d be there on bloody birthdays and every Christmas. I'm half wishing that it isn't her. But the other half wants peace for my Mum and Dad.”

  “So, when will you find out if it is her?”

  “Oh, the police are dismissing it as rubbish. Dad thinks they are fed up with Mum ringing up and asking if there are any new leads every day for sixteen years. She's been arrested twice, you know, for insisting people know where Charlotte is. She's convinced that Charlotte has been abducted or murdered, so she rings the police up all the time insisting they should be doing something, looking for her. The police think Charlotte's run away, so they're not looking for her.”

  “Really? But she's still missing.”

  “She's a missing adult now. They've no evidence that she was abducted or murdered, so they think she's run away. As they explained it to me when I went to pick Mum up one day from the cells, the week she did a sit-in protest, they treat the runaway as an individual with the same rights to confidentiality as anyone else. But the parents often don't get that. Mum thinks she should know where Charlotte is even if she is safe and well and doesn't want to see us. She thinks she has a right.”