Chapter Eight
Monday Morning
‘So you want the locks changing on your flat, is that right?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so Adele. I know it’s a pain but is it a problem?’
‘Well no – but it can be quite expensive you know. We have to do it ourselves so we can guarantee the landlord that’s It’s done to the right standard and so that we have a copy of the new set. I’m afraid we have to pass the costs onto you. Are you sure you’ve lost your spare set?’
Dan found that lying didn’t come easily to him but he told himself it was only a white lie, the only person he was hurting was himself and his own finances. He would feel much less comfortable telling someone – anyone in fact – that he thought that he was being stalked.
‘Yes, I’m sure. I’ve looked everywhere.’
‘Don’t you want to give it a few days? They could t…’
‘No!’ Dan found himself saying rather more loudly than he intended, ‘I’m sorry. No, I’m just a bit worried where I might have lost them. I was in Salford and, well…’
‘Well yes, there are some people around who would definitely take advantage. It will give you piece of mind?’
‘Thanks Adele, yes. I’ve got some quite expensive camera kit.’
‘I understand. Leave it with me, I’ll need to call around a couple of locksmiths, see if we can keep the cost down for you. I’ll give you a call back and then we can arrange a time when it can be done.’
‘Thanks Adele. Much appreciated. And sorry again.’
‘Don’t worry. It happens. At least it’s only your spare set.’
‘Thanks Adele, speak soon.’
Dan rang off and pocketed his mobile and tried to get back to work. He had hoped to speak to the letting agents who managed his flat before he had got in to avoid the obvious questions but had only got Adele’s voicemail. Boris had been flicking idly through Property Week but now he put it to one side.
‘Been a bit careless then?’ he said, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Dan chose not to reply.
Hannah came out of Ian’s office carrying a file. Dan guessed that she had been running through a report.
‘Morning Dan, good weekend?’ she said.
‘It was OK thanks. Went over to see my brother in Sheffield. How about yours?’
‘Not too bad after looking after Jen on Friday night. God she was ill! She was really worried what you’d think of her.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’ve spoken to her.’
‘Oh good,’ said Hannah, sitting at her desk. Dan thought that she was trying – and failing – to seem disinterested. ‘You going to take her out then?’
Dan tried not to smile at his reading of his colleague’s character. ‘Yes I think we might take in a film later this week.’
‘Good stuff.’
Dan was pretty certain that this had not come as a surprise to Hannah.
‘Way to go Dan!’ grinned Boris, ‘You’re in there you know. She’s got the hots for you.’
Hannah gave him a look that could have peeled paint off a wall at a range of 5 metres.
At that moment, Dan’s mobile rang.
‘That’s probably her now,’ said Boris, sticking his tongue out at Hannah.
Dan glanced at the display, thought briefly about walking out of the office before taking it but then pressed receive.
‘Hi Adele,’ he said.
‘Hi Dan. I’ve found a locksmith who can fit you in at lunchtime. Can you be at the flat at around 12.30? Then he can do the job and give you the new keys there and then.’
‘That sounds great. Should I pay him direct?’
‘Yes please. A cheques fine.’
‘Brilliant. Thanks Adele.’
Dan rang off.
‘Having problems?’ Hannah was absently browsing a website.
‘Danny boys been careless with his keys,’ Boris replied before Dan could get a word out. ‘Hey maybe it was Jen who took them! I wouldn’t change your locks, you might find yourself snuggled against a curvy blonde in the middle of the night!’
‘Boris!’ Hannah gave him another one of her fierce stares.
‘Well I wouldn’t chuck her out of bed,’ leered Boris.
‘In your dreams, Boris,’ snapped Hannah.
They were interrupted by Ian leaning out of his office door.
‘Dan, can I have a quick word please?’ he said.
Dan had an instant sinking feeling, but he said; ’Sure Ian,’ and followed him into the office. Ian shut the door behind him. Now Dan was absolutely sure he knew what was coming.
‘Sit down, Dan,’ Ian sighed. He was looking grim. ‘Look, there’s no easy way of saying this…’
‘It’s OK Ian,’ interrupted Dan, ‘When do you want me to finish?’
‘Thanks Dan, I really didn’t want to say it. You know if I could avoid it I would. End of the week I’m afraid. I’d love to give you more notice if I could but, well, I’ve really kept you on longer than I should and the other partners are getting shit-scared about cash flows.’
‘I know, mate, I know, Really don’t worry about it.’
Ian looked relieved. Dan could tell that this was genuinely hurting him.
‘What will you do?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. I’ve thought about the middle east, Abu Dhabi or Dubai. Colin’s in Dubai and raves about the place though they are struggling out there too of course. Other than that I may just take some time off and take stock. May be time for a career change, who knows?’
‘You ought to do something in photography. You’ve a real talent there you know.’
‘Thanks. Well you never know. I don’t think I’m up to professional standard but perhaps I should give it a go. Perhaps this is just the kick up the backside I need to try it.’
‘I still feel bad about letting you go,’ said Ian leaning back in his chair, ‘I always vowed I’d never employ mates for just this reason. It’s just too hard.’
‘Ian I promise you, you’ve been brilliant. It really is no problem.’
‘Thanks. And if things pick up you’ll be on the top of the list – if you’re still available.’
‘Cheers.’
‘And drinks on Friday are on me, OK?’
‘You’re on.’
They both stood up at the same time and shook hands. It struck Dan as perhaps being a bit formal between old friends but it just felt right to him at that moment and clearly Ian felt the same.
Boris and Hannah were talking when he walked back into the office but fell silent when they saw him. Rather than make them ask he decided to grasp the nettle.
‘End of the week,’ he said simply.
‘Oh I’m sorry mate!’ said Boris, ‘Really unlucky.’
Hannah said nothing but just walked over and gave him a hug. She then went back to her desk and pulled her mobile out, clearly sending a text. Dan had a feeling he knew who it was to. In the meantime he tried to get his mind back on work. It was hard.
He was not surprised when he got a text from Jen a few minutes later. He glanced at Hannah but she was typing and seemed engrossed. Whatever she seemed to be concentrating on not looking at him.
The text read: ‘Hey you! I’m free tonight – another hint! ;0). How’s things with my favourite older guy? Jen xxx’
Dan gave a little smile. He still wasn’t quite sure he was ready for another relationship or, even if he was, whether the bubbly, energetic Jenny Jones was exactly right for him but then, what the hell? His brother was right, he needed to get out and it surely was better doing this than sitting alone in his flat brooding and worrying how he was going to pay the next months rent.
As he started to text back out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannah give herself a little self-satisfied smile.
Monday Night
Dan had arranged to pick Jenny up from her flat at just after 7pm. His plan was that they could take in a film and then still have time for a drink afterwards. It seemed a good balance to Dan, getting any early awkwardness out of the way in the cinema. He hadn’t booked anything but had checked that most of the films started between 7.30 and 8pm. He really didn’t care what they saw other than he wanted to avoid the latest much hyped chic-flick – that the critics had savaged it suggested that he wasn’t alone in that view. Even Mark Kermode, who seemed to sometimes perversely enjoy being out of step with every other critic, joined in the rubbishing in typically entertaining and outspoken fashion on Friday’s Simon Mayo’s radio show, which he always listened to the podcast of.
Jen’s flat was on the ground floor. He had to ring the doorbell for a good five minutes before her flatmate heard him over the dance music that was pounding out of the lounge.
‘Hi,’ she said, ‘Jen’s in the shower,’ as she headed back into her bedroom. Dan was left standing in the hall, wondering what he should do next and where he was supposed to go. Then another door opened, a cloud of steam puffed out into the hall and Jenny’s head appeared.
‘Hey you!’ she said, ‘Sorry! Running late!’ Rat tails of wet hair draped over her face and over the one naked shoulder he could see. ‘Make yourself at home! Change the music if you want.’ She then disappeared back behind the door.
Dan easily found his way to the lounge, although he had to battle his way through the wall of sound coming from it to get there. His head was already pounding as he searched a little despairingly through the pile of CD’s on the floor but it all seemed to be on the dance/techno theme. Nothing by the Killers, the Script, Kings of Leon, Adele, Coldplay – the things that Dan tended to listen to.
He gave up searching through the music and tried to find somewhere to sit amongst the chaos. Dan had to admit that he was impressed by the mess that two flat-sharing girls could make between them. As he cleared a space on the settee, Jen appeared wearing a towel that was only just big enough to cover her modesty and carrying a hairdryer.
‘I’ll be five minutes, tops, is that OK? I’m really sorry.’ She did sound really anxious.
‘No problem.’
‘Oh you’re a darling!’ she said and darted towards him. Before he could really react she had thrown her arms around him and kissed him. He was bombarded by sensations; the softness of her still damp skin, the coolness of her wet hair against his cheek, the scent of her shampoo mingling with that of some expensive shower gel, the tang of mint from her toothpaste as her tongue sought out his. It only lasted a moment before she left, repeating; ‘five minutes, promise!’ but it left Dan slightly stunned and turned on amidst the cacophony.
Jen didn’t reappear for a full twenty minutes but even though he was slightly irritated, Dan had to admit it was well worth the wait. The dress she wore was stylish, short and invited further exploration.
‘Well Mr Jackson, I’m all yours. Take me where you will!’ she said, adding a very dirty grin.
Dan drove as quickly as he dared to get to the cinema but it was well past 8pm by the time they got there and parked, Jen chattering all the way about nothing in particular. Dan got the feeling it was out of nervousness and again he found himself wondering if she was insecure. Whatever, he wasn’t that surprised to find that she chose the chic-flick but, to be fair it was the only one where the feature hadn’t actually started.
Jen watched it avidly all the way through and, from halfway, rested her head on his shoulder. The warmth of her body close to his and the tedium of the film made it a real struggle to keep his eyes open. It was only the thought that he couldn’t fall asleep on two girls in a row that made him try every trick that he knew to stay awake. He worked through his old student repertoire, the one he had used in those early morning lectures after a heavy session the night before, digging his fingernails into his palms, biting his tongue and forcing his eyes wide open. In the end he found that thinking erotic thoughts about his companion worked best, though it did have other effects that would have made a fire evacuation rather embarrassing. Once he thought of this he had a fit of giggles which were very badly timed for the film and difficult to suppress. Jen raised her head and looked at him rather puzzled and he had to mouth ‘sorry’ at her and try to pull himself together.
He also resolved that he would listen even more carefully to what the good Doctor Kermode said in future.
‘That was great, wasn’t it?’ Jen enthused as they left the cinema. ‘I LOVED it! Absolutely loved it! Thank you so much for taking me,’ she added, linking arms with him as they walked across the street.
‘Yes, it was really great,’ Dan was hoping that he sounded at least half convincing but knowing it was doubtful.
‘Was that why you had your eyes closed?’ she asked, eyebrows raised then laughed when she saw the look on his face.
‘Yes. I was contemplating the film’s deeper message,’ he said in mock seriousness.
‘Liar!’ she said, giving him a playful punch and wriggling away from his arm, ‘I’ll forgive you if you take me to The Runaway.’
‘What’s the Runaway?’ he said, playing along by stepping towards her, letting her coyly back away, keeping just of reach.
‘You’ve never been to The Runaway? Oh you poor thing!’ She stopped, letting Dan catch her. ‘It’s just the best little bar. I’m there all the time, it’s my second home.’ She let him slip his arms around her and allowed herself to be drawn in close to him but when Dan leant forward to kiss her she broke away again.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘Race you. It’s not far.’
The Runaway was loud and surprisingly busy for a Monday night. Young professionals mixed with partying students. To Dan everyone looked achingly, expensively trendy. Jen was immediately swept away into a maelstrom of bodies, welcomed as one of their own. Everyone seemed to know her.
Dan bought drinks, guessing at what Jen wanted from his experience of the previous night, and found the last two empty stools in the bar. The rest of the table was occupied by a group of partying students playing a noisy drinking game. Jen flitted from group to group, conversation to conversation. Dan watched her with growing irritation and some depression. He felt old and alien, an outsider sat on the edge, a spectator from a different world – or perhaps more accurately of a different world.
At last Jen pulled herself away from a bearded young man at the bar – Dan could not help notice that he had been absent mindedly stroking her buttock as they talked – looked around, saw Dan and came over and sat on the stool next to him, grabbed her drink and gulped half of it down. She was flushed with excitement and her eyes were wide.
‘Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t this great?’ she shouted over the dance music on the jukebox. ‘I practically LIVE in this place. Ooh there’s Tom…TOM!’ She leaped up and threw her arms around a young man who had just stepped into the bar amongst a group of others. He had the look, build and ears of a prop forward.
This set the pattern for the next hour and a half. Dan found himself become more and more irritated and had to fight the urge to simply get up and leave. He had rather quickly drained his first two Gin and tonics out of sheer boredom but then remembered the car and moved onto diet coke. He gave up buying drinks for Jenny; she always seemed to have a different one in her hand as well as male arms continuously around her.
In the end it was a relief when Jenny wanted to head off to a club; he was able to plead tiredness and the fact that he had to be in work in the morning.
‘You go,’ he said, ‘I’ll be fine.’
He ignored the fact that she looked surprised and put out by this. Frankly he was beyond caring.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘Call me. You sure you’re OK?’
‘Yeah fine,’ said Dan, not even attempting to be convincing. He had given up trying to kid himself that this was ever going to work. She was pretty and definitely sexy but he felt more like her father than a potential lover.
The last thing he saw was Jenny heading down the street with her arm around the rugby player. She did give Dan a last long lingering look over her shoulder but the effect was spoiled by her companion playfully squeezing her behind as they rounded the street corner and disappeared out of sight.
It was around thirty minute later that he was able to put his new key into his new lock and le himself into his flat. He checked his watch; after midnight on a work night. And what had he gained? Just more frustration it seemed. His ears were still ringing from the bar and the cokes he had had meant that he was wide awake. He knew sleep would be hours away, he was very intolerant to caffeine late at night. He had hoped that circumstances would have been different and that lack of sleep would not have been an issue but now this thought made him feel even more miserable.
Making an effort not to even glance at the tub of tablets he consoled himself by pouring a co-op whisky, wincing only slightly at its roughness when he tasted it. He tried to ignore the advice he had been given about depression, that alcohol was itself a depressant, that it would just take him down further. He did not like to think about where it might take him, when the mood and the opportunity and the means coincided. Instead he tried to think of something else, something other than about his life, his job prospects, this evening.
Almost the first thing that he thought about was Tess.
It was such a pity she was a fake. She seemed so nice, quiet, deep even, all the qualities he found really attractive. She had a strange quality, an aura about her. It was quite beguiling.
But then he had another thought; if she was a con artist then she would be like that wouldn’t she? If she was really good she would see what that target would want to see in her and provide that vision on a plate. That was how hustles worked.
Could anyone be that good? If they were then why would they bother with him? He had nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Less than nothing.
Then perhaps she was just weird. Yes that was it, she was as touched as he was.
‘Yeah you daft bugger, as weird as you are,’ he said out loud and angrily to himself as he grabbed his laptop and switched it on. Perhaps a few hands of on-line poker would pass the time until sleep came and gave him respite.
Not that sleep had been exactly restful lately. His nights had become suddenly full of dark dreams – well true nightmares to be honest – things so vivid that they could easily have been real. That morning he had woken up sweating, almost convinced that he, himself had attacked someone. It was so real, so vivid that he had almost called the police, actually had the handset in his hand before he came to his senses and convinced himself that it had to have been a dream.
It had been a narrow escape, he could quite easily have involved someone else in his mental confusion. They might have ignored it but then again he might have found himself in front of a psychiatrist trying to explain himself.
He might be losing grip but he would prefer to go through it on his own.
But then one of the important lessons that you had to learn in life was to know what was real and what was imagined. If those boundaries really were getting blurred for him than he really was in serious trouble.
Ten minutes later he realised poker wasn't helping. He wasn't concentrating. Awake he might be but mentally he wasn’t at his best. Even on the small stakes tables he was getting quickly wiped out; his thinking was two dull to survive for long against the other players. When the last of his money was gone he logged out of the site and almost switched the laptop off.
At the last moment, on a whim, he called up Google. With only the slightest hesitation he typed “Tessa Williams murder” into the search box.
There were far less hits than his last search but still several hundred. Dan clicked onto one from a source he thought at least would be pretty reliable, the Manchester Evening News. The headline was pretty sensational though: ‘Manchester Solicitor Slain’. Underneath was a colour photograph.
Dan felt his hearth thump. He shook his head in disbelief.
Unless she had a double, Tess Williams was exactly who she said she was.
*
@fear_me_now Twitter Account
Tweets: 189
Followers: 465
@fear_me_now: A so-called 'young lady' thought she could make a fool of me tonight. She will soon – briefly – think otherwise
@___________: You're all talk and no action #fake
@fear_me_now: What you think is of no consequence. You are nothing. Less than nothing
@fear_me_now: Still, perhaps we should meet. I could introduce you to the bottom of the canal and let the eels feed on your bloated carcase
@____________: Yeah mate. Course you would #tosser