Chapter Six
Friday Morning‘
Earth calling Dan, Earth calling Dan. Call for Mr Daniel Jackson.’
Dan looked up into the amused faces of Boris and Hannah.
‘Ah it lives,’ said Hannah.
‘What?’ said Dan.
‘For the third time, are you on for a drink tonight?’ said an exasperated sounding Boris.
‘Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘We noticed.’
‘So, who is she?’ said Hannah raising a questioning eyebrow.
‘What? Who?’
‘Who is she?’ said Hannah again, ‘There has to be a girl involved somewhere.’
Dan looked at her feeling slightly stunned, wondering if all females were psychic.
‘I was right!’ she said triumphantly, ‘C’mon tell all.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘But there is a girl?’ Now Boris was joining in.
‘Well, yes…sort of. Oh I don’t know, I’ve only met her twice and each time…well she has…’ Dan paused, wondering how best to explain this, ‘just, well, vanished on me.’
‘And you’re trying to work out why your ageing but still boyish charms aren’t working on her knicker elastic?’
‘Boris!’ Hannah shook her head in exasperation.
‘What?’ Boris looked genuinely surprised, ‘What did I say? Anyway, sounds a perfect excuse to have a bender to drown his sorrows. You on?’
Dan sighed. He actually wanted to say no, he wasn’t sure he wanted company but then he also was aware how insular he was getting, how much he was turning in on himself and that this was simply not healthy. The others were trying to be helpful, he shouldn’t shut them out. It would be good to have some company other than himself for once.
‘Yeah, sure, count me in,’ he said.
‘Great! That’s the spirit. You know what they say, when the going gets tough, the tough get pissed and eat curry!’
Dan smiled, ‘What time are we meeting?’
‘Straight from work. Has to be.’
‘But my car’s here,’ Dan protested.
‘Don’t worry about that. Leave it here.’
‘You can pick it up in the morning,’ said Hannah.
‘Or in the afternoon,’ said Boris grinning.
‘Or Sunday,’ said Hannah.
Friday Evening
Dan had been trying to read the night's twitter feed on his Blackberry but gave up as his fingers were totally uncoordinated. It was quite quiet on line anyway.
Pissed by 8pm, he thought. Oh well done.
He should have known better. Drinking with Boris was a dangerous pastime.
It wasn’t so much the volume, it was the pace that he started drinking at, that was the thing that got you. As soon as he had delivered the first round (Boris, to give him his due, always got the first one in) he had drained his glass and was looking politely but thirstily at the dregs, obliging someone else to finish theirs and get the next round in, fighting their way through the Friday night scrum at the bar. This would be repeated again and again and suddenly you were drinking at his pace. Then the sod would almost stop, sipping his pints and storing them up. It was almost biblical; there was definitely some feast and famine thing going on. The trouble was it took a while for his drinking partners to notice, they would be in the rhythm by this stage, slightly too fuzzy headed to notice that the pacemaker had pulled over to the side of the track. No they were too far down the slippery slope that would end up with some of them cuddling a kebab in the early hours of the morning.
Dan was with them. Drinking beer too, oh that was bad news. He just couldn’t handle the volume any more. He was fine with G&T’s and wine, he could drink all night, but beer got to him.
So here he was at 8pm feeling no pain at all but with a nasty nagging feeling in the sober part of his mind that this was not going to end well.
He had reached the stage where he kept losing the thread of conversations, where it was too much to make the effort to strain to hear what people were saying. The pub was huge yet packed, the noise poured over him. He wasn’t even sure he knew where he was. Somewhere on Deansgate he knew that. They had been in Bar 37 but they had left there an hour before.
The noise level seemed to swell. It was like white noise now. You needed to shout to hold a conversation and had to really concentrate to understand what people were saying around you.
Concentration implied you had to have a working mind of course.
Dan grinned to himself at this thought. He just found it ridiculously amusing and couldn’t stop himself.
‘What’s tickled you?’ yelled Jenny in his ear.
There were seven of them now. Boris, Hannah and her boyfriend Greg, Jenny, Martin and Craig, the latter two surveyors from rival firms. They had all met up in Bar 37 and had moved on together when they had tired of the crush and conversation there.
‘Nothing, just a silly thought,’ he shouted back at Jenny leaning close to her so she had a chance of hearing. Now she was this close he had realised just how pretty she was and she certainly had curves in all the right places. Perhaps she was slightly too plump for the current vogue but she had a sweet smile and was definitely starting to hit all the right buttons with him.
‘Any plans for the weekend?’ She had leant even closer to him. He could feel the heat of her body and her perfume filled his senses. He found himself becoming slightly aroused.
‘Nope. Just the usual weekend chores. Shopping, cleaning the flat,’ he yelled back.
‘Same here. It’s a glamorous, exciting life isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. Living the dream! Nothing else planned?’
‘Nah, nothing special. Might go clubbing though, tomorrow night. Fancy coming?’
Dan groaned inwardly. He really hated clubs and the club scene.
‘Yeah, OK,’ he found himself saying.
‘Great!’ she shouted back, ‘I’ll give you a call. Can I have your number?’
Dan passed over his card and got hers in return. As he put it away in his wallet he saw Hannah give them both a self-satisfied look from her side of the table, confirming Dan’s suspicions about what she was up to.
‘I see you’re ready for another!’ Steve grabbed Dan’s glass and had dived into the crowd before he could protest.
This night was shaping up to be a very long one.
Friday Night, 11 pm
Several hours later, Dan sat fuzzy-headed over a Jalfrezi, trying to persuade some of it onto a keema nan. It was proving extremely hard.
He gave up on that for a moment and took a sip of his beer. Cobra. At least he could taste it, it was built for curry.
Alongside him Martin was arguing about football with Steve, the former being on the Blue side of the city, the latter the Red. Martin was teasing Steve about his team’s American owners and the mountain of debt they had brought with them whilst Steve was taunting City about being a Sheik’s plaything that he would soon tire of. Dan had heard it all before, countless times and neither argument had got more or less convincing with age.
They had lost Craig somewhere on route to here. No one seemed to know where or how.
Meanwhile Hannah and Grieg had argued about something at some point in between leaving the last bar and arriving at the Indian and, even through his alcoholic glow, Dan could feel the frost his colleague was giving off.
On Dan’s right was Jenny. She had reached a stage of drunkenness that was rambling, slurring and very, very friendly.
‘You’re a really lovely guy, you know that Dan, really lovely,’ she said running her hand up and down his thigh under the table, so high up indeed that his knee jerked and made the plates jump off the tablecloth. ‘You know I think you’re really, really so lovely. Han…HAN!’
She banged her other hand on the table to get Hannah’s attention.
‘Dan’s a lovely guy isn’t he?’ She was more demanding an agreement rather than asking a question.
‘Yes, Jen, he’s gorgeous,’ said Hannah giving Dan a slightly sympathetic smile.
Jenny banged the table more angrily, making a knife jump onto the floor. ‘Wha’ you say that for? You keep your eyes off him!’ she pointed a finger threateningly at her friend who raised her hands in mock surrender.
‘Take him, he’s yours. I’ve got my own pain in the ass to deal with, thanks.’ She said.
‘Good, you remember that,’ said Jenny, burping loudly, ‘scuse me,’ she said, ‘he’s mine.’
‘Don’t I get a say in this?’ Dan protested.
‘No,’ said Jenny, ‘Hannah’s right, you need someone to make your mind up for you.’ She threw her arm around his neck and pulled him towards her lips. He found himself being kissed fiercely amidst the cheers of Martin and Steve. Jenny broke off for air, smiled, then said loudly, ‘I really need shagging now,’ before closing her eyes and sliding surprisingly gracefully under the table.
‘Oh dear, poor Jen,’ sighed Hannah, ‘She has this funny thing with drink. One below her limit and she’s fine and sweet, one over she’s briefly a slut and then it’s over and out. We’d better get our bill and get her home. Won’t we Greg?’ she added in a tone that brooked no argument.
Ten minutes later they were out in the street. Jenny, propped up between Greg and Hannah was looking extremely white. They said their goodbyes, Dan easily resisting Martin and Boris’s urging to go onto a club.
The cool of the night air cleared Dan’s head a little, so much so that he decided not to take a taxi but to walk back to his flat instead. It was a nice night and it would only take him about 40 minutes. He could definitely do with the exercise.
He had been going perhaps ten of those minutes when he began to feel uneasy. He noticed a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. He became certain that there was someone following him. Involuntarily he found himself checking his wallet even though he remembered being told that this was something that you shouldn’t do; it showed any mugger that you had cash and just where it was. Well, he thought, the damage was done now, what he had to do was find a way of minimising the damage. He tried to think, was there anyone around? Yes, there were some people waiting at a taxi rank on the far side of the street, a little way ahead. They were certainly within shouting distance. That gave him a little more security so he risked turning round and looking back over his shoulder.
There was somebody there.
It was Tess.
‘Are you stalking me?’ he said, surprising himself with his directness but knowing that the beer he had had was doing most of the talking.
‘Maybe,’ she said, stopping short a few steps away from him. ‘OK, yes I guess I am following you. Actually I saw you in town and, well, I thought I at least owed you an explanation.’
‘OK,’ said Dan somewhat warily. 'I think you do as well. Why do you keep running off?'
‘I felt really bad leaving you like that again.’
‘Again, yes, and you're not the only one who feels bad.’
Tess looked crestfallen.
‘Oh you sound angry, I knew you would be. Please, give me a chance. It’s just, well, I get so upset because...because... it's when I can’t remember things.’ She looked appealingly at him, then walked right up to him. ’Please, it's hard to explain, you'll think I'm crazy if I do. But...can we start over?’
Could they? He tried to think. Well, what did he have to lose?
‘It is nice to see you,’ he admitted, trying to keep her in focus. She seemed to be moving. He realised that he was swaying, that the beer was now winning the fight against the cool night air. ‘Of course we can start again. Just please don’t keep disappearing on me!’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled, and her smile seemed to play music in his ears, ‘I’m not sure I deserve it but thanks anyway. Are you heading home?’
‘Yes. Yes that’s what I’m doing, heading home.’ He turned and started walking again, ‘I’m a bit pissed I’m afraid.’
‘You don’t say!’ she said, walking alongside him and laughing. Dan joined in.
‘You going to come home with me?’
She stopped walking. Dan stopped too and tried to focus on her face. She looked shocked.
‘Why Mr Jackson, that’s a bit forward! What type of girl do you think I am?’
‘Oh…no…sorry…I didn’t mean…’ he began, then realised she was laughing.
‘Come on you, let’s go,’ she said, ‘You really are sweet you know.’
‘You’re the second girl to say something like that to me tonight,’ he said stumbling on.
‘Well we’re both good judges of character then.’
‘She was pissed too though.’
‘I’m not pissed.’
They walked together side by side. Dan wanted to put his arm around Tess but wasn’t sure that he should. He was also meandering slightly, much to Tess’s amusement and was a bit worried that he would bring her down with him.
‘Are you going to vanish on me again?’ he asked again.
‘Dunno. Maybe,’ she replied, ‘Isn’t that part of my mystery?’
‘Yes. Prefer you to stay though?’
‘Why?’
‘I’d like to get to know you.’
‘Why?’
‘Just because.’
‘You are good at arguing aren’t you?’
‘You may have noticed that I’m not at my best at the moment.’
‘I have,’ she said, ‘and at my flat your excuse was…?’
Dan found this stupidly funny and, once he had started giggling he couldn’t stop himself.
‘Why do you bother with me then?’ he managed to gasp at last. 'If I'm so bad?'
‘Oh just because,’ she said airily.
‘Hey that’s not fair! That’s my argument! And if it wasn’t good for me…’
‘…it’s perfect for me,’ she finished for him, grinning, ‘under my rules anyhow.’
Dan was quiet for a few moments.
‘Do I get to see these rules?’ he said at last.
‘Don’t be silly.’
Dan shook his head slowly. They walked on in silence, occasionally exchanging the odd amused glance.
‘This is me,’ he said at last nodding in the direction of his flat.
Dan lived in a new but typically nondescript block built, like so many others to meet the demand from buy-to-let investors during the last property boom. Dan rented it and found it comfortable and practical if a bit soulless.
It was, at least, a huge step up from his London digs.
‘OK,’ she said quietly, shyly even, the confidence seemingly gone. He wondered if he should be asking her in but in the end decided to just to walk up to the front door and open it and use that as the invitation. To his relief she meekly accepted his unspoken invitation.
In the hall he said: ‘Second floor, I’m afraid, and there’s no lift.’
‘Lead on,’ she said. Again he was struck how the certainty had gone out of her voice. Was she scared of him? If so why not just walk away? Dan just couldn’t work her out. Then another problem occupied his mind.
This was down to the stairs. The stairs and the alcohol. The first flight of stairs he took confidently but, by the second, the stairwell had started to swirl. At his door he was fighting back waves of nausea.
‘You OK?’ she asked.
‘Sorry, yes, just about,’ he said trying to concentrate, ‘OK, actually I'm not. Not really. Sorry,’ he said again.
‘We seem to do a lot of apologising to each other, don’t we?’
‘Yeah,’ said Dan, searching his suit pockets for his keys. For a nasty moment he thought he had lost them but found them in his inside jacket pocket. He got them into his lock at the third attempt, opened the door, reached in and turned the light on, then let Tess in first.
‘This is it,’ he said when they were in the lounge, ‘It's not fantastic I’m afraid,’ he added.
It was not false modesty. There was very little in the flat that was his. It had come furnished, that was one of the attractions to him. It saved him from having to buy stuff. The furnishing was OK, a pair of newish two-seater sofas, a nest of chunky wooden tables, a small dining table with four chairs. It was all a bit stark though, bland with its beige carpet and white walls and ceiling. The only things that Dan had added were some framed prints; his own favourite photographs that he had had printed in A3 and A4 sizes on good quality art paper and professionally framed. It had been an expensive luxury that had almost physically pained him when he had got the bill but they did help to brighten the place up a little and gave him an element of ownership. Tess wandered around looking at them.
Dan would have liked to concentrate on her but his head was really swimming now.
‘I should be a good host, make you a coffee,’ he mumbled.
She turned towards him, a frown on her face.
‘Dan, just sit down before you fall down,’ she said.
He was going to protest but then common sense kicked in. She was right.
‘Just for a while then,’ he said, slumping into one of the sofas. The room spun, waves of nausea rolled over him. In sitting he also realised how tired he was. He hadn’t had much sleep lately.
Tess walked around the lounge looking at the photographs.
‘These are really lovely,’ she said. ‘Yours I take it?’
‘Yes.’
'They're beautiful. You really do have a talent.'
'No I don't. Not really. They're just snaps.'
‘Don't be silly. They're really good. Where’s this one?’
He tried to work out which one she was looking at. It wasn’t easy as the walls of the flat seemed to be shifting. At last though he focused on her and worked out where she was standing and which photograph she was looking at.
‘Moscow. I was there last year with work.’
‘The light’s amazing,’ she said, walking onto the next one. ‘Wow,’ was all she said. Dan had closed his eyes now to stop the room from spinning but he knew which one that would be which had caused that reaction. It was one of his own personal favourites.
‘That’s a sunset just north of Oban. West coast of Scotland. My favourite place on Earth,’ he murmured almost to himself.
‘It’s stunning,’ she said, ‘When did you take it?’
There was no reply. Dan knew he was drifting into sleep, he fought it but he couldn’t stop himself. Vaguely he heard her footsteps as she walked over to him and in his dreams he was sure he heard someone softly say, ‘Your turn to leave me this time, Mr Jackson.’
He couldn’t be sure but he thought something cold brushed his lips.
Then it was gone.
Saturday morning, 3 am
Dan woke up stiff and cold and with a full bladder. He was still on the settee, fully clothed and the lights were still on.
Having quietly limped his way to the toilet he came back into the kitchen and drank a large glass of water from the tap. He had a raging thirst and a thumping head and decided that water would really help so ran a second one too which he sipped more slowly. Turning off the kitchen and lounge lights he padded into the hall. The light here was on too.
His bedroom door was ajar, the room in darkness. Cautiously he pushed the door open.
The bed was empty.
He stood in the hall for a full minute before he switched the bedroom light on and the one in the hall off. He took his suit and shirt off and tossed them uncaring onto a chair then got into bed.
Although he still felt very rough he had an empty, lonely feeling. The hope that Tess might have been there had been dashed. The old demons came back, keeping him awake though for only a few minutes until his tiredness took over again.
He had a dream. In it Tess came into the room and sat quietly on the end of the bed. He wanted her to get in with him, to feel the warmth of her body against his but it seemed his imagination wouldn't let that happen.
It was a shame. It seemed so real.