Chapter Seven
Saturday
‘Dan, thank-you, they’re lovely.’
‘It’s the least I could do considering I just invited myself over.’
‘Don’t be silly, you’re always welcome.’
At least his brother’s girlfriend seemed happy with the flowers so Dan felt hardly any guilt that Karen wasn’t the original intended recipient.
‘I thought you’d prefer something like this,’ he said passing a bottle of red wine over to his brother, ‘I got Italian over Australian, right?’
‘Right! But as Karen said, there was no need. It’s just great to see you at last.’
Now Dan did feel guilty. It had been an awfully long time since he had seen his brother, over a year at least. He didn’t have the excuse of being in London anymore; Sheffield was less than 50 miles away over the Pennines.
And yet even this time had been a bit of an accident. If he hadn’t taken his anger and frustration at Tess’s behaviour – or whoever she really was – out into the Peak District, throwing the Skoda around the narrow country lanes whilst dodging the bikers then he wouldn’t have been here now. After an hour he realised that Sheffield was less than 12 miles away and, after pulling over into a Forestry Commission picnic area and giving it some more thought, made the call.
His brother, Nick, was 10 years older than Dan. That gap had seemed huge when Dan was young and he felt that he had never really got to know him as a child, Nick heading off to college when Dan was 8 and never really coming home again. It was only later, much later in fact, that they discovered common interests; golf, cars, and started to spend more time together.
‘Yeah I know. My fault,’ said Dan, ‘I’ve just not…well…’
Nick could see Dan was struggling to explain and came to his rescue. ‘Well you’re here now, and it’s brilliant to see you. You’re not going to rush back are you? Why don’t you stay over? I’ve got a tee time booked for tomorrow morning and I was going to have to ring round for a fourth anyway. The forecast looks good for a change too.’
‘But I haven’t got anything with me,’ Dan protested.
‘That’s no problem. I’ll sort you out with some gear.’
‘Yes, he’s got no problem there. He’s got half the pro’s shop in the shed!’ said Karen, ‘I’ve had to ban him from Ebay!’
‘She has as well,’ said Nick ruefully.
Dan laughed.
‘Come one, stay,’ said Nick, ‘I’ll cook tonight and you can have a drink with us. You haven’t got anything to dash off for do you?’
Dan shook his head. No he didn’t, and the last place he felt like going back to at the moment was the flat.
‘I’d love to,’ he said, ‘Thanks.’
‘Brilliant!’ said Nick. He got up, brandishing the wine bottle, ‘Let’s start as we mean to go on and open this.’ He headed for the kitchen.
‘It really is good to see you,’ said Karen, ‘We were really sorry to hear about you and Alice.’
‘Well these things happen. People change.’
‘There’s no chance of you two getting back together?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
Nick interrupted the conversation by bringing in the open bottle of wine and three glasses which he set down on the table and poured out.
‘You should come over next week. It’s the derby match. Karen’s brother-in-law is a director at Wednesday. He might be able to get us tickets,’ said Nick as he passed out the glasses.
‘Your place or ours?’
For some reason they had ended up supporting the cities bitter rivals, Nick being a Wednesday fan, Dan supporting the Blades. Even with this potential minefield, Dan felt this was a safer topic of conversation than his failed marriage.
‘Ours. And we’re on for the double over you,’ teased Nick.
‘I know, I know, no need to rub it in.’
Dan’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID; it was Jen.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘Just a friend, better take it.’
‘Hi Jen, how’s the head?’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Karen and Nick share an amused look.
‘Oh not too bad thanks, feeling a bit more human now. I’m feeling shit about last night though. I’m really, really, really sorry. I don’t know what you’re thinking of me?’
‘Don’t be daft. You’re fine.’
‘But I feel like a complete idiot.’
‘Well you’ve no need to, honestly.’
There was a pause giving Dan the chance to mouth “sorry about this” to Nick and Karen.
‘So do I get another chance?’ Jen asked quietly.
‘Yes of course you do…oh.’ He had suddenly remembered about the clubbing, ‘Ah, sorry you were wanting to go out tonight, weren’t you? Look, don’t read anything into this but I can’t tonight.’
‘Oh..OK..don’t worry. It’s fine, I understand,’ she sounded very down.
‘No, it’s not that, I’m over in Sheffield at my brothers.’
‘It was OK. I’d forgotten about that. I was just ringing to see how you were.’
Dan didn’t believe this to be true and felt bad about it. Though he wasn’t sure that Jen was his type of girl at all he didn’t like to hurt her feelings. Anyway what the hell? She was cute.
‘Jen, I’m sorry I really am. Something came up, that’s all,’ Dan decided he needed more privacy so got up and walked into the kitchen, ‘How about we do a meal or a film or something one day next week?’
‘Really? You really want to? You’re not just asking me to cheer me up?’ Jenny sounded genuinely surprised, even though she seemed to have the usual female characteristics of being able to see through the bullshit.
‘Yeah Jen, I really mean it. Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Well Hannah gave me a good talking to. Told me what I’d done. I thought after that…well.’
‘Honestly Jen, it was OK. Actually it was quite funny.’ Dan winced as soon as he had said that. It wasn’t quite what he had meant, he could have put it a lot better.
‘Glad I made you laugh,’ Dan could hear the hurt in her voice.
‘Not like that. I meant you were sweet.’ Oh stop digging, you idiot, he told himself.
‘Sweet? Great!’ At least she laughed at this, ‘Anyway, I really thought you were avoiding me. I wasn’t going to call ‘cos I didn’t want to seem pushy, like, but Han said it would be fine…so I did.’
Where had that come from? There was definite insecurity there. How did that fit with the Jenny he’d seen last night, the loud, confident girl? Surely not?
‘It is fine. And I’m really glad you did,’ Dan said, as Nick walked through with Dan’s wine glass freshly refilled, reminding him that he perhaps ought to bring this conversation to an end. ‘Look Jen, sorry but I really have to go. Honestly I wasn’t avoiding you. I’ve just had a load of things on my mind.’
‘That’s fine, I know, you need to be with your family and here’s me just chattering away,’ She did a least sound a good deal happier, Dan was relieved to hear. ‘Dan, if there is anything I can help you with, any problems like…well…you know where I am. Oh and Tuesday’s best for me! Big hint!’
‘OK, hint taken,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll call you.’
‘You better had! Bye cutie!’ she said and rang off.
Dan was a little shocked. Had she really just called him “cutie”?
Still dazed, he went back into the lounge. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said.
‘So,’ said Karen and, from the look on her face, Dan knew what was coming: ‘New girlfriend, eh? Tell us more.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. She’s…just…a friend.’ He knew that this was sounding far too defensive.
‘A nice looking friend?’ said Karen, her eyebrows raised in question. Dan tried not to blush.
‘How old is she?’ said Nick.
‘Er..I don’t know. 23, 24 maybe.’
‘Pretty and young,’ grinned Karen, ‘Right, no more wine until you tell us everything!”
Sunday morning
Dan woke up with a splitting headache. He couldn’t believe it; another hangover. Still, at least this was from social rather than solitary drinking. Surely this was healthier.
The evening had been nice, even if it had passed in another alcoholic blur. Nick had produced his usual excellent meal – he was a first class cook – and the wine had flowed freely.
After the meal they had watched a film on Sky. It was a new one but Dan didn’t find it that absorbing and, more than once, he found his thoughts straying not to Jen but to Tess – or whoever she really was. Despite everything he still couldn’t believe she was bad; she would have to be one hell of a good con artist to keep up that act. And even if she was a grifter what the hell had he got that she might want? He had next to nothing, less than nothing actually if everything was totted up.
In one of these musings he caught Nick staring at him. Dan pulled himself together and tried to concentrate on the film and the moment went without further comment.
After dressing and showering, Dan went downstairs, half expecting Nick to ask him about what was bothering him. Instead he found one of Nick’s famed monumental cooked breakfasts waiting for him. Initially he didn’t think he was up to even trying it but soon found that his body was craving the fats and he soon found that he had not only wolfed the lot but also added some toast to it. With two cups of good coffee, Dan found himself feeling better than he done in months, and well able to face the golf course.
‘We’ve got to pick Helen up first,’ said Nick as they got in the car, ‘She’s not driving at the moment.’
‘Banned?’
Nick nodded, ’18 months.’
‘Ouch.’
‘She’s managing. And she still hits the ball miles.’
Nick had known Helen for years, she was probably his best friend. Some years before he had introduced her to golf and had, at times, regretted it as her game had rapidly outstripped his.
They drove for a little while before Nick said, ‘Sorry if I’m being nosy but are you OK? I’m sorry but I couldn’t help hearing what you said on the phone yesterday about having a lot on your mind.’
So he had noticed, ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Are you sure? You looked miles away at times last night.’
Dan pulled a face and sighed, ‘Yeah well I have had a lot on my plate.’
‘The divorce you mean?’
‘Yes. And work. It’s not going great.’
‘Right. But that’s nothing is it? The economy will come right again. And, well yes it’s sad about you and Alice but when things come to an end, well…it’s hard but it’s better to move on rather than try to make things last.’
‘I know. I am over Alice actually. At least I think I am.’
‘Then what is it? That girl?’
‘No. Well not that one anyway.’
‘Not that one? Another one then?’
Dan nodded.
‘Daniel Alexander Jackson! You HAVE been busy!'
'You sound just like Mum. That's why I don't tell her anything. She's always warning me off some woman or another.'
'Well isn’t there always a woman behind most men’s problems? What is it. She married?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so. Look actually its crazy. Or maybe I’m crazy? I really don’t know. It’s pretty confusing anyway.’ Dan could see that Nick was non-the-wiser with what he had just said, so did his best to explain what had happened over the last few days.
‘So you’ve no idea who she really is?’ said Nick once he had finished.
‘Nope.’
‘Or why she would pull such a trick?’
‘Only that she must be crazy. That’s all I can think of.’
‘Maybe. It’s more likely that she’s after something from you.’
‘But what though? I mean I’m hardly a great catch am I. Virtually penniless, divorced, no prospects. Probably won’t have a job next month.’
‘Oh shit, really? That bad?’
‘Yeah, well it was only meant to be temporary anyway. Just a mate doing me a favour.’
‘Can you manage, if, you know…’
‘Yeah I guess.’
‘I mean, we don’t have much but if you need help…’
‘It’s ok, I’ll be fine.’
They drove on in silence. Dan found himself wanting to say something, wanted to express in words something that only existed in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind and yet which he did not truly want to face up to. In the end he just decided to say it and take the consequences.
‘I worry I’m imagining it all. Her, Tess and everything. Sometimes I think I’m really losing it.’
‘Really?’ said Nick looking surprised.
‘Well…no, I guess, not really but, you know I was thinking, no one else has actually seen this girl and…well…I’ve begun to wonder about myself.’
Oh don't be silly. You're fine. It's obvious she's the unbalanced one.'
'Maybe,' said Dan, glumly. 'Sometimes I wonder.'
‘You really think you might be cracking up?’
Dan nodded.
Nick bit his lower lip thoughtfully, then said after a few moments thought, ‘I still think you’re fine but you have been through an awful lot lately. Just be careful, OK? I’d certainly keep well away from this Tess.’
Dan nodded. He wasn’t sure if it had helped telling someone about Tess. Sure he felt better having her out in the open, so to speak but it hadn’t resolved his questions about her. Who was she? What did she want from him? Was she crazy? Or was it him?
It was this last thought that kept coming back to him, despite Nick’s reassurance. Was he losing his mind? How do you tell if you are coming apart? Would you know, would you really be aware if you started acting more and more irrationally? He had been under so much pressure; in the last year, his life, which had seen so serene and secure, had suddenly been turned upside down.
No one else had seen her. Just him. Had he imagined, invented her? He had thought that so many times. But then no, she was real; well, there was a real Tess Williams. Well there had been. Perhaps he had read about her, subconsciously known the address, his mind had made the association without his knowing.
No, that was just too farfetched. Occam’s razor had to apply; when faced with a series of explanations the simplest one was bar far the most likely.
Tess was not Tess Williams. She was someone impersonating her, either for financial gain or else because of some mental problems.
But she was real and he, Dan, was not touched in the head.
He was aware of Nick glancing at him a couple of times whilst he was brooding and he was about to say something to reassure his brother that he was alright when Nick signalled to turn into the car park at Helen’s flat and the moment passed.
In the end it was Nick who broke the silence.
‘Dan, we do worry about you. You seem a bit lonely, a bit wrapped up in yourself and your problems – you don’t mind me saying this do you?’
Dan shook his head.
‘You really need to get out, to unwind, go and see some life again. Why don’t you go out with that girl who called you yesterday? What was her name again?’
‘Jenny. Jen.’
‘Yeah Jen. Go and enjoy yourself. You’ll feel better.’
Dan nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘Of course I’m right!’ said Nick, opening his door, ‘Now let’s get Helen and give you a right good thrashing!’
Sunday Evening
Dan drove back from Sheffield in the early evening. He was stiff and tired and he now was adding worries about his fitness to his other woes. To be fair, this was his first game of golf for nearly a year and Sheffield’s courses were, like the city itself, amazingly hilly.
And he had surprised himself by playing quite well, he and his partner giving Nick and Helen a good run for their money and, in the end, losing only by one hole. It made the pints in the clubhouse taste all the better.
Even then he had intended to get away early but there was a premier league game being shown on the big screen and they all ended up watching it. When he finally pointed the Skoda over the Snake Pass the sun was dipping down below the hills. By the time he was through the queues at Tintwhistle he knew that there was no way he was going to make his regular supermarket before it closed. That was one of his regular weekend jobs gone for a burton. He resigned himself to shopping at his local Co-op; it was open until late. The fresh stuff was a bit limited and the prices steep but at least it would tide him over until later in the week. Whilst driving he tried to form a mental list of what he needed; one thing he could remember was washing powder, he had used the last when he had put the load in on Saturday morning.
‘Oh hell,’ he said out loud because that had reminded him of something else. He had left the washing machine on when he had left the flat, it had not finished its cycle. He wasn’t, after all, intending to be long, he was only going to the supermarket when he had left. The washing would have sat wet all weekend. Great. He tried to remember whether he had any clean shirts in the wardrobe but then remembered the pile of ironing in the airing cupboard and groaned. Well that was his evening sorted then, he’d be ironing. He hoped there was something decent on TV to watch whilst he was doing it, whilst making a mental note never to let it pile up again.
Not surprisingly he was not in the best of moods when he went around the Co-op, grabbing things that he hoped he might need off the shelves as he passed rather than working through his normal carefully produced list. At the checkout he winced at the size of the bill compared with the smallness of his shopping.
Still, his purchases were heavy enough. The cheap carrier bags cut painfully into his hands as he hauled them up the stairs.
‘Get a ground floor flat or a place with a lift next time,’ he muttered to himself as he juggled with the door and bags, then door bag and keys as he reached his front door. Once inside he staggered the last few yards to the kitchen before one of the bags finally gave up the ghost and split, spilling its contents over the floor. Luckily nothing seemed to have split or broken so Dan sighed with relief whilst he wriggled his fingers trying to get some feeling back into them.
Before putting the shopping away he decided to he had better get the washing out of the machine, hoping that it was still reasonably fresh despite having sat for the best part of a day and half. He hauled it out into the laundry basket and carried the chill wet mass into the lounge, setting it down on the table whilst he set up the clothes dryer by the window.
He stopped.
That was odd.
He always kept the dryer in the same place, propped up next to the radiator in front of the windows in the lounge. It wasn’t the prettiest of things but space was at a premium in the flat and Dan couldn’t find a home for it anywhere else. He knew he shouldn’t really leave it out but there was no one else there to complain about it so he couldn’t see the problem.
Whatever, the dryer wasn’t there. He stared at the spot where it normally was for a full 30 seconds trying to remember when and why he had moved it and, more pressingly, where he had moved it to.
Eventually he found it, tucked almost out of sight between one of the settees and the wall. Puzzled, he pulled it out and set it up. Whilst hanging the wet clothes on it he wracked his brain. When had he moved it? And what had possessed him to put it there? That was just the place where Alice would have put it.
He stopped, shirt in hand. Where Alice would have put it? Well yes, because it was a bit of a girly thing to do to put practical things away out of sight wasn’t it? He couldn’t see the point; not many of his men friends could.
And as he stood there he knew that something else was niggling him, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. What was it? He looked around the room.
Then suddenly he got it.
It was the TV remote. It was always in the same place, on the coffee table where he could always find it. Now it was on the arm of the settee. Just where Alice would have put it, next to where she would sit, in control range. At first they had joked about it; later it was the spark for arguments.
He shivered. This was stupid. He was seeing things, getting paranoid, seeing things in inanimate objects that weren’t there. He must have put it there, just as he had put the dryer in it’s odd place. He’d probably done it when he was drunk last night. He put the fact that he was sure that they were not in these places when he had left the previous day to the fallibility of memory. He continued hanging the washing out, deliberately trying not to look around the flat for anything else that seemed out of place. When he had finished he tossed the basket into the bathroom where it live and went to put the shopping away.
But when he opened the first cupboard he knew that he wasn’t being paranoid.
He jumped back in alarm feeling almost physically sick.
He kept his cupboards in a slightly chaotic, disordered way. It suited him that way, he didn’t like organisation. Now his three cupboards were perfectly organised, cans with cans, rice and pasta together with all the other dry goods, bottles together in the third.
Now he knew for certain.
Somewhere had been in his flat whilst he’d been away.
Alex's Blog
I do not often have the luxury to write a long piece like this. I am usually far too busy – and where I work I need to be, being surrounded as I am by idiots. I have no idea how they survived before I arrived, before I was forced to work with them. They have not a single original idea between them. Not just the staff but the so-called management too. Mental pygmies the lot of them.
But I digress. I know from my twitter followers that many of you appreciate a proper insight into my thinking. I also know that some of them – a minority, admittedly – have expressed doubts about my mental health. I do not care. I personally have no doubts about my mental faculties; my thinking is as clear as my purpose. In any case what is insanity in this insane world?
Some people, even some men I note, call me a misogynist. I do not know how many of those actually even know what the term means but that is by the by. I would argue that I am not, I just follow a simple, standard philosophy. I need certain things. I do not wait to be given them. I see what I want and I take it. It is just like being paid a salary to recompense you for your talents. Instead of being paid by a company this is just society giving me recompense for all I contribute through my intelligence and my life's work.
And why not? It's not as if these women fail to use their special 'talents' to advance their careers is it if they want to play in the boy's world then they should be aware that the game has an entry fee. They should be honoured that I am the one that is paying attention. They should treat my attention as if it was a job interview.
But there are the others too. The short skirted, fame-seeking tarts who would drop their knickers for any footballer players they find out on the town. They are after just one thing -- no perhaps it is two things on reflection. I was going to say it was just money but in this fame obsessed world where the talentless line-up eagerly to be consumed by the even more talentless, like moths on the arc light of the media, there is little doubt that they court fame and notoriety two.
They have their uses, I grant you that. They are generally more adventurous, more earthly, and, quite frankly, more used to being abused. They also have the advantage of being easier to consume, subsume and inhume. Their passing does not create great waves of interest. If they show any slight hint of unhappiness, if they exhibit any discomfort in my company that sign tends to be their last in this life. This is again where I am infinitely more sensible than the footballers. Time after time their adventures end up in the courts. Ruined careers, ruined lives, all over a moment of pleasure with a worthless little tart.
This will never happen to me. At the first suggestion of resistance, of doubt, of potential betrayal I act just as I do in business -- ruthlessly, decisively, definitely. No comebacks, no argument, no risks to me. I have done this so often now that I know the routine. I used to be soft, forgiving, I used to follow society's rules but not any more.
It's amazing how few times they are missed. Amazing but not surprising. Not in this sick, sick world.
No, nothing surprises me -- other than perhaps that my acts are viewed by society as shocking. And I'm not of course; I am a symptom. All I am is the white blood cells of a diseased circulation.
I clear the body of scum, of foulness. I am the cleanser.