Exhausted, she fell into an armchair, the adrenalin evaporating into a kind of tiredness, but not a tiredness she was familiar with; she was smiling. She laughed. When was the last time she had sat in this room and laughed so randomly? Closing her eyes to enjoy the feeling, an image of her father came into her head. He was smiling down at her. Opening her eyes, she realized there was something familiar about the feelings after all. It was a feeling she had all those years ago and hadn’t felt for such a long time. She felt happy.
The taste flooded into her mouth, her head buzzed. She felt the happiness drain away for just a few seconds at the sound of the voice, but then Robert appeared;
He rides towards her on a white stallion, waves his arm at her, his mouth shouts something she cannot yet hear. She looks down at herself and sees she is dressed in a long white dress. She twirls around. She waves back. They are on a hill, the sun shines down on them. She cannot see it but she hears a trumpet blast. As Robert comes closer she becomes aware of someone who stands next to her. Looking up she sees her father, he smiles down at her, takes hold of her hand. He is still so much taller, she feels like a little child again. Robert dismounts and walks towards them. She watches as he approaches, their eyes not leaving each other. When he stands beside her, she looks around. There are people, people smiling at her, people with cameras taking photos of her. She is sure they were not there a few moments ago, but the notion drifts from her mind as she feels Robert’s hand taking hers. In front now stands a man with a white collar, his mouth says something she cannot hear. All she hears is the trumpet, she wishes for it to be quiet, but it blasts through her head. Robert and her father fade, the trumpet gets louder.
Sarah didn’t want to open her eyes. She wanted the dream to go on but it was lost and over. An unfamiliar sound echoed round her head. She blinked her eyes open adjusting them to the light of the room. She could see it was dark outside not having yet pulled the curtains. The noise shrilled round her head. What was it? Shaking herself she pushed herself out of the comfortable seat. Standing, a deep weariness took over her body before suddenly coming too and realizing the smoke alarm in the kitchen was going off.
Of course, her dinner! Gathering herself she rushed from the room down the hall and into the kitchen to be greeted by volumes of black smoke. She pushed the back door open and then threw open the window above the sink. Turning to the hob she clicked it off, grabbed the pot and holding the lid down tight she took it out into the garden. The shrill noise was still going off, so taking a tea towel from the hook she swirled it in the air, trying to dissipate the smoke. Eventually the noise stopped. Leaning against the wall she watched the smoke thin, then looking at her watch was shocked to see how late it was. Too late to start again, she would be better off in bed.
.
S
arah could hardly contain herself as she waited for Robert. She couldn’t believe he was coming to the house to pick her up. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach. She walked into the lounge, sat down and grabbed the television remote control; as soon as she was sitting, she wanted to stand again, but she remained sitting, taking deep breaths as Stephanie had told her to, if she got too excited. She clicked the television on, and the programme randomly turned to one of her mother’s favourites. A DIY programme. Her fingers refused to push down the buttons on the remote control. She sat transfixed by the programme, sitting in her mother’s chair, the faint aroma of tobacco reached her nostrils, somewhere in her head she heard her mother’s whining voice calling her name. She sprang out of the chair, rushed at the television and pulled out the plug. Her heart thumped in her ears.
‘Those chairs need to go.’ She spoke to herself out loud, making herself real again. She also decided she would phone Dr. Short on Monday to let him know she would be back the following week. It wasn’t the money she needed, it was the company. She had enjoyed the workmen coming and going, making cups of tea for them, listening to their talk and banter. It was different to the women at work. She missed the women’s gossip, their trivial conversations, their mundane questions that they didn’t really care about.
She walked upstairs to check her face in the mirror again. She had put more make-up on than she had ever used before and worried if the eyeshadow suited her. It was the same colour as her dress, and the models in the magazines wore it like this. After making sure it was ok, she went and stood in front of the full length mirror she had bought for herself. Her mother would never have allowed such extravagance.
The dress was black with small bright red polka dots printed on it, the new season’s design, she had seen a dress similar in her new magazines. She thought the style of the dress was a bit old fashioned, reminding her dresses worn in old black and white films her mother had watched. She had been as strict about films as she had about the books. War was alright in her mother’s eyes.
Now Sarah could watch anything. Though she had not had time to watch anything new yet. She played with her hair, holding it up in a pony tail, turned her head this way and that, then let it fall down over her shoulders again. She had not had the courage to face a hairdresser. Nor had she quite decided how she wanted it cut. As a child her mother had cut her hair. The other children had teased her how it was so straggly and uneven all the way round. When she started work she had managed to stop her mother cutting it and her hair had grown thin and straight, but at least it was reasonable even now.
She looked down at her shoes. Red shoes. She loved her new red shoes. She had longed for red shoes as a child. She pointed her feet in the mirror, one at a time, turned around to see how they looked from the back; so pretty with their little red bows.
Her mother had always insisted on brown and plain, while all the other children at school had platforms, heels or little pixie boots. One pretty girl, in her first year at school, had pink wellington boots decorated with white and blue clouds. Sarah remembered how silly she had been to keep praying to God each night for an exact pair. She recalled by the time she was eight years old she had given up on God.
Although school had been preferable to being at home all day, it had not been easy. Once she had started junior school, all her thoughts were on the day she could leave school and go to work, and leave home. The sound of the car pulling up the drive broke into her thoughts. She pulled the dress down at the sides, took a deep breath; the butterflies fully alive, on ecstasy and dancing now.
She turned sideways to see what her back looked like. She was pleased with the effect. She walked slowly down the stairs, holding tightly to the banister as she breathed long and deep.
*****
Robert drove the car up the gravel drive. Looking through the windscreen at the house in front, he checked the number again. Yes, it was the correct house, but he would never have guessed. If asked he would, without a shadow of a doubt, have predicated she lived in a house completely different to this one. Getting out of the car he could look up and see even more. It was old and beautifully built, the spiral chimney stacks were classic, and in the window, which he guessed would be the stairway, was an incredible leaded glass window. This Sarah was not quite the poor little girl he assumed she was. He walked up to the oak door, and raised his hand ready to press the bell. But before he could do so the door was pulled open.
Again, he was pleasantly surprised. He had been expecting her to be dressed in another cheap outfit, looking sorry for herself, grief laden and pitiful. Instead he saw a beautiful young woman, in an expensive dress, smiling without a care in the world. On the drive over he’d decided not to bring up the subject of her mother, unless she did, this was a date after all and he wanted a bit of fun. Death would bring them down—mind you looking at her, maybe it wouldn’t. Faced with her smiling face, he thought grief obviously agreed with her and decided his intuition on the subject was spot on.
‘Hey Sarah,’ he leant down to kiss her on the cheek, ‘good to see you again’.
The light of the porch was bright enough for him to see her face go crimson under the make-up. A little too much make-up for his tastes, but she would look good on his arm tonight. He had planned on taking her to the same place as before, but now he had seen where she lived and how she looked, he’d call Oxfords on the way and take her there. They would find a table for him even if it was a Saturday night.
‘Um, I’ll, I’ll just get my coat,’ she stammered. He was a little dismayed that her oral ability hadn’t improved, but then a silent woman was ok, if she looked this good. He was beginning to see what Stephanie had seen in her from the start. He felt the stirrings of excitement. Yes, Stephanie may just have got it right this time.
She came back with her coat and he slipped his arm round her as he escorted her to the car. Opening the door, he watched her sit on the seat and swing her legs in after her. No self tan, but very fine tights. And a nice pair of pins.
‘I thought I’d take you to Oxford’s tonight, if that is ok with you?’ He asked before starting the car. He reached for his phone as he spoke, dialled their number, not expecting her to speak.
‘Oh, yes, that would be great, I’ve read about it. There was a review in the local paper saying how good it is.’
Ignoring her, he spoke into his phone, ‘Andre, hey man, its Robert, yea fine thanks. Any chance of a table for two? … About half an hour? Great.’ He clicked his phone off. Starting the engine, he reversed down the drive. ‘Music?’ he turned to ask Sarah.
‘That would be nice,’ she smiled back, showing her perfect white teeth.
Maybe he should ask about her mother? He had offered his condolences on the phone when he rang, surely that was enough. But she seemed perfectly happy sitting listening to the music. It was one of his own compilations, a new one he had put together over the last month. Robert Unplugged he liked to imagine it was. He could release it as that. She should feel honoured to be listening to it. He’d only just finished it and she was the first person to hear it.
‘D’you like the music?’
‘Yes, it’s very nice.’ She turned and smiled again, not adding anything further.
Nice! Nice! Fucking nice, he thought. Not another fucking stupid bitch. He looked over at her, his hands clasped tightly round the steering wheel, he withheld the sigh deep inside as he smiled back. She was very young and according to Stephanie very naïve. Turning his attention back on the road he carried on listening to his recording, and gradually his hands relaxed. God, he was good.
*****
Stephanie sat at the bar waiting. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had agreed to go on a date, but it was a long time. She wasn’t even sure why she had agreed to do this with Trevor. But she suspected it was because she knew Robert and Sarah were going out tonight and needed her mind on something else, otherwise she knew she would be phoning or sending texts to discover how it was going. Robert promised he would let her know as soon as he’d dropped Sarah back home.
She sipped at her rum and coke while she waited. He wasn’t late yet, she had been deliberately early, she was always early, she then felt she was in control. But if he was a minute late she would walk. She never waited for any man, and had no intention of doing so now.
She had phoned him to ask if he was going to the club. He suggested meeting somewhere else. She immediately refused, but eventually he had argued the benefits of meeting here and she had agreed. He asked again for her number in case he was late, she explained she wouldn’t be there if he was. She never waited for anyone. She heard laughter before she hung up.
‘Hi,’ she heard behind her. She glanced at her watch, he was a couple of minutes early.
‘Hi,’ she replied as he bent down for a kiss. As she turned to give him her cheek, his lips touched hers. She felt the touch run down to her toes. What was it about this man? How could he have such an effect on her? At least it was only physical, she consoled herself as she looked at him. She knew deep down the reason she agreed to see him was because she liked the way he touched her, the way he performed sex. Seeing him here caused her to doubt her sanity. He really wasn’t who she wanted to be seen with. And yes, there were the ever present cowboy boots firmly planted on his feet. If anyone she knew saw her with him, she would die of embarrassment. Good god, she noted, the boots were actually a different pair to the ones he had been wearing the last time; these were snake skin, or some amphibian, the others had been embossed leather. Christ, he must have other pairs of them. What was she doing?
‘Do you want a drink,’ she asked.
‘I’ll get them,’ he smiled down at her his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. ‘You go and grab one of those seats by the window? That big leather sofa looks inviting.’ He turned his head to the bar expecting her to make her way over there. Looking at her drink for a couple of seconds, she tried to convince herself it was only politeness keeping her in the bar but had to admit to herself, she couldn’t think of an appropriate retort to his order. She got down from the stool, grabbed her drink, and walked over to the settee. She sat in the middle so he would have to sit opposite her when he arrived.
Through the large expanse of window, she watched people walking past outside. Some hurrying, others taking their time; Christmas lights and decorations from last year’s boxes decorated the shop windows. A few pathetic lights had been hung from the street lights. She turned to look around, a few decorations hung from the ceiling; bits of holly and ivy were stylishly placed here and there; nothing too ostentatious. The television sets in each corner were enough distraction, even with the sound turned off. She was surprised more people weren’t in here, and counted only eight other bodies, besides Trevor, who was just making his way over to her, carrying two large drinks. It was quiet for a Saturday night.