Looking at it ringing in her hand she could see it read, ‘No Caller ID’. She pressed the answer button and put it to her ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Sarah?’ She instantly recognised Stephanie’s voice.
‘Stephanie? Is there a problem? I didn’t forget to pay?’
‘No, Sarah, everything’s fine. Is it convenient for you to talk for a moment? I’d like to speak to you about an idea. Something came into my mind after you were gone. I hope you don’t mind me calling you. I know it’s not very professional, but it was an idea that I thought might help you after what you said today. I would very much like to help you Sarah.’
‘I can’t be long. I’ve just got home and mother’s waiting.’ She looked over at the window, feeling the blue eyes questioning her, and closed the car door. Cupping her hands over the phone she whispered, ‘She can see me.’
‘That’s nice.’ Inwardly Sarah sighed as Stephanie continued. ‘Um, this is a bit delicate, and please don’t take offence if it’s not what you want. But you see, I’ve this male client, and I know you two would really hit it off? Look, putting it bluntly Sarah, would you like me to arrange a date for you? He’s a really nice man, but a bit older than you. But I am sure you would like each other. And it would be good for you.’
Sarah leaned against the car, her eyes on the house. How was she going to explain this to her? Someone phoning her. Her mother would not let this go easily. The phone was burning from the heat of her face. She cleared her throat, trying to think.
‘Um, I don’t know. Do you mean a date? A date? No, I don’t think so. No.’
‘Don’t say yes or no yet, think about it. He really is a lovely man. He’s in a band. Well, actually not so much a band as he’s a musician.’
‘What d’you mean?’ The curtain twitched again, she could feel the impatience radiating towards her. What was Stephanie talking about? She brushed her forehead with her free hand.
‘I know he’d like you and I’m sure you’d like him. It’s just you said you’d like to meet a man.’
Sarah tried to concentrate, but she could see her mother’s shadow, stationary at the window. A date with a man!
The curtain twitched.
‘Stephanie, I’ve got to go.’
‘You may have heard of him. He’s quite famous.’
Sarah turned away from the house. If she couldn’t see her mother, she could ignore her for a few moments.
‘He’s Robert D’Lyn? ‘Stephanie persisted. ‘Robert D’Lyn, you must have heard of him?’
Robert D’Lyn? She recognised the name but couldn’t put a face to it.
‘Um, Stephanie, I really have to go.’
‘Yes of course Sarah. I hope you don’t mind me suggesting this. It’s just that I know he gets very lonely as well. I know he won’t mind me telling you. And you’ve so much in common. Think about it. And I’ll see you next week. OK?’
Sarah put her phone back in her bag, her ear and cheek blood hot from the conversation. Taking her time to lock the car, thoughts of all she had to tell her mother were clouded by the usual day dream building in her mind.
Sarah walks slowly up the drive. She is dressed in black, a black veil hangs over her face, hiding the smile. All the curtains in the house are static. Her step is light. Neighbours and friends stand in their driveways and on the pavement; they stare at her with solemn respect and she wallows in their sympathy. She takes her time inserting the key in the door for the first time in her life, and opens the door slowly. Stepping into the hallway there is only the sound of silence.
Opening her eyes she walked towards the house. Would it ever happen? Would she miss her? But deep in the pit of her stomach, as it churned with every step towards the front door, she knew she would not. As usual before she had a chance to put her key in the door, it was wrenched open on its hinges.
‘What was all that about? Who would want to phone you?’ Sarah closed down the screen to her mind to answer the relentless interrogation. She didn’t mind, it would return. It would usually be there again in the evening as she rewrote the script and perfected it while subjected to her mother’s favourite television programmes and non-stop vitriol of comments on each subject that may be raised. Adultery in Eastenders; abortion in Coronation Street; politics in Emmerdale; the list endless, her voice unremitting. She would find something in every programme to set her off. But tonight Sarah had a different escape plan, tonight she had the diversion of thinking about Robert, Robert D’Lyn. Where had she seen that name?
*****
Crunching along the gravel path in her wellies, Stephanie watched the dogs leaping around each other, happiness radiating from their wet cold noses to their wagging tails. She thought over the conversation she had earlier with Sarah, and decided to risk phoning Robert, informing him she may have found someone with whom he would feel some connection. She was determined, they were so right for each other. Pressing the fast dial she put the phone to her ear smiling as she watched the dogs chasing each other, until a squirrel took their attention. Thankfully neither of them caught it this time. A few months ago one of them had carefully laid a squirrel at her feet and she had stared with tears in her eyes as it tried in vain to crawl up her leg before it died. His voice broke the image.
‘Steph.’
‘Hi Robby, wasn’t sure you’d be in.’ She was the only one who dared get away with calling him Robby.
‘Leaving in about an hour. How are you?’
‘Me, I’m fine. Look I’ve just had a chat with a lovely girl, and she’s keen to meet with you? I’d like to set it up?’
‘A little more info, please. Last time, remember?’
She refused to let her mind take her there, instead she persisted,
‘Sarah, her name is. She’s lovely. She’s very pliable. Naïve like you have never met before.’
‘Sounds promising. But are you sure about this one? Sure it’s what you want?’
‘Yes, oh yes. She’s lovely. I’m seeing her again next week, I’ll let you know what she says, and text you her number.’
‘Yea, OK. Speak to you then.’
Stephanie flipped the phone shut without bothering with the goodbye. He wouldn’t expect anything different. Putting the phone back in her pocket, she breathed the fresh air into her lungs and concentrated on her walk with the dogs. Her pace quickened as she relaxed into her step and whistling for the dogs to return, she heard them bounding through the undergrowth of ferns towards her. Picking up a couple of sticks, she threw them one each.
The last girl she had set him up with had been an unmitigated disaster and she still felt shocked at exactly how badly they had got on. The woman had presented to her with caring tendencies and had managed to completely repress her total hatred of the male species until meeting Robert. Stephanie guessed she had only agreed to the date in the first place because of his fame. It was what she banked on with all of them. And so far no one had disappointed her in their unfailing human fallacy of being impressed with fame and fortune.
She wondered if Sarah was the right person, or was this another mistake. She couldn’t afford to do that again. Luckily, last time the woman had decided for herself it was all wrong before anything happened, and had driven Robert back to his place.
He related to Stephanie with theatrical aplomb how the woman drove in silence from the pub, but on arriving at his home demanded to be let in to use the toilet, then left the house without saying goodbye leaving the front door open to the elements. It was not that Robert minded the absence of a farewell, on the contrary he was one to arrive or depart without a remark, but she left the house whilst he was in the kitchen and he had no idea she had gone. Swearing under his breath, he’d looked out the window, then swore louder realising he would not be able to see where she had parked her car. He’d had to search the house to make sure she hadn’t wandered off into some room or, heaven forbid to find the bedroom, before putting his shoes back on and walking all the way down the drive to see if she had indeed left.
A drop of rain landing on her nose broke Stephanie’s thoughts. She looked up at the sky; it was still mostly blue with just the one black cloud hanging over her. Pulling the hood of her parka up over her hair, she trudged on knowing she was in need of a good hour’s hike to walk and sweat the day out of her system if she wanted to make a good impression at the club tonight.
Mind you, it was Robert’s own fault, he should have collected her, not let her do all the driving. But he never could resist a drink, and if he was doing the driving he wouldn’t be able to. Yes, she would make sure this time he picked Sarah up, but she felt she knew Sarah well enough to know that he would have to, because she would not drive to see a man. She might be pliable, but in an old fashioned manner, courtesy and politeness would be top of her list. She seemed a bit of a prude really. It was a point in her favour, because Robert would find her behaviour as seductive as she did. Then Stephanie felt the niggle of a doubt. Was she such a prude it might not work?
*****
The walk, as she knew it would, had revived her. Stephanie tingled all over with expectation, fresh air and a sharp shower. Two steps in through the club door and she stopped to look around. On her left she was met with her own reflection in the full length mirror and she smiled. Her black hair fell straight down her back; straight as a yard of pump water her mother repeatedly told her through her childhood and into early adulthood. She had wanted curly hair; prayed nightly on her knees for it, but even now there was not a wave in sight. She was now old enough to appreciate the straight hair and considered time far too short to bother with curling tongs or curlers. What both she and her mother had not expected was, as she got older, her hair grew thicker and shinier, to become so black it gave the appearance of almost being blue; like the feathers of a raven.
Her mother now repeatedly said it was one of her most redeeming features. Why, Stephanie thought, was it a redeeming feature? What did her mother think it redeemed? She certainly knew nothing about her lifestyle. Or did she in some way have an idea of what she did at night? Stephanie didn’t waste energy considering this thought, but let it slip through her mind for the moment.
Light glinted off the gold at her throat, the blue blouse looked dulled down in the reflection, but she was pleased to see the glow in her face persisted. The dark lighting of the room reflected back to her a legless woman; her black trousers were camouflaged against the floor and seats. Large brown eyes framed in mascara and black kohl stared back at her for just a second before she turned her head and looked round the room.
A couple sat in the corner. Close. His arm resting on the back of the soft brown settee, waiting. He was waiting for that subtle signal from the woman, giving him permission to lower his arm onto her shoulder. Further round the room she observed six empty tables before seeing a table occupied by a lone man. She nodded her head slightly and he returned the acknowledgement with an eager smile. With an almost imperceptible shake of the head she continued her scan of the room as she walked towards the bar.
At the bar were three or four people randomly spaced on stools. Some were sitting with their drinks in front of them, using the mirror above the bar to watch the entrance, whilst others sipped their drinks with their backs to the bar openly and expectantly watching for newcomers. She was aware how some of the eyes followed her as she approached the bar. She didn’t bother looking down to her right because it was still too early in the evening for anyone of interest to be on the dance floor. Her peripheral vision indicated the coloured lights had not yet been turned up to encourage people to dance.
‘Rum and coke, please,’ she called along to the bar man when she reached the bar. He put down the already dried glass he had been drying and moved to serve her. While she waited for her drink she lifted her matching blue purse to bar level, but before she could open it she heard.
‘Let me.’ Recognising his voice, she didn’t bother to turn her head, but replied,
‘Thanks but, no. A one night stand is just that.’ Smiling up at the barman she knew as she counted out her money the man would be retracing his footsteps to his solitary table. Stephanie lifted the condensation covered glass to sip through the straw, enjoying the cold fizzing taste in her mouth. She sat on a stool with her back to the door.
Her hair attracted the men, and even if they made the assumption she was younger than she was, when she turned to smile at them, few were disappointed with what they saw. She knew she was attractive, she enjoyed being attractive, and she took full advantage of the knowledge and gift she had been given.
With her thoughts on previous conquests, she was caught unprepared when she felt the hand at the crown of her head sweep down the length of her hair. Her basic instinct to turn and raise her hand to strike the man’s face was almost impossible for her to resist. Placing her glass deliberately on the bar surface, she swivelled round on the stool wearing her sweetest smile.
‘I couldn’t resist it,’ he offered as explanation.
The palm of her hand still itching to strike as she wedged it under her thigh.
‘Obviously,’ she replied, meeting his eyes.
‘No seriously.’ He laughed. ‘It’s like when you’re a child, and you’re standing in a queue or even worse in a lift,’ he paused and placed one hand on the bar in front of her while looking at the floor, then a fleeting look up to see if she was listening. She kept the smile on her face, encouraged him to continue.
‘Go on.’
Looking back to the floor and he continued.
‘There’s a beautiful golden brown fox wrapped around some large breasted old woman, who smells of talcum powder and lavender, and it doesn’t matter how well you have been taught by your mother, you can’t resist touching it. You know the old bat’s going to scowl at you, you know your mother’s going to slap and beat you when the lift doors open, and you are pushed, no, shoved out. But knowing all this and your heart is beating, your hand is getting clammy, so you have to do it quick before it’s too damp to appreciate the feel of that beautiful soft fur, you can’t resist touching it.’ He paused and looked up at her smiling. ‘And when I saw your hair, that’s how I felt.’ He looked up through his eyelashes, waiting. She stared back. ‘So are you going to scowl?’