Someone Else's Dream (17 page)

“Get the lady an orange juice,” he shouted out. In no time at all, Mallethead laid the orange juice in front of her. Hayleigh sipped at the warm liquid. Cavan finished his pint and started on the one Hayleigh had slid over to him.

“Why have you brought me here and what’s stopping me from just leaving?” she asked him. Cavan grinned and placed his half full glass, gently in front of him.

“Nothing, nothing at all, I’ll even call you a taxi if you want.” He put his pint to his mouth then set it down without drinking. “The jobs done you see, as long as that husband of yours knows I can get you anytime I want to.”

Hayleigh stood up to test his theory. Hearing her supposed husband mentioned had fuelled her curiosity, although it didn’t completely surprise her. She made her way over to the exit and looked back at Cavan who was still sitting there watching her. She found herself outside looking at the busy street. No one had tried to stop her, so she walked back into the bar. Crazy Cavan was still there, staring at the doorway as if expecting her to return. She sat back down opposite Cavan.

“Now you’re going to tell me what this is about, “she instructed him. Cavan smiled again.

“He owes me money from a little job we done and I’m just letting him know I want my money.” The revelation didn’t surprise Hayleigh as much as she or Cavan thought it would. She’d always guessed there was a darker side to Dale.

“Why does he owe you money?”

“You wouldn’t want to know sweetheart,” Cavan grinned at her. He looked over at the bar for Mallethead to bring him another beer; it was there in no time.

“Tell me,” Hayleigh appealed, “and I’ll leave enough money for your beer all night.” Cavan let out a loud guffaw; he did so like this woman.

“He paid us to desecrate a grave in Doncaster, you must have heard it on the news; all your husband’s doing.” The look of shock on her face indicated to Cavan she indeed had no idea what Dale had been up to.

“Wwwwhy.. but why on earth would he want to do that?” she stuttered

“I’ve no idea. But now he won’t pay up. Says we got the wrong grave, it should have been one Aimee Conner’s gravestone.

Hayleigh immediately threw what was left of her juice into Cavan’s face. His first instinct was to get up and smash Hayleigh and he almost did so; until he saw the look of horror on her face. Mallethead came over with a bar cloth and Cavan wiped his face. Hayleigh just sat there, tears rolling down her face. Cavan looked at her, the anger now gone from him, unsure what was actually happening, unsure what it was he had said that disturbed her so much.

“That’s my daughter’s grave,” Hayleigh sobbed.

Those words disturbed Cavan greatly. His immediate thought was of pain; the pain he was going to inflict on Dale Simpson for putting him in this predicament.

“Why would he want to do that to his own daughter?” he asked gently.

Through her tears Hayleigh replied, “It’s not his daughter, she was mine.”

Cavan rang Towser and asked him and Mallethead to take Hayleigh home. He refused Hayleigh’s offers of money for beer, or otherwise. He also promised Hayleigh he would not pursue Dale for money, but he couldn’t promise that one day he wouldn’t seek him out and inflict some pain on the man. Hayleigh was quite fine with that, in fact, she encouraged it. Cavan gave her his phone number and told her to call him if she ever needed him. Hayleigh’s story had touched what few heart-strings the thug still had left. He felt responsible for some of it and felt he owed her. Cavan may not be the consummate professional, but he always repaid a debt.

As soon as Hayleigh got home she called the locksmiths. It had cost her a small fortune but the locks were soon changed. Now she just had to wait for her husband-to-be, or not-to-be, as now was the case, to come home.

Dale Simpson walked into the Nag’s Head some thirty minutes after Hayleigh had left. Cavan was still there. Dale went over to him and laid down an envelope with £500 inside and left; with no words passing between them. Thirty minutes after that Towser and Mallethead returned,

“You need to go back to Doncaster,” Cavan told Mallethead.

“Awwww... why man, I need a beer,” he whinged at Cavan. Cavan handed him the £500 pound he had received off Dale.

“The church we went to, the lady said there’s a fund box there and I want you to put that in it.”

Mallethead didn’t ask why, He always did exactly what Cavan told him; he hadn’t gotten the nickname, Crazy, for nothing. Cavan wasn’t bothered about the money.

Dale drove home thankful he had sorted out that little problem. Now he would have to think of another way to get revenge. Matt Connor had to pay.

*              *              *

“So why have you chosen Porthcawl?” asked Marcia. They were sitting in a Costa Coffee on the services of the M4, having a coffee and cake, after having made some excellent time. The sun was beating down and it was turning out to be one of the nicest days of the summer. Matt brushed off the crumbs of his cake from his shirt, onto the table and wiped his mouth with a serviette.

“I dunno, I just fancied a weekend away, Porthcawl seemed as good as anywhere,” he replied. He could see from the look on her face she wasn’t convinced. “Okay then,” he laughed, “I’ve started writing a book and there’s a famous author who lives in Porthcawl and writes, whilst overlooking the sea. I was hoping to write a couple of chapters while sitting at the beach or something, see if it inspires me.”

Marcia was quite taken aback by this revelation. Matt hadn’t seemed the type to be a writer to her, but she quickly realised she didn’t actually know what ‘type’ made a writer. Her response was one of shocked surprise.

“WOW... that’s brill. So what’s your book called? What’s this other author’s name?” she asked enthusiastically. Matt was genuinely pleased with Marcia’s interest, which he thought of as sincere,

“My book is called ‘Stalker’ it’s a thriller. I’ve only written one chapter so far. The other author’s name is, Carla Reid. She’s written books about Charlotte, a back-street kid come good, I read the first one and it was really good.”

“Are you going to look her up while we’re here?” Marcia asked. Matt grinned and sipped the remains of his coffee.

“Of course not, I have no idea what she looks like or where she lives. I just want a nice break to do some writing and research and be inspired.”

“Good on you!” Marcia encouraged, though she was thinking it might have been a little more exciting than he had just suggested, but she was feeling really glad that Matt had chosen her as a companion. With clear blue skies, they got into the car to head towards Porthcawl.

Arriving mid-afternoon, Marcia was secretly delighted at the place. It was very busy and the beaches were large; the sea was murky, but both Marcia and Matt knew that was common to the British Isles. The Town Centre was buzzing as they drove through, and the quirky shops and bars seemed to be drumming up the business. They drove past the fairground with the usual fairground chimes playing and the sounds of delighted, screaming children. Managing to park close by to the booking-in area, the lure of Ceaser’s seaside fish and chips, was just too tempting. It was every bit as good as the aroma had suggested, Marcia deciding to ignore the calories for this weekend. They picked up their keys and drove to the designated caravan.

“Wow this really is lovely,” gushed the delighted and surprised Marcia.

“Only the best for us,” Matt replied.

The electric caravan was vast and luxurious. It housed a large living area with fitted luxurious seating. The kitchen was fully equipped with a dining table and benches. The shower room was surprisingly large, with an ample shower and sink, with the separate toilet small and compact. It was the bedrooms that were the most surprising. There was one bedroom with single bunks that was really small, but it also had two large double rooms with adequate wardrobe space. They both stood in the largest bedroom when Matt spoke first.

“Let’s try it out then, shall we?”

“Twice in one day, you’re an animal Matt Conner,” laughed Marcia. Matt laughed with her,

“Well, we may not get the chance again,” said Matt.

Marcia lay on the bed and took her panties off as Matt mounted her. She wasn’t quite sure of his comments, but all she could really think about was trying to burn off some calories after the fish and chips.

There was no foreplay or kissing, as Matt made love hard and fast until he had finished, not knowing or caring if Marcia had a good time or not. It had made Marcia feel like a used piece of meat, and again that thought went into her head,
what if I said no?
She involuntarily shivered.

“I’m going to the shower and getting changed. You can have that room, it’s the nicest; I’ll have the other one,” Matt said. “This really is a nice caravan,” he added.

Marcia’s face betrayed her shock, but she did not say anything. She naturally thought that they would be sharing the same bed together and she had no problems with that, in fact, that was what she wanted. Now, he had not only shocked her, he had also disappointed her, but she tried to hide the disappointment on her face.

Marcia unpacked the few provisions that they had brought with them and made two coffees whilst Matt showered. She wanted and needed a shower herself, so while she waited she hung her clothes up and chose what she would wear that night. Matt came out of the shower brazenly naked and went into his bedroom to get changed, thanking Marcia for the coffee as he grabbed it to take with him.

Marcia got her soap bag and took it into the bathroom. She was pleased to see Matt had been respectful and left her half of the shelf for her own toiletries. She started laying them on the shelf when she noticed the bottle of tablets. Curiosity got the better off her as she looked at the label.

Matt Conner

Fluoxetine.

One, four times a day

She knew they were a form of Prozac. The bottle was half full and she checked the date they were issued. She sympathetically thought about what he might have been going through with the death of his daughter, but that was some years ago and she was surprised to discover he was still taking the anti-depressants. The only thing that annoyed her, was the amount left in the bottle. Matt Conner had clearly not been taking all his tablets.

She tried to put it to the back of her mind when she showered. She wanted to enjoy the weekend, never mind how strange it was turning out to be. When she finished showering she went into her bedroom to get changed and apply her make up, taking particular care on her fading bruises. She checked herself in the small mirror and praised herself, as she felt she hadn’t looked this hot for a long long time. She could hear the television in the living area as Matt waited for her. When she walked into the living area she was hoping Matt would comment on her appearance and was delighted when he told her how nice she looked. She felt buoyant and in a delightful mood. The hunk of a man Matt Conner had just told her she looked beautiful and she was going to be on his arm tonight. She couldn’t remember feeling this good for a long time.

“Where we off then?” she asked him enthusiastically and really didn’t care, Matt Conner could have taken her anywhere, it wouldn’t have mattered to her.

“What?” Matt grunted somewhat.

“Where we going? Where you taking me?” Matt turned the television off and got up to leave.

“Sorry Marcia, I thought we were just sharing the caravan, I thought you realised that. I got things to do, so see you tomorrow, I expect.” He opened the door and left, leaving Marcia speechless.

*              *              *

Back in the now infamous town of Hatfield, as Dale Simpson pulled up outside his house he could see a small group of people standing outside the vast gardens of his house and seemingly laughing and pointing. He parked his car and walked to the house, his heart missing a beat when he saw Hayleigh. She was leaning out of the bedroom window. Below her on the ground were a pile of black rubbish sacks. Dale knew they weren’t full of rubbish, though, he could see one had split open and inside the sack were his shirts. The people watching started cheering as Hayleigh chucked another sack out of the window, narrowly missing Dale as he approached.