There had been a knock at the door, but Jeff and Rita hadn’t heard. So when, seconds later, the door suddenly opened and Emma stood there staring at them, utterly appalled, they were taken completely by surprise. They simply froze and stared right back at her. Jeff was the first to snap out of it. He pulled a sheet across to cover his bare buttocks and tried to get up, but his pants were bunched around his feet and he fell towards Emma, sprawling headlong onto the floor. She shrieked and quickly stepped back, out into the corridor. Still backing away, she mumbled some hasty apology then fled.
From his prone position on the floor, Jeff stretched an arm to push the door closed, then let his head sink to the floor.
“Oh God,” he moaned, “Oh God.”
Feeling as embarrassed as he had ever been in his life, he lay there, a sad crumpled, faintly ridiculous figure, wrapped and tangled in the sheet like an overgrown chrysalis unexpectedly fallen from its branch. But, in the depths of his personal hell, Jeff was amazed to hear giggling. What? He struggled clumsily to his feet, tripping repeatedly on the knotted sheet. What? Rita was giggling! Jeff was hugely indignant; what the hell was there to laugh about? Desperate to retain some dignity, he tried to pull up his pants whilst also attempting to keep the bed sheet tight around him. It was hard work. And, all the while, Rita giggled helplessly. She had fallen back into the pillows, trying to stop the noise by covering her face with her hands. But it was no use, she simply had to laugh. If you couldn’t undo or take back what had happened, you might just as well try to see the funny side of it.
But, to Jeff, the funny side of this particular situation seemed a very long way off. And still Rita laughed.
“Will you please stop,” he begged.
Rita sat up and nodded furiously, holding her hands still tighter over her mouth. But the giggles continued. Jeff pulled himself up to his full height and wore his most serious face; the one that he imagined lent an air of authority to his delivery when he was lecturing. He cleared his throat to speak.
“Rita, I see nothing even remotely funny in this situation.”
That was too much. The sight of her husband trying to be pompous whilst wrestling both with his half-mast pants and a tangled bed sheet, was too much for Rita. She fell back and erupted with renewed laughter. Jeff hobbled to the bathroom.
By the time he came out, Rita was calm once more.
“You OK?” she asked.
“Me? Me? You’re the one who was manic.”
“Sorry, but you must admit, it was very funny.”
“No, Ree. It was not funny.”
He pulled on a sock.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To find Em of course.”
“To say what?”
“God, I don’t know. But I’ve got to say something.”
“OK, just give me a minute, I’ll come with you.”
“No,” he said quickly, “You stay here. I want to speak to her alone.”
Rita had paused as she got out of the bed. Sitting at the edge of the bed, she absorbed what Jeff had said and then settled back into the pillows, pulling the sheet up over her.
“OK. Good luck.”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Jeff?”
“Yes”
“What are you going to say to her?”
“I’ve told you, I don’t know. I’ll think of something. See you later.”
Annie looked up from her armchair in the lounge and saw Neil and Dave standing at the door, looking like extras from the Python’s lumberjack sketch.
“Neil?” she shrieked, “Neil, is that you?”
Dave noticed an almost imperceptible shiver pass through Neil’s body.
“Yes, Annie, of course it’s me,” said Neil, his voice giving away none of the distaste that Dave had read in that shudder, “Who else would it be? Hi...Is Phil here yet?”
“No, not yet. Come on over,” she whined childishly, patting the seat next to hers, “I’ve got no one to talk to.”
Reluctantly, Neil walked over, but Dave hung back, unsure of the dynamics at play between these two.
“And who’s this?” said Annie spotting him. She beckoned for Dave to come over. Neil looked back.
“Oh yeah. This is Dave.”
“Well, hello Dave,” said Annie, lavishing one of her most radiant smiles on him. She loved meeting Neil’s latest pretty boys. And this one was very pretty. Such a pity, she thought, ruefully, that all the best looking guys were gay. She smiled at Dave again and saw him awkwardly return her smile. He was naïve this one, she thought, not the self-possessed, Teflon egos that Neil usually attracted. He looked vulnerable somehow. It was with a momentary twinge of regret that she wondered how long this one would last.
Annie was distracted from this line of thought by Neil asking her how her music was going. Neil then sat back and let the tide of Annie’s self-obsessed chatter wash over him. For the next half hour or so, he had little cause to say a word; simply raising an eyebrow from time to time seemed sufficient encouragement for Annie to continue. And Dave, normally so talkative, was all but silent as Annie enthused and expounded on her soon-to-be glittering singing career, without any apparent need to pause for breath. Dave shifted in his chair, waiting for the topic of conversation to change. Even had he been able to interject, he could have contributed little to Annie’s monologue as he’d never heard of the mid town venues she mentioned and, perhaps against type, he had never cared for the music of the great jazz divas. But, much as he wanted to divert the conversation, Dave wasn’t yet sufficiently sure of this friend of Neil’s to interrupt her. What Dave couldn’t understand was why Neil wasn’t saying anything. Why wasn’t he bursting to tell this woman about the two of them and their new life together? In fact, rather than wanting to tell Annie about the new love in his life, surely his biggest piece of news since they’d last met, Neil seemed to have forgotten that Dave was even in the room.
Eventually, Annie and Neil barely noticing, Dave excused himself and left. If the rest of Neil’s old friends were like this one, Dave wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with the week. Back home, in the familiar surroundings of the ad agency and the vibrant city that was the background to his world, Dave felt, and exuded, an easy, extrovert confidence. But here, away from the city, in the company of Neil’s oldest friends and the echoes of his life way back before Dave, the situation was proving very different. Here, Neil was Dave’s sole familiar point of reference and Dave realised that he was totally dependent on Neil in a way that he never had been before.
Soon after meeting Neil for the first time, just three months ago, Dave had come to believe that they were made for each other, needed each other and would be able to give each other all the support and reassurance they would ever need. Yet even then, Dave had always been confident in his own separate role, his own abilities and his own, individual place in their world. Until now, he had always managed every situation. At the agency, he was respected; he was good at what he did and he knew it. So, for Dave, this feeling of being out of his natural environment, and alone, was horribly unsettling.
He decided to take a walk, to clear his head.
Bill was still outside, watching the kids playing on the climbing frame. They seemed oblivious to the chill in the air but Bill, who had on a thick jacket, was stamping his feet to keep warm. Looking up, he nodded at Dave, inadvertently obliging him to come over and introduce himself, though he would rather have had a few quiet moments alone.
“Hi.”
They shook hands.
“Hi. I’m Bill.”
“Hi. Dave. I’m… I’m here with Neil.”
“Oh, where is he?”
“He’s inside, with Annie,” said Dave, “…so he could be some time.”
“Talking is she?” said Bill with a smile.
“God, is she ever. Does that woman ever stop?”
Bill smiled again.
“Believe it or not,” he said, “her talking hides a lack of confidence.”
“Certainly hides it well,” said Dave, “I tell you, she was non-stop.”
Bill decided he’d better stop Dave before he dug himself too deep a hole.
“Annie’s my wife,” he said simply.
Dave winced with embarrassment and raised his hands apologetically.
“Man. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Bill smiled again, “It’s OK, really.”
Now Dave didn’t know what to say.
“You see,” Bill explained, “Annie has to believe in herself. She’s trying to make a career in a really tough business and she has to fight every step of the way. But deep down...deep, deep down, the poor girl is full of self-doubt. Try not to be too hard on her.”
“Yeah man. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, but-”
“No. No buts. It’s OK. Annie can sometimes be a little overwhelming, believe me, I know.”
“Thanks man,” Dave paused, “Think I’ll take a walk now. Catch you later?”
“Sure, later,” said Bill, still smiling.
Jeff was outside Emma’s room, knocking on the door for a third time.
“Em,” he pleaded, in an urgent, shouted whisper, “will you please let me in? Em, we should talk.”
There was still no response and the door remained locked. He considered getting the manager to use a master key to open it, but no, he’d rather deal with this himself. There was no need to get anyone else involved; he was embarrassed enough as it was. He listened in vain for some word, or any sign from the other side of the door, but there was nothing. He gave up and returned to his room.
From the edge of the clearing Dave wandered into the forest, following a narrow path that rose ahead of him. It might be cool out in the open, but under the trees the air was noticeably colder. He began to walk more quickly to keep warm. As the path crested a ridge, Dave looked down at a series of waterfalls and pools.
“Cool!” he whispered, something of his usual enthusiasm returning, “Now that is cool.”
“Who’s there?”
Dave was startled. Who had spoken? It sounded like a girl’s voice.
“Hello?” he said, looking around.
“Who are you?”
“Dave…Dave Lowell. I’m staying at the hotel.”
“How long have you been here?”
“We arrived this afternoon.”
“No. I mean how long have you been here, in the woods?” asked the voice.
“I just got here.”
“You weren’t following me?”
“What? No,” said Dave, confused, “Why would I be following you?”
He was sure the voice was to his left, so was again startled when a girl stepped from behind a rock directly in front of him. Dressed all in black, her face very pale, it was Emma.
“Don’t know, but something started following me after I got into the trees,” she said, “It kept creeping towards me,” she shuddered, “I ran away, but it just came creeping after me. I was so scared. I just ran and hid here. Then you came,” she stepped closer and looked up at him, “Can I walk back to the hotel with you?”
“Sure,” said Dave, alarmed at what she was telling him, tensing as he scanned the rocks and undergrowth for any movement, “What was it, d’you know?”
“Jeez, I don’t know; a wolf, a bear? Maybe a stalker. I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I only heard it. But it was big, I know that much,” she tugged at his sleeve, “Please, can we go now?”
Em was shaking and obviously very frightened. Her fear was infectious and, beneath his borrowed shirt, Dave could feel the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck begin to tingle. He looked around, listening carefully, wary, as he offered Em his hand and helped her scramble back up the ridge. As they made their way back along the path every snapping twig and creaking branch had them both jumping, panicked, nerves alert to any sign of pursuit. They didn’t stop to investigate any of the sounds, but hurried on as quickly as possible, almost running until they burst through the trees at the edge of the clearing.
Once back in the weak sunlight, they slowed down and Emma began to relax a little. She let go of his hand.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Dave.”
“Thanks for the rescue Dave,” she said, with a weak and unconvincing laugh. She felt foolish now for having let herself get so frightened back there in the forest, “Guess I must have imagined it, yeah?”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Please, can we forget it? I’m Emma, by the way. I’m here with my Dad.”
“Is your Dad still in the forest? Should we go find him, let him know you’re safe?”
“No, he’s back in the hotel,” said Emma, her face falling into a sullen glower, “humping my stepmom.”
Dave winced. Kids sure were open about things these days. He was lost for words. Had he heard her right?
“I walked in on them,” Em continued, “God, it was so gross! And Dad got up but he was all tangled up in the sheets and he fell over right in front of me, right on the floor. Jeez, he’s such a dork!”
“Is that why you were out there?”
“Yeah.”
“Did your Dad get angry?”
“Yeah.”
“And… are you OK?”
Em guessed where the question was leading.
“No, he didn’t get angry or hit me or anything. He never does anything like that. My Dad likes to talk any problem through, y’know? He goes on and on and on, saying everything like a million times, just to make sure you’ve got the point. No, he’d never go ballistic but it was just, y’know, really gross. I was so embarrassed. I mean, wouldn’t you be, if you walked in on your Dad and his new wife?”
Dave was trying hard not to picture his father doing any such thing. He was feeling out of his depth talking with this girl.
“I…don’t know,” he mumbled, “I guess.”
“I just don’t know what I’m gonna do when I see him next, that’s all. It’s gonna be awful.”
Dave was no longer adrift: he could help with this. He found himself repeating words spoken to him, many years before, by his doting and, for the times, very tolerant aunt. His father had exploded in one of his rages, shouting some truly terrible things, but Dave had taken Aunt Sarah’s advice then and, sure enough, his father had eventually accepted his only son’s way of life. Mind you, this acceptance had taken nearly twelve years of silent patience on Dave’s part. That, and his father’s diagnosis with an inoperable cancer.
Dave said, “Emma, right now your father probably feels just as bad as you do, if not worse. Just wait; give him a chance to make things right, OK?”
Dave was somewhat disappointed to see that the words seemed to hold far less significance for Emma now than they had for him as a troubled fifteen year old. She simply shrugged.
“Yeah, right. Whatever.”
Emma seemed to be completely recovered from her fright and, waving a goodbye to Dave, she hurried off to play with Lisa and Mikey. They welcomed her with joyful shrieks. Left alone, it took Dave a few seconds to shake off the memories of his dying father and of Aunt Sarah’s gentle understanding. Then, looking around, he waved an acknowledgment to Bill, but avoided having to go over to exchange words by conveying, with a vigorous rubbing of his arms, that it was turning very cold and he had to go back inside.
Easy going as always, Bill waved a cheery farewell.