Twenty - Three

Dead on the stroke of eight Nigel marched noisily into the church hall, causing the rehearsal cast to lose concentration before reaching the end of the first act. Jackie, especially, lost concentration and had to be prompted several times. The director scowled and scribbled furiously in his notebook.

Act One limped to a close, followed by a short embarrassed silence. Then Jackie introduced her fiancé and announced apologetically that he was visiting the rehearsal because it was her birthday. The director sighed petulantly before huffily mentioning that it was his intention to carry straight on with the rehearsal, so would they all please mind saving the birthday celebration and the cake until afterwards. The cast nodded gloomily and set up for the next act.

Jackie hurried over the Nigel and gave his hand a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I know you want to get away.’

Nigel’s eyes darted in the leading man’s direction. ‘I suppose I don’t mind waiting now I’m here.’

‘But you’ll see the end of the play. I don’t want to spoil the opening night for you.’

‘No fear of that,’ Nigel replied, rather cryptically.

When rehearsals continued, Nigel laughed uproariously, but only it seemed whenever his fiancée had a funny line. He stared stonily at Arnold, the leading man, and didn’t crack his face once. As soon as the play ended, Arnold tilted his head in Nigel’s direction and said to Jackie, loudly for all to hear: ‘We can tell who’s got friends in tonight.’

In the pub later, Nigel bought drinks for everyone. It was a hefty round, but he felt a need to impress, especially in front of Arnold. And the leading man, he noticed, was overly tactile, mostly with Jackie.

The director asked Nigel what he thought of the rehearsal. Nigel looked towards Jackie, wondering whether he ought to be diplomatic. Then he glanced at Arnold, and thought about speaking his mind. And, when he saw the leading man touching his fiancée on the hand, he chose the latter option.

‘I think,’ he boomed, pausing for effect and claiming the attention of the assembled company, ‘that it seemed unnatural, the way the actors behaved.’

The director felt a flush rising in his face. ‘Could you elaborate?’

‘The acting was - how shall I put it? - exaggerated. Unreal.’

In spite of remaining outwardly calm, the director felt cold waves of hatred as he stared at Nigel. ‘But it’s a naturalistic play.’

Nigel nodded in agreement, and there was a triumphant gleam in his eye.

‘Let me get this straight,’ the director went on, his voice several degrees colder now. ‘Are you saying it was performed in the wrong style?’

Nigel chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t know anything about styles. It made me laugh in places. It just didn’t seem very real. But then I don’t know much about the theatre.’ He raised his glass at Jackie. ‘Cheers, darling! Happy birthday!’

***

After reading Simon and Thomas a bedtime story, Dave returned to the kitchen and found Mary sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. He sat opposite her and drummed his fingers on the table. Once he had her attention, he smiled.

‘Have you forgotten? It’s your favourite TV show tonight. Desperate Housewives.’

Mary pulled a face. ‘You’re looking at one.’

‘Hey, come on! He didn’t seem that bad to me.’

‘How can you say that? Every time he opened his mouth, he...’ She stopped and shuddered.

Dave smiled thinly and shrugged. ‘OK. He proved he was an ace tosser. But he didn’t do or say anything to make us think he might harm you or the kids.’

‘He really scares me. God! How can you be so insensitive? Couldn’t you see what he was up to?’

‘Yeah, sure, he was playing mind games. But that’s him, isn’t it? I really don’t think he meant anything by it.’

Mary shook her head forcefully. ‘He’s up to something. I know he is.’

‘But why would he be? He’s got a relationship with someone in the States. And why, after all this time, would he want to come back and ... and what? It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘With Ronnie it’s a power thing. And when the court ordered him to keep away from us, he lost that power. I think it’s been festering in him ever since.’

Dave laughed nervously. ‘Well, if you’re that worried about it, why not call the police?’

Mary sighed with frustration. ‘If you don’t believe me, what chance do I have with the police?’

‘It’s not that I don’t believe you.’

‘But you think I’m exaggerating.’

Dave rubbed at his forehead. ‘No, but I know where this is leading. I’ve signed that contract, Mary. If I don’t honour it, they’ll sue me. It’s as simple as that.’

Mary sighed deeply. ‘I know. It’s just I’m scared. When we get home after half term, I’ll be worried sick. I know I will.’

Dave took her hand. ‘Look, Ronnie told us he’s staying in Southend. He’s got family there. He won’t want to travel here that often.’

‘Not at all if I can help it.’

‘OK. We’ll have a great time next week. And when you get back here, I’ll phone you every night. You’ll be fine. Just do as I suggested. Leave the answerphone on permanently and monitor the calls.’

‘Great life I’m going to have.’

‘A temporary measure. Until I get home.’

Suddenly, without warning, Mary’s mood lifted. She giggled and gave Dave a mock punch on the jaw. ‘What could you do to protect me against Ronnie? You’ll have to go to the gym every day when you’re in Blackpool. Build up those muscles.’

‘Good idea. Keep me out of mischief and chorus girls.’

‘You’d better not.’

He giggled mischievously and she knew she could trust him. He glanced at his watch.

‘It’s gone half-nine. I can just about afford a decent bottle of wine. Fancy a few glasses with some of those posh crisps while we watch the next episode?’

‘I could kill for a glass of wine.’

‘Steady on.’

‘And there’s no saying what I wouldn’t do for a bag of those special crisps.’

Dave grinned at her. ‘Looks like my luck might be in then.’ He rose and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘I’ll be a few minutes. I’ll go up to the little Tesco’s in Southborough.’

As soon as he was gone, the telephone rang. Mary was expecting a call from her mother, and dashed into the hall to answer it before it woke the children. But as soon as she picked up the receiver, a cold tingling sensation ran down her back.

‘Hello? Who is this?’

Silence. She tried to speak again, but her voice caught in her throat. She could tell someone was listening at the other end, getting a kick out of her fear. She wanted to ask if it was Ronnie. That truly evil bastard. But she knew he’d left the house less than an hour ago, so it was unlikely he’d be back at Southend. Unless he was ringing from his mobile. She pressed the receiver close to her ear, listening for any background noises. But there was nothing. Just the silence. She slammed the phone down and burst into tears. She stood in the hall for a moment, shivering and sobbing, trying to compose herself. Once she had recovered, she knew she had to dial 1471 to trace the number. She thought the person would know enough to invalidate the trace by dialling 141, but it was worth a try. She was about to pick up the phone when it rang, making her jump. She hesitated, then grabbed the receiver angrily and hissed into the mouthpiece:

‘Who is this?’

It was her mother.

‘Have I called at a bad time, dear?’