Mike should’ve said no to the second cup of coffee. He’d only taken a mouthful when Adele called Dan to tell him she and the baby were ready to be picked up. The coffee was still too hot to down in one, so Mike had taken it with him when Dan turfed him out, with a promise to return the mug later, or ‘Adele will string you up by the goolies. Goolie. Sorry, bro.’
Sometimes he wished he’d never mentioned it, but he’d thought his brothers might help him find the humour in what was a pretty humourless situation. For what it was worth, his sperm count hadn’t dropped, and everything else was in good working order, but when he looked in the mirror…well, he didn’t if he could help it, not down there.
There was a time when he’d admired his body in its state of arousal. Sure, it was vain and maybe a bit kinky that he could get off by watching himself getting off. He’d flex his biceps and roll his abs, tense his glutes and watch the muscles ripple, hard and defined, while he intentionally worked up a sweat, or even applied oil beforehand for lubrication and the sheen on his skin. At forty-two—when Anne had kicked him out for the final time—he’d been a decent-looking bloke, more than just good for his age, which was why he’d thought nothing of Rachel chatting him up that night, in his hotel bar in Greece.
That was what stung the most. When he was with Anne, women came on to him all the time. It was usually while he was working, and he’d flirt with them but also make it clear he was a married man, and a faithful one. He’d loved Anne—still did in many respects—and not once had he considered cheating on her. Even after the divorce had finalised, he’d felt a twinge of guilt if his attraction to anyone else surfaced unchecked.
Looking back, he realised his love for Anne was what kept him sane through all the crap with Rachel, because he remembered the guilt, and how it had stopped him from approaching a woman, or letting a woman close if she approached him. Rachel had refused to be put off by his apologetic compliments—you’re very beautiful, but I’m not looking for a holiday fling—and from what he could remember, he’d enjoyed their night together, but she was gone by morning, and he was relieved. Remorse was no cure for a hangover.
So he knew, rationally, that Rachel had played him from the outset. She’d gone after him not because she found him attractive, but because he was Andy’s brother. Later, when she’d started talking to him like he was a piece of shit, he’d kept reminding himself he hadn’t led her on. He still loved Anne; the divorce made no difference, he still felt like he was cheating. Next came the physical stuff, but it didn’t matter. Mike was already beating himself up over the unlucky coincidence that had put him and Rachel in the same hotel at the same time…
…Until he saw the girl from the travel agent’s in the public gallery in the courtroom. She was there for Rachel, her best mate who’d landed in a bad relationship because of a one-night stand and an unplanned pregnancy. Hormones, well, they can make women do crazy things, like commit murder.
And it all came back to him, that day he’d gone into the travel agent’s to ask about the cheap weekend in Amsterdam advertised in the window and come out with a week all-inclusive in Greece.
The man he was six months ago would’ve blamed Rachel for everything, and she was far, far from innocent. But he could’ve stuck to his guns and gone to Amsterdam. He could’ve said no to drinks in the hotel bar, stayed sober enough to make sure they’d used a condom, or even stopped it from going that far. She was a manipulative, clever woman, who had used him as bait in an attempt to catch his brother, but he wasn’t exactly a helpless worm impaled on a hook. He’d been doing a perfectly good job of messing up his life before Rachel came into it, and whilst she’d put a huge dint in his self-confidence and cost him a testicle, she’d also given him Bethan. But if he could go back and do it all again, he’d make sure he never met Rachel Perry.
Maybe she fancies you. Dan’s tongue-in-cheek remark about Mrs. Hunter had given Mike the heebie-jeebies. He was confident she was nothing like Rachel, and he did think she was attractive. Dan might’ve found the idea of being chased by a woman flattering, but Mike couldn’t deal with it, not yet. Maybe when he could look at himself in the mirror again, he’d be ready. Until then, he’d rather be on his own.
Enough wallowing already, but then painting was like that. On the plus side, while he’d been away with the fairies, he’d finished the closet walls, which meant he was done. An entire apartment in just over two days. He backstepped out of the closet into the lounge and rotated on the spot, checking for bits he’d missed, on the lookout for visible seams in the wallpaper. He gave himself a pat on the back for another job well done and went to give the bedroom a once-over, on to the kitchen, and lastly the bathroom, taking a long-needed pee while he followed the newly whitened grout up, down and across each wall.
There was a noise, in the living room.
Mike’s eyes widened. He was mid-stream, and the bathroom door was open.
The cat. Of course. It was going dark outside, and Mrs. Hunter had said it came in at night.
“Hello?” a female voice called.
“Shit,” Mike hissed under his breath, kicking back with his heel in an attempt to close the door, but it was too far away. He coughed loudly. “Just in the bathroom. I’ll be out in a—”
Behind him, the apartment’s owner gasped. “Oh! Sorry.” The door clicked shut.
Mike tried to pee faster, but it was impossible. He shook off, zipped up, flushed the toilet and quickly washed his hands, preparing to face his unexpected company. He’d known she was due back this evening, but she’d implied it would be later.
“Hi.” Mike offered a quick smile as he emerged from the bathroom.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She looked as embarrassed as he was.
“It’s all right,” he assured her.
“When you said ‘in the bathroom’, I thought you meant you were working in there, not… Yes, well…”
“My fault. I should’ve said I was using the loo. So anyway—” Mike gestured to the living room walls “—it’s all done.”
The owner—he still couldn’t recall her name—looked around her and smiled. “Oh, this is wonderful, Mike.” She moved closer to a wall and smoothed her palm over the paper. “Absolutely perfect.”
“I had to fill a few holes in the bedroom.”
“Ah, yes, behind the bed.”
“Yeah,” Mike confirmed, following her to the bedroom but remaining in the doorway while she inspected his work. “And I shifted all the stuff from under the bed to that cupboard.”
“OK…thanks.” She blushed, and Mike felt a bit sorry for her, but he hadn’t been through what was under her bed. He knew what he’d kept under his own bed when he was single and without a child, and Charlie had told him a lot of women looked at porn. There’s a thought… He hoped Charlie had cleaned up her computer before bringing it to the house, although…maybe they shared the same tastes? That would be an interesting turn-up, something to talk about, or not.
Using her room inspection to cover her embarrassment, the woman turned on the spot. “Thank you so much, Mike. Celia said you were a quick worker, and you’ve done such a fantastic job.” She stopped turning and looked him over. “I thought she might be overstating things a little, what with her thinking you’re a fitty, and all. Although I can see what she means.”
Mike should have been blushing right back at her. Instead, he felt the blood drain from his face as his heart switched to overdrive. It was a compliment, and perhaps a hint on her friend’s behalf, in case he was interested. It wasn’t as if she was hitting on him, although it appeared Dan had been right about Mrs. Hunter…Celia. Mike wasn’t going to be telling him that anytime soon.
Oblivious to his overreaction, the woman asked, “Has Theodor given you any trouble?”
“Theodor? The cat?”
“Yes. He goes into a sulk when I work away. Have you seen him?”
“No. He’s not been near.”
“Ah, he’ll be fine.” She took a step towards Mike, and he quickly got out of the way, returning to the living room, where—he really wished he could remember her name—she picked up her bag from the sofa. “Cash or cheque?”
“Cash, if that’s all right?”
She took out her purse and extracted a thick wad of twenty-pound notes, wetting her fingers to count out his payment. Mike took the opportunity to gather together the rest of his equipment. “Here we are,” she said, handing over the bundle of notes. “There’s a bit extra there, to compensate for embarrassing you earlier.” She winked at him, he assumed to indicate she was joking about why she was giving him extra, rather than there being a bit extra there to begin with.
“Cheers,” he said, shoving the money into his pocket without counting it and then handing over her door key. “Any problems, give me a shout, and I’ll pop back and sort them.”
“Thank you.”
With no reason to delay further, Mike left, crossing paths with the elusive Theodor on his way out the door. The cat gave him a dirty look and disappeared inside.
Mike was halfway down the stairs before he remembered the coffee cup and reluctantly retraced his steps back to—
“Gillian!” The name came to him in a flash.
“Back so soon?” she said as she opened the door—with an open tin of cat food in one hand, and her mobile phone between her chin and shoulder—and offered him an amused frown.
“Yeah, sorry. I left a mug in the kitchen.”
“Ah. I wondered why I didn’t recognise it.” She stepped aside and let him go through to get it, all the while continuing with her phone conversation. Judging from what she was saying, Mrs. Hunter was on the other end of the line. Mike didn’t like the way Gillian laughed as she said, “No, you filthy mare, I did not get a look at the package, although—” she lowered her voice “—it’s kind of obvious anyway, isn’t it?”
For a second time, Mike made a quick getaway, dumped his stuff in the van and went to Dan and Adele’s.
“I’m not stopping,” he said, holding out the cup when his brother opened the door.
“You all right?” Dan leaned closer and studied Mike’s face.
“Yeah. Just…tired and in need of a long, hot shower. Everyone OK?”
“Yeah.” Dan grinned. “Everyone’s great.”
“Good. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“All right, bro. Night.”
“Night.”
Mike returned to his van and sagged into the driver’s seat, taking a couple of minutes to sit back, close his eyes, and breathe. Being ogled and talked about like he wasn’t even there was not nice. If he ever reached a point where he was interested in women again, he’d keep in mind that it was more humiliating than flattering. Still, they weren’t to know that his ‘package’ contained damaged goods.
He opened his eyes again and started the engine, elated to finally be heading for home. With no pending jobs, he was looking forward to spending a couple of days with his daughter, and, with any luck, while Bethan was sleeping, he’d have time to get Charlie’s computer up and running, assuming she’d remembered to bring it.
It was quite an effort to get out of the van and open the gates to his mum’s place, although Pez was on his way down the driveway and signalled to Mike that he’d shut them on his way out. Mike gave him a thumbs-up. He was a nice kid, not his fault Rachel was his sister. Mike wished he was big enough to get past it and let Pez get to know his niece. Maybe in time…but would it be too late? Bethan was six months old already, and each day he was away from her, she’d learnt something new. Kids grew up so fast, and Mike was torn, between wanting to protect himself and his daughter, and doing the right thing for Pez and Jacqueline Perry.
He steered around the fountain and stopped the van, looking in his rear-view mirror. Pez was long gone. Mike dragged himself out of the van and went inside.
The faint sound of applause drifted across the atrium from the living room TV and died away, leaving the distant whirr of a treadmill belt. Wearily, Mike trudged across to the living room and peered through the open door. “Alright, Len?”
Len acknowledged him without looking away from the TV. “Mike. Your mum’s taken Bethan over to your place. She wasn’t settling.”
“OK. See you in a bit.” Mike set off again, too tired for a detour, really, but curious to know who was in the gym if it wasn’t Len or his mum. “You’re still here?”
Charlie pulled out an earphone and kept on running. “Did you say something?” With each step, her dark ponytail swung from side to side, and Mike was mesmerised. She clicked her fingers at him.
“Huh?” It took a second or two for Mike to remember what he’d said. Charlie was fit—in both senses—and it could be quite off-putting at times. “I said you’re still here.”
“So it would seem.” Charlie grinned at him and powered down the treadmill. “I brought that computer. I left it in the office.” She rolled her eyes. “Len offered to take it over to yours for me, and I told him to do one. I’ll take it over now.”
“Cheers, but don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”
“I’ll give you a hand with the peripherals, then.” She waited for Mike to nod in agreement before following him to Len’s office, although Mike was perfectly capable of carrying a computer and monitor the short distance to the summerhouse. Or he would have been, if that was all there’d been…
“Bloody hell, Charlie. What’s all this?” He stared in amazement at the printer, scanner and a ton of other stuff in boxes, all piled on top of Len’s desk. “Is there even a computer in that lot?”
Charlie laughed. “I thought you might as well have it all. The router is probably too old now, and you can just throw out anything you don’t want. Honestly, I won’t be offended.”
“That’s a lot of kit.”
“Yeah, but most of it I got for free. Kind of.” Mike gave her an enquiring look, and she shrugged. “The firm I was working for went under, and the boss dropped me in it—left me to deal with the receivers—so I nicked as much of the office equipment as I could fit in my car.”
Mike shook his head in disbelief, although he was chuckling. “No wonder you get on so well with Len. Right, what’s—” He’d been about to ask what was heaviest but realised it didn’t matter. “What do you want me to take?” he asked instead.
“Whatever. You can grab the computer, if you like.” Charlie shifted the stack of boxes out of the way so Mike could get to the computer and then draped the cables across his arms. “I’ll follow with the rest,” she said.
Mike eyed the boxes.
“Go on,” Charlie prompted, giving him a gentle shove to send him on his way.
The computer wasn’t that heavy at first, but by the time he’d made the twenty-yard trek to the summerhouse, every muscle in his arms was burning. He was pleased to see that Charlie was faring no better and had abandoned some of her hoard along the way. She stepped past him and opened the door, letting him go in first.
“Hey, Mum,” he called and quickly dumped the computer on the kitchen counter—the nearest free surface.
“Evening, Michael,” his mum replied quietly and with a finger to her lips. She got up from the sofa and came over to fill the kettle. “Goodness. What’s all this?”
“Charlie’s given me her computer.”
“Oh.” His mum gave Charlie an approving nod. It was a funny relationship the two women had. They saw each other a lot during the course of the day, and they were always civil, but they kept to their own domains as much as they could and were careful not to get in each other’s way. There was a lot of respect on both sides, but they were very different.
“In return, Mike’s going to teach me how to decorate,” Charlie explained. She left them momentarily, to collect the rest of the stuff.
“Oh,” his mum said again and peered up at him, leaning back a little so she could get his face in focus. “You know a bit about decorating, do you?”
Mike gave her a sickly grin. “Has she been a pain?” he asked, nodding towards the bedroom.
“Not really. Just grisly. She hasn’t slept all day, so I thought I’d get her into bed. How did you get on with the flat?”
“All done.” Mike stretched and rolled his shoulders, grimacing at the aches and pains. Charlie arrived with the last of the boxes. There was no space on the worktop, so she dumped them on the floor. Mike acknowledged her with a nod of thanks that morphed into a yawn. “Day off tomorrow, thank God.”
“Ah,” his mum said, matching his grimace. “Shaunna called to say her boss left money for the materials and you can start whenever you’re ready.”
“Ohhh.” Mike rubbed his eyes. He needed a day off. All right, it wasn’t really a day off, but a day at home would’ve been nice.
The kettle boiled, and Mike’s mum made two cups of tea, pushing them towards him and Charlie. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“No problem, love.” She squeezed his arm on her way past and left.
Mike handed one of the cups to Charlie. “You need sugar?”
“No, thanks.”
He put sugar in his own, picked up his cup and went over to the sofa, sitting bolt upright for fear he’d nod off if he got too comfortable.
Charlie sat at the other end. “Couldn’t you leave it for tomorrow?” she asked. “Hayley won’t mind, I’m sure.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah. She used to cut our hair when we were little.”
“Really? She doesn’t look old enough.”
Charlie raised her eyebrows. “I can’t decide if you’re saying she looks young for her age, or I look old for mine.”
“Well, you’re what? Mid-thirties?”
“Thirty-five, yeah.”
“And Hayley can’t be any older than fifty.”
“Hm…a bit older. She didn’t get married until she was thirty—she went on her honeymoon just before I started year four.”
“How do you remember that?”
“Mate, if you’d seen the haircut Hayley’s stand-in gave me, you wouldn’t forget, either, believe me.”
“That bad?”
“Shocking. It was like up here on this side—” Charlie tapped the side of her hand halfway up her left ear “—and down here on this side.” She tapped her neck and nodded very seriously. Mike chuckled.
“Like a Veronica Lake?”
“Who?”
“Yeah, that’s me showing my age. She’s looking good, then, Hayley?”
“She is, and she’s lovely, too. When Jess was sick, Hayley gave Shaunna loads of time off. She really looks after her. And she did Jess’s hair.”
“When she… At the undertaker’s?”
“Yep.” Charlie shook her head and chuckled ruefully. “She’s a good egg, is Hayley. Can you imagine doing a job like that?”
“Hairdressing in general, or just the corpses bit?”
Charlie glanced sideways at Mike and said nothing. He laughed. “Are you squeamish, Charlie?”
“About death? Not even slightly. You don’t grow up Roman Catholic without seeing more than your fair share of dead people.” She slurped at her tea. “I used to have a t-shirt with that on it—I see dead people. My mum confiscated it. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d only come home from uni for the weekend, and I didn’t bring any other tops with me.”
“God, I hope you weren’t sweet-talking when you said she’d like me.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine. The rules don’t apply to heathens.” She grinned at him.
“Good to know.”
They sat in silence, drinking their tea, and Mike’s thoughts drifted back to his conversation with the woman at Dovedale, and how uneasy he’d felt, alone with her, in her apartment. Yet, sitting here with Charlie, he was perfectly relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, it was only when he turned to thank her again for the computer that he discovered she’d gone, leaving a note tucked under her washed mug.
You fell asleep. Get an early night and take a day off! Cx
* * * * *