Duplicity (6 page)

Somebody close by the bench was sobbing. It took him a few moments to realise that it was him.

Chapter Seven

He paused from cleaning the wheelchair scuffmarks off the tiled floor. Albert Docker got to his feet. He could hear somebody approaching. The caretaker strained his ears, trying to work out which resident was sneaking about. From the pattern of the footfalls, Albert was willing to bet himself a fiver that those sneaky steps belonged to that Edna Beauchamp. The woman must be heading towards the kitchens again, to see if he’d left the doors unlocked.

As for how the woman would react when Edna saw him standing in the middle of the corridor, blocking her way to the kitchens, now that was different kettle of fish. No money would be passing from left hand to right hand on that outcome.

He liked Edna, he really did but his feeling towards the woman had tempered a little since he woke up a couple of days ago to find his
lost treasure
standing at the foot of his bed.

Albert leaned against the dark blue wall, being careful not to allow his dirty hands touch the clean paintwork and waited for the woman to turn the corner. He suddenly decided that this situation did require for money exchange. His left hand bet his right hand, twenty pence that Mrs. Beauchamp would just smile at him before asking him to buy her a quarter of sherbet lemons. It’s what the senile old fart said to everybody these days.

He still remembered in perfect clarity, that fateful night when he’d barged into the canteen and caught Mrs. Beauchamp sitting on one of the tables with her legs spread, her hand inside her knickers, with her eyes shut tight whilst panting.

Albert should have left her to it, knowing that the shameful woman would have left the canteen and buggered off back to bed in a few minutes but she must have heard him enter the room and opened her eyes. She called him Frank and lifted up her skirt.

The old woman came into view; Edna clocked the caretaker, turned and hobbled back the way she came. Albert shrugged, perhaps he should be thankful that she hadn’t called him a monster and screamed the place down. She’d done that last week, just after the doctors had changed her medicine. It had been very embarrassing.

He glanced down, noting that there had been no signs of life inside the old trouser department when he’d recalled just what he and Edna had done to each other that night in the canteen.

Albert got back down on his knees and scrubbed off the last of the black rubber tyre marks. Thankfully that was the last stain on his tiles. If they thought that he was going to mop and buff as well, then the management could go and take a running jump. This was supposed to be Doreen’s job, the only reason he was doing this was because the unreliable woman had gone and pulled a sickie again, which meant that poor Albert had to pick up the slack.

For once, he hadn’t really minded the extra work as it kept his mind and body occupied. Now that was something that he was thankful. Albert packed away all the gear in Doreen’s cleaning trolley, taking care to place everything back in its rightful compartment.

He’d timed it just right as the bell sounded for lunchtime; this corridor would soon be packed with the nearly dead. They’d all be desperate to get to their own seats in the canteen before somebody stole them. That bell also sounded the end of his shift as well. It was time for him to return to his own room and face his
lost treasure
.

Albert pushed Doreen’s cleaning trolley along the corridors of Eden Crescent’s retirement as fast as its wonky wheels allowed. Old people and food was a dangerous combination and he had no wish to be trampled under that horde of stampeding sloths. Besides, some of the men, at least the more coherent ones had turned into solid shoulders to cry on for the two remaining ladies that Albert had dumped when his
lost treasure
walked into his life.

He slid the passkey into the lock and pushed the trolley into the employee’s ward. The old men in question should be thanking Albert, not verbally abusing him at every opportunity. Albert had helped the old girls re-discover their sexuality, made them more receptive, more open.

They should have jumped in on the rebound and taken advantage of their vulnerability. It’s what he would have done. Instead, they took it upon themselves to attempt to make a life a living hell. One of then even spat in his face this morning as he cleaned up their recreation room.

The saliva that had dribbled down his cheek belonged to his nemesis, Frank. At least that’s what the silly old bastard obviously though he was to the caretaker. What that dumb overly angry pensioner failed to take into account was that Albert retained the same powerful physique that he had back when he was in the army, whereas Frank now resembled a five-foot raisin. It would probably only take a single upper cut to change that bitter old bastard from almost deceased to definitely deceased.

The name had been a coincidence, yet it did seem a little ironic that Edna’s would be defender shared the same name as her long dead husband.

Albert wheeled the trolley into the cleaning cupboard, grinning as he shut the door. Perhaps the old bastards had tried to take advantage and found that they could no longer provide satisfaction. Albert’s grin widened, perhaps the girls preferred a younger man now.

He gazed down, surprised to feel a familiar stirring in his loins. Oh yes, he could see the beginnings of a bulge down in his downstairs department, so there really was life in there after all. Well that was a blessed relief; he’d honestly thought that he’d run out of steam.

A sharp tapping brought him out of his muse. The gentleman from his previous thoughts had bypassed the call to the canteen and currently knocking his gnarly fist against the reinforced glass in the door and showing Albert some very rude gestures. Albert Docker was so tempted to point to the bulge in his overalls and do some gesturing of his own.

In the end, he just shook his head, gave the old man his middle finger then hurried over to the fire door that separated the cleaning area and the employee’s quarters.

Albert took one last look at the furious man behind that glass before he pushed through the fire door, maybe flipping him the bird wasn’t one of Albert’s better ideas.

He watched the door close. Albert shook his head for the third time; they ought to be ashamed of their behaviour, acting like children at their age. They ought to show more respect to other people, as he did.

Hard to believe that it had only been just two days since the arrival of his
lost treasure
. That moment when he opened one eye and saw that beautiful naked woman, dancing in front of his bedroom window will be seared in his mind forever.

As he opened the other eye, the woman was already on his bed, crawling over his rigid body, towards Albert’s face. This had to be the most terrifying experience in Albert Docker’s rather uneventful life, but the fear didn’t stop his body reacting to her proximity. The feint scent of Obsession floated up both nostrils; oh my god, the woman was even wearing his favourite perfume.

She must have noticed his stirrings in his trouser department and pulled the quilt off the bed. The question of the woman’s identity flew from his mind when she wrapped one slender hand around his rigid shaft. She gently squeezed then released. Albert stroked through her short-cropped blond hair, hoping that this dream would never end.

As he padded along the corridor, heading towards his own door, he began to think that perhaps there really was possible to have too much of a good thing.

It didn’t take Albert long to realise that his perfect mate was real and not a dreamt up creation. When his alarm woke him up at five in the morning, he found her sitting on the edge of his bed, still naked and still needing to be satisfied. After two exhausting days and nights, Albert never saw the woman eat or sleep, guessing that she must have caught up on fulfilling her own needs when he had left the room.

All the woman seemed to require from him was constant sex. He found it ironic that his ex-wife used to say the same words to him. Albert wasn’t ashamed to admit that his own sex-drive was way above normal. Perhaps, under the circumstances, this was a blessing as he had yet to refuse her advances.

Albert had done manual work for most of his working life. Underneath his thin layer of fat, lay an impressive network of strong muscle. For a man two decades out of his prime, the caretaker could still take on men half his age. He may have no fear of any of the crowd that frequented his local pub but he would have second thoughts on tackling his
lost treasure
.

The woman’s appearance was most deceiving, she some serious power beneath her slender frame. During their constant bout of sexual athletics, his
lost treasure
had proven repeatedly that she was the dominant partner.

He slid the passkey down and pushed open the door to his room.

Would she still force herself on him if he refused her advances? The thought chilled him somewhat as he knew that even if he fought, he’d have no chance against her. He found it strange that he hadn’t really thought about just who or what she was until now. His virility had clouded his judgement; that and the fact that despite her constant demands for sex were beginning to wear him out, Albert still knew that she was the greatest thing to ever happen in his life.

He’d already braced himself for his inevitable hug. This routine of her running up to him, jumping on to his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck seemed to be her way of showing affection. He also took a deep breath and held it as he walked into the apartment; there were times when Albert thought the woman bathed in that perfume; it was weird how she could almost control the strength of the scent, as if it came out from her pores.

Today though, his hug didn’t materialise, neither did his
lost treasure
.

“Hello, are you hiding from me?”

Albert closed the door and shivered, bloody hell, it was cold in here, were all the windows open?

“Where are you?”

He didn’t like this; Albert was in no mood to play games. As the door clicked shut, Albert noticed another absence; the smell of Obsession had disappeared. Albert then saw the patio doors wide open, made the connections and hung his head.

The mysterious woman had left him. He felt relieved, just for the moment, but that would change in a few hours when his urges returned. Albert then thought of climbing into that cold bed, alone and realised that he wouldn’t be able to last the night without his
lost treasure
.

The time for mourning could wait, at least until he’d warmed the apartment up. As he grabbed the doors, he looked out, hoping that he might be able to spot her. Albert then noticed that a window in the block opposite had been broken. Why hadn’t it been reported to him?

The pieces were slow to connect this time but when they did, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Albert raced across the wet grass, daring himself to believe that his treasure wasn’t yet lost.

His face broke into a joyous grin when Albert saw her in the living room, lying against a French dresser. The grin faltered as he neared the broken window. He was suddenly not so eager to approach her, that liquid coating her naked body was not tomato sauce.

She chose that moment to open her eyes; the woman noticed him standing outside the window, lifted both her arms and spoke her first words.

“Albert, my sweet, please help me.”

He threw away his reservations and climbed through the window to get to his
lost treasure
. He heard the distress in her voice, he couldn’t leave her like that; he just couldn’t.

The scarlet devastation explored up close turned his stomach, his job demanded him to have a strong constitution but this was just too much, even for him. Albert kept his focus on her beautiful body, trying to ignore that untidy pile of gnawed clean bones next to her right hand.

The strong abattoir stink disappeared under the sudden overpowering, sickly sweet smell of Obsession. She gazed up and smiled at him, he tried not to look at those bits of red meat stuck between her front teeth.

“Will you protect me, Albert?”

The bones, blood and ragged lumps of drying flesh stuck to the wall behind her as he watched transfixed when her probing fingers slowly travelled up her inner thigh.

“I need more meat.”

Albert nodded, unable to shift his eyes from what her fingers were now doing. His
lost treasure
arched her back and groaned. It would be a piece of cake to sneak her into Frank’s room, after all Albert did possess all the passkeys for every room.

His heart hammered against the inside of his ribs. The relationship was about to enter a higher level.

“Albert?”

He reluctantly tore his gaze away from between her legs and looked at the woman’s beautiful eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Eight

She flipped the welcome sign over, slammed home the bolts on the top and bottom of the door, and retreated behind the counter.

Debra Birkinshaw wanted to just collapse into her overstuffed floral chair, drink a stupid amount of strong coffee and chill out for a couple of hours. She even wanted sugar as well, despite the doctor ordering her to cut down; Debra felt that today she needed the sugar intake.

That open tub of coronation chicken obviously thought otherwise. Debra sighed; there would be no rest for her until she’s finished the last of her tidying up. The fillings had gone well today. There seemed little point in putting away the chicken tikka and tuna mayo as the tubs were almost empty. She may as well make up some new batches in the morning.

Good lord, just how busy had it been today? Even her bones ached. Debra had only discovered that the chip shop was shut for renovations just before lunch. No wonder she’d been rushed off her feet. Not that she was complaining, mind. Debra could do with a few more days like this. Good business meant more money, something that she was in dire need of.