Matilda Wren (5 page)

Chapter 4

October 2005

Walking through to the bar, Rachel gave a huge sigh of relief the lunchtime rush was over. She hated that part of her shift. It was too fast and stressed. The various ovens, microwaves, fryers and grills bleeped and beeped for two hours solid; the orders fl ying out of a ticket machine that sat on the gantry. Little notes of paper, with the orders printed in a feint black ink.

Whoever was on that particular station had to be quick to catch them, otherwise the order was lost and forty fi ve minutes later, an irate waitress would be standing in front of you shouting obscenities, waving her arms, going red in the face and almost imploding.

There were constantly members of the kitchen team running in and out of fridges and freezers, shouting out orders to other stations. It was a very noisy place to be and Rachel’s head was thumping.

All she wanted was a coffee, a cigarette and fi fteen minutes peace. The bistro was lively at all times of the day and night but the lunchtime was the worst. The advantage of being situated in Brentwood’s busy high street was that the place was never empty. The benefit of this to Rachel was that there was always plenty of waitressing shifts on offer for her.

The bistro was laid out around a long counter that housed five high-yield espresso machines and several glass display cases, containing pastries and savoury items such as sandwiches. It had an unrefined feel to it; retaining that permanent sense of “just came in from the rain”.

The interior was slightly dingy; dark colours, low light.

Bizarre, raw artwork lined the walls and the muted couch pillows on the leather sofas were perpetually warmed by the sitting locale.

A slight musty scent was partially covered by the smell of roasted coffee that hung in the air; aromatic and alluring.

An odd assortment of tables and chairs were staggered across the wooden floor in front of the bar, each honoring a chic, red lace table cloth. Dried flowers, in miniature glass vases, sat in the middle.

Among the throng of Wi-Fi sipping laptops, sat people reading the dog-eared pages of books or newspapers. There were mothers with babies and prams clogging up the avenues for the waitresses. A small group of college students had taken over the black leathers sofas that lined the walls. The cornucopia of sounds became a mishmash of noise; Rachel always found it surprisingly invigorating.

She put her cup under the coffee machine that sat at the end of the bar and pressed the button. Then she heard him.“Coffee mate”

Rachel’s whole body jolted, as if she had just had an electric shock. Her fingers trembled, as she removed her cup and reached for a spoon. She took a deep breath and turned round to face the voice.

He didn’t see her at first. He was concentrating on the barman serving him; dressed in a dark blue pair of fitted jeans, a charcoal grey T-shirt and white loafers.

God he looked good! The thought overwhelmed her. He was supposed to have gained weight, grown a beard, looked older. The years were supposed to have been unkind.

“Latte, Cappuccino, Macchiato, Mocha, Espresso?” The barman asked.

“Fucking Hell! I just want a coffee”. He snapped back He started sorting out his change. Rachel smiled to herself. He hadn’t changed. He was still just as arrogant. It surprised her, that the thought made her smile. It is hardly a personality trait that should be found attractive, but she did. She always had; in him anyway.

Those seducing blue eyes still catapulted her heart out of her chest. For a split second, Rachel considered walking away, before he saw her, before she opened that door again.

The door that had stayed closed for a long time.

“You’re not causing trouble are you, Mr Fergus?”

The words were out before her brain had even registered what was happening. It was too late now. Walking away was not an option anymore. She had made that initial contact.

She had crossed the line. Rachel knew that.

She knew she should have walked away, before he had seen her, before he could enchant her with that smile; the smile that was enchanting her right now.

Why, out of all the bistros, had he walked into hers?

After eight years, why today? Why did he look so damn good? Rachel’s head was full of why’s.

“Not anymore. Can I get you a drink?”

That smile was still there. It transported Rachel, back to a time where she was young and free, when she first met him, when he had swept her off her feet, when he had managed to take a piece of her heart that would never be owned by another person ever again.

“I don’t finish for another two hours. If you are still here, you can buy me a drink.” With that, Rachel turned around and walked out, to the back of the bar.

He watched her leave and smiled. His day just got a whole lot better. He picked up his coffee and went over to a table that was near the kitchen entrance. He would see her come out when she had finished her shift. He wouldn’t miss her. No way. He had only just found her again.

Rachel sat down outside, on the step at the back of the Bistro. She lit herself a cigarette, dragging deeply and exhaling loudly. The small car park was full, which was surprising for a midweek lunchtime.

She thought it had been more busy than usual. The steps in front of her were littered with cigarette ends and half drunk coffee cups. She cursed the kitchen boys and made a mental note to remind them to clear up after themselves.

She stared out across the industrial sized bins that were lined up against the wall of the bistro; flattened cardboard boxes lay in metal cages to the side of the steps. It was a beautiful day, considering it was still late winter. The sun was high and the air was so still against her skin, she was assailed by the memory of him once more.

Then she realised that, as cool as she had thought she had just handled the situation, it was all undone by the fact she was wearing the bistro’s strict white blouse, black skirt, black low heeled shoe dress code, a very unflattering hairnet and an incredibly dirty apron.

Oh she had it going on all right. She groaned inwardly.

She looked a mess. As if he was going to still be there in two hours. What was there to wait for? She hardly oozed style.

She finished her coffee and smoked another cigarette.

Walking back through to the kitchen, her mind wandered back to the day she realised she could not be with him; not ever. They were seventeen and completely smitten.

Actually, infatuation was probably the better term to use; it bordered on fanatical and obsessed. It only lasted a few months. Rachel put a stop to ‘them’ on January 24th 1997. The date she will remember forever. It was the day she made either the best decision or the biggest mistake of her life.

Even now, nine years later, she did not know which one it was. She knew that there had not been a day gone by when she had not thought about him, dreamt about him, fantasised even. Sean Fergus.

She had fought against her every instinct every day. He was the love of her life. That she was certain of. But they were self destructive together. That she was certain of too.

Although nothing had ever happened between them when they were together that had caused her to think this, the amount of sheer physical emotion she felt for this boy terrified her.

At seventeen, the brain is not mature enough to cope with that magnitude of passion. She genuinely believed, what she felt for him would be what destroyed them in the end. So, she had chosen to stop it before it got to that point and in doing so had spent the rest of her life trying to get over him. She had jumped from one serious relationship into another, searching for someone that would give her back the part that he had taken; stolen. One child and a few relationships later, time had still not ameliorated the constant ache that consumed her daily.

She had never let anyone in fully after him. She had fallen pregnant during her first relationship after they split up. She thought that would make her move on, but it hadn’t.

She still thought about him constantly. That particular relationship had fallen apart and the second one finished because Rachel wasn’t in love, pure and simple.

Now the third relationship, her current relationship, was different. She was in some kind of love; the comfortable kind. She had built a family, and convinced herself it was enough this time. Contentment had a lot going for it.

It wasn’t a perfect relationship and it had been through its fair share of trauma but it had lasted and it was for this reason alone that she pursued it. Even so, he was still there, in the background, in her thoughts, just as frequently.

Rachel sometimes wondered if it was because they had never had sex. That it was all built up sexual frustration. If they hadn’t refrained, then maybe the intense feelings would have fizzled out, the relationship would have run its course and she would have moved on, then able to give herself completely to another.

Was it all just about that raw, penetrating desire that is full of enticement, temptation and allure? It had always fascinated her, how a basic emotion could control a whole lifetime; that desire could be dangerous and destructive.

The physiological power it holds is robust and pungent with domination. It engulfs the environment in which it resides, much like a parasite.

It hadn’t diminished in strength or presence and there was nothing that could eradicate it; for she had tried. She had tried and tried again, to dispel the feelings that captivated her psyche. She had found love and as much as she was in love and she was, she knew that for certain, she had not, could not, give herself over completely.

She had always held something back and that something was the part that would always belong to the man that was sitting in the bar waiting for her. He had staked his claim on her all those years ago and his hold was as fervent as it had always been.

Now he was here; in person. She always imagined what would happen and how it would happen, when she saw him again; for she knew she would. Essex was too small for them not to cross paths at some point.

The next two hours dragged slowly by and she found herself thinking more and more about Sean. She couldn’t concentrate on anything else and was almost certain she was more of a hindrance than a help for the remainder of her shift.

Applying the finishing touches to her make-up, Rachel stepped back to get a full view in the mirror. He was still in the bar, waiting for her, had been the whole time. The look he gave her when she walked out of the staff room was full of unspoken sentiment.

Had he thought about her, just as much as she had thought about him? Had she affected every single one of his relationships, like he had hers? Her head was spinning with questions. It had been so much easier to believe that all this was one sided. That she had not meant to him what he had meant to her.

Men didn’t form emotional attachments like women did, especially not at seventeen. He had never said those words, ‘I love you’. He had never disagreed with her decision to end things, hadn’t tried to fight for her. Even when she jumped straight into another relationship, he hadn’t expressed any sort of opinion.

But that look he was giving her right now made everything stand still. Her heart was thumping so loud she thought everybody in the bar would hear it. It was a look that provoked an electrifying sensation way down in the pit of her stomach and she suddenly realised she was physically aching for him.

He held her gaze as he walked towards her, still looking at her like he was undressing her with his eyes. It was like she could read what he was thinking and her interpretation of his thoughts made her blush. This wasn’t real. This amount of sheer physical wanting could not possibly exist. Could it? Was it not just a whimsical flight of the imagination that Hollywood had projected onto the world? That millions of lovelorn women had bought into because the fantasy was always going to exceed the reality. By the time he had reached her, Rachel’s breathing was somewhat erratic and she could feel herself shaking.

Her desperate attempt to control her reaction to him failed and he was only too aware of what he was causing. She looked around the bar. Nobody seemed to have been alerted to them. They were inconspicuous to the rest of the world.

He was standing too close now, just inches away.

His imperious presence was very quickly eating into the very little composure she held on to. He smelled really good, he looked really good and if he touched her now she knew she would lose control completely.

“You want to go?” It was more of a request than a question. Its meaning was solicited. He still wanted her.

Was this fate seeing him again? She didn’t know. What she did know, was that Sean was asking her to leave with him and go somewhere to be alone. No small talk, no flirting, no romanticised build up. He was asking her to be with him.

It was his way of being honest. Showing her the real him. Not the loud, brash bad boy he made himself out to be.

She was the only girl he ever showed this side too. She was the only girl he had ever met that he genuinely respected.

She was the only girl he had ever loved. She made him feel good.

It was not a feeling that he experienced often and when he did, Rachel generally had something to do with it. Sean was a bad boy, who had done bad things. He knew what he was. He was a pimp and a drug dealer. He was an enforcer and he associated with some very dangerous people.

He believed it was his destiny. He was living his life just the way he thought he should be. Rachel could never be part of that world. She held too much goodness inside her. She was pure and untouched by the grime and stench that his way of life put on you. He knew she was right, in leaving all those years ago.

He knew he may have hurt her terribly in some way. He knew that she knew it and that ripped him up inside. She was a good girl. That was what his dad said about her and he was right. She shouldn’t give him the time of day, yet she was here, right in front of him, looking just the same as she did at seventeen.

Sean could hardly contain the craving he had, to touch her, to feel her body next to him. He had been searching for years for that fix, like an addict, someone to quench that craving; someone to fight against the evil inside him.