Pearced (42 page)

“I know that person” he doesn’t take his eyes off the prone figure until I squeeze his arm hard.

Looking down at me, “yes, he has done some driving for us at RANDom” he speaks levelly and calm, quiet and his brain is trying to figure it out, “that’s Emilio,” he whispers to me.

Before I can ask, Stan comes over, “yes” is all Stan says, “He’s Steffi’s boyfriend.” This statement to me means another tick to my mental tab system, listing all the things about that girl I don’t like, my Mum would say she has nice hair though. Typical.

Nigel goes to get some rope from the Landy and we tie Emilio up very carefully, a chief scout master would be properly proud and doubtless give us a badge. Out cold and will be for a while, “we’ll ask him questions when he comes around.” Says Stan, all very Hawaii five-0, and he continues checking and rechecking our equipment. There will be no equipment failure, not on this trip, that's for certain.

Propped up by the front door on the cold tile of the floor Emilio is as far away from our delicate aroma collecting devices, my nose for one,  as far away as possible and still be in our line of sight.  As I feel I’m unable to cope with this smell for much longer, I happily find a grapefruit candle and lovingly light it, that’s much better. Knowing it's surreal assuming our current situation could get considerably more bizarre, but still, I need to smell something pleasant don't I, I’m a girl after all.

Inside the house a familiar arrangement of light convening mirrors are fixed all around the walls and the place is lit with a bright natural glow.  It’s a beautiful home, not lavish but quaintly shabby and boutique’y chic, well matched and mixed.  Everything has a sun baked faded colour scheme like a spring season Fired Earth catalogue.  Hand woven ancient textiles once bright now pale hang on the rough painted white walls, and the upholstery is a mismatched collection of antique soft cushions and throws. 

But the things that impress upon my mind straight away are all the antiquities that are scattered around the place, ceramic pots, stone carvings, wooden pieces all very old, the Professor is in a sweetshop, he’s so happy. He swiftly grazes around the room at the antique pieces muttering almost to himself forgetting to clean his glasses at all in the last ten minutes such is his level of enthusiasm.

PF: “Are hot pants on-trend Tharie?” I dare not ask, but I’m gonna.

TC: “That depends on your accessories” I’m not wrong, and you're figure too.

PF: “Flip-flops and handcuffs, is that OK?” Excuse me for asking.

TC: “Very current season, now you're Hermes cross body bag to finish, and you're good to go” Vogue would be proud.

PF: “Thanks honey Px” I suddenly wish she was here, as I look at our prisoner, she speaks Spanish doesn't she?

Everyone is in now, Daniel and Kurt are picking things up and exchanging glances between them, shaking their heads, and looking confused. I can recognise the mood, its comfort and recognition, unspoken, but clear.  This house, is not new to them, yet they’ve never been here before.  Picking up another Jo Malone grapefruit 5wick candle and smelling it, it reminds me of home, “this looks like a softer more lived-in version of your own house Daniel.”  I offer tossing a cushion around in my hands, it feels so soft and light. The boys shoot quick looks at each other.

“Only, not all white” I giggle. “That reminds me, I’ll make some tea.” And a feint whiff of Chanel no. 5 too, but I keep that to myself for now.  Kurt shoots me a quick look, “you’ve been to Danny’s house?” In shock, tilting his head in disbelief, he gives me a more appraising look as if I’m now worth noticing, how rude.  Kurt is enjoying using his boy scout knotting badge skills on Steffi’s boyfriend, pulling the rope tighter than reasonably necessary to make the sense of betrayal feel less one way.

“What’s happened to you lately Danny?” Smiling between me and him, “you never take anyone there.” He laughs to himself, but not quite.  “Where you allowed to sit on his sofa Tharie?” I laugh loudly, because the illusion of the place is clinical and uncomfortable, and not nearly enough cats for my liking either. But a tick in the yes box for the tea. And there’s always cats at the shelter needing homes.

Note to self, Daniel needs a cat.

That's what's missing:  tea.

Daniel softly and thoughtfully answers Kurt’s not too rhetorical question, “she’s not anyone…” and just as he starts to qualify his actions we hear a muffled scream, and a very loud thud from the back of the house.

Maybe someone’s getting impatient for the tea?

Kurt rolls his eyes like what now, then realises who’s not in the room. “Liza, where is Liza?” He gasps, flinging himself toward the kitchen, launching himself toward the sound in as few massive strides as possible.  Sauntering behind the scrum of men running to her aid, bless, they haven’t known her too long. I am amused by the scene, she can look after herself, but of course they don’t know that yet do they? At the source of the noise, me the only one who arrives on the scene in mild casual amusement, the boys stand perfectly still, watching, but my smug look was not to last for long.

Kurt looks on in bewilderment clearly happy Liza is fine, but perplexed that she didn’t need the help of big strapping lads, because that’s the way it’s supposed to be isn’t it? Bloody hell no.

Picture the scene if you will, a homely kitchen, well designed, pale cream cabinets, wooden work surface. Plate rack with willow pattern set of dinner plates, a bottle of already open Rioja and Liza standing over a woman's body laid out face down on the kitchen floor.

The washing up is done too, not sure why I notice.

There’s a messy spread of shiny hair everywhere like a firework around her head.  Liza rubs her hands together and says “dispatched this bitch” looking at Kurt, because she’s playing a scene. Swishing her ponytail too, which of course puts Kurt into a lather.

“She's going to have a massive headache in the morning” clearly in her element, “and a couple of broken ribs too I hope,” smiling wildly in amusement.  “The crazy fucker thought coming at me brandishing a bread knife would intimidate…me!”  Crazy bitch I think, meaning Liza, you wouldn’t know to look at her, she’s weeny, and she's wearing a boob tube as always, a stylish arse-kicker. And before you ask, yes she can do a sitting trot happily in a strapless bra, that's how good her seat is. She's tough.

“Super serration batman,” I say happy at my cartoon reference. Liza chuckles at this and I am so happy she came with us on this trip, Kurt is too, I can see it in his face, like a cold slap in the face, yep, it’s the same look.

“Let’s tie her up” I say decisively, and secretly always thought she deserved being tied up sitting on a cold floor, you know the type don’t you?  Really I don’t know what else to do.  "Knots first, then tea” I love the new plan, just like the Brownies.

Liza rubs her hands together eye to eye with the one man in the room it was designed to impress, Kurt, “but she picked on the wrong girl,” she shouts at the body lying on the floor and kicks a very large shiny blade away across the orange tiled floor, it spins as it flies.  She unties her ponytail with a flourish and flicks her blonde hair like a shampoo advert, retying it for Kurt’s benefit, it has the desired effect, He is only now focused on her, dilated pupils, before he was smitten, but now he has fallen.

Rolling his eyes in mild amusement Daniel flips the unconscious woman over with the point of his boot to reveal the face of the would-be assailant, “Steffi!” He closes his eyes filled with loathing and disappointment “what’s going on here?” Looking at Stan for the answer.

“If my Spidey senses are correct, and they usually are, we have her boyfriend don’t we? Who here didn’t expect her to be here too?” They all look at me, a pattern no one else can see, incredible. I fill up the kettle.

“Makes sense” from Stan, “and she always was a little….” He leaves the word floating in the air unspoken, to avoid any disrespect to his boss. Daniel doesn’t mind at all. 

“Stalkerish?”  Not a real word, but should do, Daniel finishes Stan’s hanging phrase.

Then I realise I hadn’t told him, “she broke into my computer Daniel,” suddenly remembering some of the mails from Daniel which were certainly for my eyes only.  I flick the switch and the kettle is on. “She read my emails” and that’s just rude, and left bloody hand cream all over my keyboard, that’s just disrespectful. “She was trying to find the safe I believe.” I realise out loud, “that’s what she’s was in my studio for.” I put my hands in my pockets, glad of the familiar feeing of denim on me.

I arrange cups on the worktop, in a deliberately haphazard way since Daniel is watching my every move.  Daniel shakes his head disappointed, not at my disregard for order over chaos, “are those jeans safe?” Personally I quite like a little chaos, it reminds us you can’t control everything.  And anyone who doesn’t believe it, hasn’t ridden a mad Trakehner on a windy day with the Essex Union Hunt galloping past, where they're not allowed to ride, with forty well-behaved hounds to heel. Another true bloody story people.

Daniel looks at me hoping I can give him a positive answer, jeans safe, people? Well none of this trip has been thus far. “They might be important” he says,”what if they’ve got hold of them already?” Clearly agitated he moves around the room like a wild cat at a zoo, I bloody hate zoos.

Taking a deep breath, “they're safe Daniel,” I say emphatically, but of course I know exactly where they are so I can sound sure.

“Positive?” Daniel places lots of emphasis on their importance.

“So long as I'm safe, they are safe, yes.” I tell him.  So looking at my legs a little guiltily, I’m not sure how the news will affect the situation. ”I thought wearing them would be the safest place to keep them.” I finally say, and then everyone looks at what I’m wearing, they’re very nice jeans too. Well, I am a denim guru after all.

The kettle clicks off steamily, and I add the boiling water to the massive pot with real leaves, not tea bags, in the bottom.  Daniel hugs me and kisses my hair “incredible woman.” He looks over at Kurt with a nod, “see?” He smiles a smile just for me.

It's then I decide a connection might be in order so I send a text:

TC: “How’s the book signing?” She’ll be bored to tears, hope she has her hip-flask with her.

EC: “Thank goodness for alcohol!” Must be bad.

TC: “The book is getting great reviews Mum, I read a critique of it on the plane” I’m so very proud of her, her writing is brilliant, and the illustrations all done by her too.

EC: “These people ask completely the wrong questions Catharine” of course they do.

TC: “About Lawrence?” I hope.

EC: “Kidding? They’re more interested in
me
, stupid, mediocre….do I need to go on?” Please no.

TC: “Can you believe it, T E Lawrence's life not interesting enough for them? And they want to know about who you're wearing?” What can you say to that?

EC: “True story” did She get that from me?

TC: “There must be some sensible enquiries?” Please let that be true.

EC: “One” and…

TC: “Surely not, don’t they want to know about the dessert or the history or Wadi Rum?”  Please say yes.

EC:  “And I’ve never even ridden a camel” what’s that got to do with anything? Clearly Mum has gone off on a tangent again…maybe it’s the dry sherry in her hip-flask?

TC: “Hope the book sells well, see you soon” I miss her.

EC: “I’ll send you a photo so you can remember what I look like!” She thinks she’s funny, I wonder where I get that from?

I finish my conversation with my Mum and smile at my phone, I’d really like to see her now. As I return to the present I glance over and Daniel is staring at me.

Another vibration.

T&G: “20% off haircuts this weekend” bloody hell, does everyone speak to my
Mother
!

Daniel is still watching me, replacing my phone in my pocket.

I add milk to the cups one by one, with fresh already opened semi-skimmed milk from the fridge. Its feels weird poking around in someone else’s home, like stealing.  But it’s a tea emergency, I’m sure whoever lives here will understand.  Daniel moves closer to me, and I close my eyes expecting a kiss on the head, I hear clinking and clattering as he re arranges the cups, in order alphabetically, with the handles facing toward him, equidistant apart and neat as little toy soldiers.

I’m sure in that instant his feelings for me aren't fleeting, there’s more, he wants tea too. I wonder whether he’ll ever be able to tell me, or will I be forever guessing.  Then he breaks the hold with a command, suddenly looking in control, this has an interesting effect on me, firstly it turns me on, secondly I begin to feel very calm.  “Tie her ankles up too Kurt” Daniel nods at Steffi’s prone body, his eyes never leaving mine, “tight.”   Stan already has rope ready, he likes his jobs like I do, it’s his coping mechanism, to be physically useful.

Looking at me never breaking my gaze, yes, you can tie me up Daniel I try to telepathasise it to him, is a fleeting thought, ill-timed as usual.

“With pleasure,” answers Kurt grabbing a length of rope, “though I usually get a girls permission before I tie her up!” Says Kurt laughing. Liza swings her head toward him in amusement, but of course that's permission.

He thinks he's funny too, must be catching.