The Waiting Game (5 page)

‘That’s all done for you, love. Here are your new keys. Two sets there, so you’ve got a spare in case you need them. And those locks are strong. No one will get through them in a hurry.’

Monica stood and stretched. She’d been sitting in the back garden with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a magazine, relaxing while the locksmith changed the locks on the front and back doors.

She took the keys from his outstretched hand and smiled. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am,’ she said. ‘It’s such a relief.’

He smiled back. He was a good-looking guy. Dark hair and fantastic, greeny-blue eyes. Great shoulders, too. He most definitely worked out to get a body like that.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Who are you so keen to lock out? An ex, is it?’

She flicked hair back from her face, maintaining eye contact with those greeny-blues.

‘Something like that,’ she murmured. ‘Girl like me, living alone. Can’t be too careful, can I?’

‘Suppose not,’ he said, face serious, like he wanted to show her how responsibly he took his job. ‘You’ll be safe as houses now. No one will be able to break through those babies.’

‘Except you, of course.’

Christ, she thought, listen to yourself, Monica. Flirting with the guy who’s come to change the locks. Just how desperate are you?

The locksmith started to say something else, but she cut him off.

‘I’ll get my cheque book,’ she said. ‘Then you can be on your way. Wait here.’

She wrote out the cheque in the kitchen. Two hundred quid. Sickened her to have to throw money away like that. She glanced out the window into the back garden. The locksmith was still there, standing with his back to her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

The image stirred a memory. Summertime. The Greenwich Union beer garden. Carrying her drink outside. Coming out of the pub into the sudden brightness of the summer afternoon. Seeing him for the first time. He was leaning against the tree, eyes half-closed. Laid-back, relaxed. Like nothing in the world got to him. She decided there and then that she would get to
him, though. Oh yes.

He was wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. It was a look that suited him. His right hand hung loosely by his side, holding a burning cigarette. As she watched, he lifted this to his mouth. At the same time, he turned his head. Their eyes met. A trail of smoke drifted from his mouth into the hot, still air around him. He smiled and right then she knew she was lost.

The memory faded, replaced by others she didn’t want to think about. Suddenly, the man in the garden irritated her. The way he was standing, waiting for her to come back out. She wanted him gone.

She leaned out the window and told him to come inside. Then she handed him the cheque and dispatched him through the front door as quickly as she could. When he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief and went back into the kitchen to get the wine. Carrying the bottle outside, she refilled her glass and sat down. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, soaking up the last bit of warmth from the pale autumn sun.

Soon it wouldn’t be warm enough to sit outside. She was determined to make the most of it while she still could. Her mind drifted back to that summer. As it seemed to with increasing frequency these days. Ellen Kelly had asked if she could think of anyone who might want to hurt her.
Of course not
, Monica had told her,
why would anyone want to hurt me?

Meeting Kelly today was an interesting experience. Different from the first time. Back then, Monica had no idea how
intertwined their lives would become. Truth was, the first time Monica hadn’t registered anything special about Ellen Kelly at all. She’d been interested in Kelly as a potential customer but, apart from that, the woman held little appeal for her.

Today was different. Today was about getting the measure of the woman. At the end of it, Monica had to admit, Kelly had been more impressive than she remembered. Attractive for sure, although the signs of middle age were already starting to show in the crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes and the start of a crease either side of her nose and mouth.

It was repulsive, really, the way white skin aged so quickly. Monica, with her mixed-race genes, was graced with her mother’s smooth, flawless skin. Black don’t crack, her mother used to say, and it was true. So far, at least. Her mother’s beautiful face flashed before her. Still hard to believe she’d never see that face again. She shook her head, banishing the sadness. Went back to thinking about Kelly.

Apart from the skin, it was clear Kelly looked after herself. She had a good body – not as voluptuous as Monica’s but not bad, either – she dressed well and her dark, bobbed hair was glossy and carefully styled. Not much of a personality, though. Monica had found her cold and charmless. Almost like Kelly couldn’t be bothered making an effort. It baffled Monica how some people could go through life like that, not realising the importance of getting people to like you. Because once they liked you, it was so much easier to get them to do things for you.

She thought about pouring herself another glass of wine, but decided not to. Wine wasn’t what she needed right now. The day was young and she had plans for later. The encounter with Kelly had left her with a restless energy. There was only one thing to do when she felt like this.

She went upstairs. In the bathroom, she undressed and turned on the shower. As she washed, she did a quick run through the current men in her life, wondering which one to call. There was Harry, of course. In some ways he was the easiest option. But she wasn’t in the mood for all that. Not tonight. She nearly went with George, the barrister, but quickly chose excitement over predictability. George was too boring for his own good. Almost made her feel sorry for his wife.

An hour later, she was ready. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, liking what she saw. Black leather strapless dress that fit like a second skin. She turned around, admiring the high, tight curves of her backside. Rolled her shoulders, loving the way the muscles rippled under the skin. When she turned back, she lifted each arm, one by one, checking the flesh around her armpits. Not even a hint of bingo wings. All those long hours at the gym were worth it.

She smiled. The face in the mirror smiled back.

It was time.

Carl was on the phone. Speaking in the loud, showy-off voice he used when dealing with women clients. Or punters, as he liked to call them. Even though he knew Nathan hated the word. Said it showed a lack of respect and just because they were estate agents, that didn’t mean they had to live up to their reputation.

Chloe was pretending to work, but really she was on the internet. She’d done a Google search, typing in her own name. Her face stared out at her from the computer screen. The same photo they’d used for the newspaper. It was a good enough photo, although you could see the spot on her chin. She’d tried to cover that over before the interview, but obviously hadn’t done a good enough job. She wished now she’d asked them to airbrush it out.

Spot aside, she looked okay. Scared, yes, but that look suited
her. It was what made her attractive to a certain type of man. The sort who thought he wanted to protect her. Then turned nasty when he found out it wasn’t protecting she was after. Men like Ricky. All slimy charm one minute, then – before you knew it – hands around her throat as he banged her head against a wall. Calling her a stupid bitch and other names she didn’t want to think about.

She knew Carl had read the piece in the paper. It was obvious from the way he kept looking at her. Curious and shy at the same time, like he wanted to ask her about it but didn’t know where to start. Different from how he usually was, with his sly smiles and cheeky remarks, whispered so that Nathan couldn’t hear. Knowing Nathan wouldn’t stand that sort of disrespectful behaviour.

Apart from Chloe and Carl, the office was empty. Chloe’s desk was near the front and she sat facing the window. She was the receptionist; her job was to greet people as they came in, find out what they wanted and direct them to the right person – Carl for rentals, Nathan for sales.

She liked it here. Enjoyed watching people outside on the street, going about their day-to-day business. It gave her a good feeling, knowing they had no idea she was looking at them. During the summer, the heat through the glass had turned the office into a furnace. She preferred it at this time of year. Today, there was just enough sunshine for lots of natural light to stream in without the unbearable heat.

‘You okay?’

Carl’s phone call was over and he came over, stood right by her desk and looked at her computer screen. She shut down the browser, making her face disappear.

‘I’m fine,’ she said.

He folded his arms, frowning. The smell of his aftershave – a strong, herbal scent – filled the air around her. She pushed her chair back and stood up, wanting to put some distance between them.

‘Coffee?’

He shook his head.

‘Chloe, listen.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry. I’m not very good at this. I just, you know, wanted to say, I think what’s happening to you, it’s horrible. I know I can be a bit of a bullshit merchant at times, but I don’t mean it. You know that, right? I mean, if there’s anything I can do, you’d tell me, right?’

While he spoke, his face grew redder and redder. He looked like telling her this was physically hurting him. Made her feel a bit different about him, if she was honest.

She patted his arm – hard muscle through the cheap shiny suit – and smiled.

‘That’s really sweet of you, Carl. I appreciate it. Really I do. Now then, you sure you don’t want a coffee?’

He smiled, too. A really genuine smile that she’d never seen before. For the first time, she noticed how good-looking he was. Easy to miss it under the attitude and the loud clothing. Strange, she thought, how you can think you know someone and all along
you’ve got them completely wrong.

She waited for his answer, but he didn’t say anything. Just stood there staring at her with that goofy look on his face. Made her feel a bit goofy herself. Until she remembered this was Carl. Loud-mouth Carl with an ego the size of the Shard.

That was how Nathan had described Carl the day he’d offered her the job. Difficult to believe she’d been here six months already. And in all that time, this was the first proper, genuine conversation they’d had.

Carl was still staring at her, like he’d forgotten she’d ever asked him a question. Almost, she thought, like he’d forgotten where they were. This was work, after all. Not the time or the place to be making those goofy eyes at her. No matter how nice it made her feel.

When the phone rang, they both jumped. Then laughed. Doing it all at the same time as each other. She rushed forward to answer it. Carl did the same thing and their hands brushed against each other as they both reached out to grab the handset.

The shock of contact made her jump again.

‘Happy Home, Carl speaking, how can I help you?’

She watched him, slight frown on his face as he listened to the caller. Then he was nodding and smiling and handing the phone over.

‘For you,’ he said.

Her first thought was Ricky. He’d seen the piece in the paper and managed to track her down. She didn’t want to take the phone, but Carl was pressing it into her hand and almost as if
she had no control over her own body, she put the phone to her ear and said hello.

‘Chloe? It’s Anne.’

It wasn’t Ricky. Lovely Anne instead, who’d been so kind and understanding and easy to talk to. The relief was so overwhelming, Chloe barely took notice of what Anne was saying. Something about wanting to move house and getting Chloe’s opinion on where might be a good area and asking if Chloe was free to meet sometime so they could talk about it properly. Chloe said sure, whatever, she’d be happy to help.

Midway through the conversation, another phone started ringing and Carl went to answer it. By the time Chloe hung up, Carl was back in business mode, flirting crudely with whatever poor woman had been unlucky enough to get through to him.

Chloe waited to see if he’d turn and look at her, but his attention was fully focussed on the phone call. Whatever had happened between them moments earlier was a passing thing. Gone before it even started. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

In the small kitchen in the back, she took a single cup from the cupboard and made a coffee for herself. If Carl changed his mind about wanting a coffee, he could darn well make it himself.

The street was quiet. And dark. Patches of pitch black broken up with tunnels of orange light from the few street lamps that were
working. She walked slowly, the click-clack of her pointed heels echoing back to her as she walked.

A car drove past, slowed down as it approached. She didn’t recognise it and kept walking, head averted. The driver rolled down his window, shouted something out but she didn’t look around and he gave up eventually.

It was a cool night but she was warm and walked with her coat open, shrugged off around her shoulders, revealing smooth, dark skin. Under the next light, she stopped, put her hands on her hips, raised one leg so her foot was resting on the lamp-post, and waited.

Several more cars passed by. A black BMW with tinted windows slowed and stopped alongside her. A window rolled down and she saw there was more than one person inside. Intrigued, she walked over to find out more. But it wasn’t anything new. Young men with too much money and not enough imagination, spouting the usual predictable bullshit. She pulled the knife from her coat pocket, shoved it in the driver’s face and told him what she’d do if he didn’t drive away right this second.

She watched the car screech away from the kerb and went back to waiting under the orange light. The street was quiet for a while until another car came towards her. Headlights on full so she couldn’t see anything at first.

The car stopped. A grey Lexus. This was the one. The driver switched the engine off, turned off the headlights and waited. Droplets of saliva had pooled at the corners of her mouth. She
swallowed – once, twice, again. Excitement. Body tingling with it. Little shots of electricity – one, two, three. She licked her lips. Swallowed a final time, forced herself to take deep breaths – one, two, three. And again. One, two, three.

Monica stepped forward, out of the orange light, into the shadowy darkness.