Fear Read online

  ‘And the other one?’

  ‘Oh, he was a total prick. There was no amount of freebies or flexible working that was going to save that one.’ Mason stabbed at an olive with a toothpick. ‘So, come on, Keegan. Spill.’

  ‘So, I’m Keegan now?’ I smiled and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah, I heard Fish calling you it. I kinda like it.’

  I smiled and looked past Mason across the room. ‘Well, what is there to know about me? My favourite drink at the moment is a Negroni.’

  I paused as I thought and I was pleasantly surprised at how Mason waited for me to continue without commentary. ‘I have a penchant for Spanish music, if I hear the Gipsy Kings I go to pieces, it reminds me of my youth.’ I took another moment to pause. ‘I love to bake but haven’t done it for so many years I fear I may have forgotten how. I like badminton but I haven’t played in so many years. I have lower back problems from carrying two babies, and I should do yoga but I choose not to. Yet, I don’t know why.’ I was on a roll, and continued with barely any pauses. ‘I hate people who talk really loudly in restaurants and I love honesty. Real grafters, salt of the earth folk, you know where you are with them. And I love my kids and I should spend more time with them but I don’t because I have to work and as much as I love the flawless organisation of a working day compared to the wretched harrowing chaotic world of parenting seven days a week, I wish I had the choice. I wish… I wish there was a choice so I could decide, then maybe I would know, for sure. Am I working because I have to or because I can’t bear to stay at home and watch another episode of Paw Patrol and wet wipe another stain off the carpet whilst juggling a million household chores and wondering if I would actually, indeed, be better off at work.’

  I blew out a big breath and looked round the room to see if anything had changed while I had been monologuing. It felt a relief to have said it, but I began to panic that I had perhaps over-stepped the mark.

  I looked at Mason’s expression, which was taut with emotion, empathy? Sympathy?

  ‘I… anyway, you asked.’ I laughed loudly and took a long gulp of my champagne and watched Mason arrange himself in his seat, still not rushing to say anything but this time I was silently urging him to speak up.

  ‘It seems there is a lot to know about you. I knew you were a complex character when I met you. That’s why I employed you, I think. Other than the fact you have an outstanding CV, I like someone with depth to them. You have depth. I guess we are all constantly facing dilemmas and problems though and I can understand how life must be very hard for you sometimes, the decisions we need to make and the choices you are faced with.’ Mason cleared his throat and took a sip of champagne. ‘So. Why don’t you start by talking me through this obsession with the Gipsy Kings?’

  I sat back in my chair and laughed a laugh so loud it momentarily attracted the attention of half the bar.

  Mason smiled a sultry smile and I relaxed into the chair and began to tell him about the time I was seventeen and worked in a Tex Mex restaurant and the Gipsy Kings were on repeat for the next two years of my life and became the soundtrack to my youth. He listened with intent and intrigue and we laughed and talked some more and ordered more olives and then some very strong Belgian beer arrived. We made it to a table to eat and there was more drinking and soon the night began to become very hazy as I once again lost all inhibitions. The shackles of parental responsibilities were gone, the sadness of the last twenty years had lifted, and I was once again Frankie, the girl about town, who knew everyone, who could hold the banter and laugh at herself. It felt so good that I didn’t want the night to end.

  January 1999

  I made it through Christmas without you. It was painful in every way. Painful to swallow, painful to see Mum and Dad’s taut expression as we ploughed through a day on autopilot, wondering if we should do the stuff we normally did: make the trifle you loved every year, get the board games out after lunch. It seemed a bit silly playing with just three, but we managed half an hour. I received an odd look when I suggested setting the table for four and leaving your space there. They didn’t object but it felt weird and I regretted it the moment I sat down and had to stare at an empty set place, all the while expecting you to bound through the door as though you had just popped out. I made it through that lunch, my toes curling to stop myself crying. Mum and Dad had seen enough of that these last few months. I had to be the strong one now. I booked in for a few more therapy sessions without telling Mum and Dad. They have each other. I didn’t see them talk but occasionally I would see Mum reach out and grab Dad as though she might fall and he needed to catch her. He always would and then he would fold her into his arms, I would watch them from the doorway sometimes then retreat with that aching emptiness into the shadows.

  26

  Now

  I opened my eyes and the room was still dark. I was used to waking early for work and, with or without alcohol in my system, I would mechanically rise at a reasonable hour. I thought I had been through enough in my time to handle the aftermath of a drinking session, I had got up and worked through hangovers from hell, I had gone straight into work on no sleep and worked through until the next night. But nothing could prepare me for a hangover from Belgian beer. The first thing that struck me was that I couldn’t remember how I got back to the room last night. The second was that I could feel pain. When I looked down, I could see scratches on the inside of my legs.

  I showered, wincing at the pain from the sore marks on my inner thighs, then I took a moment to look at the severity of them once I was dry. I found some Sudocrem left over from a family holiday in my toiletry bag and slathered some on the red marks. I dressed in an orange and yellow pattered wrap dress, tights and boots. I wrapped a chunky cardigan around me and found my way down to the restaurant where I was meeting Mason. I felt my stomach go tight as a young staff member met my eye. The flutter of her eyes and the serious expression made me wonder if she had been on duty last night and whether I had done or said anything to cause a scene or embarrass myself. I could barely look at her and instead I flashed her my room card and found a table in the corner. As I walked, I could see heads moving, were they turning towards me? Did people recognise me?

  I could feel the expanse of the wood next to the windows, the weight of its wonder pushed itself against the glass, the endless depths within it calling to me. I felt the effects of last night’s drinking, hard. My body felt almost weightless as though I might float away. I aligned the cutlery next to the napkin and forced a smile when a waiter poured me a glass of water. When he walked away I drank it in one and used the napkin to pat my lips. I felt the familiar post-drink sweats sweeping over me and the room felt as though it were closing in.

  My breathing became rapid and then, just as I went to stand to race to the toilet to prevent the panic attack I could feel building, Mason appeared, striding confidently towards me.

  ‘Keegan, no need to stand on my arrival,’ he said with a wide smile.

  He sat down.

  ‘How’s the head?’ He leant to touch my forehead and I found myself jolting backwards. I had no idea, still, what we did. If we did? How was I supposed to ask that kind of question, here, now?

  Mason gave a small laugh and picked up the menu.

  ‘What’s good? We have a bit of a busy day, so I’d stock up on the carbs. Unless you’re one of those girls?’

  ‘No. I need carbs,’ I said, eyeing up the cheese, meats and breads a few feet away. I stood and went over to fill a plate. When I returned the waiter had brought coffee.

  ‘How do you like your eggs in the morning?’ Mason said with a wink.

  I furrowed my brow. Mason assessed me for a second. ‘It’s a joke, Keegan. I ordered them poached with sourdough.’

  ‘Great,’ I said biting into some gouda cheese and bread.

  ‘Frankie.’

  I looked up.

  ‘Do you wish to talk about last night?’ Mason looked solemn.

  The bread in my mouth felt
incredibly dry and I struggled to swallow it. I felt the sting of the scratches on my thighs. I looked guiltily into my plate of food and swallowed painfully.

  ‘It was the Belgian beer and the day’s travelling, it knocked me for six. I knew the beer was strong… I just… did we…?’

  ‘Did we what? We were eating dessert and you said you were going to the toilet and I didn’t see you for the rest of the night.’

  I laughed. Part relief, part nerves, still unsure where the second half of the night went. And not for the first time either. ‘Well, I woke up in my room safe and sound,’ I said breezily.

  ‘If that’s what you say, but that’s not how my version of the night went. You see, I went to your room,’ Mason said seriously. ‘I waited an hour and persuaded the concierge to open your door to check you were okay. He kindly did so and when we looked in, you weren’t there.’

  For the second time on our trip so far I had abandoned Mason. I was now standing in the ladies’ facilities, holding my wrists under the cold tap, trying to calm my nerves. How was it possible to have a complete blackout, to not remember massive sections of an evening? I didn’t drink to excess all the time, but it seemed recently things were spiralling out of control. Things felt like they were unravelling because of the toy car, the texts, my doubts over Damian and I. Then there was the person I was desperately avoiding. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew I needed to pull it together.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. ‘Get. A. Grip,’ I said to myself slowly.

  I met Mason back at reception.

  ‘Is everything okay, Frankie?’ Mason’s brow furrowed with concern, he almost looked in pain.

  ‘Look, Mason, I don’t know what you think you saw or what you think happened last night but I was drunk. It was that simple. I had obviously popped out of my room to get something when you came to try and find me, but I know I woke up there this morning, so all is well. I have a bit of a hangover but nothing some more Belgian bread and cheese and a vat of Orangina won’t solve. I’m ready for the day and you needn’t worry about me.’ I leant into him and placed my hand on his arm. ‘But thank you for your concern anyway, it was very sweet.’

  I felt the look pass between us as my hand remained on Mason’s arm for a few seconds. Maybe it was the hangover, our close proximity in the foyer or the softness of his suit jacket, but he held my gaze for a few seconds, and I felt fully in control of us right then as my stomach fizzed with a strange unfamiliar excitement.

  The morning passed in a dreamlike haze as though I wasn’t a participant but an observer of my own behaviour in an all-male meeting. I surprised myself at several times during the presentation they gave, piping up to make valid points and asking questions which gained me more than one nod of approval from Mason. By the end I was receiving firm handshakes from all three men and as I shook the final man’s hand, I felt a touch from Mason in the small of my back. I turned and his eyes met mine and for just a second we were the only people in the room.

  We walked out of the building and once outside in the cool autumn air I could smell a range of unfamiliar smells, all of which were tantalising my taste buds. I was suddenly ravenously hungry.

  I was about to stride on up the road, back towards the station where we would catch the taxi to our next appointment, when Mason grabbed my arm and swung me round right there in the street.

  ‘My God, Keegan, you were unbelievable in there! What happened? You charmed those men right out of their comfort zones, they were practically giving us the products for free. I think we have secured a very good relationship there. I am leaving you in charge of all their calls in future.’

  I laughed, there in the street I felt a million weights lift from my shoulders. I saw his face suddenly look as youthful as it ever could. He was smiling a full smile I had never seen before.

  ‘Come on, I smell bratwurst and fried onions, let’s grab some before the next meeting.’

  The second and third meetings of the day went as well as the first and Mason congratulated me as we climbed into a taxi to take us back to the hotel.

  ‘I’m looking forward to dinner with you tonight. Maybe don’t disappear this time?’ He looked over at me with his head leaning against the back seat of the cab.

  I looked down and saw the multi-coloured flash of his socks, showing his sunnier side. A part of him I felt I wanted to know more about.

  I swallowed, and in my mind’s eye I allowed a brief image of Damian at home, then I turned to Mason.

  ‘Me too.’

  Mason smiled and then he closed his eyes, the bob of the cab lulling him into a light doze. I squeezed my hands together and I felt the tingling sensation rush into my gut and I was thrust back to another time when I felt this way.

  27

  August 1998

  I woke to a hazy light sneaking through the half closed curtains in Todd’s bedroom. I was in a double futon bed in an attic room in his parents’ house. It was a minimalistic room, not because he was trying to be trendy but because that represented who Todd was. Around me were torn cigarettes and tobacco on top of a vinyl record; some house tune Todd had been playing me last night and one he was adding to his collection. He was still only a bedroom DJ but hoping to break out in the new year into some local pubs and clubs. In the corner was last month’s Mixmag magazine, Fat Boy Slim grinning against a background of yellow smiley faces. There was a coffee table at the end of the bed with a small TV on it and next to that, the bottle of vodka we had been drinking when we got in.

  I sat up, from under the dark grey duvet, and pushed a few pillows behind my back and neck. I could feel the after effects of the night before. I had felt Todd’s presence next to me all night. It wasn’t invasive, we were synced in our waking and sleeping and occasionally I would feel his firm arms around me, his soft breath on my cheek. He was kind, gentle. He didn’t push me to do anything I didn’t want to do and I woke with a kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  He kissed me softly then padded downstairs, topless in jogging bottoms. I could hear the distant sound of his parents performing what I presumed were their usual weekend rituals and I felt my gut tighten at the thought of them questioning Todd about who was here and the prospect of having to meet them at some point.

  He came back into the bedroom with a tray of tea and toast.

  I picked up Todd’s t-shirt from next to the bed, which smelt heavily of smoke and his aftershave, and pulled it on.

  ‘Are your parents wondering who you have up here?’ I asked coyly as Todd handed me a cup of tea.

  ‘Nah, they are used to me bringing people back.’

  I looked at him over my tea.

  ‘Not like that,’ he said quickly.

  I nodded and took a sip of my tea. He smiled a wide grin and his eyes, which still seemed stoned from last night, were half closed.

  ‘How’s ya tea?’ he asked through that grin.

  ‘Good. How did you know how I have it?’

  Todd laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. I shifted my legs.

  ‘’Cos you told me last night,’ he laughed again, ‘it was the last thing you said to me before you fell asleep. Strong, milk and two sugars.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I did,’ I said dreamily as the hazy memory floated back.

  Todd leant in to kiss me, no warning.

  ‘God, you are cute.’ I could smell the intoxicatingly sweet scent of last night’s alcohol on his breath.

  I kissed him back. ‘Cute?’

  ‘Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with cute. Sorry, do I need to say, “You’re such a sexy woman”?’ Todd said in a deep husky tone and I looked back up and laughed at him.

  ‘No, that’s weird.’

  ‘You’re not like other girls, are you, Frankie,’ Todd said seriously all of sudden, ‘You have this aura. It’s addictive.’ He took my cup and placed it on the floor, then he straddled me over the duvet and kissed me long and hard.

  After that day we were inseparable, much to Kiefer�
�s dislike. But as I reminded him, I couldn’t live my life by his choices.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to like Todd anyway,’ I shouted at him the following weekend as I stood in a lime green baby doll dress and trainers. We were going to a night club in the next city: me, Nancy, Todd and a few of his mates.

  ‘You won’t get in with your hair like that,’ he said, pointing at my long bunches, ‘You look about five.’

  I was trying to look like Baby Spice, but I didn’t tell Kiefer that.

  Reese winced, then gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘I like your dress,’ she said sincerely.

  Just outside the club, Nancy’s hand was draped through my arm and Todd and his mates were walking behind us. Minty was having a night off to recover from the massive bender last weekend.

  I saw the bouncers stop a girl at the door and watched as she rummaged in her bag. I could tell she was being ID’d. I pulled my arm from Nancy and subtly pulled the bunches out of my hair, wrapping the hair bands around my wrist. I flicked my hair forward and shook it up from the roots then flicked it back so it was full of body. Then I pulled my baby doll dress down at the chest, exposing a patch of bare breast, just before we approached the step where the bouncers stood. The girl stood to the side looking forlorn.

  They looked down at us from their step. I could hear the bass line from one of my favourite tracks. The speed I had just taken in the car was now bringing me up, I was itching to get inside.

  ‘Evening, lads,’ I said with an inordinate amount of confidence.

  ‘Ladies,’ one bouncer replied and stood aside to let us through. I turned to see Todd and his two mates walking in behind us as the bouncers eyed them for any sign of trouble. Todd caught my eye and smiled. I blew him a kiss and with Nancy on my arm once more we burst through the double doors into an electrifying expanse of multi-coloured lights and smoke billowing from a machine. The DJ stood high and proud on a stage, the crowd was screaming and whooping as the track built to its crescendo and we nudged our way through the sea of bodies, all sweating and moving in time to the music. The beat stopped, the DJ threw in a spin back and the track kicked in. The house lights went on full, then the strobe went into full throttle. The thick heavy bass pulsated through the crowds, into our bodies and our veins. I threw my arms in the air and saw Nancy and Todd do the same.