One good deed, p.6
One Good Deed, page 6
‘What made you come here?’ he asked.
‘To see Rebecca.’
‘Yeah, I know. I mean, what made you think she might be here in my house?’
Darren came straight out with it. ‘I followed her. I saw her on the street and I followed her. She came inside.’
‘Yes, she did. You do know it’s not nice to follow people, don’t you? Especially women.’
‘I didn’t have a choice. I needed to know where she lives now.’
‘I see.’
‘Yes. But you said she doesn’t live here.’
‘No.’
‘So, then, why did she come here?’
Elliott took a sip of his tea while he thought about the best way to put this. He didn’t like to deceive, especially someone so vulnerable, but sometimes a little white lie was the best option.
‘Darren, I should probably tell you that Rebecca is my girlfriend.’
Darren stared at him. Elliott was ready for more tears, but got a wholly different reaction.
Darren laughed. A high-pitched shriek of amusement at first, and then he threw back his head and screamed with laughter.
Elliott tried to ignore the stab of irritation. And then he remembered who he was dealing with and resolved to be more objective.
‘Your girlfriend?’ Darren said. ‘Your girlfriend?’
‘Yes, Darren. Why do you find that so funny?’
‘Well … look at you. I mean, come on.’
Annoyance began to bubble up again. So much for that resolution. ‘None of us is perfect, Darren.’
He regretted his words as soon as he uttered them. They were barbed, and Darren seemed to feel their sting. His smile disappeared.
‘Have you been to bed with her?’ he asked.
Elliott tried to recover from the surprise question. No filter, he thought. The guy can’t help himself.
‘I’m not going to answer that. All you need to know is that she is my girlfriend and you should respect that.’
‘Where did you meet her?’
‘Darren, I—’
‘What’s her favourite colour? What’s her favourite film? What type of car does she drive?’
‘Darren, please. This has—’
‘Her favourite colour is pink. The film she watches constantly is Les Miserables, and she drives a Mercedes. You didn’t know any of that, did you? You’re not her boyfriend. You’re lying to me.’
Elliott boiled over. ‘We met in a nightclub because she loves to dance. When she goes to the gym she uses the rowing machine and weights. She shops at Waitrose. She likes cats. She was born in Surrey. She—’ He stopped himself. This was getting out of hand. ‘I’m sorry, Darren. You need to start accepting the truth.’
Darren looked to be on the verge of tears again.
‘Does she talk about me much?’ he asked.
Elliott tried to be diplomatic. ‘She doesn’t talk a lot about her past. I think she prefers to live in the present.’
‘But I’m not really her past. I’m still here, aren’t I? I must be in her thoughts.’
Damn, Elliott thought. How can I put this without destroying him?
‘Listen, Darren. Don’t you think it would be better if you stopped torturing yourself like this? Rebecca is happy being with me, and if you want her to stay happy, then you should let her go. What do you think?’
Darren considered this for some time. His face exhibited a range of emotions.
‘Do you love her?’
Elliott paused. He had never been in love, and claiming so seemed such a leap. But what else could he say that would deter Darren?
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘And does she love you?’
‘Yes. We’re very close.’
‘I see.’
Elliott waited.
‘I think I should go now,’ Darren said. He got up from his chair, taking Elliott by surprise.
‘Oh, okay. Are you … I mean, are you all right?’
‘Me? Yes, I’m fine, thank you.’
‘But about me and Rebecca. You’re okay with that? You understand what I said to you about us being a couple?’
‘Yes. You made it very clear. Thank you.’
He started out of the kitchen. Elliott followed, somewhat flustered by Darren’s abrupt acceptance of the deceit.
At the front door, Darren paused. ‘I hope you enjoyed your time with Rebecca,’ he said, and then he walked away.
Elliott watched him go for a few seconds, and then he closed the door. Darren’s parting words had puzzled him, but he took it as yet another sign of the man’s limited social skills.
Poor guy, he thought once more. Poor deluded guy.
Poor deluded bastard, Darren thought to himself. He really believes he’s got something there with Rebecca. A couple? He thinks they’re a couple? What a joke!
Darren had no doubt that there was a relationship of some kind there. He didn’t like to contemplate the potential depth of it, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be love, not like the bastard claimed. You couldn’t be in love with two people at the same time. Sure, you could love two people – you could love dozens of people – but you couldn’t be in love with more than one. That was just a fact of life. And if Rebecca was in love with Darren – which she was – then she couldn’t also be in love with that idiot, no matter how much he wanted to believe it.
It made Darren feel a little better that the bastard was clearly out of touch with reality. Couldn’t he see that he was punching way above his weight?
But still, there were a lot of unanswered questions. A key one being why was she even hanging out with him?
He had often wondered if something had gone badly wrong in Rebecca’s life. Something she couldn’t bring herself to talk about, even to her boyfriend. Maybe she’d had some sort of breakdown. That would explain why she’d just walked out on him. It might also explain why she was spending time with the bastard. He looked like one of those ‘good listener’ types: the ones who would offer a girl a shoulder to cry on when what they really wanted to do was get in her pants.
He congratulated himself on putting on a pretty good act back there. The crying, especially. Well, except that it hadn’t been entirely fake. It was the bastard’s fault. Saying that Rebecca didn’t want him anymore. That had been cruel and unnecessary. He could easily have sliced the man’s throat for that remark.
He thought he might still do that one day.
Right now, though, he was buoyant. What the last few minutes had proven to him was that he had no real competition. It shouldn’t be hard to convince Rebecca of that.
And then she would come running back to him.
Elliott sat on the sofa, Bill curled up on his lap. He was staring at his phone, almost dreading making this call.
He tried to analyse why he felt so anxious, and realised that it was because he feared she might already have forgotten about him, that he was such an insignificance in her life. Perhaps she had swapped phone numbers with him simply out of courtesy, and had now blocked him for ever.
Just do it, he told himself. If she doesn’t want to know you now, then take it on the chin. You’ve had worse rejections.
He called her, and it was quickly answered.
‘Hi, Elliott,’ she said, and he was already picturing her back in his kitchen, drinking from the mug that he had contemplated never washing again.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Did you get home okay last night?’
‘Yes, no problem, thanks. What’s up?’
‘I thought you should know, I saw Darren tonight.’
There was a long pause, and then, ‘Darren? Where?’
‘At my house. He knocked on my door.’
‘Right. Okay. And … how did it go?’
He thought she sounded very strange, as if she expected the worst kind of news.
‘It was fine. I put him straight. Told him we were a couple.’
‘Do you think you got through to him?’
‘Actually, I think I did. He didn’t seem such a bad guy. A bit mixed up, and he got upset at one point, but I think he’s got the picture now. I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.’
‘That’s … that’s great to hear, Elliott. It sounds like it all went smoothly.’
Something weird in her voice again. A note of relief, as though she’d expected it to go disastrously wrong?
‘Yeah. By the way, if you’re ever passing the charity shop, you’re always welcome to drop in for a cuppa and a quick chat.’
‘You know what, I might just do that.’
She sounded positive. Keen even. But he didn’t expect anything to come of it. Story of his life.
‘Great. Okay then, I’ll let you go. I just thought I should give you an update.’
‘Thank you. It was very thoughtful. And I’m glad Darren has seen sense at last.’
‘Yeah. No problem. I’m glad I could—’
‘Bye, Elliott.’
‘Er, yeah. Bye.’
The call ended. Elliott looked down at Bill, who had one eye slightly open.
‘What do you think, buddy? We’re not going to see her or speak to her again, are we?’
Bill closed his eye, as though the topic was not worthy of further discussion.
‘No, I thought not.’
10
It had come to Darren as a flash of inspiration. One of those rare mental light-bulb moments.
He had gone to bed in his hotel last night thinking he would have to wait till the following evening to see Rebecca, because that was the night she would probably go to the gym. His plan was to find her there, make it clear to her how much he understood the mistake she had made, and then welcome her back into his life, her sins completely forgiven.
Two things had bothered him about the plan, though. Firstly, he hadn’t really wanted to hang around outside a gym, maybe for hours. Secondly, she might not even go to the gym at all, especially if Elliott had told her about their meeting last night.
But now he had a new plan. It might not pay off, but at least he would be doing something.
He knew that Rebecca was living somewhere near Cardew Park. And, unless she had changed it since he last saw her, he also knew what car she drove and its registration. He would search the area around the park, on the lookout for her Mercedes.
His concern was that it was a huge search area. He had no idea what Rebecca had meant when she had said she lived ‘right by Cardew Park’ or how far she was willing to walk to get to the gym. And it was also possible that her car might not even be visible from the street.
But then his brainwave had arrived, and that’s what had led him here.
The estate agency was called Blackwell and Byrne, which to Darren’s mind sounded like perverse cooking instructions. It was the third one on his list, all located on this same street in the centre of Ebbington. The first two hadn’t been of any help at all, and his frustration was starting to build, but he forced himself to remain cheery as he entered the premises.
There were no other customers inside. The sole occupant was a fresh-faced young man in a cheap grey suit and loud tie, seated behind an expansive desk and huge padded chair that together conspired to make him appear tiny. He jumped up immediately, like a puppy full of nervous energy.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘How can I help you today?’
Darren hated him already. Everything about the man felt false, and that he was merely working through a set of corporate instructions he had been given.
‘Hi. I’m looking to rent a house.’ Rebecca would definitely go for a house again rather than a flat. She hated the idea of strangers living above or below her.
‘Cool. I’m sure we can do something for you. Take a seat.’
Darren guessed that the word ‘cool’ wasn’t in the instruction manual, but he took a seat and also the proffered hand.
‘My name’s Jeremy, by the way. If we could just start with a few details. What kind of area are you looking at?’
‘I want to be by Cardew Park. And I like going to the gym, so if it could be within walking distance of that one at the top of Tennyson Road?’
‘Cool. That’s a desirable area. How many bedrooms do you think you’ll need?’
‘I don’t mind. But I’d like at least one.’
Jeremy laughed too hard at the lame joke. ‘And what sort of price range are we looking at?’ He rolled his hands in the air as he said this, as though it meant something.
‘I don’t want a dump. Other than that, you can surprise me.’
‘Cool. Let’s see what we’ve got here …’
He typed and mouse-clicked on his computer, then swivelled the screen to give Darren a better view.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a couple of nice properties here. There’s this beautiful semi-detached on Ringdale Avenue … and then there’s this one on Vernon Street …’
Darren had stopped listening. He had no interest in properties that were available, but he allowed Jeremy to keep scrolling through them and telling him how amazing they were.
‘What do you think?’ Jeremy asked. ‘I can pull up more details on any that take your fancy.’
Darren pulled a face. ‘To be honest, they’re not really doing it for me. There was a house I saw online recently, just a week or so ago, in fact, but I couldn’t see it on your screen there.’
‘It may have gone. Let me see … You don’t know what road it was on, do you?’
‘No, sorry.’ And then another thought occurred to him. ‘Did I mention I need it to be fully furnished?’ He had almost forgotten that Rebecca’s last rental contained very little that belonged to her. She didn’t like to be tied down to a place.
‘Oh! We don’t get so many of those. Could this be it?’
Darren leant forward to get a better view of the on-screen gallery. The house looked to be about a hundred years old – solid, full of character, and tastefully decorated and furnished. Exactly the sort of thing Rebecca would go for.
‘I think so. Is that near the park?’
‘Definitely. Winsford Place. But, like I say, it’s already taken. In fact, the tenant moved in just a few days ago.’
‘I see. Is that the only one you’ve let in the past week?’
‘In that area and in that price bracket, yes. I could look for other—’
‘No, it’s okay. That’s the one I want.’
‘Yes, but unfortunately—’
‘Thank you for your help.’
Darren got to his feet. He had no more to say to this man.
‘Okay,’ Jeremy said. ‘Cool.’
Darren put Winsford Place into his car’s satnav and followed its directions. It took him to a tree-lined street running down from the park. About a ten-minute walk from the gym. It had to be Rebecca’s new address. Had to be. He knew her tastes, and it was exactly where she’d told her nan it was.
Except that there was no sign of her car.
Might not mean anything, he thought. He approached the door, rang the bell.
Nothing.
He waited for a few minutes, then gave up. He drove away, went for a coffee, came back.
Still no sign of her.
He continued like this for the rest of the day, returning to the house every hour or so. At each failed attempt he didn’t become angry or upset; he simply vowed to keep on trying. God loves a trier, he told himself.
At about five thirty, his tenacity paid off.
Rebecca’s Mercedes was parked on the driveway.
Elation surged through him as he stared at the house. She was in there, behind one of those windows. Almost within touching distance.
Reinvigorated, he walked up to the door and rang the bell. Within seconds a shape materialised through the leaded glass. Despite all its distortions, he knew it belonged to Rebecca.
When she opened the door and he saw the shock on her features, he regretted not bringing her flowers. That would have been the right thing to do. But that could come later. Anything she wanted could be brought to her later.
‘Darren,’ she said.
He beamed, ecstatic at the vision of her. She was dressed casually in leggings and a tight pink sweater, emphasising her curves.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Surprised?’
‘A little. How did … how did you find me?’
‘I did a little detective work. It wasn’t hard. I’d find you anywhere.’ He decided not to mention that his efforts had involved the death of her grandmother.
‘I see. Well …’
‘Can I come in? We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
She looked behind her, into the depths of the house.
‘I’m sorry,’ Darren said. ‘Have you got company?’ He braced himself for her answer.
‘No, no. It’s just …’
‘We really should talk, Rebecca. I don’t think it will take long.’
She hesitated but then relented. ‘Okay. Come in, Darren.’
He followed her into a hallway and then through a door into a long living room with French windows looking out onto a mature garden. Music was playing. Ariana Grande.
‘Nice place,’ he said.
‘I think so.’
‘Fresh start?’
‘Well …’
‘That’s okay. It’s allowed. We all need a reboot now and again.’ He gestured towards the plump sofa. ‘May I?’
‘Of course.’
He thought she seemed apprehensive, and he wondered if she was afraid of someone finding out about her male visitor. Not Elliott, though. She couldn’t possibly be afraid of that dork.
He sat down. He had hoped she would join him on the sofa, but she chose an armchair instead, keeping her distance. On the table between them was an opened bottle of red wine and a half-filled glass. He was glad there was only one glass.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t let me stop you drinking.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s okay. I was just winding down.’
‘Tough day?’
She shrugged. ‘Not really.’ A pause. ‘Darren—’
‘You not doing the gym tonight? I’m asking because of the wine. You wouldn’t normally drink before going to the gym.’
‘No, I thought I’d give it a miss tonight.’
‘But it’s Wednesday. Your gym night. You always go to the gym on a Wednesday.’
