One good deed, p.7
One Good Deed, page 7
‘Yeah, well, call me crazy, right?’ She paused. ‘Darren, I—’
‘I’ve missed you, Rebecca. I’ve missed you so much.’
She stared. ‘I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would affect you this much.’
He laughed without humour. ‘Why wouldn’t it? I was in love with you. I still am. I can’t stop thinking about you.’
She took a while to choose her words. ‘You need to move on, Darren. Coming after me like this – it’s not healthy.’
‘I don’t want to move on. We’re good together. You know that. We make a perfect couple.’
‘Nothing’s perfect. And nothing lasts for ever. Things change. People change.’
‘I haven’t changed. I feel exactly the same as I did before.’
‘Then maybe it’s me who’s changed. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.’
‘Then try. We never really had a proper conversation about this. One minute everything was fine, and the next you said you had to end it. I still don’t understand what happened.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I do either. I got scared. I’m not very good with commitment.’
He nodded. ‘I get that. But we can work on it. I’ll prove to you how much better things will be when we’re a couple again.’
She seemed to agonise over her next choice of words, which made Darren think he didn’t want to hear them.
‘Darren—’ she began.
‘My offer still stands, you know.’
She seemed puzzled. ‘Offer?’
‘Of marriage. I want to marry you. I don’t have a ring here with me now, but if you want me to get down on one knee and—’
‘I’m not sure you just heard what I said. If I can’t be your girlfriend, then I certainly can’t be your fiancée.’
‘Well, okay, but what then? What can I do to get you back? Name it and it’s yours.’
‘It’s not as simple as that. Feelings don’t work that way.’
‘But they don’t just switch on and off either. You were happy with me. We had some great times. Not one argument. And then suddenly you ran away. You didn’t even give me a heads-up.’
‘That’s not quite true, Darren. I told you I didn’t think it was working between us. You’re the one who couldn’t accept it.’
‘And I still don’t accept it. It doesn’t make any sense. Not unless … something happened.’ He looked at her pointedly.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Another guy? Did you meet another guy?’
‘There was nobody else, Darren. I told you that at the time. I wouldn’t have done that to you. I’m not a horrible person, despite what you might think of me.’
He felt chastised, ashamed that he had allowed himself to throw hurtful accusations at her.
‘I don’t think you’re horrible. I think you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. I’m just trying to understand what went wrong.’
Tears filmed his eyes. This wasn’t going as he had hoped. He seemed to be on the verge of losing her for ever. He had to fix it, but to do that he needed to get inside her head, and right now she wasn’t letting him in.
‘Darren,’ she said softly, ‘you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. I’m not the right person for you, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘What about him? Is he the right person for you?’
Rebecca stared. ‘Who are you talking about?’
‘You know who I mean. The cat guy. Elliott.’
‘How … how do you know about Elliott?’
He studied her face, trying to work out if the question was genuine. He could believe that she hadn’t seen him following her on Monday evening, but surely the bastard would have told her about the meeting last night?
‘I saw you with him. You went into his house. You seemed very … friendly.’
Rebecca hesitated. ‘How do you know his name, and about the cat charity?’
He continued to wonder if she was feigning ignorance, but he played along. ‘I asked him.’
She looked irritated. ‘You asked him? When?’
‘He didn’t tell you? Yeah, I knocked on his door last night. We had a good chat.’
‘That’s not cool, Darren. You shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Why? What’s he to you?’
‘A friend.’
‘Just a friend? That’s not what he told me.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he’s your boyfriend.’
She waited a few seconds before replying. ‘Okay, so now you know.’
Darren shook his head. ‘He’s not your boyfriend.’
‘Yes, Darren, he is.’
‘No. He’s not your type.’
‘I don’t have a type.’
‘So what’s he got that I haven’t?’
‘It doesn’t work like that. Elliott is—’
‘STOP telling me how things work!’
Rebecca jumped, and Darren immediately regretted his forcefulness. He hadn’t come here to frighten her, but she was making him act that way. He softened his voice. ‘I’m not an idiot, Rebecca. You shouldn’t patronise me. I’ve come here to forgive you.’
It was Rebecca’s turn to raise her voice. ‘Forgive me? Now who’s being patronising? I don’t need your forgiveness. I haven’t done anything wrong. We had a fling, and now it’s finished. Get over it, Darren, because that’s what I’ve done. I’ve started a new life with a new boyfriend, and we’re both really happy together.’
‘Do you sleep with him?’
‘That’s … that’s not an appropriate question. Do you really expect me to answer that?’
‘You slept with me, so I assume you’re sleeping with him.’
‘Assume what you like, Darren. I’m not talking about this anymore, and I’d be grateful if you’d leave now, please.’
She got to her feet, waited for him to do the same. He stayed put.
‘Rebecca, please. I don’t want to fight. I’m trying to fix things. I’ll do whatever you want. Just … just come back to me. Please.’
‘It’s too late for that. I’m really sorry.’
He stood up. Moved slowly towards her. He thought she looked apprehensive. There was no need. He wouldn’t hurt her. This was about love, not hate. It was about finding the good things in life. She needed to realise that, needed to understand that she couldn’t run away from her destiny.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he told her.
She said nothing. Wouldn’t even look him in the eye.
‘Can I hold you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘Just a quick hug. Nothing weird. Like friends do.’
‘No, Darren. I don’t feel like hugging you right now.’
Still he went towards her. ‘Why not? We hugged a lot before. Did a lot more than hug. Do you remember? Remember what we did in bed? It was so good, wasn’t it?’
‘Darren, please. I’d like you to go now.’
He closed in. She stepped back until she was against the chair and could go no further. He brought his hands to her waist. He had always thought his hands fitted perfectly there.
‘No, Darren. I’m not doing this.’
He ignored her, pulled her closer to him. Her scent was intoxicating, her flawless beauty staggering.
‘No,’ she said again. She brushed his hands away, went to step past him. He grabbed her by the arms this time, not hard at first, but then she tried to pull away and he had to tighten his grip, had to keep her there with him, because she was his, she belonged to him, and he wasn’t about to give her up easily.
‘Darren!’ she said, and she twisted and writhed, and he had to restrain her, to wrestle with her, and they fell back onto the armchair, he was on top of her, pressing against her, feeling her soft curves beneath him, and overwhelming desire surged through him, he had to have her again, and he brought his lips down to hers, but she turned her face away and so he had no choice but to take hold of her hair and bring her towards him again, because they had to be together, they needed each other, they were two inseparable parts of a whole. He kissed her, gently at first as he savoured the give of her plump lips, but then harder when she tried to speak, stifling her voice because words were not important now, they were just sounds that meant nothing in comparison to the timelessness of their love for each other.
He wanted more, and knew that she craved it too, and so he brought one hand up beneath her sweater, quickly found her warm breast and squeezed it hard, just like she had asked him to do in the past. Noises caught in her throat, and he knew she was enjoying herself, knew that she had been waiting for this moment for such a long time. She was trying to move beneath him, and he wished they were on a bed or even on the sofa so that they had more room to manoeuvre, but this would have to do, it would still be wonderful for both of them. He pressed his mouth harder against hers, flicked his tongue out, probing, finding at first only a barrier of smooth enamel, but then she allowed him in, clearly desperate to feel him inside her again, and so he bowed to her wishes, began to explore the warm wetness of her mouth.
The pain was excruciating. His whole body catapulted backwards as the agony shot through him. He brought his hand to his mouth and caught what seemed to be a geyser of blood, and his mind froze in terror at the thought that his whole tongue might be gone, that he might never be able to speak properly again.
And then there was more pain as Rebecca’s knee was rammed into his groin. All thoughts of being amorous vanished in an instant. He didn’t know which injury to concentrate on first, and that led to his next oversight as Rebecca freed her leg and launched a foot into his face. He fell back and landed hard on the floor. Rebecca threw herself from the chair and tried to jump across him. It was all he could do to reach up and snag her ankle. She fell awkwardly onto the coffee table and he heard glass shattering, and he hoped he hadn’t hurt her badly even though she had been so violent with him, because she was his angel, he wouldn’t hurt her for the world, and he was already preparing his apologies, his pleas for forgiveness, when he caught a glimpse of the wine bottle being swung in a wide arc towards his head before everything turned to black.
11
He awoke coughing and spluttering in a furnace of pain. His mouth, his groin, his head – all on fire. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling which seemed to be pulsating slowly in and out, making him feel seasick.
He raised his head and blinked. He could see two of everything, so he blinked some more, but the images still didn’t coalesce properly. He tried sitting up. He heard the tinkle of broken glass, and there was an intense whiff of wine that wasn’t helping his nausea.
Sitting there on the floor, he looked down at himself and tried to remember what had happened. Why he was so wet and so red?
And then the pieces began to reassemble. He recalled how Rebecca had taken such a strange and aggressive turn against him for no reason, lashing out wildly. And then, yes, the wine bottle …
He looked again at the dark fragments around him. It must have hit him with some force because wine bottles don’t break easily.
He turned his eyes on the coffee table. Rebecca’s wineglass was also broken, and again he hoped she hadn’t been hurt in the fall. It had been a simple misunderstanding, that was all. He didn’t want her to suffer because of her confused state of mind.
He tried getting to his feet and almost fell over again, so he settled on the armchair and waited for the seasickness to abate before making another attempt.
Where was Rebecca? Had she gone to get help for him?
‘Rebecca?’ he called. ‘Rebecca?’ His voice sounded strange to him, as if muffled. He wondered if it was because of the blow to his head, but then he remembered what had happened to his tongue in the throes of their passion for each other.
He put his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up, then stood there swaying for a minute before trying to walk. He staggered over to the window, glass crunching beneath his shoes. There was no sign of Rebecca’s car.
He turned, saw a mirror on the wall, made his way to it slowly.
He looked like he had just walked out of a war zone. Blood ran down his head and from the corners of his mouth. It had mixed with the red wine and drenched his shirt. He turned his head to one side and studied the massive bump he saw there. He touched it gingerly, winced with the pain. Then he opened his mouth and examined his tongue. It was massively swollen and there was a deep laceration near its tip, still oozing blood.
He wondered what had led Rebecca to act so out of character. Was she ill?
Or was it something to do with the bastard Elliott?
She had said he was her boyfriend now, but that wasn’t the case. That couldn’t possibly be true. Besides, she had performed her disappearing act before she had even heard of Elliott.
Hadn’t she?
Darren gave this some more thought. Could she have known Elliott back then, when they were still in a relationship? Could she have begun an affair?
The thought infuriated him, but he quickly dismissed it. For one thing, Rebecca wasn’t like that; she was too moral. For another, he would have known. He could read her like a book. It would have been so obvious.
So what was happening?
More answers were needed. More data.
He would have to speak to her again.
He toyed with the idea of waiting in Rebecca’s house. She would have to come home sometime. But there was also the possibility that she wouldn’t be alone – that she would return with the police or somebody who might do him harm. Her confused state made her actions unpredictable. He couldn’t take that risk. Best to retreat and lick his wounds for now, then come back later. He would definitely bring flowers next time.
He went upstairs to the bathroom. At the sink he washed the blood from his face, then wiped his jacket down with a wet flannel. He rinsed his mouth out with cold water numerous times until the water appeared more pink than red.
He descended the stairs and left the house, pausing for a minute on the driveway when the world seemed to sway around him and he thought he was going to vomit. Eventually, he made it to his car. He drove slowly back to his hotel, praying he wouldn’t black out again and crash.
Before wandering through the hotel lobby, Darren zipped up his jacket to hide his stained shirt. He still got the impression that people were staring at him. He had to share the lift with a large middle-aged woman who kept glancing at him and wrinkling her nose as though she thought he was a wino.
When he was alone in his room, he stripped and showered and tended to his wounds. The lump on his head showed no signs of subsiding, and it felt as though someone was inside his skull trying to batter their way out, but at least it had stopped bleeding and he could focus his eyes again. So that was something positive.
His tongue was another matter. Looking at it in the bathroom mirror, it seemed to have a large gobbet of red jelly at its tip. He hoped that was a good sign, and that it didn’t indicate that part of it was about to drop off, or that it would end up being forked like a snake’s.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind consumed by Rebecca.
What had got into her? She liked a little bit of play-acting, but this was way over the top. Was she aware of how much she had hurt him? And where was she now?
He wondered if she had joined some kind of cult. That Elliott guy looked like someone who might be in a cult. Those people fuck with your mind, make you do strange things. Yeah, that was a possibility.
Darren swung his legs onto the bed and lay back against the pillows. Tiredness washed over him, and his head was still pounding. He closed his eyes. Seconds later he was asleep.
When he awoke again, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. An hour? Two? He checked the bedside clock and was surprised when he saw that it was almost half past eight. Rebecca would normally be at the gym now. Except that she had said she wasn’t going tonight, which was weird. She always went to the gym on a Wednesday. Further evidence that her life had become messed up.
He decided it was time for another little chat. Nothing physical this time, though, no matter how much she might demand it from him. She would just have to be patient. He would satisfy her needs later, once they’d got to the bottom of what was affecting her so badly.
He dressed and left his room. Down in the hotel lobby, the smell of cooking drifted to him from the restaurant, nauseating him again. He hadn’t eaten for hours, but knew he’d throw up just to look at a plate of food.
Outside, he was grateful to fill his lungs with the cold air. It seemed to clear both his body and his mind. He went to his parked car and unlocked it. Inside, blood was caked on the seats and the steering wheel. He didn’t want to waste time cleaning it off, so he ignored it and drove away.
When he got to Rebecca’s house, there was still no sign of her car. No lights showing in any of the windows either. Still worth checking, he thought, so he went to the front door and rang the bell. Tried knocking too. No answer.
He returned to his car. I can wait, he thought. She’s got to come home eventually.
He put the radio on to help pass the time. After a few minutes he switched on the interior light and flipped down the visor to check himself out in the vanity mirror. He still looked like shit. The lump over his temple was like a billiard ball, and his complexion was as pale as a vampire’s. He hoped he wouldn’t scare the crap out of Rebecca. He would have to be extra nice to compensate for his appearance.
Flowers! Shit, he had promised himself he would bring flowers. Too late now. The only place he’d get flowers would be a supermarket or petrol station, and Rebecca hated cheap shit like that. No good getting chocolates either, because she was always watching her weight.
She had looked so good earlier. Svelte – was that the right word? He thought it was. She was certainly shapely. Soft and yet firm at the same time. Darren held up his hand, recalling the way it had cupped her breast earlier. To be continued, he thought.
