Sleepwalk (7 page)

‘What?’

‘Are you asking me out?’ She looked at him kind of coyly.

‘Well… Yes.’

‘Ok.’

‘Ok what?’

‘Ok. Ok David yes it would be nice to see you again.’
There I’ve said it
.

‘Good because it would be nice to see you again Flick. So; when?’

‘Any time. I don’t have any plans. I’m on holiday at the moment and I don’t have any work commitments for another week or so.’

He checked his watch.

‘Talking of work, I have to get back. Listen Flick, how about dinner, tonight?’

‘Dinner sounds wonderful.’

‘Ok. I’ll pick you up at say,
7.30pm
?’

‘Ok.’

‘Cool. See you later. I must dash. It was……… I’m really glad I bumped into you. I mean…. Not physically-you’re the only one who does that. Bye.’

Then he was gone. She sat there in the Bad Rock for a few minutes, her heart still pounding from their conversation. Her mind racing going over and over what he had said; what she had said and then it hit her. Where w
as he picking her up from? Here? or from work,
or home?
S
he hadn’t told him where she lived. How would he know?
The filo f
ax
………
It had a lot to answer for.

It was dark when Gus left the social club on
Western Drive
and he couldn’t see clearly but he knew a confrontation when he saw one. The three youths were in the shadows of the beer garden. The girl, he had seen before. She was standing a little away from the boys and her face was caught in the moonlight. He recognised her because of her hair; long yellow hair in two plaits.
No one wore their hair in plaits anymore.
Her socks gave her away too. Colourful striped socks pulled up over the bottoms of her tight dirty blue denim jeans. Tight jeans were out. Lunes were the order of the day. They were tight at the top with massive flares at the bottom; that’s what all the young girls wore now. But not this one. She wouldn’t conform to fashion; wouldn’t care a fig about fashion. He’d seen her often on the streets at night; always in the same clothes; always half cut, or drugged up; whichever was appropriate.
Probably the latter.
She was pulling at the shirt sleeves of one of the boys, urging him to come away and the boys were shouting at one another;
Gimme my fucking money man
....... and ......
Yeah? Come on then!

She tugged some more at the boy’s shirt sleeve and he pushed her hard, knocking her sideways into the wall. Gus watched as she straightened herself and backed away from the scene. He watched as her boy pulled a knife and saw it light up as the moonlight reflected on its long sharp blade. The other boy turned and ran toward Gus who had to side step as he shot past him and across the street to safety, shouting obscenities as he went. Gus had heard the car coming from a long way off; its engine roaring and its tyres screeching on every bend in the wet road. Someone was in a hurry. Gus was a war hero. He had seen things in his lifetime the kids today wouldn’t want to witness. He had lost his closest friends; watched them being blown away by grenades and mortar fire; and he had killed. Gus had been in the front line in
France
and had come home one of the walking wounded. Of course he was proud to have played his part for Queen and Country but there had been so many times when he had wondered why. What was it all for? So many young lives had been taken ......... for what? He had seen the fear in the face of a young German soldier at close range as he pulled the trigger and opened fire on him and he had watched him fall. There had been others, but this boy had been the one that had haunted him; his scared young face and his pleading eyes. If the boy hadn’t raised his gun; if he had just turned and walked away, he too may have survived. Gus would never forget him as long as he lived. Countless times in his dreams he’d watched the boy fall, like a broken doll; the red leaves of autumn fluttering around his pale face and blood spilling crimson from his innocence as the life drained out of him until all that remained were those
cold blue eyes staring back at him from beneath soft blonde curls
. Someone’s son; someone’s brother. He was just a child. Gus tapped his breast pocket where three medals were pinned to his lapel. No one wanted to hear his stories anymore. No one cared. He glanced back at the girl and her knife wielding companion ......
the youth of today.
They had no idea
. He stepped from the footpath, his whiskey breath warm in the cold night air and started across the street. The car came from nowhere. Now Gus was back in war torn
France
and the Doodle bug came screaming down from above; soldiers, women and children running in all directions; never knowing where it would hit ......... and then silence. With the silence came the fear. No one knew which way to run. It was a game of chance and you never knew if it was your time to die. By the time Gus heard the car and looked up it was too late to move forward or back.
He who hesitates is lost.
That’s what had gone through his mind as he’d pulled the trigger on the young German boy all those years before and it was what went through his mind now as he tried desperately to turn around. The last thing Gus saw was the eyes. That fixed glazed expression.
Cold blue eyes staring back at him from beneath soft blonde curls.
As the car struck him it threw his frail body up into the air and he landed some six yards away from the point of impact.

‘Oh Jesus! We have to help him!’ cried the girl with the yellow plaits.

The boy grabbed her by the shoulder.

‘Stupid bitch! You’ll have us both locked up. Come on!’ He pulled her arm and ran; away from the social club; away from
Western Drive
; away from Gus’s body lying very still on the wet road ............... and the girl ran with him.

Felicity had bought a new outfit. She wanted to look her best that night. She checked herself in the mirror. The skirt was black lace over cream satin, not too short and the top was matching cream satin and was pulled in at the waist which showed off her figure in the right places. She stepped into her black heels and checked her make up, blended the rouge in a little to lose the Aunt Sally cheeks and lightly sprayed her perfume. She was incredibly nervous. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous before. There was a car outside. She looked out of her bedroom window and saw it was Tom, her neighbour’s son. He parked in the only available space in their private lay by and went in to number three. Felicity lived in a small hamlet called Knapp, about five miles from East Barton. Her cottage was one of four houses in a narrow lane and from previous feedback when she’d had visitors, it was really hard to find. What if
David had
meant for her to meet him at the café in town? Supposing he got there and found she wasn’t there and thought she’d stood him up? Well there w
as no way of contacting him now; he would have already left.
She went downstairs and stood at the window. Tabby cat gave her a look of complete disgust and jumped on to his side of the sofa then began to lick his paws inadvertently watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting for her to make a move. As the clock approached seven thirty her heart began to pound then there was a car; silver in colour slowing outside, then there was a knock at the door……..

She pulled the curtains in the bay window and turned on the table lamp. ‘Later cat’
s
he said as she made her way to the front door. He was hovering on the footpath.

‘Hi. Wasn’t sure if I had the right place but I saw your car and knew it was no 1.

Wow!’ He looked her up and down. ‘You look amazing.’

‘Thanks. So do you.’

She followed him to th
e s
ilver Audi that was parked in the middle of the lane, engine running, and he opened the passenger door for her.

‘I …. er…… took the liberty of booking a table for 8 o clock. Is that ok?’

‘Fine. We’ll be early then.’

‘It’ll take twenty minutes to get there.’

‘Twenty minutes?’
Where are you taking me Blue e
yes
………. ‘We’re not going into town then? Are we going into
Exeter
?’

‘Would you like to go to the city?’

‘No. I mean, I don’t mind where we go. I just wondered where you could be taking me that’s twenty minutes drive from here.’

‘Well if I told you it would spoil the surprise.’

When David stopped at the junction to the main road she became even more confused as he turned left and headed away from the city route.

‘So tell me about this new venture of yours.’

Felicity told him all about her ideas for the website and how she’d had approval at the meeting in
Cornwall
the day she’d first met him. She didn’t go into too much detail about Peter and certainly didn’t mention the celebratory drink or his behaviour toward her. She thought about that night and it made her shudder. And what was she doing now? Here she was in a car with almost a complete stranger heading into the night goodness knows where. What would her mother think? But there was something about blue eyes. It felt right. She felt safe with him; and excited; and flattered that she was with someone so utterly gorgeous.

‘Here we are then…….. this must be it.’ He turned the car off the road between two stone pillars and over a cattle grid then they coasted down a long driveway lined with trees until the road opened out into a massive clearing of well kept gardens and shrubs and a huge country house lay before them silhouetted in a pink sky, its windows dancing with lights and the sun setting just to the left of the building. Felicity thought she had never seen anything so beautiful.

‘Wow! You don’t do things by halves David Wilson.’

David came round and opened the door for her. She stood by the car and took in the view across the fields. ‘Wow…..’

‘Shall we go inside?’

The sign above the door said,
The Retreat. Licensed Restaurant. B & B. Non Residents Welcome
. They went inside and were led to a cosy table overlooking the gardens where the view was breathtaking. Felicity was impressed.
The meal was amazing. They both had the fillet steak which was deliciously tender.
Later when
he made his excuses to leave the table
and
Et tu Brute
came to mind
he was back in the blink of an eye
. They talked and they talked. Then they talked some more, and when they actually noticed that the staff of the Retreat’s restaurant had been giving them that
for God’s sake go home or book a room
look for over an hour, David went to the desk and paid the bill then he took her home, stopped in the middle of the road as before and said goodnight. He kissed her once, tenderly;
very tenderly
….. and drove off into the night leaving her with this amazing longing inside and just a cat to talk to. How rude…………

She and Abi had followed him through town. They had been two cars behind him now for the last ten minutes. It was as though they were tailing him and then, as he turned into his parent’s road to pick up Oliver they took off on the main stretch toward the city. He was sick of her watching him. It turned his stomach to think of what she had done and he didn’t want her anywhere near him; or Ollie. Although he couldn’t stop her seeing him a part of him wanted to ....... wanted to have that right. Parents should be able to provide a stable, loving environment for their children and she was very unstable. He knew also that when he came out of his parent’s house holding Ollie’s little hand, she would be parked beside the tree on the opposite side of the road a little way up watching him. Watching Oliver; wanting him.

‘Daddy!’ He loved hearing that word. It felt like he was coming home after a long voyage at sea; or from some distant foreign land to his homeland.

‘Ollie, hey? What have you been up to today hey?’

‘Done pitcher!’

‘Did you? Well let me have a look then.’

The little boy ran his hand over his long blonde curls and shouted, ‘Nanny where Daddy pitcher?’

His mother emerged with a piece of A4 covered in bright coloured scribbles.
‘Here it is look.’

There was a picture of what appeared to be a mummy and a daddy and a little Oliver.
Bright yellow hair sticking up on top of round faces with arms and legs coming from them.

‘Wow! That should be in the Tate gallery. Excellent Oliver; well done mate.’

As they made their way to the car he could see the dark blue fiesta parked in its usual spot under the tree. Did they honestly think they couldn’t be seen there? He opened the back door of the car and settled Oliver into his car seat. ‘Here you go mate. Daddy got you something special.’ He passed a book to his little son. It was filled with dinosaur stickers and stuff that two year old boys would apparently be fascinated with and the book seemed to work. The child did not look up as they passed the blue fiesta; its occupants lying low, trying not to be seen.