Never Ever Leave Me (9 page)

“It might be better than turning into some sad old spinster like Granny Alison,” Seher added
determined to have the last word.

…

As arranged John briefly returned to Patrick’s and they completed their work.  Both men were delighted with the result and excitedly spoke of working together in the future.  They enjoyed each other’s company and knew that their friendship would last far beyond their working relationship.  The anniversary of Carol’s death came and went while John was in Manchester and he was pleased to have the distraction of his work.  He didn’t mention the date to anyone so the day passed by like any other, but of course it wasn’t.  The weight of his loss was as heavy as it had ever been, but
he was learning, little by little, to live with it.

When
he returned to his home once again, the house felt cavernous.  The emptiness of each room hung over him like a dark cloak and the space he once thought of as his sanctuary, felt like a prison.  He had to get out in the air, had to breathe.  He craved company and began to accept invitations, any invitations, anything to be out in the world.  His grief at being alone turned to anger.  Why did his Carol have to die?  She’d never hurt a soul in her life.  Why did he have to suffer this awful loneliness?  In his heart he knew the anger he felt was simply the next stage in the grieving process and common sense told him he’d get through it, but it was difficult, he needed distractions.

The autumn evenings were mellow and warm and John began to drive down to the coast several times a week.  He liked to walk along the shore and listen to the waves and the gulls cry as they soared overhead in the updrafts.  He met lots of people walking their dogs and
, had his life been different, he too would have acquired a dog for company.  As things were, it would have been unfair to keep an animal shut in most of the day while he was working.

Friends and family started inviting
him round for meals and social evenings.  He had become the extra man that one invited when faced with an odd number at the dinner table.  Over the previous weeks he’d found himself paired with the single cousin, sister or friend of just about everyone he knew.

“Sir, I’d be honoured if you’d come to my home on Saturday evening.  We’re going to celebrate the completion of my research.  As my esteemed tutor, you will be one of the most important guests.  My wife is a very good cook and all our close fri
ends are coming.”

T
he invitation came from Khalid Ali, one of John’s students who’d popped into his office near the end of the day.  John was surprised and touched by the request. He’d tutored Khalid and mentored him and now the young man was to be awarded a doctorate.  He felt Khalid easily deserved the accolade.  He’d been a model student and researcher and he’d worked tirelessly.  His wife Sadia was a doctor working at the Royal Hospital while her husband studied.  John respected the couple.  He’d only briefly met Sadia, but he knew Khalid well and enjoyed the young man’s company.

“How kind of you to invite me,” he replied.  “Is it a formal dinner?  Will I have to give a speech?  I’m not very eloquent,” he joked.

“So you will come,” Khalid said and he breathed a sigh of relief.  “I’m so pleased, Sir.  My mother is attending and she really wanted to meet you.  My father will be coming over from Pakistan when I am to be presented with my degree, but he can’t leave his business at this time so you will be representing him at my party.  I’m delighted you will be there, Sir.  Without your assistance I would not be celebrating.  You have helped me so much.”

The enormity of the honour wasn’t lost on John and now he was worried that he would indeed have to give a speech.

“It will not be a sit down dinner, more of a buffet, but the food will be good, I promise you that, Sir,” Khalid continued.  “My wife is one of those fine ladies who are not only clever, but also great homemakers.  She never stops telling me what a lucky man I am to be married to her,” he added smiling at his own joke.  “The evening will begin at six o’clock and you know, of course, we do not serve alcohol.”

Khalid gave John the address and he saw that the young man lived in
an area called Townhead which was beside the Royal Hospital.

“Sometimes Sadia has to work nights,” Khalid explained.  “The flat we rent is just a
few minutes walk from the hospital.  It’s not an upmarket area.  Where I live in Pakistan is very superior, but Townhead serves us well.”

“I’ll see you at six on Saturday then,” John replied.  “And don’t worry, I won’t let you down.  I’ll tell your mum you were a model student and I’ll sing your praises in my speech even if I have to toast your good health with apple juice.”

“Trust me, Sir,” he replied.  “My health is better for being toasted with apple juice.  Have you seen some of the people in this city?  They get so drunk they fall down in the street.”

John couldn’t agree with him more. 
Nevertheless, he thought, he’d better have a couple of drinks before arriving at the event to give him some Dutch courage and he’d better write a speech.

CHAPTER 13

Katy and Seher met at McDonalds early on Wednesday evening.  The weather had changed from mellow and warm to damp and there was a distinct chill in the air.  The girls had opted for the fast food restaurant because the film they wanted to see was screening earlier than their previous choices.  Each had come straight from work and each had stories to tell.

As they stood in the queue to order Seher began,
“We had a client in the office today called Mr Woodcock.  Christine, the secretary, and I had to sit in on the meeting and she kept whispering rude jokes to me about his name.  That wasn’t helped by my boss having a slight speech impediment and pausing between the words ‘wood’ and ‘cock’.  I was terrified I’d laugh out loud and embarrass myself.”

“We have clients called Heather Feather and Hazel Nutt,” Katy said.  “These are their chosen names not names they’ve gained through marriage.  Imagine their parents knowingly saddling them with those names.”

“Yes, what can I get you?” a skinny young man behind the counter asked interrupting their chat.

“Sweet chilli crispy chicken wrap, fries and a coke,” Katy replied.

“And I’ll have a spicy veggie sandwich, fries and an Irn-Bru,” Seher added.

The fast food was indeed fast and soon both girls were sitting
at a table wolfing down their meals.

“I want you to come to a sort of party with me on Saturday night,” Seher said.  “It’s just a finger food buffet at my friend’s flat in Townhead.  She lives in Glebe Court just a couple of minutes from you.
  Her husband has completed his doctorate and they’re celebrating.  His mum’s coming over from Pakistan and Sadia wants some moral support because practically everyone else at the party will be Khalid’s friends and work mates.  I don’t want to go on my own.  Please say you’ll come.”

I’m happy to come with you, but I don’t know the protocol.  What should I wear?  Should I take a gift, perhaps flowers or a bottle of wine?”

“Wear whatever you like as long as it’s not too bare.  We don’t want to shock his mum.  You don’t need to take anything because I’ll have a gift, but if you feel you want to, take flowers or shortbread biscuits, something like that.  Definitely don’t take alcohol.  They’re all Moslems like me so they don’t have booze in the house.”

“What time do you want me to be ready?”

“I’ll call round for you at five-thirty.  The evening kicks off early, at six o’clock.  Talking about time, we’d better get going, the film programme starts in fifteen minutes and we’ve still to buy tickets.”

“Don’t worry the adverts last about twenty minutes so we’ve plenty of time,” Katy said.  “Let’s get a McFlurry to eat while we walk to the cinema.  I fancy ice-cream with Smarties what about you?”

Seher opted for a Cadbury Crème Egg McFlurry and the girls ate as they walked and talked.  The Cineworld cinema complex was in the very heart of the city.  At twelve storeys high it is the world’s tallest cinema.  The journey up and up on the escalators to reach their floor seemed endless, but even so, Katy marvelled at the eighteen screen facility.  She loved coming here.  The screens went from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling and the acoustics were amazing.  It didn’t take the girls long to become engrossed in their movie and enjoy the whole Hollywood experience.

Although they found themselves back on the street at only nine o’clock both girls were tired and neither had been home yet after work.

“The film was great,” Seher said, “I loved the clothes and the setting.”

“And the servants,” Katy added.  “Maybe one day I’ll be rich.”

“You’d better come into our shop and buy a lottery ticket then, the winning lottery ticket, because I don’t see either of us having that sort of money any other way,” her friend replied.

“After my divorce from Gordon I might marry a millionaire,” Katy speculated.

“Oh yes, and where are you going to meet this amazingly wealthy man?  Maybe he’ll be strolling in Townhead or eating at McDonalds or perhaps he’ll come into your office to see your boss about insuring his pet.”

“You’re just a killjoy, a rotten killjoy
, for all you know my millionaire might have been sitting at the next table.”

Seher guffawed with laughter.  “A smelly old down and out was sitting at a nearby table, then there was the group of spotty
teenagers wearing track suits or maybe the millionaire was the dodgy looking guy covered in tattoos.  Dream on girl, dream on.”

…

Gordon leant on the brush he was supposed to be sweeping the site with.  Only another five weeks of this awful work, he thought.  He’d be finished his community service in five weeks then he’d be free.  By mid-December he’d never need to look at Mr. Barker’s ugly face again.  He hated the smug bastard with his constant stream of one-sided views about crime and punishment.  Of all the people he could have been assigned to Mr. Barker was probably the most annoying.  The other lads made jokes about never committing a crime again just to avoid him.  Gordon, on the other hand, just wouldn’t get caught the next time.  He’d make sure of that.  He’d rob enough people and accumulate enough money so he could travel to Glasgow and fetch Katy home.  Assuming of course he didn’t lose his tenancy first.  The amount of unpaid rent due was increasing and he’d have to pay the landlord something soon or face eviction.

He
knew he’d have to do everything in his power to sweet talk her into coming back with him.  He’d be the ideal, remorseful husband.  He’d agree with everything she said, constantly apologise and assure her he’d never raise his hand to her again, anything in fact, just to get her back.

There’d be time enough to sort her out once
they were back together and she belonged to him once again.  He’d really suffered since Katy ran away.  How dare she abandon him, she’d promised to love him and more importantly, obey him.  He’d make her pay for all the misery she’d caused.  He’d make her pay.

…

When Katy lay in her bed that night she daydreamed about her millionaire.  He would be clever and kind and understanding.  He’d love her and cherish her and sweep her away on his white charger or perhaps in his Rolls Royce or his yacht.  Her millionaire would never shout or lose his temper.  He’d never raise his hand to her.  The man of her dreams would be a passionate but tender lover.  They’d have a family and live in a big house with a garden and they’d entertain friends.  Seher and Granny Alison would visit her beautiful home and she’d cook wonderful food for them and Granny could have a double measure of whisky with her tea every night.

Katy felt
comfortable and cosy in her bed.  Her dreams warmed her heart and filled her with hope.  The man in her dreams was always handsome.  He always had kind eyes and, for some reason, when she pictured his face, the man of her dreams was always John, the stranger from the train.

CHAPTER 14

John arrived at the ground floor flat in Glebe Court at ten past six.  He didn’t want to be late, but neither did he want to be the first to arrive.  The security door was open, wedged with a piece of paving slab, so he entered the communal hallway, located Khalid’s door and pressed the bell.  The hallway floor was washed and smelled distinctly of bleach and the flowery scent of air freshener hung in the air.  He heard footsteps from inside the flat coming towards him, there was a fumbling of locks then the door was pulled open.  When Khalid saw him his face lit up and he grinned from ear to ear.  He reached out, grabbed his hand and pumped it vigorously.

“Professor Houston, you’re here, my esteemed mentor, you are here,”
he said his eyes filling up with emotion.

As John was led down the narrow hall he could hear voices and laughter coming from
a room towards the back.  The two men entered the lounge and he was surprised to see several of his fellow lecturers and some of his students standing in small groups chatting.

“The women are in the kitchen preparing food and talking.  They’ll join us shortly,” Khalid said.

That explained why there were no women in this room John thought.

“Yes, Professor, the men talk in one room and the women in another.  That’s the only way we men can get a word in edgeways,” a young man with a shock of red hair joked offering his hand for John to shake.  “Remember me?” he asked, “I was in your lecture
s last year.