Someone Else's Dream (16 page)

“You okay mate?” Smithy enquired, leaning against the wall beside him.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t know she was one of those,” he flicked his cigarette into the road.

“Eighty quid fine, buddy!” Smithy, scolded. Darren didn’t respond. “Maybe she’s just trying to find herself, that’s why she broke it off. Maybe when she realises what she’s missing, she will come back,” Smithy counselled him, hopefully.

“Maybe,” Darren murmured, then after a pause he added, “I still love her.”

Smithy put an arm on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on mate, let’s go back to Yates, there’s some hot stuff there tonight.” Both boys started walking off together,

“Nah, you go on Smithy, I’m off home.”

“Not going to do anything stupid are you?”

“Course not I just want to be on my own for a bit, see you later.”

They went in different directions, Darren home to the flat he shared with Smithy. He had been hoping to see Carla, hoping beyond hope that she would fall for him again, in his smart gear. He certainly wasn’t expecting to see what he did see and as he walked home all he could think about was,
at least, it wasn’t with another bloke!

Smithy got back to Yates to find that the delectable Julie, his hope for the night had already moved on though it didn’t bother him too much. He had no intention of taking a girl back to the flat with Darren in that mood. Some of the old crowd were still there and he was soon drinking his beer and joining in the banter. He was thinking maybe some chick might take him back to hers. If not, then beer and a kebab later would be just as good.

He saw her walk in on her own, it was late and most had moved on to the clubs. He watched her walk to the bar and order a drink, noticing she had only ordered one and that confirmed to him she was by herself. She sat on a stool at the bar and he was immediately drawn to her as soon as she walked in. She was a plump girl, a bit like himself, but he thought she held a natural beauty and he immediately desired her. Taking the stool next to her, he ordered a beer. She girl looked around at Smithy and gave a friendly smile.

“Can I get you a drink?” was his opening gambit. The girl smiled once more which made Smithy fancy her even more. He thought her face just lit up when she smiled.

“I just got this one, but thanks anyway,” she answered.

“Maybe the next one?”

“Maybe,” she said,

Smithy swung his legs around to face her; the girl slightly leant his way. He found himself feeling nervous; this was one beautiful lady who he was instantly attracted to. He didn’t want to mess it up.

“I’m Smithy,” he smiled,

“Hi, I’m Marcia.” came the reply.

*              *              *

They took the short journey back to Carla’s by taxi and went in through the front door, Donna making sure it was locked this time. The evening had grown quite chilly and they’d decided on the way home to put on a chick-lit movie, from Carla’s vast collection and curl up on the sofa. The beach house was warm, as it had retained the day’s heat. Donna was sitting on the floor, looking through the DVD rack, when Carla came in with two large white wines and set them down on the coffee table. Donna had taken her cardigan off and her blouse was showing her ample cleavage.

“I’m going to have a quick shower while you choose a film,” she told Donna and off she went.

Donna was still flicking through the DVD’s when she heard Carla walk back in the lounge. “Let’s watch a horror,” she said as she looked up, then any thoughts of a film were completely gone from her head.

Standing there as naked as the day she was born was Carla. Donna got to her feet and her own body shuddered with passion. She stood and faced Carla.

“Is this what you saw all those years ago?” Carla whispered softly. Donna just yearned to reach out, to touch her and caress her, but she wasn’t really sure what was happening. She gently drew Carla to her and kissed her softly on the lips, her nakedness touching her clothing. She could see the perfectly formed landing strip between Carla’s legs, she so wanted to caress it, to taste it.

“It is so, so, much better now,” she murmured to Carla,

“I’m not that fourteen-year-old kid anymore. No one has ever seen me naked since that day, until now. Please, make love to me Donna.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, tentatively. Carla kissed her on the lips passionately.

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” Donna took her into the bedroom and both girls made love as they had never before; Carla finally experiencing some of ‘Charlotte’s Dream’.

*              *              *

The village of
Hatfield
and the surrounding villages of Doncaster were in an u
proar
over the news of the decimated grave of Amy Shaw. She had only passed on just over a year ago, having died when struck down by a lorry that passed through the village to get to the city centre. No one could understand why someone would do such a thing to an innocent
persons
grave. The horrific memory of her death was still in some people’s minds and this had just made things worse. The family and friends had gone around to tidy the grave and a fund was soon organised to raise money for a new headstone.
Yes,
it was true to say people were still in shock. Even Dale Simpson was in shock; shocked that someone could so stupidly get the wrong grave to decimate.

Dale was sitting in his office in the City Centre when he received the call. He knew who it was; he didn’t have his name in his contacts list, he wasn’t that stupid, but he recognised some of the digits.

“You’re an idiot and an amateur!” Dale said into the phone. Crazy Cavan was quick to respond.

“Call me what you like bro, you still owe me 500 quid.”

“You stupid bastard you got the wrong grave you ain’t having another penny.”

“We will see about that,” Crazy responded.

The line went dead, which took Dale a bit by surprise, but he wasn’t going to let it bother him; the money he had already given out was meaningless to him. Crazy Cavan and his cronies were just two-bit criminals who would never take on the likes of him. Or would they? He rested his elbows on his desk and buried his head in his hands. It had all gone wrong, he had messed up big time.
Just pay the money,
he told himself over and over again. Unfortunately, as usual, his pride was bigger than his wallet. It may be time to reverse that.

Crazy Cavan already knew he had got the wrong grave, as Doncaster and Barnsley shared the same local news channel and it was headlined at every broadcast. He blamed Mallethead for it, but it wasn’t a problem, these things happen. He had taken his eye off the ball just a little, but the truth was, the graveyard had unnerved him and he wasn’t fully comfortable decimating a grave. It didn’t seem right. Now, he was beginning to regret it but he didn’t think it was that big an issue until now when it was all over the news. Dale Simpson had done this to him. He had to pay.

Sitting in his modest two-bedroomed Council flat in Carlton a suburb of Barnsley, where framed posters of Harley Davidson’s and the Son’s of Anarchy stars adorned the walls, he waited for Mallethead. He’d asked Mallethead and another bruiser called Towser to come over; another two amateurs in the world of thuggery and crime. It was only £500 he was owed and now he would have to pay the other two, at least, a £100 each, but principles were involved and, in any case, the price had just gone up. Neither of the three of them had ever been involved in kidnap before, but they were willing to give it a go. They were soon on their way to the village of Hatfield, in a perfectly legal Ford Focus. Crazy Cavan wasn’t one of life’s planners, unfortunately, he usually let his instincts take over; not always a good thing to do.

*              *              *

Hayleigh visited the graveyard the morning the decimation of the grave come out. She heard it on the local news and for one moment, when the name Amy was announced, her heart went into her mouth. She immediately thought of her daughter Aimee and left the house to take a brisk walk to the graveyard. She was surprised to see the amount of people who had congregated at the cemetery and wondered why people would want to come and see such a thing. She saw the decimated grave and the family tidying it up and her heart went out to them. The Church doors were open and a notice indicated there was a collection box inside. Hayleigh entered the Church and come across an elderly lady holding said box. Haleigh deposited £20 and went outside to visit her own daughter's grave, she didn’t know why she had felt relief that it was intact, but she knew it would be; it had been just the similarity of the names that had frightened her so much.

She removed some faded flowers and made a mental note to pop into the flower shop to get some more. Kneeling by the grave, she talked to her daughter for a while, telling how much she still missed her and what a big influence on her life she had been. All Hayleigh could think about at that moment was how wonderful her life was with Aimee and Matt until the illness had taken over their daughter. It had devastated and changed both their lives. Matt had changed considerably, from being the gentle caring father and husband, to a man who bullied and struck his wife. She knew it was the trauma of the illness and ultimate death of their daughter that had caused it and destroyed him. Hayleigh knew she had changed herself; she had become hard and bitter. Now, as she sat by her daughter’s grave, with the tears strolling down both cheeks, she knew the only man she had ever loved was Matt.
I still love him,
she told herself. She put her hand on her stomach and thought about Dale and the baby that was growing inside her.
This is not the answer, this is not what I want.

Quite conveniently placed across the road from the Church was a small, local flower shop, She could see that it was quite busy and she watched for a moment as customers bought flowers from the shop and placed them on the decimated grave of Amy Shaw. She thought it was a lovely gesture and at that moment, she was thankful that she lived in such a friendly village. She went to the shop and purchased flowers for her own daughter’s grave and strolled back to the graveyard and placed them down. Kissing the headstone, she left to make her way back home. Walking in a daydream she never noticed the black Ford Focus that had suddenly started following her.

The three occupants of the vehicle resembled the ‘Baldies’ from the film the ‘The Wanderers’, only with hair rather than some professional kidnappers. Bunging someone in a car, in broad daylight, on the main road into Doncaster was not a thing some professional would do. It was not a thing you would even expect some amateur to get away with. The fact that they were unseen doing it was more down to good luck than judgement.

Hayleigh had no idea what was happening. She was walking slowly with her head in another world. She noticed the black car had pulled up alongside her and didn’t give it a second thought. Even when the passenger door opened and a scruffy man got out dressed in leathers, she still bore it as no concern. It was only when she was grabbed and bundled into the back seat did it dawn on her what was actually happening. The car drove off at a steady forty mph and the man sitting beside her in the back seat held her tightly. She was still confused and didn’t know whether to scream or kick out. When the man in the passenger seat turned around to face her, she chose to do nothing.

“Please don’t be scared, no one is going to hurt you, we just need a bit of insurance and you will be home soon,” Crazy Cavan smiled in a way that was both assuring and sorrowful. He looked at Mallethead who was sitting in the back holding Hayleigh.

“Leave her go.” he told Mallethead.

Mallethead did; he didn’t want to be holding the girl anyway and was wondering how he got involved in a kidnap. He was promised £100 if he bundled the girl into the car. It didn’t sound like kidnapping, at the time, to him. Now he was scared to death. Hayleigh rubbed her arm even though it didn’t hurt, it was if she was wiping something dirty off it. Her heart raced and her stomach churned. She stuttered a few words.

“Wwwwhere... are yyyyou... taking me?” Crazy Cavan was still staring at her from his front seat.

“Just to our local for a little drink,” he told her.

If that was true, Hayleigh rather felt like she may need more than one.

*              *              *

Matt Conner had heard the news that morning and just like his ex-wife his heart went into his mouth for a moment. It was with great relief when he realised it was not his daughter’s grave. He couldn’t fully comprehend why anyone would want to do such a thing. He didn’t know Amy Shaw and he couldn’t recall knowing any of her family. He just hoped they found out who did it and they got what they deserved.

He’d woken up in a cold-sweat once more, but he couldn’t recall any dream and that disturbed him a little. He’d performed his usual morning routine; showering, trimming and edging his designer beard, before looking at himself naked in the mirror. Telling his penis that he would soon be having some company, he dressed and packed just enough clothes for the weekend. He was pleased to see it was going to be a pleasant day and the weekend forecast was pretty good. He had a bounce in his step as he got into his Lexus. It felt more like he was going on a romantic weekend in Paris, rather than a weekend in a caravan at the Welsh holiday resort they called Porthcawl. He took the short drive to Marcia’s and beeped his horn.

*              *              *

Marcia looked at herself in the mirror on her dressing table. She had already packed and had decided to wear a flowery, summer dress, as the forecast was good and she knew she would be cooped up in a car for a while. She was looking for marks and bruises on her face and was thankful they hadn’t developed as much as she thought they would; with the make-up applied you could barely see them. She felt like she was getting back to her old self. Any doubts she had over Matt were long gone, he had always been a perfect gentleman since she was attacked. When he first asked her to go to Porthcawl she had her doubts that she could really spend a weekend with him. She imagined he would be wanting lots of sex and the fact that she was with him, might make him think that he was entitled to it, but Marcia was feeling a lot better lately, and a lot hornier also, to the point where she would be disappointed if they didn’t have lots of dinner and dessert.
Okay it’s only Porthcawl,
she thought,
but its sun, sea, sand and lots of sex, sounds perfect.

She heard the horn beep and then the front door buzzer go. Rushing to the hallway, where her bag was, she looked at the camera. She could see it was Matt and pressed the switch to let him in.

“I’ll be two minutes,” she shouted as she went into the kitchen to swill the coffee cup she had used. Matt caught a sight of her, in her dress and followed into the kitchen.

“God, you don’t half look sexy, I could have you right now.”

Marcia was shocked, but flattered by his words and turned around to see Matt standing there with his trousers and pants around his ankle; his penis, proud and erect.

“Bend over that table, I gotta have you!” he growled huskily and helped her do just that as he bent her over the table and pulled her panties down. Marcia didn’t resist, it all happened so quickly and she had been thinking about sex with him just before he came to the door. That had put her in the mood. It didn’t take long for them to both climax before cleaning themselves up and climbing into the car; Marcia thinking it wasn’t a bad start to the weekend at all. At the back of her mind, though, she was thinking what might have happened if she hadn’t wanted it. She tried to put it from her mind, but the question never completely went away.

As they drove, she wondered why there was always this lingering doubt about the man she was sitting next to. He had only ever been helpful and friendly and given her good sex. She hoped this weekend wasn’t going to be a mistake and chided herself for even thinking that way. There was a niggling doubt, though... always that niggling doubt.

*              *              *

The Nag’s Head was empty apart from the barman; they had only just opened up, after hearing Cavan knock on the door. Towser had gone home as instructed by Cavan. It had taken them just thirty minutes to get to the pub, from the moment Hayleigh was ushered into the car. Mallethead stood by the bar with a beer while Cavan had gotten two beers and sat at a table with Hayleigh. No further words had been spoken on the journey and when they got out of the car in the pub car park, Hayleigh had been allowed to get out of the car by herself. She could have easily had made a run for it, but as Cavan gestured for her to go to the pub, she instinctively did so. The pub was located amid a Council Estate, in a very public place. Even as Cavan got the drinks Hayleigh thought she could easily leave and just walk out of the place. Curiosity had got the better of her and as Cavan placed the beer in front of her, a young man and girl walked in and that made Hayleigh feel somewhat safer.

Cavan sat his huge frame on the stool and took a swig of his beer; the glass tiny in contrast with his hands. Hayleigh took a sip of her beer and screwed her face up at the taste, sliding her glass over to Cavan.

“Do you want anything else?” he asked,

“An orange juice would be nice,” she responded, amazed at her own calmness. Cavan turned his head towards the bar.