Summer Daydreams (38 page)

On the internet, most people seemed to say that this was the worst area in South Florida. Olly thought that he wouldn’t really like to argue with that description. He couldn’t think of anywhere in England that he’d consider quite so scary.

He’d come off the drab, traffic-clogged highway and was now working his way along Main Avenue in Opaville, moving slowly in his hire car. The vehicle might be a perfectly inconspicuous shade of beige, but he still felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Might as well paint a target on his forehead, really. This was an area that could, politely, be called ‘depressed’. He could also think of a lot of far less polite words for it.

The broad street was characterised by broken windows, buildings sprayed with graffiti, burnt out cars. The internet had also informed him that it was a notorious area for drug gangs and shoot-outs. He thought it was probably true. Groups of bored youths sat on crumbling porches. They glared at him sullenly as he drove by. Feral dogs roamed the roads. Rap music at decibels high enough to make your ears bleed pumped out of a few of the houses. It looked like once, many years ago, it might have been a nice place to live. But not now. There were green areas, neglected and overgrown, that were probably, at one time, attractive parks. A few grand buildings still struggled to maintain some sort of dignity despite their decades of decay. Its heyday, if it ever had one, was long gone.

Main Avenue was where the ‘studio’ was supposed to be situated. He crawled along, looking for the right address. Clearly, doing this at night would be out of the question in this neighbourhood, as it might well be misconstrued. Alone and vulnerable, he felt terrified. How he would love to call Nell and hear her voice, but he didn’t want anything to cause him to bottle out now. As he drove deeper into the decay, he locked the car doors and made sure the windows were firmly rolled up.

The derelict houses gave way to a smattering of scruffy shops. Some were boarded up; a few looked as if they had been permanently shuttered. Only the brave continued to trade and they mostly seemed to be second-hand shops or liquor stores. Olly pressed on.

Eventually, he reached the right part of the long street. A glance at the address he had on his piece of paper confirmed that he was close. Small industrial units sprang up now, most of them long since abandoned.

Moments later, Olly turned off into a side street. The squat building in front of him didn’t look like the home of a television studio, but he was sure this was the right place.

There was no sign declaring its ownership. The outside was covered in graffiti and there were no windows. The front door was covered with a metal shutter, also sprayed with colourful words. Olly pulled up in the Chevrolet and sat and stared at it. Clearly, there was no one home.

He parked and got out of the car. Across the street, there was a scruffy auto repair shop – DIEGO’S AUTO STOP it said above the door – and the two heavily tattooed mechanics watched his every move as he did. He hoped that they weren’t eyeing up his vehicle for potential spares.

Was this really the right place? He guessed there was only one way he was going to find out.

There was no point in knocking at the door of the Home Mall shopping channel, so he walked round the side of the building. Rubbish was piled high in the alley and a scabby dog rummaged through it. There was one of those big commercial dumpsters and, above it, a broken window. Olly checked the rest of the building. This, as far as he could tell, would be the only way of him gaining access. Glancing around him to make sure that no one was watching, he levered himself up onto the dumpster and towards the window. He pulled out a few of the sharper-looking shards of glass and tossed them into the alley, then he elbowed in the rest so that there was a space big enough for him to ease himself through.

He dropped down into the room below and brushed himself off, thankfully unharmed. This was some sort of storeroom, but there was currently not very much being stored. There were some empty boxes, a bit of scattered paperwork, not much more. Gingerly, he opened the door, but there was no need as, obviously, there was no one here.

Olly walked into the corridor and checked a couple of other doors. Deserted offices. All shabby. Wastepaper baskets overturned. At the back, he opened a door and stepped straight into the studio he recognised from the Home Mall website that he and Nell had checked out. It was like entering another world. The fake French doors, the sunshine mural, the potted palm trees – they were all here. This space was pristine, painted in sugary candy colours and it looked Disneyesque in among the overwhelming grime surrounding it. Unfortunately, it was also completely empty So this was the right place. He wasn’t sure whether he felt good or bad about that.

The smartest office was at the very front of the building. It contained two desks, a computer on top of each. Both turned off. Next to one computer was a half-drunk takeaway cup of coffee. It was stone-cold. It could have been here for two days or two weeks. There was a bank of slightly beaten up filing cabinets just inside the front door. At the end of them, nearest to Olly, stood a baseball bat – always a useful addition to office equipment. Olly wondered what that was for. Perhaps Lola’s husband had an interesting way of doing business. He’d have to be careful of that. In the corner there was a hefty safe. He wondered if Nell’s money was currently residing inside it.

One thing about it though, a funny feeling in his stomach made him think that this part of the building didn’t look as if it had been completely abandoned. Perhaps Lola Cody would be back here.

In the meantime, he could at least do something to stall their efforts, to help prevent this happening to others. He took up the baseball bat, which weighed heavily in his hand, then he went back through to the studio.

After a few practice swings, he smashed the potted palms, then he took out the fake French doors and punched a hole in the sunshine mural. Everything else that stood in his path in this phony set up bought it. He splintered it all into a thousand little pieces. Olly stood there breathing heavily, bat still clutched in his hand. Thanks to him, at least no more fraudulent DVDs would be made in this studio. It may not be sophisticated, it certainly wasn’t legal, but it did feel very good.

Chapter 76

I’ve just collected Petal from nursery and she’s now sitting at the table eating a sandwich and chatting about her day. I’m trying to concentrate on what she’s saying, but my mind keeps drifting. All I can think of is Olly and where he might be. I’m forcing myself not to constantly ring his mobile as it’s clear that he’s not interested in talking to me for whatever reason. I thought that he would have called to speak to Petal by now. It must be killing him to be apart from her, if not from me.

I flick on the television and find some cartoons for Petal to watch when she’s finished eating. Is this how life will be from now on? Just the two of us together? I never imagined it this way. I’m aware that I’m still going through the motions of being a mother, but I have to force myself to click back into real-life mode soon as I can’t go on like this.

As I’m clearing away Petal’s plate, there’s a knock on the door. I’m not expecting anyone and, for a moment, my heart stops beating. Is every unexpected telephone call or ring on the doorbell going to strike dread into me?

I trail down the stairs and open it. Standing there is Jenny.

‘Hi,’ she says. Her voice wobbles. ‘Can I come in?’

For a moment, I consider saying no. I’m not sure that I want to deal with whatever it is she might have to say.

‘I don’t know where Olly is,’ she tells me flatly. ‘Constance said you thought he might be with me. But he’s not.’

Standing aside, I say, ‘You’d better come up.’

Jen trips up the stairs and into the living room and I trudge behind.

Instantly, Petal is out of her seat and rushing across to her.

‘Auntie Jenny!’ she cries and my daughter is lifted high in the air.

‘Hey,’ Jen says, crushing Petal against her. ‘How’s my big girl? I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too. I’m going to watch cartoons,’ Petal tells her. ‘Want to watch them with me?’

Jen glances at me. ‘Mummy and I need to have a little talk, then I’ll watch cartoons.’ She waits for my reaction, but I don’t think I give her one as she adds, ‘Maybe.’

Putting Petal down, she walks over to the table and takes a seat. When my daughter is out of earshot and safely ensconced in front of
Shaun the Sheep
, she says, ‘Have you heard from him?’

As I don’t know how else to handle this, I sit down opposite her. ‘Not a thing.’

‘He didn’t tell me anything, Nell. No matter what you believe. I had no idea that he was thinking of leaving.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘He’ll be back,’ Jenny assures me. ‘Wherever he is, he won’t stay away.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Olly loves you,’ she says. ‘He
adores
you. Petal is his life.’ I trail my finger through the crumbs on the table. There seem to be a lot of them. Did I give Petal her tea yet? I’m sure I did. ‘I thought you wanted my life.’

Jen takes a deep breath. ‘I did,’ she admits. ‘I’m jealous of you, Nell. Jealous as fuck. You have a perfect husband, perfect daughter; you’re doing exciting things, making something of yourself. I wanted that too.’

‘And now?’

‘Now, I just want to be your friend again.’ Jen sighs. ‘I’m no threat to you or your family, Nell. I’m just a sad, desperate, lonely cow. I’ve no bloke, no kid of my own, no career, no plan. I’m just stuck at the chippy and probably will be for ever.’

‘My perfect husband isn’t here now,’ I point out and I’m not sure that even I would class Petal as a ‘perfect’ daughter. But she’s mine and I love her more than anything else in the world and I don’t want anyone else taking her away from me.

‘But he’ll be back,’ she reiterates. ‘It might be today. It might be tomorrow. It might be next week. But we need to get you back on track by then, Nell. Don’t let him come home to this.’ Her voice trails away and her gaze travels round the room. ‘It’s a bit messy.’

Is it?

Now I look round too. A proper look. There are dishes piled high in the sink, clothes everywhere. When did this happen?

‘When did you last spruce yourself up?’

I try to think, but nothing comes. It might have been in Paris or was it my wedding day? ‘I don’t know.’ And that makes me want to cry.

‘Why don’t you go and have a lovely long bath? It’ll cheer you up no end. I’ll keep an eye on Petal while I have a bit of a tidy up in here.’

That makes me want to cry more. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘That’s what friends are for, Nell.’ Jen gets up and comes round the table to give me a hug. ‘You’ve just had some bad knocks, love. We’ll all help to get you sorted. There’s no need to struggle on by yourself.’

Tears splash onto the table and I think they’re mine. ‘I’d like that bath.’

‘You go on, then. Leave everything to me.’

In the mirror, a haggard-looking woman with dark circles round her eyes stares back at me. She has the hair of a harridan. I’m quite taken aback when I realise that it’s me. No wonder the other mothers in the playground gaped at me. I look terrible. Truly terrible. No wonder Olly has cleared off. I would have done the same in his situation.

Snivelling, I run myself a bath and sink into it. While I lay there, eyes closed, letting the water soothe me, I can hear Jen clinking the dishes, running the hoover round, all the time keeping up a stream of chatter with Petal.

Whatever she and Olly have done – and I don’t think that I want to know – she’s trying to be a good friend to me now and I’m so grateful for that. My copy book isn’t blotless, let’s face it; I have kissed Tod. I had lustful thoughts about Yves Simoneaux. There are little dark spots on my soul. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, the right opportunity presents itself and it’s so hard to resist. We’re only human, after all.

I wonder will I feel so philosophical about things if it turns out that Olly has run off with some nubile, nineteen-year-old. But, if he hasn’t done that, what exactly
is
he doing? Why doesn’t he just come home?

Getting out of the bath, I dry my hair and put on some make-up, then I find my favourite pink cardigan and cream vintage dress that I love and get dressed. I risk facing the mirror again and, this time, a human being stares back at me. Quite a hot one. I smile and, suddenly, I look even better. The smile might not reach my heart, but pinning it on my lips makes my spirit lift.

In the living room, Jenny is plumping my cushions. ‘Wow,’ she says when I walk in. ‘Someone’s scrubbed up well.’

‘Thanks.’ My lounge now looks like something out of
House & Home
. The dishes that were piling up in the sink have all been washed, dried and put away. Petal’s toys are all tidy. The clothes that were gracing the floor and the sofa have disappeared. ‘You’ve done a great job here too.’

Jen shrugs. ‘It’s the least I can do.’ She straightens up and rubs her back. ‘Feeling a bit better?’