The Girl at the Bus-Stop (31 page)

Becky walked slowly down the staircase clutching the little car to her chest, and dabbing her eyes with her sleeve. She opened the porch door and gasped when she saw the white Porsche 911 convertible parked on the drive. She rushed outside squealing with delight, as Harry appeared from nowhere and handed her the key fob.

‘Happy birthday, Becky,’ he said, leaning down to kiss her, ‘I’ve filled the tank so you should be okay for a few miles, oh, and these are from me.’

‘Thank you, Harry.’

Harry handed her a gift-wrapped packet, and she hurriedly ripped the paper from it. Inside there was a pair of black leather driving gloves.

‘When the adrenalin kicks in you’ll need those to keep hold of the steering wheel,’ he said, ‘they’re the best you can get.’

‘These must have cost a fortune, Harry,’ she said, pulling them on and fondling the soft leather.

‘Worth every penny just to see the smile on your face,’ he replied with a grin, ‘it’s been a real pleasure driving you and Mr Rudge around these past few weeks.’

She reached up and hugged him, before unlocking the car and climbing inside. Rudge appeared alongside the car and opened the passenger door.

‘Get in, Reuben, Harry can you squeeze in the back?’ she said, ‘we’re going for a cruise.’

‘I don’t think there’s room,’ said Harry, ‘but I’m heading back to London now anyway, so enjoy yourself. Just go careful with it and remember, the engine’s in the back.’

‘Hang on,’ said Rudge, ‘I’ll just get my keys and lock the house up. We could be away for some time.’

After an exhilarating drive along the motorway for several miles, Becky slowed down and turned off on to the slip road heading back to the town.

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Becky, ‘is it really mine?’

‘Of course it is,’ said Rudge, ‘now if you take the next left I’ll show you your other birthday present.’

‘I think I’ve had quite enough, thank you very much,’ she replied.

A few miles further on, the sports car turned into a crumbling industrial estate. Becky slowed right down to manoeuvre the car in-between the gaping pot-holes in the road.

‘What on earth are we doing here?’ she asked, ‘I wasn’t expecting to go to
Schopenhaur &
Beavoir’s
premises on my birthday, I was glad to see the back of it.’

‘You’ll see the back of it all right,’ Rudge replied, ‘and the front and sides.’

As they neared the building, Becky pulled the car over to the side of the road a few feet in front of a safety barrier. Becky put the roof up and they climbed out of the car and stood on the pavement. A tall man in a hard had walked up to them smiling.

‘Mr Rudge?’ he said, offering his hand and two hard hats, ‘I’m Dermot, are we all ready?’

‘Ready when you are, Dermot,’ replied Rudge, putting a hat on Becky’s head, before securing his own in place.

Dermot spoke into his radio set and a few moments later a
huge crane appeared in view. It crawled slowly and noisily across the
Schopenhaur & Beavoir car park, and attached to its crane arm was a large demolition ball.

Becky watched open mouthed as the ball swung into the side of the building, splitting the concrete like a hammer hitting a thick cardboard box. It took several attempts for the front wall to cave in, the rusted steel strengthening bars keeping it all together for as long as they could hold out. It was a further twenty minutes before all the walls had collapsed, and the site became a mass of concrete dust, debris and broken glass.

Rudge put his arm around Becky’s waist and led her back to the car. He handed the hard hats back to Dermot, along with a generous tip.

‘Take your lads out for a decent meal and a few beers on me tonight, Dermot.’

Becky turned the car round and accelerated away slowly, and both driver and passenger were silent for a few moments.

‘What is it, Becky,’ Rudge said, ‘I thought you’d be over the moon seeing that place knocked down.’

‘So did I,’ she replied, ‘but what about the poor sods who relied on it for work?’

‘They’re all taken care of, and the staff at
Einstein & Unger.’

‘Is that next on the list to destroy?’

‘Nope, as we speak it’s being converted into a sports club for everyone who works on the estate.’ said Rudge, ‘Your old workplace is going to be a landscaped area with a bowling green and a café, so people have somewhere decent to go in their lunch breaks. I struck a deal with the local council, so I’m paying for all the work and they’ve agreed to cough up for maintenance and they’ve agreed to resurface the roads. The bus company’s going to extend its route right through the estate, so people don‘t have to walk to work in the rain and get soaked. ’

‘That’s fantastic,’ Becky replied, her smile returning, ‘you know something, Rudge, you’re much too nice to be a rich man.’

The happy couple spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed, until Rudge padded wearily down the stairs in his bathrobe and made some tea. He was soon joined by a sleepy Becky, who perched on a kitchen stool and yawned into her mug.

‘What’s the plan for tonight,’ she said, ‘are we eating out?’

‘You are, I’m staying in,’ he replied, stirring his tea.

‘That’s not very sociable on my birthday.’

‘Your best mate down here,’ said Rudge, ‘it’s Tara isn’t it?’

‘What about her?’ said Becky, ‘I was going to pop round and see her tomorrow,’

‘She’s coming here at seven,’ replied Rudge, ‘along with Millie, Amanda, Kat, Zoe, Kylie and Harriet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your birthday surprise,’ he replied, ‘you’re going out on the town with your friends in a big pink limo.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘No, it’s all arranged. You haven’t seen them in ages, so I thought you can go out for a slap-up dinner first and then hit the nightclubs.’

‘What about you?’

‘Well I’m hardly likely to want to come am I?’ he said, ‘The last time I went to a nightclub the bouncer on the door thought I must be a Dad come to collect his daughter.’

‘But I want you to come, Reuben,’ she replied, ‘it’s my birthday and I want all my friends to meet the man I’m in love with.’

‘Really,’ he said, ‘I thought you might be embarrassed at having me tagging along.’

‘What?’ she said, looking hurt, ‘You can’t think much of me if you think that.’

‘You know what I mean, this age difference thing.’

‘It’s never been a problem for me,’ she snapped, ‘ but it’s obviously causing you a lot of grief.’

‘It’s not at all, but you know how some people are, you know, old bloke young woman.’

‘That’s total bollocks and you know it, Rudge,’ she replied angrily, ‘so you either come out with me on my birthday, or you can have the ring and the car back.’

‘If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.’

‘Of course you won’t be in the way you silly sod. I want you close to me, and woe betides you if you start making eyes at any of my friends.’

‘Shall I wear my white disco jacket, red shirt and medallion?’ he said with a grin.

‘You can if you want, but you’ll be dancing on your own.’

 
It was after ten the next morning by the time Rudge stirred from his alcohol-induced deep sleep. He looked across at Becky lying next to him, and reached out to touch her arm. She was still out for the count, the willing victim of too much champagne and a very late night. Rudge pulled back his half of the duvet and forced his legs to move off the mattress, his feet thudding to the floor as if he was wearing diver’s boots. He put on his bathrobe and eased his way along the landing and into the bathroom.

In the kitchen he struggled to co-ordinate the simple process of making tea and toast. Having forgotten to plug the kettle in, he’d filled the mugs with cold water, his face turning sour as he took a sip. He abandoned the task and went out into the garden, hoping that the early morning wintry air would buck his ideas up.

Despite assuring the estate agent that it would be moved, his shed was still standing in pride of place at the bottom of the garden. He walked down the path and pushed opened the flimsy warped door, and sat down at his wallpaper table desk. He ran a hand affectionately along the pile of old hand-written hardback notebooks on the shelf, some of which contained science-fiction ideas from his school days. Half a cigarette nestled in the 1970s bright yellow Double Diamond pub ashtray, his ten year old disposable lighter lying alongside.

After lighting the cigarette he gazed out of the window and was suddenly engulfed in a feeling of total well-being. He swivelled round joyously in his ripped office chair, which he’d retrieved from a skip at Einstein & Unger in 2004, after they’d refurbished the directors’ offices.

There was a tap at the door, and Rudge reached out to open it. Becky was standing there wearing nothing but a towel, and holding a tray containing mugs of perfectly made piping-hot tea.

‘Do you mind if I come in?’ she asked with a smile.

‘Of course not,’ he replied happily, ‘welcome to my world. Where are your clothes?’

‘I was going to have a shower,’ she said, ‘then I felt a desperate need for a cup of tea first, and as I didn’t have a bathrobe with me I just grabbed a towel. I did think of doing a Gale Buckingham, but I thought you might disapprove.’

‘Not a chance, you can walk around naked all day if you want,’ he said smiling, ‘here, you’ll have to sit on my knee I’ve only the one chair.’

‘This is nice,’ said Becky, bouncing up and down in his lap, ‘it’s got a lovely atmosphere in here, an almost church-like tranquillity.’

‘I was just thinking something like that a few minutes ago,’ said Rudge, ‘in fact the whole house seems to have an aura of serenity about it now.’

‘Perhaps it came included in the designer makeover.’

‘No, I think it’s more to do with the fact that the atmosphere has improved a hundred per cent since Mrs Rudge buggered off to Lanzarote.’ he replied, ‘Her very presence was a negative force field. Whenever she walked into a room, clocks would stop ticking, and every time she went into the garden the birds would stop singing, and the woodlice would hide under discarded bricks.’

‘A slight exaggeration I think, Mr Rudge, but I think it’s a lovely house. I hate to admit it, but I prefer it to that huge double apartment in London. This place seems so much more, you know, homely if you like.’

‘If we lived here you’d miss the view across the river.’ said Rudge, ‘The only one you get here is of the houses opposite. On a clear day maybe you can catch the odd glimpse of the recreation ground.’