Touched (6 page)

Thoughtfully Dan unlocked the Skoda and threw the clipboard onto the passenger seat. Had she had a change of mind? Decided that he was crazy, too much of a risk to go anywhere with? Possibly, he certainly wouldn't blame her if she had.

He almost drove off but decided to take one more shot at it. There was something about her, something he couldn't put his finger on; that meant that he wasn't going to give up on her just yet.

And he was lonely. He had to admit that to himself; awfully lonely.

He went back inside, using the proximity card again. The lobby was empty apart from Tommy who looked up in surprise from his newspaper.

‘Back already? Forgotten something?’

Dan took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was beginning to get a headache, perhaps it was a delayed hangover coming on.

‘I…er…seem to have mislaid a girl.’ He knew how foolish that sounded.

‘Now that
is
careless,’ laughed Tommy, ‘You don’t want to get into a habit of doing that. Pretty?’

‘She was rather nice,’ Dan found himself blushing, ‘Didn’t you see her? She came down in the lift with me.’

Tommy rubbed his chin, ‘Nope I didn’t notice her, didn't notice anyone,’ he said slowly, looking at Dan through hooded eyes, ‘I was talking to the Patels though. Odd that I didn’t see her, still.’

Dan thought briefly about going back up to the flat but then felt a brief stab of anger. He had better things to do than stand around like a lemon making a fool of himself. 

But the anger surprised him. It was unsettling; it was not an emotion that he or anyone else associated him with. It left a sick, sour feeling in his mouth that he didn't like.

‘Ah well, sod it,’ he said, ‘We were going for a drink but it looks like she changed her mind. No worries, Tommy.’

He turned to leave but then decided to clutch at a final straw. Was he that desperate, he asked himself? He didn’t want to give himself the answer to that.

‘Tommy,’ he said turning back once more whilst reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. ‘Do you mind doing me a
favour? If on the off chance she does come back, which I don’t for a minute think she will, but if she does, would you mind giving her this? It’s got my mobile number on it.’ He handed over a business card.

‘No problem, Dan,’ said Tommy putting the card under the rubber band that was stretched around his daybook forming a bookmark, ‘You can wait if you want?’ he pointed at the sofa and chairs on the far side of the lobby, ‘I’ll even make you a coffee. Free of charge and better than Starbucks!’

‘Ah it’s OK Tommy, thanks but I really had better go. I’ve made enough of a fool of myself already. Bye.’

Dan could feel Tommy’s puzzled gaze burning his back as he left.

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Chapter Five

Thursday Afternoon

Dan grabbed a sandwich from Sainsbury’s on the way back into the office, intending to have lunch at his desk. He found that he kept checking his phone for texts and was rather irritated by himself for doing it.

He got into the office just before one and started to write up his report. For a change he had plenty of time to collate the evidence. It was an odd experience, always in London the pressure was such that you were always juggling three or four jobs at the same time, and not doing any of them very well. This should feel better but it didn’t; it lacked any buzz, it was tedious and just felt wrong. He found his mind wandering, not doing anything for minutes at a time and had to try to tell himself to concentrate.

Hannah came back at about 1.30, looking hot and weary. She dumped her files and her Dictaphone on the desk and slumped into her seat.

‘Thank God that’s done,’ she said, ‘The traffic’s murder. Doesn’t anyone know there’s a recession?’ She read the post-it notes on her desk, ‘Our lord and master in?’ she asked in Dan's general direction.

‘Not seen him,’ said Dan.

‘OK, well if you do see him tell him I’m taking a late lunch. You know Jen don’t you?’

It was only then that Dan
realised that there was someone stood in the doorway to the office. He only vaguely knew Jenny; he knew she had been at university with Hannah and that she worked at the city council. She was quite good looking though, with her long blonde hair and a full, but nicely proportioned figure and tended to get noticed wherever she went. .

‘Oh, Hi Jen, sorry didn’t see you there,’ he said, ‘How’s life in Albert Square?’

‘Oh same old shit, you know?’ Dan noticed she spoke with a slight Welsh lilt to her voice. Jenny Jones; of course, the Welsh connection – Jones the baker, Jones the butcher and Jones the looker.

God he was at it again!
Letching. He was disgusted with himself.

But her welsh accent did add even more interest; he was a sucker for accents.

There was lusting and there was over-optimism and Jenny fell quite firmly into both categories. Still, he reflected, at least he had not lost himself so much that he had lost interest in attractive women, even if they were out of his league.

‘Fancy joining us for lunch? You can leave Ian a note,’ Hannah said as she headed for the door.

‘Thanks but I’ve just had a prawn mayo,’ said Dan.

‘Come for a drink then?’

‘Another time maybe. I just want to get this done.’

‘Oh OK, no problem. See you later.’

There was no malice in Hannah’s voice but Dan thought that she looked and sounded a bit disappointed. It was only after they had gone that he started to wonder if she had engineered that, that she wanted Dan to meet Jenny again. Was she playing matchmaker? Surely not. Well, he wouldn’t mind too much if she was but no, he was just reading things into this that just weren't there.

Despite this though, for a moment,  he toyed with the idea of leaving everything and trying to catch up with them but then the phone rang and the notion passed.

He had a stab of hope that it might be Tess.

But it wasn't. The call wasn’t even for him, it was for Boris; a prospective tenant wanting to arrange a viewing, a rare beast in this market. He took the message and went back to his work, though he had a slight feeling that he had missed out that gnawed at him.

Half an hour later and the report was done and the valuation signed off. Before emailing it across to the solicitors he had one final look at the papers. On the cover sheet was the name again: “The estate of the late J.Johnson.”

J.Johnson
? The name didn’t ring any bells at all.

James? John?

He opened up Google, typing the name in. Not surprisingly it produced 199 000 000 results – literally.

He sighed, wondering how he might be able narrow down the results (and also why he was bothering to look) but then Ian walked into the office.

‘Hi Dan,’ he said, ‘You busy?’ He was looking pensive.

Dan closed down Google and switched back to the report.

‘Not really. Just finished off that probate report and that repossession valuation I was supposed to do I couldn’t get into,’ he said. 'Sorry. I guess that's another lost fee. Well, delayed anyway.'

Ian perched on the edge of Hannah’s desk, his face glum.

‘Can you try ringing round some of your investment contacts, see if you can drum up some more work?’

‘Things that
bad?’said Dan, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Ian just shrugged.

‘Look it’s OK,’ said Dan, ‘If you need to let me go then don’t worry, just do it. You’ve already done me a big favour already.’

‘It’s not that bad yet,’ said Ian, ‘but it might be a good idea to keep an ear out for anything else that’s going, OK?

‘OK , Ian, message received and understood. And thanks.’

*

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*

Thursday Evening

That evening, back at the flat, Dan was suffering a bout of something that had got so familiar he had given it a name; it was what he called inertia. It was when he felt that he should be doing something, going somewhere, meeting someone, talking to someone but didn’t have the energy or motivation to actually do anything about it.

It was a bad condition. It lead to boredom. Boredom lead to drinking

He wandered over to the fridge and looked inside. With reluctance he took out the cook-pot that filled most of the top half. Dan enjoyed cooking and the slow cooker had been a really thoughtful Christmas gift from his mother and sister but they seemed to have forgotten that he lived alone and that a smaller one would have been more practical. This was now day three of the same curry and, however nice it was and whether he had it with rice or on a baked potato or in a bowl with crusty bread, it was still, fundamentally, the same curry.

It was crusty bread with salad tonight. Dan managed to get halfway down the bowl before he got tired of it.

It was 7.00pm. Too early for wine? Yes, definitely, he decided. If he opened one now he might be on a second bottle by bed. The slope he was on was very slippery, there was no point in encouraging the process.

He looked out of the window. A few clouds but the sky was clearing. That was really good. It meant that there might be a good sunset tonight. He could head out of the flat with his camera and tripod. That would at least get him out and give him some exercise and, above all, keep him from drinking. Yes, a sunset over water with some good buildings around sounded just the ticket.

He collected his camera, switching it on briefly to check the charge. He had always used Pentax equipment, sticking with them rather than joining the masses with their Canons and Nikons, even though he had more than a niggling feeling that both might be better pieces of kit. It didn't really make any difference now; he couldn't afford either. Repacking his camera bag, he grabbed his tripod and headed to the car.

He knew he was heading towards the Quays without making a conscious decision to do so. It was the obvious place, he told himself. Buildings, water. Yes, that was it. There was no other reason for going there, was there?

He left the Skoda in the multi-
storey attached to the shopping centre and headed through it towards the Lowry. Most of the shops in the centre were closed but a few people were heading to the cinema. Dan made his way down to the ground floor and out of the main entrance.

He spent about ten minutes taking shots of the bridges, the Lowry itself and the Imperial War museum. It was a little too early for the golden hour, the sun not yet that close to the horizon, so he decided to walk further afield in the hope of finding some other photographic opportunities or at least kill some time whilst the light improved.