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Outside he hails a black cab for me and pays the driver the fare to Muswell Hill.
“Thanks for being so understanding, Audrey. It’s been great. I’ve really enjoyed your company.” I smile and nod. “We’ll do it again, yeah?” He kisses me lightly on the cheek, so close that I can smell his aftershave.
“Yes, of course,” I say, suddenly feeling that I would like to see him again, because despite my earlier reservations, he’s kind of grown on me. “Especially now we’re working together.”
And as the cab zooms off into the night, I realise that I don’t even know where he lives. In fact, I don’t know that much about Daniel Taylor at all, other than he’s divorced, has one daughter, and is a partner in the Theodore Group. However, I do recall him saying at Mum and Dad’s dinner party that Aliki lives in Crouch End, which I presume is their family home and where his daughter resides. So why, then, didn’t he just share a cab with me to north London? Why are men so complicated?
16
The cab bounces over speed bumps and I open my eyes. We’re in Muswell Hill. I must’ve fallen asleep. My phone buzzes in my handbag with a call. I rummage around for it in the semi- darkness. By the time I find it, it stops ringing. Five missed calls, two voicemails – all from Tina. Seven text messages, four from Tina and three from NICK. My heart bounces in my chest like a basketball.
What the hell does he want? I bypass Tina’s messages and voicemail and go straight to Nick’s first text.
Hello, Audrey – how r things? Need to speak to u. Can you call me?
Text 2: Pls call. Important.
And finally text 3: Foxy, pls call me asap. It’s urgent xx.
Foxy? Kisses? Is he having a flipping laugh?
Outside my flat, I fumble with my door key, why won’t it fit into the lock for crying out loud? My hands are shaking and I realise that I’m forcing the back door key into the lock. The keys jangle in my hands as I try to find the right one. How could he? How dare he! After everything he’s done. My breath quickens. I need to get inside – fast. I finally find the key but my hands are like jelly. The keys rattle unsteadily in my hand then hit the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I’m about to cry, then as I bend down to pick up the keys I spot the red buds, hidden behind my pot plant on the stone porch. He’s been round. He came to my flat while I was out.
I fly through the front door and march into the kitchen, bunch of tulips under arm. I don’t even bother to read the card as I force the bouquet into the dustbin, crushing the stems in half. I know they’re from him, I recognised his writing on the card, ‘For Audrey’ in - big, bold, swirls. I always thought his handwriting was like a girl’s. I text him back furiously.
Don’t text. Don’t call. Don’t come round again. EVER!! Leave me alone!
The cooler backlight illuminates the kitchen as I open the fridge door and I realise that I haven’t even put the lights on yet. I can’t believe I’m letting him get to me. What the hell does he want? I yank out a bottle of wine, hot with rage, and flick the lights on.
Leaning against the worktop, I close my eyes, savouring the cool, tangy liquid sliding down my throat. Then just as I regain my equilibrium the landline goes off. It’s him. He’s received my text. I march into the lounge, determined, wine spilling from my glass. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, tell him to leave me alone or I’ll call the police, report him for harassment. I’ll even get a restraining order out on him if I have to. I answer on the fifth ring.
“What?” I demand furiously.
“Audrey?” says a muffled woman’s voice.
“Yes, who is this?” I put the drink down on the coffee table, fingers wet with wine. I wipe them on the edge of my knit top.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Tina, is that you?” I push a hand through my hair and realise that I’ve broken a nail, must’ve been when I forced the bouquet savagely into the dustbin.
“Yes, of course, it’s me.” She takes huge gulps between sentences. I can barely make out what she’s saying. “I’ve been calling you all night,” she cries, “And texting.” More gulps, “Where were you?”
“I was out with Daniel, remember?” I grind my broken nail against my teeth. “I told you I was seeing him tonight.”
“Oh, yeah,” she sniffs, “I remember now. I left so many messages, though, didn’t you get them?”
“Tina, it was work.” I play for time, clearly, she’s very upset so there’s no point in telling her that I couldn’t read her messages earlier because I was too embarrassed to wear my glasses in front of Daniel, an anecdote she’d have found hilarious under normal circumstances.
“So? It was out of hours. Surely, you can answer your phone.”
Damn. I’m not going to get away with this lightly. In the bathroom, I grab a towel and rub the sweat off my face. “Well, the thing is, Tina,” I begin, then catch my reflection in the mirrored cabinet above the sink. I almost cry out in shock as a pair of panda eyes stare back at me in horror. My hair has doubled in size. My teeth are tinged with red wine and there’s a thin purple line along my lips. Oh, God, no wonder the cabbie was giving me strange looks as I climbed out of his taxi. I walk back into the lounge, wearing the white towel around my neck like a heavy-weight boxer. “My battery died,” I lie as casually as I can. “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” My mind immediately shifts to her druggie ex-husband, setting off alarm bells. “You haven’t seen Micky, have you?”
“Are you fucking mad?” Tina’s been drinking. I can tell when she’s had one too many, she gets all sweary and defensive. Arguing with a drunk Tina isn’t a good idea.
“Look, just calm down, will you, and tell me what’s wrong.” I look at my watch. It’s only eight-thirty. “Do you want me to come round?” She only lives in Palmers Green, I could be there in fifteen minutes.
