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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Three accounts of events - part 17(b)
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Extended Work
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| Three accounts of events - part 17(b) | |
| By teddy | ||||||||
| 22 July 2007 | ||||||||
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If I shut my eyes and sway my thoughts away from all the noise stuffing the air around me, I can almost feel Paul’s breath in my mouth. It’s not long left now, his plane has landed half an hour ago. I’ve decided to let him wonder for a bit, thus I’m waiting hidden behind a tall travel advice displaying stand board. Luckily, the airport is packed, people and luggage overloaded trolleys are fussing everywhere, so I can easily pass unnoticed. I glance at the glass covering the panel. The reflection it throws back at me seems somehow unfamiliar, but I think I rather like it. The high heel shoes I’m wearing make me feel quite tall. A blanchedalmond skirt stretches down on the thights, stopping just few inches above the knees; it has a slit at the back that wanders up but not beyond the decency edge. The beige leather belt gathers together a silky dark seagreen pleated blouse just above the hips. And underneath everything…well, that’s for Paul to find out later on. My hair is piled at the back of my head, held in place with a pin, there are only few rebel curls dangling along my face. I’ve been a little more generous than usual with the make up; the eyeshadows, two shades of an earthy colour blending into each other across the lids, and the slate grey eyeliner smudged around the eyes have scared their innocence away. I pucker my lips and the sunblust gloss covering them glitters in the glass. ‘Whoever he is, you can tell him he’s a lucky fella,’ I quickly turn around and smile shyly at the guy standing behind me. Come on, Paul, hurry up. I peek again at the succession of people emerging through the arrivals exit when I finally spot Richard. Hold on, that can’t possibly be Lisa Turner. No, it is her! Gosh, hasn’t she changed a lot? She was only nineteen when I first met her; tall, skinny, spotty face, nice personality though. I remember Paul saying that her dad was an old friend of David, that’s how she got her trainee position with Harolds. She looks stunning, I can’t help myself admire the elegant figure the young woman's parading beside Richard. My heart starts pounding faster when I spot Paul behind. Will's walking next to him. Paul says something, and Richard and Lisa turn to him laughing. Good to see them all in a happy mood. I suppose they’re just glad to be back home. Another few steps forwards and Paul starts looking over the crowd. He then glances at his watch. A slight shadow of annoyance swipes over his face. I must say he’s not the most patient person in the world. Sorry, sweetheart, you’ll just have to wait, I smile. They’re all moving towards the exit now and they’re passing so close to where I am that I’m sure if I called Paul’s name he could hear me. But they’re too engrossed in their talk and my presence goes unnoticed. Once outside, after another one or two minutes chat, Richard and Will shake Paul’s hand and wave at Lisa before heading for the car park. Paul moves forwards and I can see him speaking to one of the cab drivers parked alongside the pavement. The guy gets out and starts loading Lisa’s luggage in the car. She’s standing in front of Paul. She’s smiling and doesn’t seem too concerned that the cab driver has already turned the engine on and is waiting for her to finish her conversation. Come on, woman, get in that bloody car. My foot is nervously tapping the concrete floor beneath. She finally moves. Only that…it’s forwards. She raises her arms and a second later they contently wrapped around Paul’s neck. I gasp and move closer to the window. If Paul turned around now, he could clearly see me. Family friends or not, I didn’t know they were really that close. She tilts her head and after a hesitant moment, Paul bows his and his arm slides around her waist. The long snog that follows is not the friendly peek on the cheek I’ve been praying for all along. I move backwards and lean against the wall. My heart has sunk somewhere a thousand feet below, my head is spinning and my legs feel feeble. ‘Pardon?’ I stare at the guy wearing a hi-vis vest who’s mumbling something in front of me. ‘Are you all right, miss?’ ‘Yes. No. Can you tell me where the toilets are?’ He points down the corridor. A sickly feeling’s rumbling inside my stomach and I have to run. Once inside, I rush into a cubicle and kneel down in front of the toilet. It all comes out in no time. When the spasms have calmed down, I stand up, put the lid down and sit on it. I take my head in my hands. For a moment I wonder if all this is real or my imagination is playing games with my mind. ‘I’m afraid he’s not in his room, miss,’ the Irish accent voice plays over and over again in my head. Out with the boys, eh? * I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in here for, half an hour or longer? It’s time to make a move I decide. The inside of the airport is still swarming with motion and noise, but Paul’s nowhere to be seen. He must be nearly home by now. I need to go and find my car; the car park was full when I got here this afternoon, so I had to leave it two streets away. I take my shoes off when I get in the car; the long walk and high heels have made my foot soles sore. I cross my arms on the wheel and rest my head on top of them. I don’t want to go home – home, what home? - I don’t want to go anywhere or see anyone actually. I just want to stay here for ever if possible. * ‘At the roundabout ahead, take the second exit…’ the GPS voice instructs me. I end up taking the wrong turn again. I don’t know where I am or where I’m heading to. The sun has already faded behind the tall buildings marching up in the horizon. My phone has kept ringing for the last half an hour, mostly Paul, I had a voice mail message from Tina as well. ‘Adi, where are you? Paul’s been calling me every five minutes for the last hour, you were supposed to pick him up from the airport or something, but you didn’t show up. He’s worried sick about you and so am I. Please get in touch with either of us as soon as possible.’ I’ve already sent her a message telling her not to worry. There you go, another phone call. I glance at my mobile. No name displayed this time, but I think I recognise the number and my heart shrinks. ‘Hello?’ a strange impulse makes me answer the phone. ‘Adi, it’s me.’ ‘George,’ I whisper. ‘Honey, are you ok?’ I turn the car into the road on the left and stop near the curb. ‘Yes.’ ‘I had Paul on the phone. He’s been looking for you and thought…well, he thought I might know where you are.’ ‘I…I’m …on my way home, had a problem with the car…I’m sorry.’ ‘Adi..’ he pauses and I hold back the sob trapped in my chest. ‘Let me come and get you.’ I know he hasn’t believed me. ‘I just want to make sure you’re all right.’ ‘No, honestly, I’m fine, thanks. I’ll be home soon. Thanks for calling.’ I startle at the sound of my own voice. I can’t mess up his life again no matter how much I need him right now. Not that long ago I was happily living with a man who worshiped me and my child and gave us everything in exchange for very little, I can’t stop my thoughts wandering after I put the phone down while tears are freely rolling down my face. What did I leave all that for? A life of lies and deceit? I look at the bunch of keys held in my hand and I suddenly know where I want to be right now: Tina had said he hasn’t sold it yet. * It’s already dark when I get there. I stop the car on the opposite side of the road. The cottage is proudly tilting its stone walls against the gloomy light scattered around by the street lamp. My hand trembles when I put the key in the lock. Nothing’s been changed around here I notice when I get inside and switch on the lights. I walk into the living room. Everything looks clean and tidy. He must have someone looking after the place. A basket full of toys is quietly resting in a corner. I move to the kitchen and pick up the piece of paper lying on the table. ‘Remind me to tell you something when I get home tonight. It’s important.’ I recognise my own handwriting. My baby, I mutter, eyes filling up with tears. I rumble up the stairs. In the bathroom, two toothbrushes are keeping each others company in the glass near the sink and a white bathrobe is lonely hanging alongside the door. I can feel myself all over the place. I don’t think I can handle this anymore. I move to the bedroom. A fresh smell of lavender is dispersing through the half open wardrobe doors all around the room. I lie down on the bed and cringe around the pillow tightly clutched in my arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ I growl, ‘I’m so sorry.’ * It’s nearly five o’clock in the morning when I get back to Chelsea. The lights inside are still on. ‘Where have you been?’ Paul asks emerging through the living room door when I walk in. I look at him for a second, his face looks tired, his voice sounds husky. I head for the stairs, ignoring the question. ‘I’m talking to you,’ he tries to grab my arm as I walk passed him. I pull away and carry on up the stairs. Once on the landing, I open the storage cupboard and pull out two suitcases. I can hear him following me behind. I walk into the bedroom and start packing my things. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I stop and raise my face up to his. ‘I’m living you.’ He squints at me. ‘What? Are you insane or something?’ His voice is rising with anger. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you. Luckily Tina phoned eventually to let me know you were ok. I would’ve called the police otherwise. You were supposed to pick me up from the airport last night. If you knew you weren’t going to show up you should’ve at least let me know.’ ‘I was there.’ He stares at me. ‘What do you mean you were there? Where?’ His voice doesn’t sound so sure anymore. It’s strange how I don’t feel anything anymore, just a big dark void lurching inside. ‘At the airport, waiting for you…watching you snogging your friend, Lisa.’ I can read panic in his eyes. * I’m downstairs in the hallway just about to leave. The suitcases filled up with Vicky’s and my stuff are patiently waiting by the door. ‘Adi, please.’ Paul steps in front of me. ‘Get out of my way.’ I grab the bags and move towards the door. But he doesn’t give up. He grasps me in his arms. ‘Please, Adi, let me explain.’ I struggle to get off, but he tightness his grip. The pressure suddenly gives in and I start biting and kicking. ‘Get off me, you idiot. I don’t want you, do you hear me? I fucking hate you.’ I pull all my strength, prop my hands against his chest and push him away. Taken by surprise, he staggers back. I slide the engagement ring off my finger and throw it at him. ‘You can have this back…you lying cheating bastard.’ He leans against the wall. ‘Don’t do this to me, Adi,’ he whispers. For a moment, only for a moment, I can only see the pain in his eyes. But then I think of Vicky. My baby deserves better than this. And then I’m gone.
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