Senseless Read online

  ‘You never ring me.’ Her dad said defensively.

  ‘Because you asked me not to.’

  ‘I hate phones.’

  ‘Dad, don’t you think it’s the sort of thing you might make an exception for?’

  ‘I am making an exception, it’s not Christmas … ’

  Beth couldn’t deal with this now . H er head began to feel woozy and she had to reach out for the wall and wait for it to pass. S he saw stars momentarily as the fainting spell washed over her. ‘Dad, I really can’t talk about this now, I need to go out.’

  ‘You’re going out?’ H e put the emphasis on ‘ you’re ’ .

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ she said in a rush , press ing the END CALL button and throwing the phone on the carpeted floor in totally baffled, frustrated anger.

  She suddenly had an image of her dad striding across a field with a map in a plastic wallet round his neck, one arm slung round the waist of her laughing mum. It seemed so long since all that family happiness and she was struck by just how much the man her dad had been had disappeared ; to her, at least . She could wait no longer for a drink and an evening spent alone in the house had lost its appeal after all. Too many memories. She picked up her phone from the floor, grabbed her bag from the table, and headed out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Beth, Friday Evening

  Most of the tables in the Miller’s Arms seemed to be taken by single men staring into their pints. She was forty minutes early, but didn’t care. She went straight to the bar and was greeted by John, the affable landlord, whose shirt buttons strained slightly over his ever-expanding gut.

  ‘Alright , Beth, white wine is it?’ She ordered a bottle and two glasses, secretly hoping that Rick would have beer.

  ‘Ooh, meeting someone are you? About time you got yourself a fella.’

  She gave what she hoped was an enigmatic smile, but was probably more of a withered grimace , then covered it by ordering a bowl of chips to go with the wine; she needed something in her stomach before devouring this bottle.

  Beth liked this place. A bottle of wine was cheap, for a pub, and it was fairly decent too. She got a booth at the side , where it was darker and quieter , and poured herself a glass. The first few mouthfuls were the best and her head started to relax. She took another couple of swigs and got her phone out to send Rick a text so he could find her.

  In pub now, got a booth

  By the time Rick texted back, leaving home now 15 mins , she was reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.

  After an age, John b r ought the chips over with a couple of sachets of ketchup on the side, and a knife and fork wrapped in a cheap, white , paper napkin.

  ‘Late is he?’ He asked as she picked up the ketchup.

  ‘No, he’s on his way.’ She tried that smile again.

  John got the message and went back to the bar. The sachet of ketchup wouldn’t open; in the end, she got the corner off with her teeth, squirting ketchup on her jeans.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ she growled.

  ‘I’ve heard better greetings.’ Rick’s voice came from just by her shoulder. ‘Rick! I just … ’ She looked down at her thigh and Rick’s eyes followed her gaze.

  ‘Give us a hug,’ he said.

  As they came apart and sat down, Beth said, ‘I started the wine ; got you a glass , although you’re more of a beer man. So have what you want , ’ she encouraged him.

  ‘Well , I might as well join you, this’ll do me.’ He sat down opposite. He might have seen a shadow of disappointment cross her face, because he added : ‘We can always buy another bottle, next one’s on me.’ He took a chip from the bowl and poured his glass, emptying the bottle. ‘Looks like we need one already. You’ve been here a while then?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘You alright , Beth?’

  ‘Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I not look alright?’

  ‘Not really. You look bloody knackered and fucked off.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well , last time I saw you, you were full of beans about starting your dream job. I thought you were on your way to turning things around, but you’re drinking like a demon and look worse.’

  ‘Piss off , Rick, give it a rest will you?’

  ‘Bad day was it?’

  ‘Bad week more like. Make that a bad term.’

  ‘Beth?’

  ‘Not what I hoped , Rick. The tutors treat me like a bloody dogsbody.’ She took a swig and emptied the glass. ‘We need more wine. It’s Friday night, let ’ s talk about something else.’

  ‘You can’t still be depressed,’ said Rick. ‘It’s nine years since Dan fucked off … ’

  ‘God , Rick, who said anything about Dan? My job is crap, it has nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Right, but you had a crap job before and you didn’t always look like the world was ending.’

  She f umbled around for something to say that might shut him up and landed on the perfect thing.

  ‘I just had a phone call from my dad.’

  ‘Your dad ?’

  ‘He’s had a baby.’

  ‘He’s had a baby ?’

  ‘Can you stop parroting me? I don’t know anything about it. I hung up. Said I’ll call back tomorrow.’

  ‘Jesus, a baby at his age. Vivien must be a lot younger?‘

  ‘She is.’

  ‘So how did they meet?’

  ‘You know my dad moved out to Spain?’

  ‘Yeah, this was once he was back on his feet after everything that happened with your mum?’

  ‘You’ve got it,’ Beth said wearily, tired of trying to explain the chaotic meltdown of her family . ‘Well, he went regularly to Vivien’s husband’s club. She worked behind the bar and they started an affair. I don’t know the details.’ She shook her head, ‘I came here to stop thinking about this stuff.’

  She picked up the empty bottle and shook it again pointedly.

  Rick obliged , and went to the bar for another bottle . He refilled her glass.

  ‘I have news , too,’ he told her. ‘I got a new job.’

  ‘About bloody time.’

  ‘So long shite solutions, hello Bently’s crocks, the best – value quality crockery on the market. Dinner plates, side plates, bowls, serving dishes, gravy boats, cups, mugs, milk jugs, all your crockery needs for restaurants, café s, bistros, you name it. Started last week.’

  ‘You’ve started already?! Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I haven’t seen you. Anyway, I wanted to see your face.’

  ‘And how’s my face?’ She asked, framing it with her hands.

  ‘Beautiful as ever,’ he said, looking at her intently. Beth held his gaze for a moment and felt the tell-tale yearnings in her belly. She broke eye contact and looked at his face. A few jowls, hairline three inches further back than when she first knew him, bit of a beer belly but , otherwise, the same Rick. Shaved hair, a bit of stubble, thin lips that always seemed to be turning up at the corners.

  He sighed and faintly shook his head, conspicuously ignoring the charged atmosphere.

  ‘You were there too long, Rick,’ she said, moving the moment on. ‘Here’s to crock-of-shit or whatever it’s called.’

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, downing his glass in tandem with her.

  Towardthe end of the third bottle, Beth headed for the loo, self-consciously trying to look sober, waving at John with an air of dignified solemnity. The loos were small and ancient; she had to manoeuvre roundthe door and then pull down her jeans and knickers in one move. She sighed as she sat down.

  Not Rick, she chided herself, don’t do this with Rick. Rick is Rick, an old and valued mate. He’s married to Claire and father to Paul and Jake. But whatever she told herself, that feeling was still present : accelerated breathing, excited queasiness. Had he taken note of it, that look?

  No, Beth, she thought. ‘No, Beth,’ she whispered out loud, for added emphasis.

  Having struggled out of the cubicle,
she ran the cold tap , splashed her face and neck , and took a deep breath. In the mirror, she saw a pair of grey eyes staring back. Not the big absorbing windows to her soul that Dan had seen , but the weary, red-rimmed ones that Rick saw. Her hair was still mousy (dark blond e, Dan had insisted) , in the same shoulder – length cut she’d had for years, but now it looked lank , and greasy at the roots.

  ‘Beautiful,’ she told her reflection.

  Rick had poured her another glass. ‘More chips or anything?’

  ‘Nah, I’m alright.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Rick!’

  ‘How’s your love life?’

  ‘Rick … ’

  ‘Come on Beth, we’re on our third bottle, this is what mates talk about down the pisser.’

  Had he used ‘mates’ deliberately?

  ‘What about Claire, how’s she?’

  ‘Avoiding the question again , I see. Claire’s ok ay , we’ve been married 24 years, that’s a long time to live with the same person. You know, we’re ok ay , I’m not sure we’ll last once Jake goes.’

  ‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled to her glass.

  ‘Don’t be, that’s life. We’ve had a good stretch, she’s a good girl but it’s not really human nature to spend a life with one bird.’

  ‘I don’t have a love life,’ she burst out.

  ‘Really? I can’t believe that!’

  ‘I have a sex life , Rick , but not a love one.’

  ‘Well , everyone has a sex life. You usually know very little about people ’ s sex lives, until you get them down the pisser of course.’

  She laughed.

  ‘My G od, Beth is laughing!’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘I haven’t heard you laugh properly for years. So, this sex life of yours, is it any good?’

  She gave him a for god’s sake you idiot look.

  ‘Well , are you happy with it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered automatically , but then thought about it. ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘How does that work?’ he coaxed.

  ‘Online,’ she offered as if that answered his question.

  She couldn’t remember exactly how the conversation went after that. She may or may not have told him about the ease of it, the addiction she was starting to feel to nostrings .com . The agreement between users not to ask any questions, to always use condoms, not to stay overnight with each other or to see anyone from the site more than once. The odd kind of camaraderie she felt with strangers who recognised a basic human need. She may have mentioned the euphoria she sometimes felt after sex and the strange hollow feeling at other times .

  ‘So, do you approach blokes or do they ask you?’

  ‘Either, it depends.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose , regretting having started this. Rick shifted in his seat.

  ‘You’re shocked.’

  ‘No. I’m turned on , to be honest, ’ cos I’m a bloke. Look, like I say, we know nothing about most people’s sex lives. Good for you, Beth – as long as you’re happy. But you don’t look like a woman who’s having a ball. ’

  ‘I think we need to get home,’ she slurred, suddenly very , very tired of this conversation. She stood up unsteadily and took the arm he offered her.

  ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  Chapter 7

  Beth, Saturday Morning

  Beth woke with a start and sat up. She HAD to have a drink of water. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow; her skin was itchy. Taking a few slugs out of the cup by her bed, she reached for the bottle of Nivea she kept on the night table. The whole of her body needed moisture ; her feet were the worst, they were tingling and parched. She doused her entire body with the lotion.

  After that, she drained the mug, sloshing water on her naked thighs. The clock said 4.15 am , and the streetlight outside the window was glowing around the edges of the blinds. Wide awake, she got up, wrapped a dressing gown a round herself , and went downstairs to make tea.

  Switching on the lounge light she gasped involuntarily. Rick was asleep on the sofa. Or rather, had been asleep on the sofa.

  ‘Is it morning?’

  ‘Technically.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘About half past four.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘Might as well.’

  When she went in to the kitchen to boil the kettle, she heard Rick going upstairs and , a minute later, the flush of the toilet . Rick’s in my house, she thought , and then last night started coming back. It was funny, she could clearly remember the pub, the wine bottles, the chips, the looks and the conversation : o h G od, the conversation. She saw it all, right up to them standing up to leave, shouting goodbye-thank you to John. What then? It was a blur.

  Here they were, she had been naked in bed, Rick was on the sofa. Suddenly she saw a flash – picture of herself hugging Rick , mouths locked together in urgent, deep , exploring kisses, her pulling at Rick’s shirt – but then , nothing.

  ‘That’s better,’ Rick said as he came into the kitchen. ‘I needed a slash.’

  ‘Rick … ? ’ she tailed off but her face communicated everything she was thinking.

  ‘We didn’t shag, Beth.’

  ‘We didn’t? But my clothes … ’

  ‘You did that yourself. I got you home, we were going to have a cup of tea, or maybe a shag,’ he quipped, winking , ‘ but after we’d had a cuddle and were getting randy, you went up to the loo and never came back. I made tea and waited a bit then came upstairs and you’d thrown off your clothes and passed out on the bed. I left you to it. It was too late to go home and I was too pissed so I helped myself to a blanket and got comfy on the sofa.’

  Beth reached for a couple of mugs from the draining board and dropped teabags in to them.

  ‘Why have you still got Dan’s shirt in your wardrobe?’ Rick asked and she flinched.

  ‘You’ve been in my wardrobe?’

  ‘I was looking for a blanket. Answer the question , Beth.’

  ‘Can you get the milk out the fridge?’

  ‘Beth!’

  ‘It’s the shirt he wore on our first date.’

  ‘Right, and? Why do you have it in your wardrobe now ? He. Fucked. Off.’

  ‘It’s not as black and white as all that. I loved him, we were in love. I still don’t know where he is.’

  ‘But the police told you, it happens all the time, blokes run off. He wasn’t kidnapped, he left you a note, he knew what he was doing. They wouldn’t even investigate. Open and shut, they said.’

  ‘Yes, but … ’

  ‘But nothing, Beth. I bet he’s living in Solihull with a wife called Julia who photographs fucking celebrities for a living.’

  ‘But we don’t KNOW that. Rick, we were happy.’

  ‘Were you? Didn’t you tell me he went funny?’

  ‘He had a few weeks … ’

  ‘What about the time you rang him at work and he wasn’t there?’

  ‘Will you let me finish a sentence , Rick?’ Beth asked in exasperation. ‘Nobody knows where he was when I rang him at work. It happened once. Now sorry but I’m going to take this upstairs.’ She held up her mug.

  ‘Don’t suppose there’s any room in your bed?’ He fluttered his eyelashes and tipped his head to one side.

  ‘Don’t push it.’

  ‘Okay , okay , look, I think I’ll drink this and then go home . I ’ll be ok ay to get the car from the pub and drive back now. Roads’ll be deserted and , if I get lucky, Claire might not notice the time when I crawl into bed.’

  Beth doubted it but said nothing, her eyes prickling.

  ‘Stop after two bottles of wine between us next time, hey?’

  She hugged him with her free arm and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll text you.’

  *

  When she woke next it was 10.36 am and daylight framed the blinds.

  Shit was her first thought. She picked up her handset and sp
eed – dialled the college. It rang and rang and then switched to voicemail. Belatedly, she realised that it was Saturday and she wasn’t doing anything until meeting Paula at 2pm. She felt confused and disorientated.

  She got up to make some more tea and found a note from Rick on the table in the hall.

  I will get in your knickers one day

  She found herself smiling for once, but she was thinking about Dan. His dark hair that stuck up in the mornings. His grin that gave him a little dimple every time he smiled. She’d noticed these things about him the first time she had seen him in the café at Marks and Spencer. They were both out shopping. She had wanted a new winter coat; she’d imagined him in the food halls, choosing olives and a good bottle of Sauvignon to take to his girlfriend’s. They hadn’t talked then, but he caught her staring at him and smiled his gorgeous smile.

  She had bumped into him again later when they were queuing to pay.

  ‘Nice gloves,’ she remembered saying, nodding toward the brown leather ladies’ gloves in his hands. ‘ F or your girlfriend?’

  ‘No, my mum, she’s 65 tomorrow.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Nice coat,’ he’d said, nodding to the functional black anorak she was holding.

  ‘Oh yes, height of fashion, this.’

  After they’d paid and she was walking away, wondering if there was any way she could manage to talk to him again, she had felt a tug on her arm. ‘You forgot your bank card, it was still in the little reader thing.’

  ‘Oh G od yes, miles away!’ she’d chortled.

  He handed her the card, smiling and laughing , and briefly touched her arm before excusing himself and rushing off. He’d wrapped it in a sheet of paper; she had thought nothing of it at the time but , after he’d gone, she went to put the card in her purse and saw he’d written his phone number on it.

  I’m Dan, call me if you fancy a drink

  She still had that note, and had written the date on the back: 2 October 1999.

  ‘Dan!’ she said out loud into the silent house, ‘Where the fuck are you?’

  Chapter 8

  1991