Escaping from Him Page 13

  He pointed at the screen. "Made a lot of progress, I see."

  My leg continued to jangle up and down and my hands felt sweaty, so I wiped them on my jeans.

  He gestured for me to stand, took my place in the driving seat of the computer and started on the invoice. "What you waiting for. Away you go. You're no good here like that are you? Go on, see your man and have fun in that London."

  "Are you sure?" It wasn't even three yet.

  "Do you want me to change my mind? Away with you. But I want you back here first thing Monday morning, mind."

  I nodded, then leant forward to give him an awkward one armed hug.

  "Fine, that's enough of this pish. Away you go."

  There was a train leaving Glasgow station at 3:05pm. If I got a taxi, if there was no traffic and if I had my weekend bag, I might make it.

  Weekend bag. Bollocks.

  I turned from the door, rushed back to the desk where Ewan was now up to his eyes in invoices, brushed away my slight feeling of guilt, grabbed my bag from under the desk, waved and thanked him again and ran to the pavement.

  Feeling like a character in an old film, I waved at a passing taxi with my left hand, my bag slung over my right shoulder. It stopped at my feet, the door opened and I got in, told him where to go and he sped off all seemingly at the same time.

  "I'm aiming for the five past three to London. Do you think I'll make it?"

  "Aye." He tapped the side of his nose and turned off the now starting to fill with traffic main road. He took us down side streets, back alleys with washing hanging across between the windows, old women throwing dirty water into the street. It was like a scene from the film Greyfriars Bobby. All the while he was gabbling on about why was I going to London, who was I seeing, was it the first time and what was the rush? I answered some of his questions before he moved onto the next round of rapid fire machine gun questioning. My good friend was auditioning and my other friend, female this time, was letting us stay for the weekend. No I didn't know whether my good friend, the actor - "Oh an actor is he, this friend, very nice" - had or had not got the part yet. These back streets were a side of Glasgow I'd not seen before. A left and a right, and another left and then the station was in front of us, with ten minutes to spare.

  "How much?"

  "Ach, no bother. You and your man, put it towards dinner tonight."

  But I hadn't told him Callum was my boyfriend, how did he know?

  "My brother's a buftie, and he used to talk about a good friend, but he was his buftie boyfriend. An actor in London! Away with you, you'll miss the train."

  "Er, thanks?" I was half mortified, half offended, and half again relieved to have got there in time for the train. There were a lot of emotions going through me then, more than one person's worth, it seemed.

  I texted Callum and Lena my ETA for King's Cross station. Lena replied straight away she would meet me in the front of the station. I stared at my phone, willing it to beep with a text from Callum, but nothing. I picked it up and waved it about checking I had a signal as we left Scotland and arrived into the first station in England - somewhere Gaelic sounding in Northumbria, I think it was.

  We hadn't agreed how he'd tell me about the audition. I hadn't wanted to be too much, too in your face for something so personal to him. I wanted him to know I supported him, but knew if he got a no, he'd probably not want to endlessly dissect it over the phone to me, just hours after it had happened. I knew he'd want to think about it alone, reflecting privately before he spoke to me.

  I had to physically restrain myself from dialling his number on the journey. I turned my phone off and enjoyed the countryside whizzing past. I flicked through a celebrity gossip magazine I'd found on a nearby seat earlier in the journey. The love lives of two ex-reality TV participants sadly didn't serve to distract me enough. I searched through my bag and found a notebook where I listed two columns: 1) pros for Callum moving to London and 2) cons for Callum moving to London.

  I had got as far as the cost of travelling to London regularly and it will change things, in the second column, having filled up the first column, when the ticket inspector arrived.

  I saw Lena's tall bright blonde quiff the other side of the ticket barriers as I left the train. Having turned my phone back on, to no messages, I still hadn't heard from Callum. I'd sent him one short text asking if he was okay, with a kiss and a smiley face, but from him, nothing.

  She hugged me tight and I asked her if she'd seen Callum. "I've not heard from him. Nothing for the whole journey. I didn't want to ring him in case he was upset and didn't want to talk. Has he called you? Did you see him here, have you waited with him?" My mind was racing with the options to explain his absence.

  "Do you mean him?" Lena pulled away from our hug and waved as Callum's unmistakeable tall lean frame approached from behind a pillar. His ginger curls swung as he walked. His pale skin matched the tiled concourse. His smile made my heart leap in my chest.

  "What happened to you? Nothing, no texts, no calls, nothing!"

  "I got it! They want me. They said I was perfect, and offered me six months, at a lot more than Equity minimum. The most I've earned as an actor. But I'm gonna be working my arse off for it."

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  "Phone died, and I forgot my charger. I was researching the production company on the way down, and watching videos of the film of my character - Felicia Jollygoodfellow-stroke-Adam."

  I hugged him so tight and kissed his neck. He kissed mine and pulled back to kiss my mouth. "I'm so proud of you, Felicia!"

  He pulled back from the kiss and arched one eyebrow. "Er, we'll not be havin' any of that. Callum's fine, right enough."

  I nodded, and pulled him back to me, enjoying his tongue in my mouth, his body pressed against mine, his hands cupped behind me squeezing my bum. Details, it was right enough, what Devine had said - now it was just details, now he had the job, we could work the rest out between us. Which just left the one big reason I hadn't wanted to return to London.

  But that wasn't to be thought about now, when Callum had this great news.

  "Excuse me, you two." Lena tapped us on our shoulders.

  We stopped kissing and stood with our hands over one another's shoulders.

  "There will be plenty time for that later. You have a - " she blew a few times inflating her cheeks " - blow-up bed your room. Normally I only have one person staying at a time, but I knew you two would want a two person bed. So I bought this blow up one for you."

  Callum put his hand on her shoulder and put on an exaggeratedly sad face. "You mean to say you're not letting us have your bed for the weekend? I'm heartbroken, my dear, heartbroken, so I am." He wiped an imaginary tear from his cheek.

  "You forget, I know what you two are like in bed. He tells me all about it. My bed, is old and it will not cope with this, I think." Her eyes glinted with a smile.

  Callum looked at me, mortified. "Really?"

  I shrugged. "I told her we broke my futon."

  "What else?"

  "She's my best friend. We talk about most things."

  "I can see that."

  I looked at Callum. "But not too much detail obviously."

  Lena rounded us up and walking between us, her hands over our shoulders, explained she'd booked a table for three at her favourite Swedish restaurant near Marylebone where they served the best Swedish meatballs and lingonberry sauce outside Stockholm. "And as well, they have lingonberry and Dime bar cakes."

  "They do know how to live, don't they, these Swedes." I winked at them both.

  "When you have a winter of darkness for almost six months, maybe you too, will want food like this to make you happy."

  Over plates of perfect comfort food - ice cream scoops of mashed potatoes, little meat balls bathed in velvety gravy sauce covered in lingonberry jam - the likes of which I hadn't eaten outside of Lena's home before, Callum told us about the audition, the call with the casting director and the part he was playing.
I knew the character from the film, but hadn't seen it on stage. Having watched the film tens of times, I found it hard to imagine someone other than Guy Pearce playing the role, especially someone like Callum who didn't look like they'd most of their life on the beach.

  "The whole cast is British, not one Aussie. It's deliberate, they told me. We've to do the accent 'cause it's set there, but they wanted to give the parts to young British actors who didn't have a name yet. The only name is the man who fixes their bus and falls in love with one of the drag queens - he's someone who used to be in Neighbours or Home and Away for years apparently. I don't watch that pish, but he's gonna give us coaching on the accent. They've got the woman judge from that dancing programme on the TV doing the choreography, and the team who did the costumes for Joseph are doing our costumes. It's gonna be amazin', I can't wait." He pulled out a contract and offer letter from his bag. "I've to show my agent it first before I sign, in case he can get me a better deal. But if he can get me more than a grand a week, I'll be surprised."

  "How much?"

  "West End production, National Lottery, or something, so they said. My eyes nearly fell out a my head. I thought it was a month, which I'd have been okay with."

  "So you'll be able to afford the odd ticket back home to see me?" I asked, putting my hand on his across the table.

  "Aye, right enough. It's three times what I've got before, working back home. And I'm sure I can stretch to some tickets for you to come visit me down here."

  I'd had visions of enduring a seven hour coach journey each time, to protect my already quite precarious finances, but now it sounded like it would be much easier. "And do I get my little pink car back now?" I winked.

  "Aye. They called me 'pink car man' in the last play."

  "What about accommodation?"

  "I asked that. They have some subsidised rooms at the University of Drama, Central something. But when they said how much it cost, I understood why they were paying me so much for the job down here. And that was subsidised. So I dunno. I could stay there and see if I can share with one of the others from the company."

  Lena interrupted, "What is this company he keeps talking about?"

  Pleased with my reasonable knowledge of acting terms, I explained it was the term for the group of actors working on that production, and not a company in the business sense.

  Callum folded his arms across his chest, the ginger hairs contrasted against his light skin. He looked up to the ceiling and started whistling loudly. "So I'll see how it goes with the accommodation. I've got the first month in this Central place, so we'll see from there."

  Details, just details, I thought to myself. I turned to Lena. "Do you think he could stay with you?"

  "This, I was waiting for … "

  Callum interrupted, "I can talk for meself. I can look after meself too."

  "Sorry." Fail. I remembered how it had felt with Chris looking after me, making my decisions for me, and apologised again to Callum.

  Lena clapped, the waitress arrived: long blonde hair, blue eyes and a shapely figure like the silhouette in the Tales Of The Unexpected opening credits. She suggested the naughtiest desserts and we all ordered one to share, taking spoonfuls of all three, while talking about our plans for the rest of the weekend.

  Lena looked at Callum. "He tries to help. That is all."

  Now it was my turn to be indignant. "And I can talk for myself too."

  Callum nodded slowly. "I know."

  Chapter 15

  The following evening, after a morning shopping around Covent Garden's piazza craft stalls, a river cruise from Westminster to Greenwich for the market and park, the Millennium Dome, Parliament Square for Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament ending up at Tate Modern having walked over the wobbly bridge, we lay on Lena's sofa.

  Lena called Callum to the kitchen and I fell back to sleep as they whispered in there.

  I felt myself being shaken and opened my eyes. Lena was shaking one arm, Callum the other. I rubbed my eyes and sat upright on the sofa, yawning and stretching slowly.

  Lena walked to the door.

  Callum put his hand on my knee and knelt on the floor in front of me. "We've invited someone to see you. Stay there, stay calm. It will all make sense after. Trust us, okay?" He and Lena nodded.

  I looked to the door and first appeared a young guy in his late teens who I'd never set eyes on before, then behind him was the last person I'd expected to see this weekend in London. The personification of why I was dreading visiting London more often to see Callum and Lena. The personification of why I'd left London in the first place.

  Chris.

  He stood with his hand on the shoulder of young thin guy, smiling broadly. He wore a charcoal grey suit, white shirt that seemed to be straining a bit more at the waist than I remembered, and blue tie. He held out his hand for me to shake. "This is Dean. Dean, meet my ex - Darryl - sorry, what is it you're called nowadays, I lose track." He smiled sweetly, and I noted it didn't reach his eyes.

  I heard my blood rushing around my body, rushing in my ears. I felt my hands sweat as if they were in a clammy pocket. My throat became dry and I could hardly swallow.

  Callum pushed me up from the sofa and led me to the door to Chris's outstretched arm. I shook it mechanically. "Ford. I'm Ford now." I looked at Dean, who was not making eye contact; he was staring at the ground, both hands in his pockets. "Dean, honestly."

  "What was that?" Chris asked.

  "Nothing."

  "Oh come on, we're all friends here. It's going to be very civil. I'm not angry with you any more. It's water under the bridge. The bridge you crashed my car into, but water under it all the same." He gave a false forced laugh, smiling just as falsely.

  "I paid you back for that car. Every penny."

  Chris looked at Lena who nodded. Chris continued, this time staring at me, "Yes, you did. But that's not why I'm here. I thought it would be nice to meet everyone." He gestured around the room in a broad sweep, taking in Callum and Dean. "All of us together in London, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Can I sit?" He sat, with Dean following him, not saying a word to anyone. He told us about the estate agency business; how much his last bonus was; the new car, kitchen, suits and celebratory meal he'd spent it on; how he was doing well and he'd been earmarked for the area manager job, covering most of north London. I listened quietly, only needing to throw in the odd, "Did you?" or, "How was that?" for him to continue his monologue.

  "Where did you meet?" I looked at Dean.

  Dean looked at Chris who nodded for him to continue. "I was sleeping on my friend's sofa and we went clubbing. He offered to buy me a drink. We got talking and he said I could come back to sleep at his, no pressure. He was the perfect gentleman."

  I smiled at Chris. "Were you, now isn't that a lovely story."

  Dean laughed. "It was me who weren't a perfect gentleman, though." More giggling from him.

  Chris squeezed his hand tight and he stopped giggling.

  Dean looked me straight in the eyes. "You know what he's like."

  I thought of our marathon tantric sex sessions. I knew exactly what Chris was like, only too well. I smiled at Dean, but this time it was my smile that didn't reach the eyes.

  "I stayed for a night, then another, and it was soon a week. He took me out to get some more clothes. I'd only come out with a few. We went to get some bits for the flat from Ikea … "

  I felt a shiver through my whole body. I had to do something to warn Dean what Chris was like. I stared at Dean's mouth as he continued talking about their life together, Chris's bonuses paying for holidays together, and buying the new model Mini - a convertible this time, in red.

  "Can you drive?" I asked, hopefully.

  Dean shook his head quickly. "It's best that I don't. We said, didn't we?" He looked at Chris who shook his head and said that, yes babe, they had said that.

  Another shiver down my back this time. Beads of sweat formed in the small of my back and under my
arms. "So what do you do?" I leant forward to Dean, wanting to hold him close and whisper in his ear to run fast, to get out now, while he still could.

  Chris replied, another squeeze of Dean's knee. "He was going to enrol in a college here to study drawing. But we didn't think that would work for us did we, babe?"

  Dean shook his head. "Art. I was going to do art. But I'm working near the flat, just something temporary. Until I've worked out what I'm doing."

  "Where's that?" I asked, knowing the answer.

  "Chris said they were looking for people at the KFC up the road. Handed in my CV, and Bob's your uncle, and Fanny's your aunt."

  Chris smiled, showing all his teeth this time. "She certainly is, and so is he."

  Dean waited for Chris to finish talking about how Dean was only just eighteen, and loved to go swimming in the local pool, how he took pride in the flat, and keeping it clean and tidy. "It's like we were meant to find each other," he finished with.

  Dean said, "It's only temporary. KFC, just for now."

  Chris nodded.

  "How long have you been … ?" I asked, again knowing the answer.

  "Just under a year," Dean replied. "Oh, sorry, did you mean working at KFC or been together?" He laughed nervously.

  "Both, I suppose."

  "Just under a year in the flat, together, isn't it?" He looked at Chris who nodded. Dean counted on his fingers. "Eleven months at the KFC. That's flown by hasn't it?" Another nervous laugh.

  Chris jumped in, "I told him, he's welcome to a job at my place. He'd make a good salesman, or running the office. Plenty of variety in my place." He paused, looked around the room, resting on Callum. "That's enough of us, what about you two? What do you do, Kieran?"

  "It's Callum, Chris," came his reply. He talked about the acting jobs, the audition in London, the plans for the London production of PQD. He ended by talking about my job at the photography studio.

  "They paying you for that?" Chris asked, frowning at me.

  "I'm the studio manager," I replied, while mentally calculating when I'd left Chris and how long he and Dean had been together. It meant they must have met weeks after I had left. Chris certainly didn't hang around, did he?