I stubbed out my cigarette and went in, bought a bottle of Corona and took it over to a table in the corner.
Siobhan doesn’t smoke – at least, I’ve never seen her smoke – so maybe I should try to quit. She might not like the smell of it. Or, more likely, she won’t mind it on me. She might even find it sexy, mannish.
I took out my notebook and began to work on my exercise for next week. I wanted my hero to be masculine, strong, well-read and -travelled. A kind of modern day Indiana Jones. I thought Siobhan would like that.
I scribbled away happily, engrossed in what I was doing. The bar was pretty quiet, and the background hum was pleasant; quite soothing. I finished my beer and stood up to get another, and as I walked past the table next to mine, I saw a face I recognised.
It wasn’t until I’d reached the bar that I worked out who it was. It was him – the guy I saw leaving Siobhan’s house the other night. As I walked back to my table, I kept my head down, looking at him from the corner of my eye. Yes, it was definitely him. I recognised the cleft chin (like a bum) and the bags under his eyes. He was wearing the same denim jacket. But the skinny woman he was sitting with was definitely not the object of my affections.
I sat down, my back to them, and tuned in to their conversation. It wasn’t easy because they were talking quietly, so I missed some words. But I heard enough.
He said, ‘I want us to give it another chance.’
‘But I don’t know if I can trust you, Phil.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because… (inaudible).’
‘But Lynn, sweetheart, I swear. It’s over between me and Siobhan.’
‘(Inaudible) … since last week?’
‘I swear. On (couldn’t make it out) life. I haven’t even spoken to Siobhan this week.’
I couldn’t hear the next couple of lines at all. Their voices went really low and soft, and then they stopped talking altogether. I sneaked a look over my shoulder. They were leaning towards each other across the table, holding hands and kissing.
‘I love you,’ I heard the lying creep say.
‘I love you too,’ said the poor woman. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘To celebrate?’
She laughed throatily. I think they must have exchanged saliva again, and then Phil said, ‘Lynn… you don’t think I’m rubbish in bed, do you?’
‘Eh? What’s brought this on.’
‘I don’t know. I just… you don’t think I’m crap, do you?’
‘No! You’re fine.’
He must have been satisfied with this faint praise because the next thing he said was, ‘Okay, let’s go. I just need to go to the loo.’
He stood up and crossed the room to the Gents. And I followed, one hand lightly scratching my brow so it hid my face.
He held the door open, not looking at me, and went straight into a cubicle. There was nobody else in the Gents. Perfect. I heard him unzip his fly and let his jeans fall to the floor. He sighed as he sat down. I waited till I heard the first splash.
‘Phil,’ I said, through the cubicle door.
There was a pause. ‘Who’s that?’
‘You don’t need to know my name. You just need to listen. Actually, think of me as a guardian angel – though not yours.’
‘What?’ I heard him tear off a strip of bog roll. I needed to hurry.
‘I know you’ve been lying to Lynn. I know you saw Siobhan the other night. I want you to stay away from Siobhan. Don’t speak to her. Don’t go to see her. If you do, I’ll make sure Lynn finds out about the lies you’ve been telling her.’
‘Who the fuck … ?’
But before he could clean his arse and fasten his trousers, I was out of there: out of the front door and round the corner. Phil couldn’t come chasing after me because of Lynn. He hadn’t seen my face, so he would have no idea who had been talking to him. And it was true what I said to him: I am a guardian angel. And I’d just helped Siobhan remove an obstacle from her life.
When I got home, I was still excited and pleased with myself. More than anything, I wanted to hear Siobhan’s voice.
I hit 151 first to withhold my number, then dialled Siobhan’s. The phone rang six or seven times. I just had enough time to wonder if she was in the bath, which gave me a wonderful image, her skin made pink by the hot water, her nipples peeking out through a layer of bubbles, when she said, ‘Hello?’
I didn’t speak.
‘Hello?’
God, I love her voice. What a pity I had to put the phone down.
Thursday
Called in sick again. Jackie said, ‘You will be coming in tomorrow, won’t you?’ I replied that I wasn’t sure.
The house was empty, with both Si and Nat at work. I ate breakfast in the nude, then checked Facebook to see if Siobhan had accepted my friend request yet. No luck. But when I looked at her friend list again I noticed that Kathy was now listed. How sickening. Siobhan had confirmed that lezzer’s friend request but not mine.
Furious, I stormed into the bathroom and had a wank to calm myself down, unable to stop myself picturing Siobhan and Kathy in a Sapphic clinch. After I came I got dressed and collapsed on the sofa and watched some crappy programme on daytime TV. There was a phone-in about relationships: mainly women calling and complaining about how unromantic their husbands were; about how they never took them out or bought them flowers any more. That gave me an idea.
I headed down to the market. The flowers were so expensive.
‘Have you got anything cheaper?’ I said.
The bloke behind the stall rolled his eyes a bit and said, ‘I’ve got these lilies. They’re a bit limp, but you can have them for a quid.’
They looked alright to me. I decided to take them straight round to Siobhan’s. My plan was to leave them on the doorstep, with a little note. I checked my bag for my pen but it wasn’t there, so I wouldn’t be able to leave a message. Oh well – it would add to the romance, anyway, if Siobhan thought her flowers were from a mysterious admirer.
I reached Victoria Gardens and paused at Siobhan’s gate, which stood wide open. I could hear music coming from inside the house: something I didn’t recognise. I wondered which part of the house she was in. As long as she wasn’t looking out the front window, I’d be okay. I wasn’t meant to know where she lived.
Heart beating fast, I headed up the short path to the front door. I was about to lay the bouquet on her step when I saw a bunch of keys hanging from the keyhole. What was this? An invitation? Turn the key and come straight in, Alex. But no, she didn’t know I was
