Chapter 14
MICHAEL
I once heard that some folk interpret words in colour.
Names and places come in different tones.
If I were to describe the colour of my emotions right now, as I stand on the kerb facing a dilapidated concrete block of four garages on Pinewood Road, it’d be the brown inside the yogurt cup I use to wash the nib of my brushes. Murky as shite.
A blast of wind throws more dead leaves against the bottom of the building.
It’s not a place that stands out; it’s more like the type of place you’d walk past and instantly forget.
Easy to do, I reckon. I turn and look across the road.
There is a neat park behind trimmed hedgerows: wide-open green fields, a large bridge hunched over the twist of the River Severn.
Rich, tall trees, standing as proud as you like from dark, fertile soil.
If this was Alice’s address, she’d have a right gorgeous view.
I turn back to the spot where her front door should be.
Mildew and green moss are creeping up through the concrete base, the corrugated roof is rusting, the wind rattling through the gaps.
There is a strange pull in the pit of my stomach, like I’ve been here before.
I shake the thought away. Places like this are all over the shop.
Kate kicks a clot of weeds with the toe of her trainers, her blonde curls escaping their ponytail.
‘I don’t understand…’ The address she gave me was wrong. I swallow down the lump of… what? Embarrassment? Failure?
‘Mike,’ Kate says, finally looking up and folding her arms. ‘I hate to say it, but…’
I unfold the chip paper from my pocket and squint at the number. ‘Maybe I read the number wrong?’ I hold the paper between us, the wind nipping the edges. ‘It could be a zero?’ Kate gives the paper a fleeting glance as I add, ‘or a six?’
Kate untangles a bolt of hair from the green plastic hoop of her earring, not replying.
I scan the rest of the street. There are houses further along the road, tall town houses with gable frontages and neat lawns. ‘She could have got the number wrong? She was only just about to move…’
Kate meets my eyes, chews the inside of her cheek. ‘Aye. Maybe. I say this knowing how wonderful you are, but could you have misread the signs?’ Her eyebrows rise in question. ‘You’ve had a tough time lately and, well, you’d had a few pints and, you know…’ She shrugs, trailing off.
My mind whirs as I shuffle through the memories of that night. I know what we had was real. Don’t I?
Alice’s handwriting stares up at me, the edges of each word precise and sharp, despite remembering the way the blue eyeliner was blunted on one side.
I picture how the red polish of her nails caught the street light as she held it, her smile, the buzz of connection I’d felt.
My eyes move from the electric blue of her address to the muted blue-grey metal shutters.
Even if she was blowing me off, I have her ring.
At the very least, I need to get that back to her.
I nod. ‘That’s as maybe, but I still have her ring. I need to return it.’ I ignore the look Kate gives me.
My eyes scan the houses up ahead and I begin walking.
‘Wait up!’ Kate follows me. ‘What are you doing?’ I nod towards the row of houses.
The thud of our feet mixes with the sound of leaves rustling in the trees. I look up at the first house. ‘I’m going to knock on some doors.’
‘Oh no…’ She snatches the paper from me. ‘You are not going to do that, Mike.’ Her eyes are wide as she folds the paper into her back pocket. ‘Do you know how creepy that is? You’ll be like that bloke in Taxi Driver.’
Her words stop me in my tracks. I drag my hands through my hair. Is that how she sees me right now? Obsessed? The thought is too hot to swallow down. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘You’re right.’ I let out a long breath.
Kate’s shoulders drop. ‘How about we go and grab something to eat, eh? I’m bloody starving. There was a pub up the road, wasn’t there?’
* * *
The Parkside Arms is a large pub, picnic tables with parasols outside.
Inside, the walls are nicotine stained, with fake flowers in glass vases.
‘Call Me’ is playing in the background. If only it was that easy, Blondie…
if only it was that easy. It’s only about a ten-minute walk from the garages, from the place where I’d imagined seeing Alice’s face as she opened her front door with those big brown eyes, her saying something like what took you so long?
But instead, I’m sitting at a table that needs wiping down, with a pint and a menu in my hands.
Kate is trying to keep things bright, pointing to the T-bone steak on the menu that I can’t afford, and saying how nice the place is.
I love her for it, but honestly? I wish I’d come alone.
This kind of humiliation didn’t need an audience.
‘Hello? Earth to Michael?’ She waves a hand in front of me.
‘Sorry, what?’ I pick at the red candle wax that sits in a bottle in the middle of the table.
‘I said we should do this more often. I can’t remember the last time we went out for lunch together.’ Her eyes are bright as she looks around. She fiddles with the cutlery on the table and smiles brightly. ‘Did you see Beverly Hills Cop is playing this weekend? You could come.’
‘What, and third wheel with you and Danny?’
The light in her eyes dims. ‘Why do you always say his name like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’ve just eaten a pickled egg.’
‘I don’t. And I like pickled eggs.’
She crosses her arms.
‘Kate, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant…’
‘What? He’s a good guy, Mike.’
I pick up a beer mat and scuff the edges with my thumb; there’s white paint under my nails. ‘I know…’
‘He makes me laugh and he’s kind, solid.’
‘Aye. He is.’
‘So why are you so—’ she wafts her hand in my direction ‘—like this when you’re around him?’
‘I just… I don’t get it. You could do…’
‘Don’t you dare say better, Mike, don’t you bloody dare. At least he’s real.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair.
‘As opposed to Alice?’
She shrugs with an expression that reads aye, if the shoe fits.
‘She’s real. You saw her.’
‘I know she’s real, but it might be that this perfect woman you’ve built up in your mind isn’t. She’ll still have the same faults as the rest of us, you know. She’ll still have underwear where the elastic is going and she’ll probably pick her nose and never replace the loo roll when it runs out.’
I raise my eyebrows as she continues to rant.
‘I bet she leaves the toast crumbs in the butter, uses the last of the milk without buying a replacement and leaves dirty socks beside the laundry basket instead of putting them inside, and burps and rubs her belly after a good meal and expects you to take it as a compliment, and never puts the lid down on the loo.’
Kate blinks a few times, her face flushed like her strange little rant has shocked her more than me. Clearly that was not all about Alice.
‘Ready to order?’ A girl in her late teens or early twenties appears beside us as I scan the menu quickly, choosing pie and mash. The girl, Lisa according to her name tag, smiles at me, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. Kate glances at Lisa and rolls her eyes.
‘Same for me,’ Kate responds with an air of defeat.
‘Two pie and mash coming up. Anything else?’ she asks me.
‘No thanks.’
‘Refill?’ Lisa nods at my almost empty pint. Right now, I could happily sink a few, but I need to drive us back.
‘Nah, I’m driving. Shame you can’t get something that tastes like beer but without the alcohol, isn’t it?’
‘They could call it near beer,’ Kate adds. I snort.
‘I can do you a weak shandy, heavy on the lemonade?’ Lisa interjects.
‘Sure. Cheers.’
She walks away as Kate rolls her eyes.
‘What?’
‘You know what.’ She flutters her eyelashes. ‘Refill?’ She makes it sound like an invitation to bed.
‘She was being polite.’
‘Sure she was, and look, there’s a pig flying.’
I lean back, my fingers still itching to reach for a pack of cigarettes.
Kate pulls her barely touched drink forwards and fiddles with the straw.
‘Do you want to tell me what that was all about?’
She stirs it a few times then pushes it aside. ‘I just… I haven’t had a day off for ages and was looking forward to spending some time with you like we used to, you know, have a laugh and…’
‘Kate.’ I tilt my head, knowing there is more going on.
‘I found a ring, OK?’
My brows furrow, trying to link what she’s saying to the ring beneath my T-shirt. Then she holds up her left hand and taps her ring finger. The proverbial penny drops.
‘Oh…’
‘Yeah. Oh.’
She looks to the window then back at me.
‘And it’s not what you want, I take it?’
‘I… I don’t know. I mean, I know he’s not perfect, but…’
‘Do you love him?’
‘Yes! Yes… I think so.’ She groans and shakes her head.
‘Kate, adding I think so to the end of the sentence kind of implies that you don’t.’
‘But that’s not what makes a marriage work though, is it? Stability is what’s needed, not some far-fetched romantic image of who the perfect person is.’
‘Can I ask you one question?’
She nods.
‘Close your eyes.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’
‘Fine.’ She closes her eyes.
‘Picture yourself when you’re sixty – who do you see sitting beside you?’
She hesitates. A pink rash climbing up her throat, her eyes open and she meets my eyes.
‘Is it Dan?’
She bites her lip, a minute shake of her head.
‘So, who did you picture?’
She presses her lips together. ‘Rob Lowe.’
I start laughing and she grins, reaching for her drink, propping it towards me. ‘Who do you picture?’
‘Honestly?’ I rub my chin.
‘Always.’
‘I can’t really picture myself that old. But I guess Alice?’
She shakes her head, but some of the weight of the earlier conversation has lifted and there is a spark back in her eyes. ‘Then we’d best find her, hadn’t we? What about putting up your details in a few places around here? If she got the address wrong, she wouldn’t have got the town wrong, right?’
‘True.’ I flick my lighter open and shut a few times while I think. Even though I don’t smoke any more, having this helps with the cravings.
‘So, if I were moving to a place I didn’t really know, you know starting afresh, like, where would I go?’
‘Corner shop?’
‘Yep.’ She gestures to the room.
‘Here?’
‘Well done, Sherlock.’
She has a good point. The food arrives and Kate ignores Lisa, instead pulling out a notepad and pen, passing it along the table.
‘Just…’ she adds, taking a swig of her lager and lime, ‘don’t sound desperate, don’t let her think you’re some nutter one step away from banging on all the houses on the street.
’ She grins then returns her attention to cracking the top of the pie.
‘Ha. Ha.’
‘What shall I say?’
‘I dunno, just say you’re looking for… Oh! Have you heard about the new Madonna film coming out soon? It’s all over my mags, Desperately Seeking Susan… you could write Desperately Seeking Alice!’
I reach for the fork. ‘That’s a no.’
‘Just your name and number, saying that you have her ring?’
I cut into the pastry. ‘That’ll bring out the crazies.’
In the end I decide on a short note saying: Looking for Alice. You dropped something. If this is you, please contact Michael. Then add my address and phone number.
We write a handful and after lunch leave one at the pub, one in the local shop, another in a laundrette, another in a Chinese takeaway, and the last one in a chemist.
‘So what now?’ Kate asks as we make our way back to the garages where her car sits parked outside.
I walk around the space.
‘You look like a bleedin’ nutter.’ I laugh, turning around.
‘Smile!’ Kate says and takes a snap of me. I’m very much regretting giving her that Polaroid camera for Christmas.
It’s late when I drive back into our hometown, Kate dozing quietly in the seat next to me.
A smile quirks at the side of my mouth as I look at her.
She’s always been there for me, through thick and thin, even spending the whole day driving across the country looking for a woman who might very well have been blowing me off with a fake address.
Danny is lucky to have her. The thought tightens the muscles in my stomach.
I know he’s a good guy, but… I indicate and pull up outside her house.
I give her a gentle nudge, a slow smile crossing her face as she looks up at me.
‘We’re home,’ I say gently. She blinks, straightens and wipes her hands over her face. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to doze off.’
‘Ah, you needed it. Early start tomorrow?’
‘Aye.’ She grabs her things, the photo she took of me at Alice’s address falling out of her open bag. I pick it up and hand it to her.
‘Ah, you keep it. It’s a good one of you.’ She smiles, leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek.
* * *
At home, the TV screen is blinking into the dark road, but I can’t face going in.
Instead, I walk the streets, not really concentrating on where I’m going but not surprised when I find myself standing in front of the mural, looking up at her.
Part of me half expects her to walk around the corner, to stand beside me looking up, that confident smile beneath lost eyes telling me she was my muse after all.
My hand reaches out and I trace the curve of her mouth, then catch myself.
What the hell am I doing? I feel like I might actually be starting to lose my marbles, travelling halfway across the country trying to find a woman I spent one night with.
I tuck my hands in my pockets and turn my back, following my feet home.
The house is quiet as I close the front door behind me, my feet heavy as I climb the stairs.
I’m bone-tired from the drive, from the disappointment of not finding Alice, by my life.
I try to sleep, but the image of the garages and her face won’t stop spinning.
I get up, leave Carl’s mumbles behind me as he turns beneath the duvet, and make a brew in the kitchen.
As I sit at the table, I reach for a notepad and pen.
I don’t know why. I know there’s no point. But I write to her again.