Lovers' Revenge

LOVERS’ REVENGE Adrian arrived early at the restaurant. It was already packed. He had booked a table so was ushered to sit down by a waitress. He took off his corduroy jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. “Would you like wine, Sir?” the waitress asked. “No thanks. I’m waiting for someone,” Adrian replied. Fumbling in his pocket he pulled out a small piece of paper. He wrote, ‘I love you!’ on it and carefully folded it in four before putting it in his jacket pocket again. His palms were sweating and he wiped his brow but this seemed to make him sweat even more. It was warm in here, the smell of Italian food wafted in the heavy air. Looking at his watch, it said 7.30pm. He picked up a bread-stick from the glass in the centre of the table and snapped it in several pieces. It broke like a biscuit leaving crumbs on the table cloth which he brushed onto the carpet. He laid the pieces of bread-stick on his side plate. His head throbbed amongst the sound of people talking. It all seemed to echo. “Oh my God!” he thought. He looked at the tank of tropical fish in the corner, staring at the bright white bulbs, lighting the green artificial weed and forced air bubbles rising up to the water surface. Bright-coloured fish swam nonchalantly. “Crikey,” he said, closing his eyes tight. Waiter’s came and passed his table balancing plates of food on their arms and in their hands like in a circus. Soup and pasta dishes expertly placed. He looked at his watch again: 7.35. “Can I have a brandy?” he called to a passing waitress. “Certainly, Sir,” she replied. A big, bulb glass of brandy was brought to him, and he sniffed it impatiently before taking a sudden gulp followed by a sharp intake of breath. He looked at his watch again. The time had advanced by two minutes. He took another sip of brandy; another intake of breath. Looking around the room he spotted a vase on a shelf. His eyes fixed on it like a razor. “Lalique!” he muttered. “Blue-tinted, 1920s Lalique!” Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Reaching in his jacket pocket again he pulled out the piece of paper and flattened it with his palm. He crossed out ‘I love you!’ and with a pencil he wrote, ‘I’m really nothing without you!’ He looked up and then crushed the paper into a ball before dropping it on the carpet and squashing it with his shoe. He looked at his watch again. “Hello Adrian!” said a soft voice behind him. A woman placed her hand on his shoulder. It was Catherine, his ex-wife. “Thank God you’ve come,” Adrian said, “I was beginning to worry.” He got up from his seat and took her coat. She grimaced. “You don’t have to,” she said quickly sitting down and pulling her coat over the back of her chair. “Now. What do you want to eat?” Adrian said. He wiped his brow with his napkin. “And what have you been doing with yourself?” “Today, this week or this month?” Catherine replied. “Any,” he answered. “Since I saw you last, I guess.” “Lots of things. School. You know? You wouldn’t believe what Colin Morgan did at break last week. Pee’d in a waste-paper basket. How do you deal with that? He’s only seven.” Taking a bread-stick and snapping it precisely in two she nibbled one end. “How’s the antique business?” she asked. “Still keeping your head above water?” “Just about,” Adrian said. He took a piece of his bread-stick from the side plate and jammed it in his mouth. “You still haven’t grown your beard. You’d look good with a greying beard – dignified.” “No,” Adrian said. “One or two days growth is all I can stand. How’s Maria?” “She’s fine. Into everything, but you probably know that.” “Yeah, she can be a bit much, can’t she?” “I wanted to talk to you about Maria, Adrian.” Catherine paused. She sat up and crossed her arms. “Adrian, I want to restrict your access to her to just weekend mornings.” Adrian choked on his bread-stick. “Weekend mornings! You can’t do that.” A waitress came up to their table and asked for their order. “Vegetable lasagne and a meat lasagne. And a bottle of house red, please,” Catherine said, uncrossing her arms. “Weekend mornings? Why not whole weekends like we do now?” Adrian swallowed the remains of his brandy. “You really are a cow, Cath, at times. You know that?” “I’ve thought it through. I don’t want Maria getting too dependent on you. She doesn’t realise you’re such a loser yet.” “A loser? What brought that on?” He went to eat another piece of bread-stick when a bottle of wine arrived and a waiter opened it and poured a glass for each of them. “Thanks,” Catherine said. “I don’t want to have a row here, Adrian. Let’s be civilised adults.” “I want you and Maria back, Cath. No, it’s more than that. I need you back.” Adrian took a sip of wine to wash down the bread-stick. “It’s true,” he continued. “Hey, there’s a 1920s Lalique vase on that shelf. Do you like it? The blue one.” He pointed carefully. Catherine looked at the shelf and the vase. “Very nice,” she said. “You always had good taste.” Adrian put his arm up and called over a waitress. “Excuse me, but is the owner of the restaurant here?” he asked. The waitress looked puzzled. “He’s in the kitchen, he’s the Head Chef,” she said. “Is your food okay?” “We haven’t got it yet,” Catherine snapped. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just want to see the head chef, if it’s okay?” The waitress rushed off to the kitchen, pushing the swing doors. Moments later a tall, glowing, olive-skinned man wearing a clean white apron and chefs’ hat came out of the kitchen and walked across the restaurant to where Adrian sat. “Hello Sir,” he said. “You fine?” Adrian pulled himself up in his chair. “Yes, we’re fine thank you. I just wondered if you would sell me that blue vase on the shelf over there?” Again he pointed to the shelf and the vase. “Antique!” the owner said. “Grandmothers. You give?” “Five hundred pounds plus the meal,” Adrian said quickly. “Five hundred? Five hundred. Mmmm, you have meal on me!” The chef laughed. “Va bene,” he said. He walked to the shelf and reached up for the vase. “ It yours Sir.” Adrian handed the waitress his Visa card. “You heard that?” She nodded and walked off to the till. The vegetable lasagne came and Catherine started eating. Then the waitress brought Adrian his meat lasagne and a large pepper grinder. He nodded, as if in code, and the waitress ground some pepper on his meal. “No, not for me,” Catherine indicated. “Here, the vase is for you. A gift.” “For me?” She blushed. “Adrian, this isn’t a game. We’re divorced, remember?” “I know. Come back Cath. I want you back.” “It’s not an issue, Adrian. I’m seeing someone else.” Her tone of voice was serious now. It was the vicious tone she had used during the divorce settlement. It frightened Adrian. “So you won’t come back home then?” “I’ve told you. I’ve met someone else.” She crossed her arms again. “And I’m thinking of advertising on the Internet for a female companion.” “Lover y’mean?” Adrian slumped on the table pushing the lasagne away. “Why Cath, why?” “I think that only another woman would really pick up on the workings of my mind and body. Chris is fine with it, but then he is bisexual.” She took a piece of bread-stick and nibbled it casually. “He suggested it,” she continued. “I bet he did!” Adrian’s jaw dropped. “Didn’t I satisfy you, Cath? You gone crazy or something?” “I’ve got it all worked out. Chris is moving into Raynor’s Lane next week. Maria will see you this weekend but from then on it’s just mornings. I’m sorry, but as far as we are concerned it’s history.” “That’s that then is it?” Adrian sat up. “You can’t do this,” he said. “You really hurt me, you know that. You really hurt me.” A small tear appeared in his eye and ran down his nose. It dripped onto the tablecloth. “Chris sounds like a real tosser!” he said wiping his face. He lifted his corduroy jacket from his chair as Catherine reached back for her coat. “You just don’t know him,” she said. She picked up the vase. “What shall I do with this?” “Keep it,” Adrian replied as they both left the restaurant. It was raining now and Adrian hurried away leaving Catherine standing by the door. “Aaaaagghh!” he shouted as rain soaked into his clothes. Inside the restaurant a waitress cleared their table. She picked up the ball of paper from the floor and unravelled it. She read: ‘I’m really nothing without you’ and saw that ‘I love you’ had been crossed out. “How sad!” she thought to herself as she walked towards the kitchen carrying two plates of half-eaten lasagne. She pushed the swing doors and looked straight at the head chef: “Five hundred pounds for an old vase. She must be a good lay!” she said. “There’s no accounting for taste, is there?” The head chef just shook his head and carried on his work, preparing a big pot of risotto, some pasta and some beans. Next morning, Adrian woke with a start as the alarm rattled. He got dressed, ate a piece of bread and left the house. It was a dull day after the rain, but it was the weekend, the time he saw his daughter. Arriving at Raynor’s Lane, where Catherine was now living, he knocked on the red-painted door. A rush of excitement as Maria answered. “Hello daddy,” she gushed. “Can we play today?” “Yes sweetheart, we can play.” He took a bag of Maltesers from his jacket pocket and gave them to her. “Thank you daddy.” Maria skipped into the hall. “You get your coat on and we can go and play in the park,” Adrian said. Catherine came downstairs. “Hello Adrian,” she said. “Take care of her, won’t you? We don’t want tears.” Adrian left the house with Maria running passed him. “Mind the traffic, Maria!” he called. At the park, Maria ran around. She climbed on the slide and slid down, sat on the swings as Adrian pushed her and got messy in the sand-pit. “Daddy? Mummy says you aren’t going to see as much of me as before. I want to see you daddy, but mummy says you’re too busy.” Adrian listened and watched as Maria dug a hole in the sand with her hands. “Daddy? Don’t you like me anymore?” “Of course I do sweetheart. Mummy’s got it all wrong, that’s all.” “Mummy says that I’m going to have a new daddy soon.” “Does she?” Adrian took a white cotton handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. The air was damp. “You come out of there now and we’ll walk down to the pizza house. Who’s for pizza then?” “Me-e-e-e!” Maria shouted. She ran out of the sand-pit and grabbed Adrian’s hand. When it was time for him to take Maria back to Raynor’s Lane, Adrian sighed. He picked her up in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you daddy, I love you daddy,” Maria said. Adrian always felt himself well up when his daughter said this. Those few words always got him by the balls. “Shall we go back and see what mummy’s got for you?” he said. Maria nodded so they walked out onto the street and Adrian hailed a taxi. At Raynor’s Lane Catherine was making supper: just a sandwich. She answered the doorbell. “Hello darling,” she said carrying Maria off into the house. “Have you had fun?” “We went to the park and I played in the sand and we went for pizza and I had chicken!” Maria gushed. “Good!” Catherine glanced at Adrian: “Close the door,” she said. “I want to take her to the zoo tomorrow,” Adrian said. “Has she been lately?” “No I don’t think so. But you can’t, we’re going to my mother’s tomorrow.” Catherine sat at the kitchen table and took a bite from her sandwich. “You’ll have to go some other time.” “So I can’t see my daughter tomorrow? You planned this didn’t you? You cow!” “Don’t raise your voice, Adrian. Not here. Remember Maria.” She put down the sandwich and stood up. “I think you’d better go. Maria, say goodbye to daddy.” Maria rushed to Adrian and hugged his legs. “Goodbye daddy!” she said. He put his hand on her head and said goodbye before stamping out of the kitchen and slamming the front door behind him. Getting into his car he put his foot down and headed back to his home muttering “cow!” to himself as he drove. He passed the church where he and Catherine had married, and the new mosque with its golden dome towering over the High Street, the bagel store next to his small antique’s shop. He raced down the rat-run to his house, got out of his car and shouted “COW!” at the top of his voice. His next door neighbour, Mrs Crow, twitched her curtain and saw him go up his path to his front door. Adrian threw his keys on the dining room table, took of his corduroy jacket, and wept. At 6.30 the following morning Adrian was standing beside Catherine’s beech hedge outside her house. The sun was just emerging and the moon descending south. He was unsure of what he was doing there but determined not to let Catherine get her own way. He picked up a medium-sized stone from the front garden and juggled it a while between both hands before letting it drop on the earth again. Catherine’s car was in the drive, the bonnet shining as the sun caught it. Adrian reached in his pocket and took hold of a long nail he had brought with him. He had no idea why he had picked up the nail from his shed, but now he was here he didn’t much care. Things were becoming clearer. He drew the nail point along the side of the car making a deep gouge in the paintwork. Then, walking away to admire his work he looked at the nail again. He ran up to the car before plunging it into the front right-hand tyre. It took a lot of effort before the tyre hissed lazily as the pressure was released. He did the same to the back tyre, satisfied that Catherine wouldn’t be going anywhere in the car today. Adrian’s rage was blind. He didn’t want to hurt Catherine or Maria. But he didn’t quite know what to do to get back at Catherine. He picked up the stone again and threw it at the front room window of the house. The pane was double-glazed but the stone cracked it like a nut shell, splintering glass on to the garden. Adrian ran quickly along Raynor’s Lane to his car, got in and slumped onto his steering wheel. It was quiet in the street with few cars around. Only a cyclist passed him. Adrian drew breath. He switched on the ignition and carefully drove back to his own house. He parked, went inside and got undressed before going to bed again as though it had all been part of a bitter dream Maria woke up at 7.00am and ran to her mothers’ room to wake her. Catherine rolled over and let her daughter come under the big warm duvet for a hug and a cuddle. “When are we going out?” Maria asked. “Later.” Catherine kissed Maria’s forehead and rubbed her own eyes. “What time is it?” She looked at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was still early. Morning sunlight shone through the curtains. It was going to be a fine day she thought. She smiled “You go and get dressed and brush your teeth. Be a good girl.” Maria left the bed and walked like a ballerina, on her toes, out of the door to the bathroom whilst Catherine contemplated getting up. Pottering about in the kitchen, making breakfast and emptying the dishwasher, it was 9.00am when Catherine and Maria left the house. In the front garden they saw the broken window and scratched car. “Mummy, the window’s broken!” “My poor car,” Catherine said. She ran her finger along the deep gouge on the front door before noticing the tyres were flat. “Hooligans!” she cried. “What are hooligans, mummy?” “Vandals!” “What are they mummy?” Catherine rushed indoors and phoned the Police. She was told that an officer would be round the house later that morning. She then phoned her mother to cancel their visit before sitting bent double with her face in her hands, crying her heart out. The Monday morning rush hour was always a source of frustration for Adrian. Getting out of his car and going to unlock the antique shop he felt drained. An awful sense of guilt also came over him. Far from being pleased at the attack on Catherine’s property he was ashamed of himself and worried she would find out it was him. It could only turn her against him even more and may stop him from seeing his darling daughter for good. He put the ‘open’ sign up in the door of his shop and sat down to wait for a customer. By lunchtime he had sold several small things – a Georgian silver spoon, a bone letter opener, a Victorian table lamp and a World War One medal. His shop had been quite busy for a Monday and he was pleased. Until the phone rang. It was Catherine. “Hello,” he said. “You okay?” “No!” she snapped. “I’m not!” “What’s up? Have you had a row with your mother?” “I didn’t go. Some bastard vandalised my car and threw stones at my window.” “No!” Adrian tried to get surprise in his voice. “Adrian, we need to talk,” she said. “Tonight. I’ll come over tonight.” She hung up. Adrian put down his phone. “Strange,” he said to himself. A customer came up to his desk and paid for some cigarette cards with old cricketers on them. “Thanks,” Adrian said as he put the note in the till. Catherine came to Adrian’s house at 8 o’ clock. She brought Maria with her. “You go and play in the garden, dear,” Catherine said, and Maria skipped out back with a skipping rope. “Adrian. Sit down.” They both sat down opposite each other. “What’s up, Cath?” Adrian asked. “Caught the people who vandalised your property yet? It was some gouge in the door, wasn’t it?” “Yes it was. My poor car. Florence!” “Yes.” “How do you know about the car door?” “I saw as you parked up,” Adrian said quickly. “Oh?” Catherine sat forward in her chair. “I can’t take much more of this. I need to get away. I’m thinking of moving. The vandalism was just the last straw.” “You’re joking?” Adrian said. “What about Maria?” “What about her? She’ll be with me and Chris.” “Oh, Chris.” Catherine started crying. “It’s too much,” she sobbed. “It’s too much.” Maria burst in swinging the skipping rope around her head. “Careful!” Adrian shouted. “Mummy, I’ve done twenty skips!” Maria said excitedly. “Good darling. That’s good,” Catherine replied as she wiped her eyes. “Why are you crying mummy?” Maria asked. “It’s nothing dear,” Catherine replied. She got up and took Maria’s rope in one hand and her small hand in the other. Before Adrian could stop them they had left the house and were walking to the car parked by the gate. He just waved but neither of them responded. As she drove off, knowing that the car had been in the garage all day having the gouge filled and re-sprayed, Catherine wept again. “Adrian was the bastard,” she thought. Adrian closed his front door and wondered what the visit was for. Catherine was upset, yes, but why did she come to see him? He felt pleased with himself that she had chosen him over Chris to see in her hour of need. Maybe she wanted reconciliation after all? He would just have to wait and see. He whistled a song to himself. No particular song, just a whistle. Then he made himself a cup of tea, sat down and pressed the remote button of his television. The following Saturday Adrian went to Rayner’s Lane as usual to pick up Maria. As he walked up to the house he saw a ‘To Let’ sign by the beech hedge. He rushed to the front door and knocked twice. He then banged on it with his fists. “Catherine, are you in there?” No-one was inside the house. A car pulled up outside. It was a small hatchback with “BURRELLS ESTATE AGENTS” written over the sides in bold black and red. A smartly-dressed woman and a young couple got out. They walked towards Adrian. “As you can see this is in a good situation, near to bus routes, for the city…” They brushed passed Adrian and the woman unlocked the red door. “Where is she?” Adrian shouted. “The woman who lives here?” The Estate Agent looked at Adrian disdainfully. “The last resident has moved out this week,” she said before carrying on her sales patter. “Where did they go?” Adrian demanded. “We don’t deal with things like that, Sir. Now if you wouldn’t mind…” she closed the door as the couple entered the hallway, leaving Adrian bemused outside. He ran back to his car, revved the engine and left rubber on the road. He sped down the High Street to the fork in the road where there were traffic lights. A woman on a bicycle was in the middle of the road. He slammed on his brakes, skidded and crashed into her right side sending her over the handlebars and onto the road. “Oh my God!” he thought as he got out of his car to see if she was dead. He dialled 999 on his mobile and seeing the woman had blood on her legs and arms he told the ambulance to hurry. Traffic was halted and car horns made an angry noise. He was told not to move her. Luckily it was only a few minutes until the paramedics arrived in the ambulance and took her to a hospital. Adrian was in shock but he got back in his car and drove away having given his address to the Police. As he looked in his mirror at the junction he saw the woman’s mangled bicycle being lifted into a transit van. “I hope she’s alive,” he said out loud, to himself, in the car. “I do hope she’s alive.” In the hospital the woman was in intensive care. She had a broken arm and leg and had hit her head on the road, but luckily she was wearing a cycle helmet to cushion the blow. Adrian visited her the next day. Her name was Lucy May. He was told there was no point in him waiting for her to recover, she just needed time if she was to survive. He bowed his head as he left her bedside. The police called at his home to take a statement but it seemed to be that Lucy had crossed a red light at the junction when she should have stopped. Adrian explained about Catherine and Maria. “She’s kidnapped my beautiful child! I don’t know where they’ve gone,” he said. He went to the police station to make a formal complaint. “Kidnapping’s very serious, Sir,” the police officer said. “I know,” Adrian replied. “ I know.” Lucy woke from her coma to find her arm and leg in plaster. She ached and was sore. Adrian visited her regularly until she was discharged from the hospital. As she hobbled on crutches across the car park he asked: “Do you want to stay in touch? I’d like to see you again.” Lucy smiled but inside she felt angry. She nodded and they swopped addresses. Lucy lived in an ex-council block in a ground floor flat. She felt bitter about the accident as she wasn’t to blame she told herself. But the police were against her. And just what did Adrian want? “He could have stopped,” she had written in her statement. She called to her son, Ben, to come indoors. He had had a temporary stay with his grandma whilst his mum recovered from her ordeal. “ I’m glad you’re home mum,” he said as they hugged. After two weeks of an investigation the police tracked down Catherine and Maria. They were living just twenty miles away with Chris and a new friend called Heidi. Catherine was shocked when an officer came and knocked on the door accusing her of kidnapping a child. She agreed to see Adrian and settle the business out of court. “How could you, Adrian? Kidnapping!” she snapped when they met. “Maria was fine with us. Do you want to upset her? Adrian, well, do you?” “No, of course not Catherine. But she is my little girl.” Adrian countered. “You’re nasty,” Catherine said as she walked away. “Really nasty.” “I want to see my daughter, Cath. That’s all.” Adrian said. They agreed on weekend access as before and Adrian was pleased. He went home with a satisfied grin on his face, feeling he had won his battle for Maria. That night Adrian went to see Lucy at her flat. “I’ve won! I get to see my little girl at weekends. Isn’t that great?” he said excitedly. Lucy nodded. “We must celebrate. I’ve got some wine. Here, have a glass!” Adrian shouted jubilantly. He passed a glass of wine to Lucy and she sat down and took one sip after another until the bottle was empty when she fell asleep. In the morning Lucy found that her clothes had been taken off. She was in her bed in the flat naked. Fifty pounds was on the bedside table with a note that read: “Thanks!” Tears welled in her sleepy eyes. She cried. Had she been raped? She couldn’t tell but she felt dirty and disgusted anyway. “The pervert!” she cried as she stepped into the shower to wash herself clean. Whatever else she could only imagine. He was a bastard! That was all she was sure of. On her birthday Catherine thought it would be good to hold a small get-together; a few friends and her family, to put the past behind them and to start afresh. She invited Adrian as he said that he wanted to bring Lucy and Ben. Lucy reluctantly agreed. It was quite a large gathering in Catherine’s new house – Catherine, Maria, Chris, Heidi, Catherine’s mum and dad, Adrian, Lucy, Ben and some friends from Catherine’s new school, where she now worked. Lucy met Catherine and they talked about Adrian, each of them laughed at the others stories. Adrian met Chris and they started chatting. “ So, what’s it like being bisexual?” he asked. “Twat!” Chris thought. Adrian also met Heidi, Catherine’s new ‘friend’. He concluded that she was more of a man than Chris was as she was wearing dungarees and had feather-hair on her top lip. “Just what do you find to do with Catherine – in bed!” he slurred after having had a few drinks. Heidi walked away. The party continued until, at midnight, Catherine disappeared upstairs. She crept down, with her arms discretely behind her back. She walked up to Adrian and tapped him on the shoulder. “This one’s for me and Lucy!” she slurred. She drew back her arm and revealed a big shiny, red boxing glove tied onto her hand. She let her arm swing back and then she thrust it into Adrian’s bemused face. He fell to the carpet. She held her arms aloft and screamed. Heidi clapped and Lucy whooped in joy. The women had no remorse now, they had got their revenge, and it was so, so sweet. They all huddled around each other and fell to their knees. Adrian was out cold, with a bloody nose, on the carpet. Lovers’ revenge – a state of mind; just knockout!