12 Months PART D

Chapter 7

‘Red Alert’ – Basement Jaxx

‘Putney please mate,’ Bob said as Jovana settled herself in the back of the cab.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ She kissed me excitedly, her hands either side of my face in a vice-like grip.

‘I haven’t done anything … have I?’ I stammered.

‘The cab, you let me share your cab, my little luby,’ she purred. I wasn’t quite sure what a ‘luby’ was but in that accent it could have meant ‘shit head’ for all I cared.

Women who are particularly forward, as with Rachel Summers in the cream room, scare the shit out of me at the best of times but when her partner was what can only be described as a thug, it added an extra element of fear. Nevertheless I had to admit the accent was soothing, almost hypnotic.

‘Where can we take you Jovana?’ Bob asked. He seemed unnaturally calm considering the circumstances.

‘I haz nowhere to go,’ she said fluttering her eyelids, ‘I cussin go back whiz him, not tonight anyway. Can I stay whiz you?’ she whispered staring deeply into my eyes.

‘Don’t look at me. Ask him, it’s his flat.’ I knew he was going to say no but I didn’t want to be the one to give her the bad news. Jovana leant forward over Bob’s shoulder waiting for a response.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said waving his hand dismissively. I couldn’t believe my ears. I could only assume the fresh air had gone to his head. Then again, it was no skin off my nose if he wanted to allow a complete stranger to kip over at his place. I mean if Ellie found out and gave him any agro at least I’d be able to tell her it was all perfectly innocent. Jovana kissed Bob on the top of the head. She then sat back down and started stroking her hand up the inside of my leg. She didn’t look at me, just fixed her gaze out of the cab window as if to give the impression she didn’t know she was doing it.

‘Where,’ I said in an unnaturally high voice. I coughed and regained my composure, ‘where is she going to sleep though Bob?’ I asked.

‘Can’t I cudzelle up whiz you luby?’ she whispered, biting my earlobe. My body went rigid with panic.

‘We can always pull the sofa bed out. It’s really not a problem,’ Bob was oblivious to the carryings on behind him. His blasé attitude wasn’t helping matters. I looked out the back window of the cab to check if we were being followed. For all we knew Vlad could be in hot pursuit.

‘What about your partner, Boris?’ I asked.

‘My huzband you mean?’ She must have seen the fear in my eyes so elaborated, ‘my ex-huzband that is.’ Paranoia really kicked in. Was she just saying he was her ex-husband because she’d seen my reaction? Granted, she wasn’t wearing a ring but that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him whatever the circumstances. Our game of wrestling chess continued for the rest of the journey. She’d make a move, I’d try to counter it whilst Bob made semiconscious gurglings from in front. He jolted to attention as the cab pulled up outside his flat. I paid the cabbie and helped Bob up the steps to his front door, closely followed by Jovana. The hall was pitch black and as I struggled to prop Bob up and flick the light switch, my foot slipped on the rug and we both crashed to the ground. If he wasn’t already due for a sore head in the morning, he was certainly going to get one now. I tried to move him before realising the best option was just to drag him across the timber floor. I ushered Jovana into the lounge whilst sliding Bob to his room. By the time I’d got back to the lounge, the lights were low and Jovana lay seductively across the sofa. It might have been the scene from a film except the sofa had seen better days and the bits of stuffing poking out of the arms didn’t really enhance the atmosphere she was trying to create.

‘Let’s just get this pulled out then so you can get some rest shall we?’ I tried my best to ignore her flirtatious behaviour.

‘Why so zoon? I is not tiredz yet.’

‘Yeah but I am, so at least if you’re settled I can get to bed myself.’ I had no idea what I was saying, I just knew the longer I waffled on, the less chance she had of saying anything.

‘Oh you can stay for a while,’ she said, stroking the cushion beside her. I could see she had no intention of moving which made it difficult to pull it out into a bed, so against my better judgement, I cautiously sat down next to her.

‘Dew vant to play a game?’ she purred, stroking the side of my face.

‘Errm,’ I started, staring up at the ceiling, ‘not, not rea …’ I stopped mid sentence whilst her hand slid down my chest and stomach. ‘What sort of game?’ I asked reluctantly. She didn’t answer. The game seemed to consist of her gyrating about and me sitting frozen to the spot. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vlad pummelling my head in. ‘Look, I can’t do this,’ I said trying to squeeze myself along the sofa.

‘Vhat iz your problem?’ she asked sternly.

‘To be perfectly honest, it’s your husband.’

She sighed and threw her hands in the air. ‘I told you, he’s my ex-huzband.’

‘Well, whatever, he’s still likely to do me over if he thinks we got up to anything.’

‘Do you vhat?’

‘Do me over, you know, be angry, come looking for a fight.’

Jovana looked puzzled, ‘but how would ezza find out?’

I didn’t actually have an answer to this, ‘Well, he just might.’

‘Awwh, come on, are you a man or a moose?’ I wasn’t sure if it was her accent or if she’d got the wrong animal.

‘Most definitely a moose … mouse,’ I said moving her arms and legs over so I could get off the sofa. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, this mouse needs to go to bed. I’ll get you a duvet and you can sleep here.’

I was woken in the morning by the doorbell. It rang a couple of times without anyone reacting so I thought I’d better take the initiative. I walked into the lounge to find Bob asleep on the sofa.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing there?’ Bob was a little dazed to say the least.

‘Uhh,’ was the only response he could muster.

‘Why are you sleeping on the sofa?’

‘Oh right, yeah. I had quite a scare in the night. I was lying in bed, just nodding off, when someone got in with me. I thought it was you mucking about but then they put their hand down my boxer shorts!’

‘Jovana,’ I said.

‘Yeah, her hands were freezing.’

‘Never mind the temperature of her hands. I can’t believe you Bob.’

‘Hang on a minute, nothing happened. She thought I was you. She asked me if it was my girlfriend I’d been speaking to on my mobile outside the club and was that why I’d rejected her advances. I legged it and kipped here.’ The doorbell rang three times in quick succession.

‘Is she still here?’ I asked. Bob just shrugged his shoulders. ‘Don’t you think we should find out?’

‘Don’t you think you should get the door?’ said Bob.

‘Fine, I’ll do that, you check your room.’ I walked up the hall and opened the front door.

‘So, we meet again.’ To my horror, it was Boris. I stood in shock trying desperately not to look guilty. Not that I had done anything wrong, but I doubted he’d believe that. I swallowed and composed myself as best I could.

‘Well… hello there, fancy …’ taking another gulp of air, ‘fancy seeing you here.’

‘Yes, fancy,’ replied Boris.

‘So what brings you here on this fine … day?’
Boris turned his head slowly to look back towards the road. The rain was pelting down.

‘I thought I’d do my good deed for the day,’ he said sarcastically. It sounded like something Clint Eastwood would say seconds before blowing someone away.

‘And what would that be?’ I asked nervously. I had an inkling that I probably didn’t want to know the answer, but I didn’t think I had much choice.

‘Jovana and myself went, how shall I put it, our separate ways last night,’ said Vlad making a feeble attempt at an embarrassed laugh. He pinched his nose and sheepishly looked down at his feet. ‘We had a little argument outside the snooker hall and she ran off down the street.’ I found his calm tones increasingly unnerving. I wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going. ‘I went back to the club and the guy behind the bar spotted me and handed me your friend’s wallet.’ I stared at him blankly. ‘He dropped it?’ he continued.

‘Oh, right I see … yes, yes he did. You’re damn right,’ I said scratching my chin fretfully. ’So the chap behind the bar assumed we were together … what a stroke of luck,’ I laughed nervously.

Vlad pulled Bob’s wallet from the pocket of his trench coat and waved it gingerly, the reluctant hero. ‘I looked in it to find your address and here I am.’

‘Yes and here you are. Well, he will be pleased.’ We stood in silence on the doorstep just looking at one another. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘Do you mind if I come in and give it to him personally?’ asked Boris.

‘Hmm, well I’m not too sure what he’s up to at the moment,’ I said looking gingerly back down the hallway. ‘Bob?’

‘Yep,’ he replied.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Errm, yeah kind of,’ he said after a short pause, ‘I’ll be with you in just a sec.’

I waited uneasily with an embarrassed smirk on my face, tapping my fingers on the doorframe. Glancing briefly down the hallway I caught sight of Bob grappling with Jovana in the lounge. I could only imagine that he was trying to get her back into the bedroom.

‘She didn’t come home last night,’ said Vlad.

‘Did she not?’ I said, far too cheerily. I shook my head in dismay, realising that this was a flippant response to someone who hadn’t seen his wife all night. I was still confused about this whole ‘ex’ business. They obviously still lived together. I tried to sound more concerned. ‘Oh my God, really? Do you know where she is?’

‘No. You didn’t see where she headed? She left just after you.’

‘Bob?’ I shouted trying to buy time, half shutting the door on Vlad whilst he attempted to look down the hall over my shoulder.

‘Yep.’

‘What are you up to mate, this kind gent wants to give your wallet back.’ I laughed nervously. There was no response.

‘So have you any idea where she might be?’ Vlad repeated.
All I could manage was an exaggerated ‘umm’, pursing my lips and furrowing my brow as if deep in thought.

‘I mean, did she say anything about where she may have gone?’ It seemed a strange question to ask when to all intents and purposes we’d left the club before she had. Maybe he’d seen her get into our cab. Maybe we’d been rumbled. I tried to choose my words carefully.

‘Errm, well …’ I said, still looking like a mad eccentric contemplating the meaning of life.

‘When did you last see her?’ He wasn’t going to let it lie. How I wished that I’d gone to check on Jovana and Bob had answered the door.

‘Hmmm yes, when did we … when exactly did we last see her? She errm, well she shared a cab home with us.‘ If I’d taken the easy option and said the last time we’d seen Jovana was in the snooker club then I could have been digging a seriously deeper hole if Boris had followed us and watched her get into our cab. I continued, ‘well y’know, we didn’t want to leave her in the middle of town on her own, and . . . and she got out before we got home.’

‘So where did she get out?’

‘Well I can’t be sure, I was a little bit worst for wear.’

‘You didn’t seem too bad last night.’

‘I don’t really know the area too well …’
Not a moment too soon, Bob came bustling to the door. ‘And she didn’t pay her part of the fare,’ he interjected.

I looked at Bob, my eyes open wide as if to say ‘shut the fuck up’.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Boris apologetically, fumbling in his wallet. ‘Please accept … I mean I’d hate to think she hadn’t …’

‘No really, it’s not a problem,’ I said.

‘Well it was a bit pricey, I mean you know the cost of cabs these days,’ said Bob, sticking out his hand for the money.

‘I fully appreciate that,’ said Vlad handing Bob a £10 note. Bob gleefully pocketed it.

‘So you have no idea where she could be?’ Vlad repeated for a third time.

‘Naah, sorry mate, she could be anywhere,’ Bob was playing it very cool but I was sensing he was trying to hurry the conversation along now he’d made some money out of the situation. I couldn’t believe he’d taken a tenner off a bloke who’d come to return his wallet. It was completely unlike Bob to be so bold and impertinent. I could only assume the situation had forced him to take leave of his senses.

‘I’m sure she’ll turn up,’ I said looking back down the corridor to see Jovana standing in the lounge in nothing more than a pair of white cotton pants. Bob had also spied her out of the corner of his eye and shut the door further still.

‘Yeah, like he says, I’m sure she’ll turn up. Thanks again for returning the wallet.’ He snatched it from Vlad’s grasp. ‘Well lovely to see you again. Sorry we couldn’t be of any more help.’ He started to close the door. ‘Oh we’ll be sure to let you know if we hear anything.’ He shut the door in Vlad’s face. I gingerly peered through the bull’s-eye window. Vlad stood on the step for a few moments, a bemused look on his face before turning and making his way back down the path. I sighed with relief and glanced round to find Bob transfixed on the lounge. Jovana was bent over the coffee table.

‘Morning boyz,’ she said cheerily, ‘can I get you anyzing?’

Chapter 8

Despite Jovana’s tempting invitation, the morning’s run-in with Vlad had confirmed my initial judgement that steering clear of her was the wisest move. I left Bob to sort out the mess, only hoping he got rid of Jovana before either Ellie made an impromptu visit or Vlad reappeared. Bob tried to talk me into going to the match with Alan and Jimmy but an afternoon on the terraces didn’t appeal. I had a weekend with Stacey to look forward to.

‘We’ll be leaving at ten-thirty if you change your mind,’ he said as I made my way towards the car. I waved dismissively and started my journey back to Bournemouth, confident this ‘thing’ with Stacey would give my newfound freedom a real kick-start. That was until I got home to a message on the answer machine.

BEEEEP! ‘Yeah Hi, it’s Stace (she coughed loudly; sounded like a put on). Don’t worry about picking me up from work, I feel as sick as a dog. Guess I must have had too much to drink last night, oh and I’ve got a bit of a cold coming. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow. Give me a ring at my friend’s place.’

That was it. She didn’t sound apologetic for calling it off or even faintly enthusiastic about the cinema trip. Further more she didn’t actually sound ill. As for a name or number of this friend that I was supposed to ring, heaven only knew. The weekend’s plans were in ruins. I couldn’t understand how the mood had changed so radically since our last meeting. She’d seemed genuinely excited about everything we’d discussed in the pub the other night and now she gave the distinct impression she didn’t give a shit. I wandered dejectedly into the kitchen. Eating something would while away a few minutes but the state of the kitchen - the bread tinged with blue and grey mould and the fur floating on the dregs of coffee in the percolator - put me off the idea.

I switched on the computer: I thought I’d see what the chat rooms had to offer although I’d never actually met anyone with whom I could strike up a decent conversation. I’d always found it ironic: the guys tried to portray themselves as macho danger freaks for the benefit of the girls. Maybe I was being stereotypical but I imagined these computer geeks, hunched over their keyboards, trying to get one over on other blokes in the room or trying to justify why, if they were so interesting, they were sat at home bored and lonely. Intermingle this with being offensive or, at best, over-forward to supposed members of the opposite sex (who could just as easily be some forty-six year old pervert from Durham) and you end up with a reasonably fair impression of what a chat room was all about. The ‘girls’ could be broadly stereotyped as well. They were usually engrossed in chat with other ‘girls’ about such philosophical topics as Britney Spears, Steps, The Backstreet Boys or errm, Steps, or else they were seemingly frustrated wannabe prostitutes only interested in cyber sex or the size of your penis. Regardless, here I was logging on, looking for someone to chat to. What did that say about me? I changed my username; Solo seemed appropriate.

The names of the people in the room - Bigfcuk, Randyshag and Deepthroat were doing the majority of the chatting - didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I watched the usual dross scroll up the screen trying to latch onto anything remotely sensible. I’m always amazed at how much time you can waste flitting from room to room in the hope of finding someone with at least half a brain. I never learn, reluctant to log off in case I miss something. Finally I found something …
‘Hi, is any1 from England?’ typed Kristy73. I stirred myself into a reply. After all, I was from England and always found it best to be honest online. I mean I don’t see the point in pretending to be someone I’m not. I suppose it’s escapism for some people but then I have the disadvantage of not being a very good liar. If I do tell lies, either online or back on planet earth, I can never remember what I’ve said to whom. Little white lies, well that‘s different. We all have to tell them now and again don’t we?

‘Yeah, I’m from England’ I replied. Bigfcuk also claimed to be from England but concluded his opening gambit to Kristy73 with asking the size of her tits. It could have gone either way. Was she the archetypal frustrated pro? Apparently not, for she replied to me in a private mailbox and we actually struck up a conversation. Her nametag was based on her name being Kristy and being born in 1973. Not highly original, but at least it wasn’t crude and it was on the face of it, honest. She lived in Ontario, Canada. We chatted for over an hour about all sorts of things: what sports we played; what we liked to do in our spare time; what it was like where we lived; what we did for a living (although she was at college studying teaching) and by the time we finished I guess I’d got to know Kristy pretty well. She was due to come to England with her friend in a few weeks and was interested to know where to stay and what to do, hence her opening question. We exchanged e-mail addresses before she logged off. After spending a few moments watching Bigfcuk ask a few more people how big their tits were, I decided to do the same. (Log off that is, not ask someone how big people’s tits were).

The moment I disconnected the PC, the phone rang.

‘Who the hell have you been on the phone to all this time?’ asked the voice. It was Becci.

‘I’ve been on the computer,’ I replied. There was a few moments’ silence. She didn’t seem to have heard what I said.

‘I’ve done it,’ she said.

‘Done what?’

‘Told them,’ she began to get tearful.

‘Told who . . . what?’

‘I’ve told my parents. I hate them.’ I suddenly felt sick.

‘You told your parents you hate them?’

‘No,’ she said choking back the tears, ‘I told them that it was all their fault we split up and if they hadn’t have gone poking their nose in all the time, it’d have never happened.’ The more she spoke, the more I felt ill.

‘Right,’ was all I could muster.

‘I hate them,’ she repeated.

‘Where are you now?’

‘I’m at a friend’s.’

‘You over at Jude’s?’

‘I’m with Roger.’ Roger? Who the hell was Roger?

‘Who the hell is Roger?’

‘He’s a friend of the family, rents out rooms at his house and has got one spare.’ In the years we’d been going out, I’d never heard of anyone called Roger. I suddenly wanted to find out though.

‘How old is this Roger then?’ I found myself saying, rather pettily.

‘Look I just want to pick up my stuff but my parents aren’t going to help me now.’ My instinct was to tell her to get whoever the fuck this Roger was to help her but then the realisation her parents weren’t coming round led me to be more reasonable.

‘It’s not a problem is it? We can use both our cars and take our time, sort this out amicably.’ The sooner I got her stuff out of my house, with the least bother, the better.

‘Are you sure? I doubt we’ll get all my things in two carloads.’

‘Well, whatever, we’ll just have to make a few trips until it’s done.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t mind?’

Anything which bypassed her parents’ involvement was fine by me and so the plan was formulated. She was to ring me in the morning to confirm her arrival time. I didn’t manage to learn much more about Roger, except he was in his forties, receding and she thought he was gay. I’m sure there was something she wasn’t telling me though. Why I should care either way? It bugged me somehow though.

The rest of the day dragged. I just wanted the next morning to come and to get Rebecca’s kit out. Her things dotted around the house, the constant reminder of her having lived there, was starting to get to me. I decided to make inroads into sorting some of her things, to speed up the process. Her CD’s (Ibiza Gold, Cream Anthems and other such titles) went in one pile whilst mine went in another. After attempting to rearrange the CD rack in meticulous detail three times (should U2 – Achtung Baby come before the Red Hot Chili Peppers – Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik because of the order in which I bought them or should I just put them in alphabetical order?) I gave up and committed the remainder of the Saturday afternoon to watching Grandstand. I must have fallen asleep. There was a message on the answer machine from Alan when I woke to say they were on their way back to Bournemouth and would be in the pub at about 8.30pm if I wanted to join them. Needless to say I couldn’t get hold of Alan to find out which pub, so I guessed. I had nothing better to do after all. Nothing better that is than sit in a pub drinking on my own for a couple of hours feverishly looking round every time I heard the door open. They never arrived. I must have guessed the wrong pub.

The shrill ringing of the phone broke the ghastly silence of the following morning. It wasn’t particularly early. I’d been awake for a while. Answering the phone was the only impetus I had to get my lazy arse out of bed and stop wallowing in self-pity.

‘Hi babe, it’s only me.’ It was Rebecca. Obviously Roger’s hospitality had given her a new lease of life.

‘You all set then?’ It didn’t mean to sound like we were going on some sort of adventure; it’s just the way it came out.

‘I guess, yeah. It all seems so sad though.’ There was a downturn in her tone. It really was starting to feel like the end of an era. Hearing her voice made me nostalgic. Nevertheless the inevitable had to be sorted.

‘Are you coming over shortly?’

‘That’s why I was ringing actually. Is there any chance we could make it this afternoon?’

‘I don’t see why not. Why, what’s cropped up? Is everything alright with your parents?’
She hesitated for a moment and said ‘It’s just this afternoon would be better.’ I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be seeing Stacey. Maybe that’s why Rebecca couldn’t make it: Maybe she was going out with bloody Roger. Whatever the reason, I had to do some backtracking even though I wasn’t wholly confident mine and Stacey’s date was still on.

‘Actually,’ I hesitated, ‘this morning would suit me better.’

‘Why, is there a problem with this afternoon?’ she huffed, her voice taking an argumentative tenor as if talking through pursed lips.

‘It’s just … I said I’d do something else.’

‘Oh you did, did you?’

‘I thought you were coming round this morning you see.’

‘You’re going out aren’t you?’ she continued her belligerent stance.

‘Well…’

‘With another girl … you’re seeing someone else aren’t you?’

‘Umm.’

‘I knew it.’

‘Look, hang on.’

‘I knew it. Well you can kiss goodbye to your amicable move out … thing. Me, Mum and Dad will be round in an hour.’ She slammed the phone down. Panic set in. How the hell was I going to cope with the three of them dismantling the place? Desperate times called for desperate measures. I rang Jimmy on his mobile.