Virtually Perfect (22 page)

'Do you like dogs?'

Eve studied him.  The question came out of nowhere.  Neither of them had spoken since they set off.

'...They're alright,' Eve replied.  'Yeah.'

'I think I might get another dog,' Ben said thoughtfully.

'Aren't you abroad a lot of the time?' said Eve.  'Who's going to look after it?'

'Mum won't mind looking after him.  She never minded looking after Murphy,' shrugged Ben.  'To be honest, I'm getting a bit bored with all that anyway.  Going all over the place, but never really seeing anything.  Living out of suitcases gets a bit tedious after a while...'

Ben shot her a sideways glance.

'...Is Bo alright with dogs?'

Eve looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

'...What?' said Ben.  '...Just thinking ahead,' he said quietly, ruffling his hair.

He caught Eve smiling to herself.

'Do you want to come up?' Eve asked when they pulled up outside her place.  Ben peered up through the windscreen.  The rain hadn't slowed.  If anything, it was getting worse.

'No.  I'd better get off.'  He turned to Eve.  'You can manage alright, can't you?' 

He pressed a button on the dash.  Eve heard the boot clunk undone.

'...Yes,' Eve nodded.  She wasn't sure how, with Mr Bojangles and her case. 

'Well, goodnight then,' said Ben. 

He smiled back at her, but made no attempt to kiss her, his hands back on the wheel. 

What had she done wrong?  Eve felt crushed.

'Goodnight,' she said quietly, unbuckling her belt, finally reaching for the door.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.  He grinned back at her.  She was so stubborn, she would have struggled up too, or broke her neck trying.

'Come here you daft bugger...'

He kissed her.

'Go and stick the kettle on.  I'll unload the car...  Hang on a sec.'

He hit eject on the player, handing Eve the Bocelli CD.  She smiled at him, then flung the door open, shielding her face from the lashing rain with her sleeve of her coat.

Eve took the milk from the refrigerator, shaking the raindrops from her ringlets.  She peered at the plastic container suspiciously, removing the lid, taking a sniff.  Eve began to gag. 

'I've just got to get some milk,' she told Ben as he burst through the door with her case and Mr Bojangles.  'Would you mind feeding Bo?  There's food under the—'

'Sink,' nodded Ben.  'I know,'

She watched him wiping the rain from his face, running his fingers through his drenched hair.

'Of course you do,' Eve said, smiling at him.

It was Sunday night and getting on.  The corner shop was shut.  She'd have to borrow some milk from Jackson - he was her only hope.  Eve clunked down the steps, her Kickers squeaking on the metal.  Her jeans were cold and wet, chaffing her legs.  There wasn't any point taking an umbrella - it would have been inside out in a second. 

Eve burst through the door of Ground Cafe, fighting the gusts to close it behind her.

'Evening Evelyn,' said Jackson, peering up from 50 Shades with a grin.  'What can I do you for?'

'I'm on the scrounge,' she said sheepishly.  'Can I pinch some milk?' 

Jackson gave Eve a long look and a smirk.  He put down his book and went off to the fridge with a swagger.

'Joining you for breakfast then, is he?'

Eve gave him a coy smile.

'I wouldn't mind him smothered all over my crumpets...'

Jackson enjoyed winding her up.  He prided himself on being able to get her cheeks burning in thirty seconds flat.  Every visit she paid him was a fresh dose of smut and innuendo, but it was alright.  Eve was a good sport. 

She knew she was safe with Jackson, which was just as well.  The twenty something brunette in his bleached jeans and tight t-shirts was jaw-droppingly good looking.

She picked up the two pinter from the counter.

'I'll bring some—'

He shook his head and waved her away.

'You just get back in there, you saucy minx!' 

As Eve smiled up at him, Jackson realised he'd reached a personal best.  Eve's cheeks were on fire.

'Thanks Jackson,'  she said embarrassedly, sauntering back to the door.

'Oh Evelyn...'

She turned back, fingers already wrapped around the handle.

'Yes?' 

'...He seems nice.  You look happy.  It's good to see.' 

He gave an earnest nod. 

'Thanks...  I am.'

'...Don't suppose he's got a younger brother?'

Eve grinned.

'Sister,' she told him apologetically.

Jackson grimaced.

'Now that is a crying shame.'

Ben was pacing when she got back.  He looked agitated.

'Everything OK?'

She hadn't been gone that long.

'Yes, fine,' he told her, his speech clipped, voice unusually high.  'I think I'm going to have to pass on the coffee though.  I really ought to go.'

'What's the matter, Ben?'

'Nothing, really,' he assured her, with a smile that seemed a little hollow.  'It's just that I have to be at the airport for five... I need to get everything ready - grab a couple of hours' sleep.'

He was worried about the trip, Eve decided.  She was worried about it too.  She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek to his cold, rain-soaked leather jacket.  He hugged her briefly then pulled away.

'Thanks for the weekend,' said Eve dazedly.  'I had the best time.'

He smiled meekly back at her.

'Me too,' Ben said quietly. 

And with that, he turned his back and started heading for the door.  Eve wandered after him, a little hurt, a little annoyed.

'I'll—' 

'I know, I know,' Eve nodded, catching herself; trying to disguise her impatience.  '...You'll call me.'

There was no mistaking her tone.  Ben stopped and turned around.  He met Eve's gaze, he pausing for a second - it looked like there was something he wanted to say.  But the moment passed.  He must have changed his mind.  A quick peck on the lips, and he was gone.

'This is the final call for passengers travelling on British Airways flight number BA zero, one three three to Jeddah.  Would all remaining passengers please make your way to gate nine immediately.  The gate is now closing...'

They'd be calling him out by name next.  Ben contemplated hiding in the bogs. He didn't even need to do that.  He could just sit there, order another coffee and read the paper - no one was going to come looking for him.  Wait until they'd offloaded his case and then go and reclaim it, pretend he'd fallen asleep.  He didn't need to say anything.  He didn't need to explain himself to them. 

He sat down in the bucket chair and thought it through.  They could find him alright.  He'd signed in when he came back into the lounge.  Even if they didn't, was he really that selfish?  He'd be miffed if it happened to him.  All the other passengers would get at least an hour's delay while they found his case and offloaded it.  Maybe they would cancel the flight.  Heathrow is the busiest airport in the UK, sometimes when a flight loses its slot, there isn't another one to give them.  If any of The Prince's staff were onboard - if they did call his name - that didn't bear thinking about.  You don't cross people with that kind of money. 

They were paying him a fortune.  It was a big opportunity.  It was a wedding - he'd be letting people down.  They'd bought him his ticket - it would be incredibly rude.  Was there really any point in sticking around?

He was flying in Club Class on a Boeing 767.  The return ticket probably cost the best part of three grand.  Ben remembered when that kind of money actually meant something.  His first car only cost four hundred quid.  And at that very same time, Eve was sipping cocktails at Souk in designer dresses.  She'd worn
Valentino
to the opera - Ben knew it wasn't new.  When it was, it would have cost twice as much as his airfare.  She had a wardrobe full.

He wearily slung his jacket in the overhead locker and sat down in his seat.  Ben looked out of the window.  Dawn would break soon.  The sky was turning inky blue.  He was tired, his eyes were sore.  He needed to sleep, but every time he shut them, it kept replaying, over and over again. 

He should have said something - had it out with her - at least he'd know one way or the other.  Or would he?  How would he know she was telling the truth?  After Lydia, it was a struggle to trust anyone. 

He'd finally started lowering his guard. 

Why had she been messaging him?

You tend to get a bit twitchy after someone's cheated on you, especially when you catch them in your own bed.  After the initial shock, the hurt, the anger at them, you start to turn that back on yourself.  How could you have been so stupid, so trusting?  How could you not have known?  It's all so clear when you look back, but at the time you were clueless.  Next time around, you're going to do better.  Scratch that.  There won't be a next time.  You'll choose more wisely to start with. 

That's why Ben didn't trawl bars for girls.  He could.  He could pick them up without trying, along with Christ knows what else.

She'd been the toughest to crack on the dating site.  He'd had to ask three times - it had taken months.  Mostly it was just chatty emails to and fro about nothing.  There were stacks of those.  Ben knew she was lonely, paralysed by fear.  She was terrified of getting hurt.  Ben saw his own skittishness in her.  He was sure this one was OK. 

She never did say what happened with 'Dan'.  He knew it was bad, she'd alluded to it a lot early on. 

'He only wanted me for my money...'

Why was she still messaging him?

He knew she still had Dan's number stored in her phone.  What was that all about?  Ben hadn't been snooping.  He knew it was locked.  He'd seen her scrolling through her contacts at Paddington.  She hadn't seen him standing there.  It went straight 'Amy' to 'Curtis' - Ben's name wasn't listed.  Dan's was.  Was that when she contacted him?  Making goo-goo eyes at Ben all weekend long, and all the while, plotting to run back to him?

He flashed back to Eve's kitchen, the cat nuzzling him as he emptied the can into his bowl.  The phone started to ring.  Ben looked at it - should he get it?  It didn't feel right; he wasn't sure.  He smiled to himself as he heard her answerphone greeting kick in - she sounded posher than ever.  He was going to rib her all night.

'I got your message...' 

The deep Kiwi drawl certainly got Ben's attention.  His smile disintegrated in an instant.

'...Evie, are you there?  Pick up...' 

Ben glared at the phone, anxiously running his hand through his hair.

'I need to talk to you, Evie.  Baby, come on.  Of course I still love you...'

Ben snatched the receiver. 

'Hello?  ...Hello?'

The line was already dead. 

Ben slammed it down in a rage.  A red digital '1' flashed tauntingly.  He wanted to throw the damned thing through the window.  He couldn't do it, of course.  But he did have a choice. 

He had to decide fast, she'd be back any minute. 

His finger hovered for a second.  Ben punched delete.  There was a beep.  The static zero came back.  Ben felt a twinge of relief. 

He could always ring again though.  He was bound to, sniffing around while Ben was away, powerless to do anything about it.  Just like last time.  Just like Lydia and that bastard.  No.  He wasn't going to let it happen again. 

He grabbed the cable and yanked it hard, heard breaking plastic, felt it slacken.  He pulled the end of the cord free, staring at the bare wires. 
Oops... 
He hadn't meant to do that.  He stuffed the wire down the back of the kitchen table, rushing out to the hallway just in time.  He heard the key in the lock.

'Could you fasten your seatbelt please, sir?' 

Ben nodded glumly at the red-lipped flight attendant.  He did as he was told.  He looked out of the window.  Heard the engines firing up.

'It's dry there you know...'

Oh fuck a duck. 

He wasn't even going to be able to drown his sorrows in a glass of Soco and Coke.  In fact, hold the Coke.  Ben needed shut-eye, and he needed it now.  He'd have to get tanked up on the plane.

Ben went through his usual pre-flight ritual.  He took out his phone. 
No new messages.
  He sighed, switching it off.  He felt for his wallet in the back pocket of his trousers, wound his watch forward by three hours. 

He glanced at the empty cream leather seat next to him.  He wished she was there.  He'd have nothing to worry about.

Ben felt the plane lurch.  He looked out of the window.  They were moving.  He couldn't go back.