Virtually Perfect (44 page)

Will he? 
Did he have enough water? 

Eve buried her brow in her hand, trying to remember whether she'd filled the bowl.  He did like to help himself from the sink, and there was that dodgy washer.  And Ben did say he'd fed him before they left.

'...I must have called a dozen times before I left Brighton.'

She thought it was Ben screwing around, withholding his number, trying to get her to pick up.

She heard a beep.

Low Battery.

...Fuck!

'...It was on silent, Dad.  I didn't want it going off in the church.'

'I see,' said Roger suspiciously.  '...You're sure you're alright?'

'Yes, Dad.  Of course!'

She wiped the rain from her face with her sleeve.

'...Alright then.  If you say so.'

Her heart sank.

'Evelyn, I... I can't tell you how good it was seeing you today.'

'...You too, Dad,' Eve said, closing her eyes. 

'So, I'll see you tomorrow?' said Roger hopefully.

'I'll look forward to it.'

Beep-beep-beep.

'
Dad, I'm losing my battery.  I'll meet you here at...  Hello?  ... ... ...Hello?'

Eve stared at the screen, black as coal.

'FUCK!'

'Meow!'

Eve folded her arms around her knees, rested her chin on her folded hands.

'...Meow?'

It must have been eleven.  She only had eight hours to kill until Jackson turned up.  He had the same phone - he could lend her his charger.

...Shit!

Tomorrow was Sunday.

OK, well ten hours to kill then.

...Bollocks!

Roger's number was withheld. 

She'd have to ring Ben to get it.  Eve sighed.  There was no alternative.  Well, she could always get Jackson to do it for her.

...Hang on a sec, dufus.

She could just call the landline.  That was the first number she'd ever known.  It wasn't likely to have changed; even if it had, she could just ring Amy.  Or the office, or
The Groucho
- she had any number of ways to get hold of him.  It was no excuse to go contacting Ben.

Eve sighed again, bouncing between relief and disappointment.

She blanked out Bo, stuffing the rubbish back into her bag, fighting with the popper.  She'd been in worse pinches than this.  She'd been stranded at Bangalore train station in 45 degree heat for 32 hours.  Eve took a deep breath.

Everything's going to be fine...

She glanced back at her Reeboks.  They'd been out in the rain for a week.  She could smell them from where she was sitting.  They were alive with mould - they could have walked on their own.

Eve looked down at the bandaged feet stuffed into her Blahniks.  She sighed, wrenching them off.  She felt a cold squelch as she pushed her foot into her trainer, blinking down, wriggling her bandaged toes.  It felt a damn sight more comfortable, at least.

'I'll give you a fiver for straight sex.'

'...Sorry?'

She couldn't have heard him right.

'Alright then.  A tenner...'

Eve stared back at him, still questioning what she was hearing.  He looked like a Sting impersonator - he was even shorter than her.  He reeked of beer and stinky underpants. 

Eve turned away.

'Leave me alone.'

She hobbled on, towards the prom. 

'Twenty then - that's my final offer.'

The little fuckwit still kept coming.

'Just straight sex...  I'll wear a condom if you like.'

She stopped dead, turning back to him, eyes blazing.

You sad little man...

'FUCK OFF!'

Her voice echoed down the street.  People were looking, thank God. 

'Alright!' he said, raising his palms.  'Alright!' 

Some bloke walking his black Labrador stopped; straightened up. 

'Is everything OK?'

She watched the little titwank scamper off from whence he came.

'Yes,' Eve nodded.  'I'm fine.'

The man with the dog forced a polite smile.  She could see from his eyes that he didn't believe her.

She limped on, in a dream, or maybe a nightmare, trainers squelching, eyes flickering from a gang of drunks to the ground. 

'Phwoar...  Go on love...  Get your tits out!'

The pack of yobs roared with laughter. 

Eve folded her arms across herself, hobbling on, without looking at them.  She wondered whether they'd find it quite so funny if someone was saying that to their mothers.

Curtis was right.
 
That's all men were about.  She'd just hit a double whammy with Dan.  Most of them weren't after money.  Most of them
'just'
wanted sex.

Eve sank to her knees at the end of the pier, angrily wiping the tears from her cheeks.  The way he looked at her - the way he kissed her.  It all seemed so real.  She'd actually thought it had meaning. 

She wiped her nose on the back of her fist.  Nothing had happened they couldn't sort out.  The reason they weren't sorting it out was because he didn't want to.  This was his chance to walk - his get out of jail free card.  He even told her to move, for crying out loud.

...What did I say, right from the start?  You're such an idiot.

The looks, the kisses, the fucking gardenias.  Spoken or unspoken, all of it was a lie. 

She sat cross-legged on the cold, wet, wooden planks, counting her cigarettes, back against the rail.  It must have been getting on for midnight.  One for every hour, plus two for luck.

Ben
(tosser)
was right
(again)
.  What the hell had to happened her?  What was she turning into?  Eve stared down at the half-empty cigarette box, her bare legs, the shitty trainers, and realised.  She was one step away from being a hobo.

Actually, she wasn't one step away at all.  For tonight, at least, she really was one.

She thought of the homeless guy in London as she angrily pulled the last few grips from the crown of her head.  A broken heart probably put him there too.  She threw the pins down on the deck with a clatter.  She shook her hair free, tried to run her fingers through it, got caught in the knots; gave up, scraping it to one side.

Eve took a cigarette from the box, placing it to her lips.  She rummaged around in her handbag.  Her fingers were like sausages - they were so cold - she couldn't feel anything.  She peered inside, rooted around, stopped; closed her eyes in annoyance.  She must have left her lighter on the steps.

She could hear the click-clack of the security guy approaching.

'It's alright,' she grizzled without looking up, cigarette still gripped between her teeth. 'I'm going...'

He stopped a metre away.  She saw an extended hand in her periphery.

Eve raised her head.  She blinked.

'Hi.'

'...Hi.'

Eve shook herself, eventually letting him help her up.  Her fingers felt so cold.  He could feel her shaking; hear her teeth chattering together.  There was water dripping down on the boards. 

'What are you doing here?' she asked accusingly, the cigarette dangling from her lips.  He smiled down, reached out, plucked it away.

'...OW!'

'...Oh shit, sorry!'

It was stuck to her bottom lip.  He saw a tiny bead of blood.  Eve smeared it across the back of her hand.

She watched the cigarette fall from his fingers, roll across the decking, disappear through a crack. 

Now she was really annoyed.

'Sorry, I didn't mean—'  He reached out to her.  She pulled her head back.

'What do you want, Ben?'

He stared at her for a moment.  She glared up at him like a bobcat backed into a corner.

Eve watched him pull the handkerchief from his top pocket.  He held it out to her.

'It's OK,' Ben assured her.  'It's clean.'

She reluctantly took it, blotting her lip, turning away from him as she blew her nose. 

When she looked back again, her eyes widened in dismay, glancing down at the waves then staring at him.

'You must be joking...'

He'd already removed his jacket.  He stood there grinning at her.

'Take your coat off.'

'...No!'

'Take your coat off!' he said, laughing.

The water was churning.

'I'm not going in there!'

'I tell you what,' said Ben, 'I won't either.  So long as you take off your coat...  Deal?'

'You can do whatever you like.' huffed Eve.

He stared back for a moment.  The smirk dropped.  He raised his eyebrows.

'Fair enough.'

Ben turned quickly.  He marched to the rail.  He gripped the knot of his tie in his fingers, sliding it down his chest.

'Alright, alright!'

Ben closed his eyes, smiling with relief, sliding the knot of his tie back up again.

Eve fumbled with the top button, tutting to herself.  Her fingers were stinging with cold.  It felt like her nails were being ripped out.

'Hold this,' said Ben. 

Eve hesitantly took his jacket; felt him tug at her coat.  She looked up at him, saw the wind ruffling his hair; watched his hands work their way down, her buttons popping undone.

He glanced back at her for a moment and smiled.

'...What have you done to your arms?' she asked.

His sleeves were dotted with dark marks.

'It's nothing,' said Ben, turning her around, peeling her coat from her shoulders. 

It was soaked through to the lining.  Her skin was clammy and cold.  He took his jacket as she pulled her hand through her coat sleeve, then handed it back.

'Put it on.'

She stood there shivering, covered in goosebumps.  She held it back to him, shaking her head.

'You'll be cold—'

'How long have you been out here?' he asked.

'I don't know,' Eve shrugged, trying to stop her teeth chattering.  '...An hour?  Maybe two?'

Ben frowned, pushing the jacket back towards her.

'Put it on,' he said, with a little more force.

Eve flipped the jacket over her shoulders, pushing her hands through the arms.  It still felt warm, lined with the softest satin.  It felt wonderful. 

She watched Ben reach down, grabbing her handbag, holding it out, slinging her wet coat over his shoulder. 

'Come on then.  Let's go.'

Eve walked slowly beside him, her bare legs numb with cold, dead with pins and needles from sitting on the floor.  She tried her best not to limp, tried to force a smile as he glanced down.  She wasn't going to let on.  She wasn't going to complain. 

He saw her wince out of the corner of his eye, for the umpteenth time. 

'Bugger this...'

He swung the wet coat into her arms.  She gasped as he lifted her up.  He carried her all the way to the end of the pier. 

She didn't protest.  She didn't say anything.  Ben felt her staring at him.

Eve saw the car as they reached the prom.  Ben set her down.  She heard the blip of the alarm.

'Do you fancy that coffee now?' he asked.

Eve's eyes swiveled up to him.  She nodded hesitantly.

They sat sipping coffee from cardboard cups, staring out to sea.  Eve saw Ben sniffing the air out of the corner of her eye, looking around suspiciously.

'...I'm really sorry,' she groaned.  'It's my trainers.'

He smiled politely, sipping his coffee.  Tied to ignore it, grinned, shook his head.

'Jesus, Eve.  They honk!'

Eve felt around, eventually finding the cupholder, sliding her coffee into it.  She reached down and undid the laces.

'Oh no,' said Ben, 'you don't need to do—'

'No,' said Eve, opening the door, throwing her trainers down on the tarmac, quickly clunking the door shut.  'Really, I do.'

'I've got your shoes in the back.' he told her.

Those damned shoes.  They were like boomerangs.  They just kept coming back.  Eve peered at him through the corner of her eye, suddenly realising.  He'd been looking for her.  He must have been to the flat.

She sipped her coffee again, nervously wriggling her toes in the bandages, trying not to look again.

'If you see anyone flashing their headlights, let me know,' said Ben.

She turned to him.

'Why?  What's going on?'

'This place is notorious for dogging,'