Sorry for the delay again - things tend to get in the way like Christmas, jobs and babies and then the weather here is so bad that our broadband went down! Anyway our hero and heroine are finally moving somewhere and starting to heal. Enjoy and please don't forget to review.
Chapter Ten
I sat in front of the computer, idly surfing the Internet. I had no need of anything and no want for any knowledge at present, so the task was simply a way to pass time, to tick a few more minutes off the clock.
All the plans I had for the day had been destroyed the moment my mother had opened her mouth. Embolden by the reaction of Ali yesterday, I had resolved to drive over to see her again today, to at least try and be her friend, if not the love that I craved.
Instead I was stuck in my father's study, sulking whilst mindlessly surfing. My mother needed her car, had made arrangements weeks ago that she was going out with her friends; to continue the life that she had before my untimely arrival back home.
"Why couldn't you borrow Dad's car?" I had shouted at her in frustration, stamping my socked foot on the kitchen floor. It made no sound, but the action released a small amount of my frustration.
"Really Eric," she had sighed. "You cannot assume that everything will be available for you all the time. If you want to see Ali, why not call her and invite her over?" The words were slightly sharp and impatient; obviously my histrionics had failed to move her.
"I want to go and see her." I repeated.
"Well I doubt she wants to see you if you are going to behave like a small child. One is quite enough for her," my mother's snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Now, leave me in peace to get ready."
Summarily dismissed I slunk off to the study to sulk, pretending to be deeply engrossed when my mother called her goodbyes. If she was going to call me immature, then I would make sure that I behaved so. And so I sat there for over an hour, randomly checking different sites, clicking on links, willing myself to find something I wanted to buy. I had enough books, Cds, gadgets and clothes to last a lifetime, even if they were up in London and not down here. "The only thing I really need right now is a car," I muttered to no one in particular before sitting upright as if struck by a lightening bolt. Car! Why had I not thought of it before? I had more then enough money sitting in various bank accounts to go and purchase one straight off and if not then I could easily sign up to some over inflated loan scheme that the salesman would try and flog me.
I leapt off the chair and bounded up the stairs and into my room, throwing off the sweatpants and t-shirt that I had dressed in that morning and pulling smarter clothes out of my closet. Humming merrily I went to close the cupboard door and froze, looking at my reflection in the mirror that hung on the inside of the door.
My mutilated body, wrapped in its bandages stared back at me and my masked face peered through the dark hair that hung over my face and shoulders. "Not exactly Botticelli are you?" I commented to my reflection, repressing the immature urge to stick my tongue out at the sight.
Yet it was with more of a sober tread that I redressed myself, swapping sweatpants for a pair of jeans, the crease in the leg carefully ironed in by my mother's hand and the crisp shirt with its oversized collar, all that would fit over my pressure garments. I tied my hair back and pulled a baseball cap on over my head, its peak shadowing my face. At least I looked vaguely presentable now, rather then resembling something that had crawled out of a ditch. Hopefully the sales people would give me the time of day.
I padded downstairs in my socks, gathering my shoes and coat together, pulling a pair of leather gloves on over my hands, as much to keep out the cold as hide the stupid pressure glove I wore. I had one last check that I looked presentable if not quite approachable in my current get up, before slamming the back door behind me, and crunching across the gravel of the drive. The whine of an engine turning into the drive and the crunch of the stones beneath car wheels made me stop in my tracks. Maybe Mum had come home earlier and I could take up my original plans.
Instead a dirty white car drew up, the smiling occupant behind the wheel peering out at me, her expression changing to one of confusion as she saw me standing in the driveway looking as if I were about to leave.
"Are you going somewhere?" Ali asked as I walked over to the driver's side of the car.
"Yes. What about you?"
"Tess and I just popped over to say hi, see if you wanted to go for a walk or something."
"Actually, you can do something much better then that," I commented vaguely. "Can you give me a lift somewhere?"
"Sure, get in. Where are you going?"
"The garage, I need to buy a car." Ali let out a startled laugh at my casual remark.
"Oh well, buy me one as well whilst you are about it. Buy a car, just like that? Do you even know what you want? Which garage you want to go to?"
"Yes, Hanovers," I said, walking around her ageing vehicle and climbing in, throwing the mess of papers and muslins onto the back seat next to Tess' car seat. She beamed back at me as I turned around and startled I smiled back at her, glad of the recognition.
"Isn't that the really posh place, all expensive cars," Ali commented, turning around and driving out the gate. "I think the cheapest thing there is over fifty thou. Has your insurance cheque come through or something?"
"Oh yeah ages ago, but I didn't want a car then and well," I paused and looked at her. "I do now; not having the freedom of wheels is really beginning to grate."
"Well that's fantastic," she said cheerfully at my comment and I frowned at her. Do you like the idea of me being annoyed and pissed off? "It means you must be on the mend," she explained, obviously noticing my astonishment. "If you are frustrated by not being able to drive then you no longer need the security blanket of being at home, or not so much anymore. I felt the same way with Tess when she was little. It was really hard to leave the house at first, for I was so sure something would happen, but the more use you get to an existence, the easier it becomes."
"Err, yeah, I guess," I commented, not wanting to agree. If Ali thought I was on the mend, that my parents might also recognise the signs and ask me to leave my cosy existence, go back to fending for myself in London. I would have to face the biting world up there again and I was not sure if I was ready.
"So what are you planning on buying then?" Ali changed tack, obviously seeing that I was less then enthused by her comment. "Anything in mind?"
"Don't know," I shrugged. "A Porsche I guess, that's what I use to have before, well before…" I trailed off.
"Is that how you got hurt? You were in a car accident?" Her words were astute, her tone soft.
"Yeah." Another shrug, it was not something I wished to dwell on, however, out of the corner of my eye I could see the twist of her mouth. She had told me about her situation, I might as well let her know about mine. "It was a pile up and my car managed to catch fire as well, hence getting more then just a few broken bones." I smiled ironically, causing my mouth to turn downwards at the thought. Ali grimaced in agreement and shifted down a gear, the decrepit vehicle whining in protest as it was forced to slow down. Yet she didn't comment or offer any mindless platitudes about the situation, instead concentrating on the road ahead as we pulled away from the busy intersection.
"The garage is just up ahead on the left," I said quietly, wishing to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over us. She simply nodded in agreement, sucking her lip as she switched lanes in the busy traffic that flowed away from town.
We bumped over the kerb and into the parking lot of the garage, the small rusty vehicle out of place amongst the gleaming metal and leather of the cars parked across the forecourt. I waited besides the car as Ali extracted Teresa's buggy and firmly strapped her into it, slinging the change bag across the back and grabbing hold of the handles. She was obviously planning to look with me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I checked.
"Oh yeah, I've never bought a new car before, this could be fun," she smiled cheekily. "I can help you choose, make sure you don't simply buy a penis extension."
"Uggh!" I felt myself blushing at her rude statement. Even though my language could easily be more crude and basic the reference to certain bits of the male anatomy left me feeling embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I have a dreadful mouth on me at times," she apologised with a laugh. "I didn't have you down as the prudish type."
"I'm not; I've obviously been at my parents too long." I switched my gaze from her laughing face to glance at the tag hanging in the window of the car we stood next to, vaguely noting the price. "Huh, that seems cheap; wonder what's wrong with it?" I muttered.
"Cheap? You call twenty grand cheap?" Ali stuttered behind me. "You obviously have far too much money Eric St John!"
"I mean cheap for what is on offer, not cheap as in the price," I hastily explained, not wishing Ali to get the wrong impression. In reality paying that sort of money for a car would not make a huge dent in my income, but I wasn't about to let her know that.
We wandered between the cars for several minutes more, as I gazed in the windows, with disinterest noting the differences between the makes and models. "We better go in as no one seems to want to come out," I commented after some fruitless searching, holding the door to the showroom open for the buggy. The smell of plastic and leather; unique to car sales rooms hit me immediately me, excitement rising in my veins as I thought about owing a set of wheels again.
It did not take long for one of the sales people to approach us, a smarmy fake grin plastered across his face as he took in the ragged trio we made. I watched him carefully, my eyes shaded by the brim of the cap, noting the shock that splashed across his face as he took in my strange features.
"Good morning Sir, Madam," his line of sight carefully trained towards my chest so that he did not have to look me in my eyes. I took an immediate dislike to him. "How may I help? Are you looking for a car?"
I quashed the sarcastic comments that sprung to my lips at his stupid line of questioning, delivered in a voice that labelled us as timewasters. Obviously our appearance did not bode well in their opinion. More then likely why no one had approached us on the forecourt.
"Yes, I am," my lips curled in a fake smile to match his odious manner."
"And what sort might you be looking for sir, what sort of price range?" He emphasised his last two words, no doubt, already looking for a reason to eject us from the showroom when our sum didn't match what was on offer.
"Hmm, I'm not sure," I said laconically, the need to be as difficult as possible welling up in me, to put the man in his place. "I suppose around fifty, maybe more." I glanced down through my eyelashes at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but to his credit he barely blinked. Obviously inhuman!
"I am sure we have something suitable in that price range, I assume you wish your wife to drive it as well and safe for you child?" I opened my mouth to correct his wrong conclusion but closed it again, not wishing to give him the upper hand.
"Yes." I could feel Ali's stare as she raked it over me, the confusion; anger and humour at my pretence.
"Eric," she hissed as the man marched out of earshot, trying to lead us in the direction of a large and expensive 4x4. I smiled back sarkily. "Why are you pretending we are married?"
"I'm not, he just jumped to the wrong conclusion and I am going to enjoy making him look a fool. Besides, don't you want to test drive some of these," I said sotto voce, gesturing to the gleaming vehicles around me.
"Well," the wistful note was evident in her voice as she took in the huge car we were standing next to. "Makes a bit of a change from my rust bucket! Oh go on then." She too plastered a fake smile onto her features, trying to make us look like a happily married couple.
One arm hooked through mine and both our hands resting on the handles of the buggy, we managed to put on quite a performance, that of a couple deeply in love.
A couple of hours later, Tess was getting fractious and I was exhausted. My head spun with the mindless jargon of cars, brakehorse power, fuel efficiency, top speeds. Between Ali and I we had tried out five different cars and now the smarmy salesman was waiting for me to make my choice.
This was my moment, to correct his assumption, to throw the need for a sensible family carrying vehicle out the window and instead demand a small sporty car, the cliché of the bachelor. My head whipped between the large 4X4 I had test driven, the courtesy car seat still strapped into the back and the small Porsche 911 that it had been my intention to purchase all along. Suddenly I felt a quiver of doubt. If I fulfilled my intentions, then I would never be able to take Ali and Tess out, for the sports car only had two seats. I would not be able to transport all the paraphernalia that went with a baby.
Stop it Eric, this is not your family, you are not buying a car for them, you don't need a huge fuel-guzzling car. Buy the 911, after all that is what you want isn't it?
"I know it is a difficult decision sir, but you did seem to like the last the most," the odious voice cut into my thoughts.
"Hmm," I glanced up at him, my eyes narrowing in dislike, staring at his plump lips and cheap tie. The man embodied everything I disliked about my sex and yet suddenly I found his advice to be true. "Yes, yes, I will take that one." I waved lazily at the top of the range Porsche Cayenne that Ali and I had taken out only a few minutes ago. I watched as the salesman faced lit up like a Christmas tree, obviously I had exceeded his expectations. He whipped out a sheaf of paperwork and tediously set to wading through it.
I had little patience for such thing and it was only when I had curtly answered all his questions regarding such trivialities as colour and if I need four zone air conditioning that he hit me with a figure. I was slightly surprised at the amount but wordlessly handed over my card and sat back with a sigh.
I could feel Ali's gaze on the back of my head, watching as she pushed Tess around the showroom, trying to comfort her. Thankfully she had probably not heard the price of the machine that I was buying, but it was still obviously expensive.
The deal done and with the staff literally bowing us out of the showroom, I felt slightly silly looking at our mode of transport home, ignoring the silence from my chauffer.
"Eric," she said finally after we had put a few miles distance between ourselves and the car showroom. "Please excuse me for asking but how much are you actually worth?"
"S'cuse me?" I was shocked by her forward question.
"Um, you have just bought a car for a sum that, well I have no idea how much you spent, but it was about five times my yearly salary and I know for a fact that they don't give platinum credit cards to just anybody. What are you worth, a million, two million?"
"Why do you want to know?" I replied cautiously. I was slightly worried. I did not have my friend down as the usual fame and fortune hunter and was disappointed to think she might be. If I told her the truth and found her attitude towards me change I would feel so shamed, so lost.
"Because, well, you don't seem to fit in with the stereotype. I've seem them, I know a few and they, well conspicuous consumption doesn't seem your thing. I mean you wear jeans from Marks and Spencers, yet you must have money! Insurance cheques don't cover eighty grand cars!" Her voice had risen a pitch and a flush rose up her neck showing her distress.
Thankfully before I had a chance to reply the baby burst into loud and noisy wails, tired and fed up of its morning, of being strapped into car seats and buggies. "Let's get Tess back to my parents and give her lunch" I suggested as quietly and calmly as I could above the noise.
The topic closed, Ali drove us back to my parents and we hurried inside with Tess, Ali literally pulling her food and bottle out of the bag before we had even made it through the door.
"Well thank god that particular ordeal is over," I commented blithely pulling the cap off my head and the gloves off my hands, followed by my coat. "I hate salesmen. Did you notice how they changed their attitude?"
"Um, yeah I guess," Ali commented her back to me as she stood at the microwave heating the food. I smiled at the way she seemed so at home in the kitchen and stooped to pick Tess up out of her infant carrier, propping her up on my hip so that she could look around. "Oh great would you sit with her on your lap so I could feed her, bib is in the bag and put a tea towel over your front," Ali instructed me bossily as I sat down.
"What is that?" I directed my gaze towards the pot of orange goo that she now held in her hand.
"Carrot, or it was a carrot before it was boiled to death and then purred to a pulp, but that is the joy of weaning babies and she seems to enjoy it." She shrugged and sat opposite me, bending over to make eye contact with her daughter, spooning food into her mouth as she smiled, laughed and sung to her. I found myself caught up in the moment and joined in with the rendition of 'The Wheels on the Bus'.
"All day long," I sang, drawing out the last note, before stopping when I saw Ali looking at me.
"You have a beautiful voice," she said with a smile. "It isn't shown off at its best with nursery rhymes, but it really is nice."
"Coming from someone who spends time with singers, I will take that as a huge compliment."
"You are a dark horse Eric, you know that? Are you aware that you've never even told me what you do?"
"Haven't I? Oh." I paused, searching for a way to summarise my former job.
"Your mother told me though." She added.
"Well then it is bound to me inaccurate," I saw her lips curl slightly as she spooned more goo into her daughter. "She never truly understood. Did she say I was a writer or a producer?"
"Um" Ali frowned as if trying to remember and I found myself admiring the way her forehead moulded itself into perfect wrinkles. "She said that you wrote music and made CDs, which I read as a producer. Correct?"
"Sort of, I had a record label and I sort of did everything depending on what was needed. Dev was my long suffering assistant that is why he treats me like he does I think. But my company was bought out a few years ago and so my involvement became a lot less, more of a managerial role when I chose to get involved. They have kinda' dispensed with my services though."
"Are they allowed to do that? Surely not."
"I don't really think I want to go back. I am," I paused trying to gather my thoughts and Ali, understanding my silence cleaned Tess off and took her out of my arms, offering her the bottle of milk. "I am not the same person I was," I finally offered. And I actually don't want to do music production anymore. I want to get back to composing."
"Composing?" I watched her ears prick up at the comment and she looked up at me, her eyes glittering and assessing. "You are a composer?"
"Yeeess," I thought of the piece of music sitting upstairs on my piano. "I gave it a stab when I first left college, but it is rather difficult to get a foothold."
"I know what you mean. I was so lucky to get a place in the company when I left school, few of us did. I had friends from my year who must have auditioned for every major ballet company around the world and were turned down. It is a cut throat world out there for anyone in the arts. I can honestly say I will not be encouraging my daughter into that life." She looked at Tess as she spoke, her eyes shining with love and for a moment I wished she would turn the same gaze on me.
"What if she has talent?"
"Then I won't stop her, but at the same time I won't glamorise what it is really like, rather tell her the truth, the physical and emotional pain that it takes to stay on top. I assume it is similar in the world of music?" I gave a half-hearted shrug in agreement, fascinated by what she was saying, not wishing to stop her. "I mean your whole life becomes wound up with your job and you cannot separate the two and before you know it the whole thing is so involved and it is almost impossible to step back and gain any perspective on the situation."
"Um, yes," I agreed, unsure where she was leading the conversation. "Would you like a sandwich and a cup of tea?"
"Oh, yes please." She was momentarily disrupted but returned to her subject tenaciously. "No, I am not going to encourage my daughter to enter a profession that demands your soul, not unless she is fully aware of what it entails and the trouble is that you're rarely are at the age when you need to make the decision. I mean if I hadn't got into ballet school when I was eleven then, god I probably would not even be living in this country. I would be in America, talking with an American accent, probably married to some Ivy League jock and living in Maine, being a society hostess and everyone would say that I should have been a dancer or something."
From my position of relative safety behind the kitchen counter I frowned. It was obvious that something was bugging her; after all Ali was being more forthcoming about her feelings then she had ever been before on the handful of occasions that we had met.
"I am sure it is the same with you Eric. What would you have done if you didn't have music in your life?"
"I um," I hesitated unsure. "I don't know really, it has always been there. Something in the City like my father I guess."
"Exactly, it has always been there. How old were you when you started playing a musical instrument?" I paused in the act of making sandwiches and tried to think.
"I think I was messing around on the piano about four and the violin at five, maybe six. Not sure. I passed my grade one piano when I was six though, that much I remember." I frowned again, sifting through hazy memories, trying to pinpoint a time when music wasn't in my life, but I couldn't.
"Exactly, see you are so wound up in what you do that you cannot separate the rest of your life from it. And then mistakes get made." I looked at the direction of her gaze, taking in Teresa who was draining the last dregs of her bottle and suddenly got an insight into where her irritation and annoyance with her chosen profession came from. Possibly also why she had sought my company out today. She needed someone to talk to.
I silently finished making our lunch and put it all onto a tray. "Come with me, I have something to show you," I said gruffly, indicating with a nod of my head that she was to follow me. She stood up, confusion in her eyes, but did not question my command, instead, with her child on her hip, climbed behind me, up two flights of stairs and into my music room.
"Oh Eric," she breathed as we entered the whitewashed space and I set the tray down on top of the shelves with a silent sigh of relief, before sitting on the piano stool.
She said no more but started to walk around the room, her rubber soled shoes making no sound on the floor as she looked at the memorabilia on the walls. Yet at the same time I could sense her agitation, it was pouring off her in waves and coupled with her earlier verbal outpourings, I knew something was wrong.
"Ali, what's bugging you?" The words left my mouth before I really had a chance to think about them. Damn.
"Bugging me?" She spun around from her examination of an article, confusion and fire flashing in her eyes. "How do you know something is bugging me?" I shrugged, unable to put words to my intuition, just watched as she sunk onto the sofa with a world weary sigh, placing Tess in the corner so she was propped up against the arm and back, before flopping her head back against the cushions.
I studied her slim form, her lean legs encased in a pair of faded jeans, her feet in round toed converse, no doubt comfortable for the blistered toes I had witnessed the other week. Her small chest was enveloped in a fitted white t-shirt, over the top of which she had tied a little woollen shrug. She looked tired and slightly messy, her hair once again pulled off her face into a bun, no doubt a force of habit. I longed to take her in my arms and kiss her, reassure her that life was not so bad, but was scared to have my advances rejected again.
"Okay you're right," she said sitting up and waving her hands. "Yes there is a lot bugging me and no I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning."
"It's a very good place to start," she echoed with a sweet singing voice, that made her child smile. "Yes, yes. So what is the beginning, my job? My home? My life or the lack of all three – potentially."
"What?" It took a while to process the information.
"I am due back at work in a month, no less then that, three weeks and am no bloody nearer figuring out how to look after Tess and dance for a living, added to which if I don't go back then I don't get paid and then I cannot afford rent and I would not put it past my dearest father to chuck me out on the drive and as for my life; well," she puffed her cheeks out in frustration and held her hands up in the air as if to signify the hopelessness of the cause.
"Anything else?" my tone was mild, trying to tease a smile out of her, I was not serious, she seemed to have enough on her plate.
"Only that James has suddenly woken up to the fact that he has a daughter and is demanding to see her. Keeps using the history card on me, how can I reject him given our history together? He loved me, he always loved me. Yeah right, loved me so much that he abandoned me to give birth all on my bloody own. Do you have any idea how scary that was?"
"Err, no." Honesty seemed the best policy, but for the first time I was able to catch a glimpse of the mess her life was in. My problems seemed to dwindle and disappear compared to the mountain that she had to climb. My hesitation faded to silence, for I had no idea what advice to offer. Her predicament seemed to have no escape route – at least nothing obvious.
In a vain attempt to do something, anything to fill the silence I handed her the lunch I had made and resumed my position at the piano, idly stroking the ivories with one hand as I stuffed a sandwich into my mouth with the other, forcing myself to chew and swallow.
"That's a nice little phrase."
"Pardon," I looked down at my fingers on the keyboard, tapping out a few notes on the piano. It was second nature to the point that I did not even realise I was playing. "Oh, thanks." I finished my hasty lunch and swinging my leg over the stool put both hands to the keys. "Tell me what you think about this then." With a few misgivings I played her a few bars of my composition, not wanting her to know that she was the muse behind its creation.
"Eric that is beautiful. Is that something you composed? God I can just see how to dance to it." She smiled at me and stood up to come over. I hastily flipped over the score sitting on the rack so that she could not see the title. "Play me some more." I willingly obliged and felt the slight pressure on my shoulder as she placed her hand on it and swayed in time to the music.
"I've recorded it if you want to take it home and listen to it in full," I offered, picking up a stack of CDs balanced on top of the piano amongst the sheet music.
"Do you? Could I? That would be fantastic, would love to choreograph to this, you can feel the steps wanting to come out. So many modern compositions jar and it can be really difficult to dance to, but this is …" she trailed off abruptly from her enthusiastic monologue. "That is great Eric," she said calmly and I could almost feel her starting to withdraw again, the warmth of her conversation freezing; leaving a chill in the air.
"Ali?" She had returned to the couch and sat down with a sigh, placing her head in her hands.
"It still doesn't bloody solve anything though, does it?" came her muffled reply. "It doesn't solve any problems."
"Such as World Peace?"
"Exactly," she looked up and gave a snort of laughter that quickly changed to a hiccup. "Although at the moment I would settle for childcare and place to live in London."
"It can't be impossible though can it? You cannot be the only person in the company to have ever fallen pregnant?"
"No, no it is not impossible. You need a good nanny or backup network and that is what I am lacking. That and the money to find somewhere halfway decent to live. I didn't mind slumming it when it was just me, but I have Teresa to think of now."
"How often do you actually need to be up there for? How often do you dance or have classes?"
"Um, well class everyday, except for Sundays and then a performance five times a week maybe, mostly in the evening, but occasionally a matinee, probably. You see Eric; it just doesn't fit in with having a baby! I know people go back, but it usually because they are such big names that exceptions are made for them. I, on the other hand am replaceable. And as I have no money or support, I might as well give up, don't you think?"
"No, never give up, we will find a way around this, there must be a solution, we just need to think it through." I didn't even think the words as I spoke them, emphasis on the joint contribution. It seemed natural after the ease of the morning. I hesitated waiting for the verbal blasting that I was sure would follow. It didn't.
"D'you think we could?" Ali asked shyly, looking up at me, her face holding a fragile hope. My heart swelled at her use of 'we'.
"Yes defiantly," I said with more confidence then I felt. "Let me see, for starters you need somewhere to live I take it." I knew exactly how the situation could work, planned it out quite a while ago. There was a solution. Oh please Ali, accept it, don't throw it back in my face.
"Yup, close to central London, Zone one would be nice and less then three hundred a month!" She added with light hearted sarcasm. "I think that is the hardest part, rents are so huge in London that it leaves little else for living. I've done the rudimentary sums and how can I afford childcare and rent."
"Obviously you need help with the rent and help with childcare, what most evenings and a few hours everyday."
"Yes," she picked Tess of the sofa again and once more started wandering around the room. This time I followed her and whilst she was distracted went and placed her hand on my shoulder.
"Come and live with me I offered. "Come and share my flat and I will help you look after Tess." I closed my eyes briefly waiting for the offer to be flung back in my face.
"What?" She turned and looked at me, her eyes deep and troubled, but with a hint of hope in them. "You want me to move in with you?"