Chapter Fourteen

It felt a bit like Christmas - that deflated feeling that comes after so much excitement and festivity. Suddenly I was alone again having woken to an empty house, something I was getting used to and spent the day by myself. This time Ric had excused himself, leaving me a note apologising for his absence, blaming an essay that needed working on. Obviously my presence was a distraction!

But I managed to float through the day by reflecting on the positives of the night before, even managing to get hold of my absent friend and bend her ear in excruciating detail. Mags was quietly positive, although could not hide the exhaustion in her voice. Currently working on the West End stage, she was dancing eight shows a week and it was taking its toll.

Monday dawned with my new position loaming and I was quietly scared, but thrilled at the same time. To be handed such a golden opportunity was rare for me and I was determined to embrace it. By lunchtime I had not even left my desk to get a cup of tea, so busy with reading the back information and trying to see how I could help turn this account into a market leader.

By one o'clock I was starving and instead of going out for a sandwich asked Rachel to grab me something. This was a new area for me – such dedication to the cause. I sat jotting ideas down in my notebook, arranging meetings with the individual editors of the magazines and trying to get as much background research in as possible.

I jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Huh!"

"Izzy, I know Fi told you not to mess it up, but it's six-thirty and we're all going down the pub. Want to come?"

"Oh" I automatically glanced down at my watch, surprised at the way time had flown. In an open office, my back to the window, I had not really been aware of the passing of time and realised that it was dark outside. Never before had work passed so quickly for me and I noted with astonishment it was the happiest I had ever been in the job.

The temptation to down tools and join them was quite strong, but without warning a vision of Ric and his ire on Friday night flashed into my brain. No one had made a direct comment about my unusual departure last week, although several snide remarks had been made about my baby sitter and the fact that Halloween was still a week away. I knew they were referring to Richard's mask and found it raised my hackles. I may not know what was behind it, but at least I was never rude about it verbally.

"No, better not," I finally answered, as I realised that Rachel was waiting for a reply. "I'm going to head straight home, bit shattered really." Even as I spoke, my hand slid for my pen again as a new idea entered my brain and I wanted to commit it to paper.

"Okay, well don't stay too late," her voice slid off as she left the room, leaving me alone, the last in the office. I had never ever been the last person here. Finally common sense won the day and gathering my things I locked up and head down battled my way home amongst the rest of the commuters.

I was weary as I finally made my way out of the tube and trudged the few streets home. My mind was far away from the route I was taking; my steps automatic and I only briefly wondered if I would see Ric tonight. It would seem that I had little control on his appearance in my life, although a night off might be quite nice, considering how tired I was.

I let myself in the communal front door, climbing the stairs up to my second floor flat and stopping in surprise. He was sitting huddled by my front door, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His head was resting in a depressed, weary disposition on his knees. Next to him sat a backpack and nothing else.

"What are you doing here?" the words coming out more aggressively then I intended. He lifted his head and tried to smile, the line of his mouth trembling. The sight immediately made me feel guilty.

"Throwing myself on your charity," the Scots accent was rough and tired, like his false smile. "I am now officially homeless."

"How can you be home…"I trailed off, remembering what he had told me about his landlady. "Well you had better come in. How long have you been out here?" I shoved the key in the lock and pushed the door open, holding it there with my foot and waiting as he pushed himself to a standing position, grabbing the bag and sidling past me.

"Thank you," he sighed and shrugged his shoulders as if trying to release the tension that I could see was sitting across them. He stood there, swaying slightly with exhaustion, looking as if he were trying to focus his gaze on me and failing.

"Sit down," I heaved a mental sigh and hung my coat up. "I'll go make us some tea and then maybe you can tell me what the matter is?" So correctly British – in times of crisis make tea!

When I came out the kitchen with our cups, he was slumped on the sofa, his head lolling on his shoulder and his eyes closed behind the flesh coloured domino he wore. His light breathing made me think he was asleep, so I simply placed the cup on the table in front and went into my bedroom. I didn't want to disturb him if he were asleep.

There was a light rap on my doorframe and I turned in the middle of getting changed. The smart suit that I had worn to work today was the most comfortable of clothing. "Izzy," his voice was rough with lack of sleep.

"Hey!" I spun around; aware that he had caught me half dressed and hastily stuffed my arms into the sweater, pulling it down over my head. "You woke up, thought you might like to sleep."

"No, I've got too much going on in my mind!" He raised his hand and rubbed his eyes through the mask wearily, wincing slightly as his fingers caught on the edge of the eyeholes. He looked dishevelled, his t-shirt and sweater askew, his hair a matted mess.

I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder in concern. This was not the man that I knew, nor the man of the weekend that I lusted after. This was a. …friend. I hesitated to use that word, but knew it was true. I cared for him, gave a damn what happened to him and could not ignore the plea for help. "Do you want to tell me what's happened?"

He shrugged, although I was unsure if it was in reply to my question or to try and get rid of my hand on his shoulder. Either way, I moved out into the living room, curling up in my usual chair, hoping that he would come and talk to me. Luck was on my side and he settled on the sofa once again, morosely picking up the cup in front of him and taking a sip. "I got my essay in at least," he finally spoke, although his head was bent down towards his knee and his free hand irritated a raised thread on his jeans.

"Well, that's good news," I tried to sound positive and cheerful, an annoying chirpiness to my voice that reminded me of all the people who use to try and comfort me when I was down.

"I left you on Sunday morning, went back and got changed." His monologue came out in a deadened tone. "She came and stood at my door and dressed me down, demanding to know where I had been and why didn't I have the courtesy to let her know I wasn't coming home! You would think I was her child, not a lodger. And then I spent all day working in the library at college, went back and sat up all night typing it up and giving some polish to the hypothesis – I mean this was a ten thousand word essay and a quarter of the credits to my course. Anyway, I went back there about lunchtime today and the door was locked and my key didn't work! When I phoned her, she said that I had kept her awake all night with my light on and the sound of my computer and that she had changed her mind about wanting a lodger and I needed to remove my things from her house before nine this evening or she was giving them to charity." He tried to laugh, but it came out a hoarse and lacking in any mirth.

"But, she can't do that can she? I mean you have to give notice and I assume that she has to do the same? Didn't you sign a contract?"

"Aye, but I just think she is a bit nuts. She's got quite nasty on occasion, said some really spiteful things. I don't really want to stay there, but haven't had time to look for somewhere else. I've been to the housing office and they've put my name down on the list for a room…" He trailed off and shrugged, the stress of the day obviously too much for him to cope with.

"Well have you got the rest of your things? You don't want her to chuck them out?" He shrugged again, downing more tea, obviously at a lose to know what to do and I realised that I needed to take control. "Come on then!" He looked up in shock! "Let's go and get them!"

Generosity abounded and I hailed a taxi to take him back to his old lodgings, hoping that he might open up on the way there, but he had retreated far into himself and sat diagonally opposite me on the jump seat, hanging onto the strap to keep himself upright. The kind caring man of last week was lost, the sexual allure of last night firmly locked away. It seemed as if he had taken a real blow and was struggling to get up again.

The shuttered vulnerability rang a cord with me, for I knew what it was like to be there. And to be hit when you were down was hard and the only way I could offer him any solace was to help him sort his life out. I was flattered that he had thought of me as a place of refuge, although wondered if he was hoping to stay. I really didn't know how I could live in the same house as this man!

Our journey took us to north-west London and a dingy little house, in a dingy road. We gained access with a degree of difficulty, Ric was right about his landlady, for she eyed him with great suspicion. I could not believe that he was willing to pay rent for such a room and could see why he was so enamoured with my little flat!

His allocated space was small and dark, a seeming hasty addition to the house. As far as I could see the view was an unprepossessing brick wall and there was a telltale creep of damp in the far corner. A single bed, desk and wardrobe had been squeezed in, leaving little space to move around in. It would have been bad enough if the house didn't smell of boiled cabbage to boot! "You chose to live here?" I asked incredulously, a wary eye on the dark corners.

"It was all I could afford," he sighed and dumped a drawer on the unmade bed. I couldn't bare the sight of the crumpled clothing within and fussily began to fold it into one of the bags that I had insisted on bringing. The gesture bought a smile to his face for the first time that evening and he turned and followed suit with the other two drawers of the dresser and a small armful from the cupboard.

It was a fairly paltry collection of cloth, several pairs of jean, a couple of shirts and a suit, although t-shirts and sweaters in the main. Nothing high fashion and little that didn't look worn. This was not a man who rated clothes highly. "Where's the red outfit?" I had hoped to see the velvet trousers and jacket, that I had privately dubbed my 'Phantom' outfit.

"That?" he sounded shocked that I even remembered it, before giving a little shrug. "Oh, it was kinda' pieced together and borrowed. Not mine at all! Okay, that's everything!"

I surveyed the two bags and a solo box of personal items, heaped on the bed, swelled only by the addition of a laptop bag, a guitar and a violin. Whilst I had not forgotten about the musical instruments, the sight of them bought his talent flooding back to me and I longed to hear him play something beautiful and classical, rather then the heavy rock that the Cluinn seemed to favour.

"Have you managed to get your deposit back off her, as she is kicking you out then?" He shook his head in the negative. "Ric! Fine, well I will ask for you." Empowered by a sense of righteousness, I marched down the stairs and knocked on the living room door, pushing it open at the summons and walked into the room. I nearly reeled back in disgust, for it was filthy and the smell of old food that permeated upstairs was even stronger here. I tried to breath through my mouth.

"I have come for Richard's deposit please," I tried to sound official and not be put off by the sight and smell of the woman who spilled over the edges of the chair she had wedged herself into.

"I need to inspect the room," her piggy eyes rested on mine. "How do I know he hasn't damaged anything?"

"I think that's impossible, seeing as it is already in a state. By the way, you have rising damp – did you realise! I would have it seen to." I projected an image of a sophisticated and knowledgeable business person, summoning any acting skill my mother might have passed on to me and the frostiness my father used to employ. "He would appreciate a cheque for the full amount now please. And I have also recommended that he advise the college you are to be removed from their housing list."

Her lips pursed in an ugly way and I could see she was weighing up what I had said, unsure of who I was and how much I could be riled. "And what are you to him them? A girlfriend, a lover?" The words were rolled around her mouth and spat out at me, so that I actually recoiled, trying to avoid the spittle that flew with the question.

"A friend, that is all," I tried to get rid of the visions of the night before that came dancing into my head.

"Friend hey? Well my girl I hope you realise that you are friends with an abnormal freak!" There was a bitter ugliness in her voice and I tried not to react. "His face is not a pretty sight you know! Not as pretty as your little looks and ugly faces reflect ugly minds."

I did take a step back then, her comment so damming and slightly alarming for its echoes of slander. "The cheque please," I insisted. She must have realised I was not to be deterred for she hauled herself up from the chair, panting with the exerted effort and waddled over to a dirty old bag, that must double as her handbag. Reaching inside she withdrew a wad of grubby notes and peeling a few off the top, threw them on the table.

"Three hundred and thirty, in cash. Twenty taken off the fact that's it cash and the inconvenience caused!" I bit my tongue, so tempted to point out the facts, that she was the one who had caused the problem, but decided to quit, whilst I was ahead. "But just so you know girlie, he is a strange man; he has strange things in that room of him. Be on your guard, be careful!"

I swiped the cash from under her hand and turned on my heel, climbing the stairs once again, desperate to get out of the strange house and away from the odd woman. She made me feel uncomfortable and whilst I realised her comments were no more then bitter slandering, they still made me feel uncomfortable.

Ric and I silently carried his things downstairs and stacked them by the front door, waiting until we heard the chug of the taxi outside. He moved into the front room, holding out his key. "Mrs Polinski." She turned and he wordlessly handed her the key, staring directly at her, his mask taking on an eerie glow in the dim light. For a moment he did look intimidating.

It was past ten by the time we finally reached my flat and carried Richard's pitiful belongings up the stairs and I was exhausted, heavens knows how he must have felt. We stood awkwardly in the living room, for I didn't know what to say or do. My superhero plan had not extended beyond removing his belongings from that dreadful house. Should I invite him to rekindle the passion of two nights ago or leave him to try and catch up on needed sleep?

"Take the spare room," I invited, taking a look at him, swaying with tiredness. "Sleep!" It seemed he needed no further encouragement for he raised a hand and briefly cupped my cheek, focusing his bloodshot eyes on me.

"Thank you Izzy," he said simply, the words heartfelt. I smiled at him and lifted my hand so that it rested over his.

"Sleep," I repeated and we'll talk tomorrow.