Part One is here

 

Friday – Sam part two

She’d only set one personal ring-tone on her phone and that had been for Tanya. And now it was ringing. Chewing her lip, she looked at the screen and there she was, the photo they’d taken in Hamley’s with the giant elephant staring her in the face. She lifted it to her ear and took a deep breath, then pressed answer.

Tanya was sobbing, mewing into the phone and the sound nearly sent Sam to her knees. Tanya didn’t cry, same way she didn’t talk about her feelings or admit to being scared of anything.

‘Tany, was is it, what’s wrong?’

‘I miss you.’

It took a while to come out between the sobs but as it sunk in, Sam staggered back until she found a bench and sat. The tears were for her. The space on the other side of the bed was gaping, a gulf into which she fell every night.

‘I miss you too.’ She burst into tears as the words came out and for a while the only sound was the two of them sharing the one thing they’d never shared before. Sam got control first, horribly aware of the people staring at her and the likely state of her mascara. The last few months had necessitated the exploration of all sorts of waterproof mascara before she’d decided that description was a contradiction in terms.

‘Where are you?’

‘At the flat. Where are you?’

‘In town. I just had to leave work for a while. There’s—’

‘Can you come and see me?’

‘Of course, I mean, yeah, of course. I’ll be there in a half hour.’

The sniffles were drying up and Tanya sounded more like her old self. ‘Okay, see you soon.’

The phone went dead and Sam stared at it. Tanya never said bye when she hung up, but she’d almost forgotten the abruptness. It used to really bug her, not getting to say bye or I love you. As she tucked it into her jacket pocket, she realised she’d just spoken to Tanya for the first time in four months and she hadn’t asked about the cancer. Probably just too upset.

She set off, ignoring the stitch that formed in her side and the shortness of breath that made her blink and pant as she walked. She was almost at the station when she stopped, distracted by the most amazing scents. The flower stall was in its usual place but it smelled better than usual today and her feet carried her away from the station until she stood before a wondrous display of colours.

The flower seller came around the side of his stall and stood beside her.

‘Can I interest you in anything today, madam?’

His voice made her smile. He reminded her of university and visiting her parents. He smiled back and she stared at him for a moment. He was odd, really. She’d only glanced at him before, but the voice and the sharp eyes were very different than the picture she’d built up in her mind. Funny how quickly we create an image of someone and how easily it can be wrong.

‘Um, I don’t know, maybe, yes?’

‘Splendid. That’s conclusive then. How about some roses?’

The smile took the sting from his gentle mockery and she found herself smiling again. It felt strange on her face and reminded her of the man on the train.

‘I like roses.’

‘A bunch of twelve perhaps. You could put them in your office, or maybe take them home to have in the kitchen.’

The way he said it made her think he knew what her kitchen looked like. He could see the empty glass vase that sat, unused on the windowsill. She shook her head.

‘How do you know I work in an office?’

He chuckled and the sound slipped up her back and massaged her neck. ‘Well, you’re wearing a suit. You look stressed, I’m sorry to say and you’re here. One should never assume anything, but I thought it was probably a fair guess.’

She nodded. ‘I look that good then?’

He looked up at the sky for a moment, hands moving unceasingly as he cut and wrapped the roses. ‘I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.’

She waved it away. ‘Not at all. It’s not surprising really, I have cancer.’

Her mouth snapped shut and she blushed deep red. ‘God, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.’

‘It’s fine, really. Well, not the cancer, but telling me, it’s fine. Sometimes it’s nice to talk to a stranger. So long as your mother doesn’t find out, of course.’

He said it with a wry grin that managed to banish the blood from her cheeks and make her smile. He didn’t look surprised. In fact, he seemed matter of fact about it.

‘Do you often have people telling you they have cancer?’

‘Fortunately not. But I’ve… known people who suffered from it. I am sorry.’

He hoisted the roses up, obscuring his mouth. ‘Will you keep these, then?’

She hesitated. But if she could tell him about the cancer, then… ‘actually, I’m just on my way to see my ex. I haven’t seen her in four months. I think I might give them to her.’

The roses lowered and he stared her straight in the eyes. ‘I think you should keep them. Here, I’ll put an extra one in there and you can give her that one. One rose is far more romantic than twelve, after all.’

She took them from him and breathed them in. The smell took her far away from London and Tanya and the impending operation that wasn’t going to be successful. She was back at home at her parents’ place. Funny how she still thought of it as home. She was in the garden, listening to mum and dad talk on the patio as the sun beat down.

She blinked away the memory and paid the man. As she was walking away, his voice followed her to the station. ‘Remember, you just give her the thirteenth and keep the rest.’

She mulled it over as she got on the escalator down to the tube. She already knew she’d give them all to Tanya. She’d give her everything she owned if they got back together. She grabbed the last seat in her carriage and chewed on her knuckle. Was this a really stupid idea?

The smell filled the carriage and she noticed everyone smiling at her. She also saw more than one person rise, as though to get off at a station, then sit back down and relax. They rolled into Shepherd’s Bush and she stood. Most of the carriage rose with her and got off. Some came with her to the exit, but most wandered aimlessly or headed for the opposite platform.

She got above ground and the smell drifted away, replaced by the scent of fried chicken and the market. It brought back more memories than she was willing to deal with and she stomped across the green, focusing on the steady beat of her feet on the pavement.

The flat was just as it had been four months ago. Why was that strange? What had she expected? The door was the same colour and every move she made felt choreographed, as though coming back here was destined to happen. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that was why it was only today she’d changed her screen saver.

Her hand shook when she reached for the bell and she hesitated, staring at the tiny white circle as though it could answer the hundreds of questions rattling around her brain. With the smallest of shrugs, she pressed the button. And waited.

Her palms were sweaty and she felt wobbly, ready to topple over. Footsteps approached the door and she took a deep breath. The door opened and the breath caught, stuck in her throat. It wasn’t Tanya. It was a face she vaguely recognised. Was it an old friend of Tany’s? It might be.

She coughed as her body caught up with her not breathing. It took control for a moment and she grabbed the door frame to stay upright as her body shook. When she finally stopped, she looked back at the woman who stood waiting, arms folded.

‘Um, is Tanya there, please?’

The woman spared her another glance then turned and walked into the flat, leaving the door ajar. Sam pushed it open and put one foot inside. The familiar scent of jasmine incense filled her nose and mingled with the roses she clutched tight in one hand. Her eyes watered and she stepped back, back into the cool clear air of the street.

‘Sweetheart, some woman’s here to see you.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Dunno…’ the rest of her words were too faint to hear, no matter how hard she strained. The roses were suddenly heavy, dragging her arm and she laid them carefully on the step. Who was the woman and what was she doing here? The word sweetheart bounced round and round her mind and with every revolution a little piece of her crumbled.

‘Hi, what— oh, hi, Sam, you came.’

‘Of course I came, you were upset.’

‘Yeah, but. No, of course, please, come in.’

‘Who is she?’

‘Huh?’

‘The woman who opened the door, who is she?’

‘Oh. She’s Trish, she’s my partner.’

‘Your partner.’

‘Yeah, about two months now.’

‘And she’s already moved in?’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘Your partner… I’m going to go, I should go.’

‘Sam, wait, what did you think?’

She scrubbed the tears away and rounded on her. Something bubbled up from within, something she recognised from her father, just once or twice when she was young. Something that terrified her.

‘WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK, WHAT DID YOU THINK, TELL ME, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK, YOU CALLED ME. YOU CALLED ME. YOU SAID YOU MISSED ME, YOU SAID…’

She trailed off, wiping her chin and dropping her head. Everything was gone, like something had scraped her out from the inside. Tanya stared at her, eyes wide and hands held out before her like she expected Sam to attack her. Maybe she would, if she had more energy.

She scooped up the roses and stuck her arm out straight. They looked alien, like they weren’t from Earth. The smell was gone. The smell of everything was gone. Her nose was blocked and streaming. Tanya looked at the roses, shaking her head.

‘Take them.’

Still she shook her head. Sam yanked one from the bag, a thorn splitting her finger open. She looked at the blood, blinking, waiting for the pain to start. She stepped forward and Tanya backed into the flat, one hand holding the door. Sam shoved the roses in her face and finally she took them.

With the one rose gripped between her fingers, she turned and marched down the street. She listened for the door but it never closed, not until she was round the corner and heading toward the green. She looked down at the rose in her hand.

‘This one’s for me. That’s who it’s for.’

She smiled and shoved her nose in it and took a deep breath. The smell was back, stronger than ever and a sort of haze came over her. She felt rather than knew she was getting on the tube, but she only knew she was going home when she stepped out at Chalfont and Latimer and buzzed through the gate.

She ran a bath. She put the kettle on, but forgot to make the tea. She undressed slowly, every move taking forever as her limbs refused to follow her instructions. She took the phone off the hook. She walked into each room and ran her fingers over the furniture, straightened pictures that didn’t need straightening. She went into the lounge and flicked the switch behind the TV, taking it from standby to fully off. She should be doing that every night.

The bath steamed but she barely felt the scalding water as she sank into it. The rose twirled slowly between her fingers and she reached out with gentle, shaking fingers to pluck the first petal. With each one she tore off and dropped into the water, she imagined she could feel the cancer, eating her insides.

When all the petals lay scattered across the water, she dropped the blood-stained stem onto the tiled floor and reached for the knife. She felt that, but only for a moment.

 

Interlude

Dammit. Damn, damn, damn. That was the worse choice ever, what the devil had he been thinking? She was so far beyond his control, he’d never had a chance. What had Tanya been thinking, what kind of horrible bitch was she?

He was made of pure energy, but he couldn’t help being angry at her anyway. There was reasonable behaviour and then there was just being unpleasant and that was unnecessary. The flower seller sighed and shook his head. The bath was red now and her life force sunk down and out, then rushed past him.

So that was that. Two from five. That Monday feeling was coming back with a vengeance. He picked up the list. He needed an easy one, a real easy one. Or at least one where he had a chance of making a difference.

He found Alex pretty quickly and read through it twice. He was beginning to question his instincts. Three hundred years of this and suddenly he was making all the wrong decisions. What was that about? He was thinking more as well, about things he’d never used to think about. What happened if you didn’t meet your quota? What happened to those who went below?

Why was he asking anything? He knew what happened below. He’d invented most of it. Perhaps that was what was wrong. He’d spent three hundred years working against his will, against his values. He shook his head. That wasn’t true, not since the Father got through with him. He’d stripped away most of the bad stuff and left him back where he’d started, all those thousands of years ago. But it was there, creeping about inside, longing for a way out.

He picked up the list again and focused on Alex. He would get Alex and then it would be all about Sunday. He just had to get Alex.