The Impulse Purchase, page 10
Should she open the door? She had the code. Aaron had entrusted her with it, just in case. It was changed every week, for security, but she always got the email with the new number.
‘Gaz, it’s Rose. I’m going to open the door. Is that OK?’
Her heart was hammering as she pressed the number into the keypad. She had no idea what she might find but she couldn’t walk away now. She pushed the door open. The smell hit her as soon as she looked inside. Pure alcohol. And there was Gaz, stretched out on the bed, still and silent. The bottle on the floor said it all. A big bottle of cheap vodka. Empty. Anyone who said vodka didn’t smell was kidding themselves.
She ran over to him.
‘Gaz!’ she cried. ‘Gaz! Can you hear me? Wake up.’
She grabbed at his shirt and shook him but he was comatose. His eyes flickered slightly then rolled back inside his head. With shaking hands, she dialled the emergency services.
‘Ambulance, please,’ she said, trying to stay calm, trying not to get hysterical. She needed to get him into the recovery position. ‘I’ve got someone here – he’s drunk a bottle of vodka. He’s passed out.’
She wanted to shake him. How could he be such an idiot? It was his daughter’s birthday. He couldn’t do something like this on his daughter’s birthday. She swallowed a sob and dialled Aaron. He would want to be there.
‘Hey, Rose. What’s up?’ Aaron sounded surprised to be called.
‘I’m at the pod,’ she said. ‘It’s Gaz.’
‘What?’ He was instantly alert.
‘He’s drunk a whole bottle of vodka. I’ve called an ambulance.’
‘Shit. I’ll be right there. Ten minutes.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
She looked at the empty bottle and Gaz’s inert body and felt a horrible wave of fear.
‘Just get here.’
She quailed at the thought of what she was going to have to admit to Aaron. It was all her fault. She had given Gaz money, when she knew he was an alcoholic. And what had he gone and done? Drunk it away. Of course he had.
She saw his phone on the floor and picked it up. She pressed it out of curiosity. He didn’t have a password. Gaz’s screensaver was a photo of him and Shell on holiday somewhere with a deep blue sky and lots of palm trees. Majorca, maybe, or Lanzarote. It must have been long before things went wrong. Maybe before Skye came along, with the added pressure a child brought to a relationship. Gaz looked fit and well and happy, his arms toned and muscular, probably two stone heavier than he was now. Shell’s head was resting on his shoulder. She was smiling dreamily, the picture of a woman in love. The perfect couple.
‘You bloody idiot,’ Rose shouted at his inert form, but she was shouting at herself really, for being the idiot and handing over her cash. She pushed at his arm to try and rouse him. There was a groan, but he didn’t open his eyes.
‘Hey.’ She looked up to see Aaron in the doorway, standing there in his grey camo joggers, a black quilted waistcoat and a yellow beanie, not a bead of sweat on him though he must have raced to get here. ‘What are you even doing here?’
‘I had a feeling.’ Rose stood up, but she couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
‘A feeling?’ Aaron frowned. She was going to have to confess. But Aaron was more concerned about Gaz. He shook his arm.
‘Hey, buddy. Come on. Wake up, dude. Gaz.’
There was no response. Rose and Aaron looked at each other as the sound of an approaching siren broke the evening air. Aaron picked up the vodka bottle, weighed it in his hand, staring at it, and Rose felt the guilt writhe in her stomach.
‘Oh God.’
‘He’s going to be OK, Rose,’ said Aaron gently. ‘He’s lucky you found him.’
He put an arm around her and she leant into him for a moment, grateful for his reassurance. His embrace was like iron, his biceps rock hard, his chest bulletproof underneath the down of his gilet; hours and hours of resilience and training went into his physique. Rose wondered if he had ever had a moment of weakness, and cursed herself for her own.
The paramedics didn’t waste time.
‘Oh dear,’ said the driver, with the world-weary tone of someone who had seen this with monotonous regularity. ‘Let’s get him sorted.’
Within minutes, Gaz was on a trolley and in the ambulance.
‘Either of you want to come?’ asked the driver.
‘I’ve got to get back for Gertie,’ said Rose, torn.
‘I’ll follow in my car,’ said Aaron. ‘I’ll keep you in the loop.’
He headed to his vehicle. It was sleek, black, silent and quietly expensive – he rarely drove it to work, preferring to walk or cycle. As he opened the driver door, his eyes met hers for a moment. She gulped as he gave her a reassuring smile, then indicated he would phone her. She felt another wave of shame. It was Aaron’s single-mindedness that made him successful; his ability not to give in to temptation but to stick to the rules he made himself. How weak she was in comparison.
The driver slammed the door shut then ran around to the front and got into his seat. He flipped on the siren again as he drove away and headed out of the industrial estate onto the main road. Rose watched it go with her hands clasped, not in actual prayer, because she didn’t believe in God, but begging to anything, any power that might be up there, to let Gaz be all right.
It was only when Rose went back into the pod to check the window was shut that she noticed the plastic bag under the bed. She pulled it out. Inside was a toy unicorn. A white plush unicorn with a pink satin horn and pink satin hooves and big eyes. She imagined Gaz picking it out, squeezing it for cuddliness, stroking it for softness. He’d chosen well. It was the softest, cuddliest unicorn she’d ever felt.
She felt her heart tumble. He had been out to get it. He’d had every intention of taking it to Skye, but somewhere along the way he’d gone on a bender. God knows how he’d got the vodka. Nicked it, maybe?
And now Skye would never know about the present he’d got for her.
She turned the unicorn over in her hands, imagining Skye’s face when she saw it. It belonged with her. She needed it now, on her birthday. It was up to Rose to make sure she got it. She didn’t trust anyone else to understand its importance. She still had Gaz’s phone. She scrolled through to Google maps and clicked on Home. An address down by Babbington Brook came up. Not too far. She grabbed her bike, threw the unicorn into the basket and set off.
13
It took Rose fifteen minutes to cycle along the river to the house where Shell lived. And, presumably, where Gaz had lived until recently. It was a modern maisonette, one room wide and three storeys high, clad in cedar, in a pedestrianised enclave full of young families. A cool, vibrant place. It wasn’t what Rose had expected. Somehow, she’d imagined something more desolate and hopeless. A place for a relationship to crumble and despair to set in. This was full of life and hope.
Rose locked up her bike to the lamppost outside and strode up the path, knocking on the glass door. She watched as a shadow approached, unsure quite what she was going to say. It would depend on the reaction she received. She stroked the plush fur of the unicorn, digging her fingers into the softness, holding it tight for courage as if it was a talisman.
The door opened. She recognised Shell straight away from the photo on Gaz’s phone. She was in a halterneck dress covered in palm trees, her hair backcombed and tied in a ponytail.
Rose felt dowdy in comparison. On Soul Bowl days, Rose wore jeans and a t-shirt, and she was sweating from the bike ride.
‘Hi.’ Rose held up the unicorn. ‘I brought this. For Skye? It’s for her birthday. From Gaz. He left it at the Soul Bowl.’
Shell looked uncertain. Rose could tell she was surveying her for clues but couldn’t put her into a category. Too young to be police or a social worker. Too posh to be a friend of Gaz.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘I’m a friend.’
Shell looked doubtful. ‘Really?’
A figure appeared at the top of the staircase behind Shell. Rose saw the little girl before her mother did. A little girl with a bird’s nest of blonde hair and yellow pyjamas.
‘Is it Daddy?’ The child’s voice was full of excitement and anticipation as she began to make her way down the stairs, one hand on the wall, one step at a time with both feet. Shell turned around.
‘No, darling. I’m afraid not. Go back to bed, sweetheart.’
‘Oh.’ Skye’s face fell as she stared at Rose. ‘Who is it? What’s that?’
‘It’s a unicorn. For you. From your daddy.’ Rose held the unicorn up. Skye’s face brightened. Shell’s lips tightened but she stepped back and let the little girl come down the stairs and take it off Rose.
‘I love him.’ Skye buried her face in the toy’s fur, and Rose felt her heart melt.
‘Isn’t he lovely?’ said Shell. ‘Now take him up to bed with you, poppet.’
‘Thank you.’ Skye turned to Rose with a smile, and Rose felt her heart crumple a little bit. She was adorable.
‘You’re very welcome, darling. I’ll tell Daddy how much you liked it.’
‘When’s he coming?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Rose. ‘As soon as he can, I expect.’
Skye seemed happy with that answer, and made her way back up the stairs.
‘Right, well, thanks,’ said Shell. ‘It was kind of you to bring it.’
She was obviously eager to get rid of Rose as quickly as possible.
‘I thought you should know—’ Rose put out her hand to stop Shell shutting the door on her. ‘Gaz drank a bottle of vodka tonight. He’s in hospital.’ She spoke quietly so Skye wouldn’t hear.
‘Again?’ Shell sighed, and gave a world-weary shrug. ‘We haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks. He just walked out.’
Rose frowned. ‘He said you’d thrown him out.’
Pain flickered across Shell’s face. ‘No. I wouldn’t do that. He’s Skye’s dad at the end of the day.’
‘Oh,’ said Rose, realising with a sinking heart that Gaz had lied to her.
‘It’s what he does, when he’s on a bender. Lies to people. Don’t take it personally.’
Rose’s heart was pounding. Had she been a fool to be taken in by Gaz? She had seen the anguish on his face. The knowledge that he was letting everyone down, including himself, and the battle he was going through.
‘He really struggles,’ she told Shell. ‘He really tries. I see him every week, and I know how hard he finds it. And he loves you. You and Skye.’
‘I know,’ said Shell, with a weary smile. ‘We love him too. But sometimes he loves the booze more than he loves us.’
Rose hesitated. ‘I don’t think he does,’ she said. ‘I think he hates it. What it does to him. And all of you. But it’s a disease. There’s help you can get . . .’
She stopped. Shell was a good ten years older than she was, and looked worldly wise. She had probably tried everything under the sun to sort Gaz out. What must it be like, to lose someone like this, over and over?
‘All I want is for us to be a family,’ said Shell. ‘And every now and then, it’s perfect. I don’t know what happens to make him smash it all up again. But I’m tired. And it’s not fair on Skye.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rose, suddenly stricken with guilt. ‘I’ve got to go. I just wanted Skye to have her unicorn . . .’
‘Thank you.’
A moment shimmered between them. Rose felt the urge to reach out and hug Shell, but it wasn’t appropriate. She had already stepped over the boundary.
She turned back along the path and unlocked her bicycle, looking up at the window she thought was probably Skye’s. At least, whatever happened, Skye would know that her dad had cared, on her birthday. She shivered at the memory of Gaz lying on the bed in the pod, the moment she had thought she was already too late.
Rose climbed on her bike just as fat drops of rain began to fall as she wound her way through the evening traffic. She reached the bottom of Mountville High Street, the steep hill with its independent coffee shops, vintage boutiques and record stores. It was a challenge to get to the top but the trick was not to stop. Her dad had taught her that. Frank had got her into cycling as a way of getting around the city. Avonminster might be full of hills, but if you got yourself fit enough, it was much easier to cycle than to drive. You always beat the traffic, you could always park.
As she cycled, she felt the familiar signs of anxiety creeping back. The funny deals she made with herself to prevent catastrophe. If I get to the zebra crossing before the lights turn red . . . If I can count to ten before that car turns left or right . . . If I see three red cars before I get to the university building. She knew the rules didn’t make sense, but it didn’t stop her mind playing games. She’d worked so hard to get out of the habit, but it didn’t take much to be sucked back into the depths of a dark world where she had no control.
By the time she got home she could feel the signs she dreaded. Her chest felt tight and her tongue went numb. She stood with her bike on the pavement, trying to breathe in and out, trying to control the panic. It felt as if a tiny bird was trying to get out of her chest, wings flapping, claws scratching. Only oxygen would calm it.
Eventually the bird was still. It was always inside her, but she had learned to manage it. She took one last breath in and pushed her bicycle down the side of the house and put it back in the shed. She was home. She was safe.
Half an hour later, with Mrs Elkins thanked and despatched, Rose sat curled up on the sofa with a cup of cinnamon tea, replaying the events of the day over and over. Whether Gaz had used her money to buy the unicorn or the vodka was immaterial – she had enabled him. Without her contribution, he might have stuck at the toy and resisted the temptation. Either way, he had used emotional blackmail. But Rose didn’t hold it against him. He was ill. She blamed herself, for not seeing he needed help.
Her phone rang, and she jumped. She stared at the screen: Aaron. She felt filled with dread. She hated her phone at the best of times, remembering that afternoon in the café with her friends when Maggie had called her. You need to come home. Who are you with? She swallowed, her mouth dry, listening to the ring until it cut off.
And then it rang again and she mustered up the courage to answer.
‘Rose. It’s me.’ Aaron sounded his usual cool, together self. ‘They’ve got Gaz in A&E. He’s going to be all right. He’s not going to feel too clever tomorrow though.’
‘Oh,’ was all Rose could manage, flooded with relief.
‘He’s got you to thank.’ Rose winced at the irony of Aaron’s words. ‘You did good tonight, Rose. Trusting your instincts.’
No, I didn’t, she wanted to say. It was all my fault. As they said goodbye, she hung up and sat with her arms curled around her knees, wondering where Maggie was, shame and panic building inside her, the events of the day whirling around inside her head, trying as ever to figure out what was fate and what was down to her and what she could have, should have, done differently. This was always her internal monologue as she battled to keep disaster at bay, but today was one of those days when her worst fears were realised, so she knew her anxiety was not unfounded.
Terrible things happened and there was nothing you could do about it.
14
Cherry couldn’t get to sleep that night. The spices in the Thai curry made her heart race and the stonewashed linen duvet cover was too heavy and hot now it was May and her brain was doing overtime. It was funny how calm she felt underneath about what she had done – she hadn’t a moment’s regret about buying The Swan – but she kept thinking of all the things she would have to do if they were to reopen as soon as possible. Punctilious Howard had already emailed her a list of questions that made her mouth go dry at the very sight of them, and she was waiting for the Fabulous Builder Brothers to get back to her. The pair had done all her building work in Avonminster and they knew just how to work to her specification – she’d trained them pretty well over the years. She was hoping she could lure them to Somerset as soon as possible, but they were very booked up.
Really what she should do is get up and write a list, to settle all the random thoughts that were whirling around, but she didn’t want to wake Mike. They had gone to bed with their differences unresolved, a polite froideur separating them. It was, she realised, their first real disagreement. She supposed that was an achievement after so many years together, but it was also sad and discomfiting.
She turned to find him staring at the ceiling, an expression of bleakness on his face.
‘Hey,’ she said softly. She knew he wasn’t happy about what she had done, but she didn’t want to hurt him more than necessary.
‘I need to tell you the truth,’ he said, his voice strangled, and she shut her eyes. Was this going to be another bombshell?
‘Go on,’ she said, bracing herself.
‘Anneka Harding,’ he said, ‘made my life hell for nearly three years. When she first arrived, I was electrified by her talent. She was the most exciting student at the university for years. But she misunderstood my interest in her. She thought there was something between us. I never, ever did or said anything to lead her on, but she convinced herself we were in love.’
‘Oh my God.’ Cherry sat up. ‘Seriously?’
‘She was completely obsessed with me. She wouldn’t leave me alone. She did anything she could to be with me. When I tried to keep her at arm’s length, she got hysterical. I was at my wit’s end. She was so volatile. I thought about going to the university to explain my predicament, but I didn’t trust her not to make trouble. She could so easily have turned on me and made out it was me obsessed with her. Because everyone knew she was my protégée. And I did give her a lot of attention, because she was so talented.’
