view, as if yesterday’s planned evacuation had never happened.
Back in the kitchen, she took the phone and dialled Ben’s number. The call was forwarded to voice mail, she left no message.
How things change in a day, she thought.
The morning was moving on faster than she would have liked. She checked her watch and knew she should start preparing herself, to give the best impression to Mr Smith in the next couple of hours.
There was a chance she would never have to sell her body again, not that she could guarantee her monogamy, but a financial independence where she could choose which men to sleep with regards to attraction to their looks and not their money, this excited her almost as much as sex itself.
She needed to get through the Mr Smith rendezvous, then concentrate on sorting out her relationship with Ben, and ultimately, find a way of making his money hers.
19
Mrs Green held a glass of red wine in one hand and a phone to her ear with the other; she took a gulp of wine then set it down on the table. The call went through to the answer machine.
BEEP
‘Benjamin, please don’t ignore my phone calls. I know you are going through a difficult time, coming to terms with, well, you know what. But, this is part of who you are. I was surprised it took so long to arrive if I’m honest. You’ve always been a little lost, you know it, always looking for something more. Come and see me, we’ll talk this through, and I’ll answer all the questions that I’m sure you have.’
She hung up the phone, swapped it for the glass of wine and gulped down the rest of its contents, just as some movement caught her eye out in the garden. She marched over to the back door, stepped out and threw the empty wine glass towards the cat, yelling obscenities as she did so. The cat got lucky, and darted to safety at the far end of the garden and up a tree.
Mrs Green went back inside and calmly closed the door behind her, humming a cheerful song as she walked back to the table and lifted a tin of paint from a plastic bag. She gave a smile as she regarded the label with the name and colour of the paint on the side, ‘Devil Red’. Left in the bag were some brushes and a rolling kit, along with the receipt showing her loyalty points from the purchases.
Taking her decorating products to Graham’s office, she looked out of the kitchen window into the garden and saw that the cat was back.
‘You fucking pest,’ she yelled, and spat at the window.
20
Ben had locked himself in Eve’s bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, staring thoughtfully at his reflection. This was the face of a killer, the face of a mad-man. But this was him, this was Ben, it couldn’t be.
Ben had always been polite and wary of his p’s and q’s, and always tried to put other people’s feelings into his thought process when making decisions.
But, of course, he was no saint either. He had grown up in the city and been involved in the occasional row, he had gotten angry at certain car drivers who didn’t follow the rules of the road, or those of the public who were just plain rude and pushed in on queues or didn’t say thank you when you helped them or let them pass by.
But that was normal, wasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t, Ben always had his father to lean back on.
His dad was the calming influence in his life, the one who taught Ben to respect nature, the man who taught Ben to help other’s before helping himself, the person who taught him that learning to forgive made you more of a man than someone who carried a grudge, and even worse, someone who acted on that grudge.
But his father was gone.
Just two months after his father had passed, Ben was losing it; losing the self-control, losing the love and respect for life. Could Eve be the one to help him back onto his feet, back to normality?
He was still ‘compos mentis’ ninety-nine per cent of the time, of this he was sure. How dangerous was being ‘non compos mentis’ one per cent of the time? But he was also aware of the voices in his head, the sudden waves of uncontrollable emotion that coursed through his veins, and the reflections, how could he forget the man in the mirror?
He’d first noticed the man in the mirror a few days after his father’s death.
He was in the depths of despair by then, after the initial shock of the accident, then denial, and then came the despair, and with that was the sense of hopelessness, which caused him to grow angry.
He had seen a counsellor to help with his coping of the grief, and discovered that these were normal reactions to someone who had lost such an important figure in one’s life. Different people cope in different ways; some people accept the situation after just a few days, others take months, some years. But with regards to his stages of grief, Ben was going round in circles. He had given up on the counsellor, even though he was far from accepting the situation and moving on.
Ben continued to stare at his reflection, wondering when his alter ego would make an appearance. He would often do this, trying to figure out if he could predict the next showing, then maybe one day control it. Although controlling your alter ego would mean it wasn’t an alter ego at all, it was just you, but maybe with a different perspective on the things around you.
He wanted to know if his father had often done the same. Had he stood in front of a mirror and waited for his ‘evil self’ to give some murderous instructions or crude remarks, or maybe do that little twinkle thing with his eye, just to let him know he was still there.
‘No.’
Ben shook his head, his father wasn’t like that.
His father was the strongest man he had ever met, not physically, although he wasn’t weak, but he had a soul and was a kind generous man. He was truly a good guy, who not only knew right from wrong, but would act on it, too.
There was a knock on the door, he unlocked and opened it to Eve, who stood before him in her smart, but feminine attire, wearing subtle make-up, high-lighting her gorgeous eyes and shapely cheek bones.
‘I’m going to a feminist seminar this morning,’ she said, ‘would you like to come?’
Ben smiled, ‘Erm, what?’
‘Never mind,’ she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘Pull the front door up until it clicks, on your way out. My number is on the post-it note on the table, call me, and leave me your number, please.’
Eve gave a flirtatious wink then turned and headed out of the apartment, leaving this near-stranger in her home without a second thought. If only she knew the truth of the man she had just invited into her life.
Ben felt a small flutter of butterflies in his stomach, the feeling you get when you know that a special bond is developing, or is maybe already there. He smiled, then made his way back to the sink and washed his face. The cold water against his skin felt refreshing, he wished he could stay in this safe-haven for ever, but he knew he had things to take care of.
He dabbed his face dry with a towel and glanced into the mirror one last time, his reflection winked back at him, that same cheeky wink that Eve had just moments ago given to Ben.
‘You leave her alone,’ he said, pulling his gaze away from the mirror.
21
