What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? Page 4

  "Smart scared tarmac, maybe," she offered. "Want me to tie that for you?" Alice nodded towards the cloth of black on his shoulders.

  "Sure." Douglas approached the bed where Alice was sitting. She got to her knees so she could reach the tie ends. Focussing on the tie, she could sense Douglas looking at her. She hoped she wouldn't blush. She smelt mint from his breath.

  "Are you okay?" He asked gently.

  Alice nodded wordlessly, then smiled. "I can't actually tie these things."

  Douglas laughed. "Then why offer to do it?"

  Alice shrugged and moved back as Douglas took the ends from her and proceeded to complete the bow himself. "Wait a minute..." She began, grinning.

  "I never said I couldn't tie it myself," he replied. "So, not going to change your mind about coming?"

  Alice took a moment to answer, briefly allowing that time to imagine Eve and Ben's faces when their respective spouses walked in together. She shook her head. "No. I don't think so. If it gets too much for you, you know where I am."

  "Thank you." Douglas leant across and gave her a peck on the cheek. Alice knew she was definitely blushing now. She could feel her skin burn, but Douglas was already turning towards the door.

  "Good luck," she said, as he turned the handle to leave.

  He paused and, turning to wink at her, said: "Thanks. I'll need it."

  The problem with so-called parties like work-related ones like this, thought Douglas, is that they're interchangeable. Oh, the venue may change. Different country hotel, city, country. But they all seemed to sign up to the same boring specifics: pillars, busts, little twinkling lights and penguin waiters. Give him a bohemian house party any day.

  He had a quick scan of the room for any sign of his wife, filled his hand with a few canapes as one of the penguins passed by, holding a tray aloft and found a quiet corner where he could survey the room.

  God, he could never be a corporate suit. Five years had been enough, when at the age of twenty-three, he'd quit his 9 to whatever-time-his-eyes-slammed-shut and, thanks to a well-off trust fund he'd been keeping aside to get onto the property ladder, went travelling for a year before coming back to the UK and buying a barge off a one-eyed sailor and deciding he was going to be a poet or novelist, whichever inspired him on any given day.

  Both occupations had become mere hobbies as he eventually made contact with the corporate world again, and became a freelance writer for hire. Jingles, ad slogans, blurbs for ghost-written books by so-called celebs. He'd done them all. One day he would put fingers to keyboard and write a novel for himself. He had plenty of contacts in the publishing world, and was on nodding terms with Phillip Pullman. He’d even self-publish, if he had to, especially finding out what a group of “indie authors” could make in a year.

  After what seemed like an eternity, and still no sign of Eve or Ben, Douglas was in two minds whether to call it quits and just return to the hotel room, checking out in the morning. He was stalking his wife, for goodness sake.

  Sighing, he decided to leave but find the loos first.

  The urinals were all being used, so he tried one of the cubicles instead. As he turned to close the door, he noticed one of the men with his back to him. It was Ben. He was having a piss and speaking to the guy next to him. This was it. Time to confront the little creep. But Ben's friend looked behind him and saw Douglas staring. Douglas quickly shut the cubicle door, pushed the lock and stood there, trying to decide if he should go right back out again and grab the little shit, or do what he came to the restroom to do. His bladder won but he strained to hear the conversation between the two men outside.

  “Is it me or does it take longer to have a slash with every passing year?” he heard Ben say. It was definitely his voice. It had a weird afflection, like Smashey and Nicey from the Harry Enfield Show.

  “You're getting old, Benji, mate,” his friend remarked.

  Douglas made a face at the name. Benji? Sounded like a cocker spaniel. Well, he supposed Ben was a co-

  ‘Ah, but don't they say you're only as old as the woman you feel?”

  “You still seeing her? She's older than you, isn't she?”

  Dear god, did everyone know about the affair? Alleged affair, he corrected himself. Then he realised the friend's words pretty much confirmed Alice had been cheated on.

  Outside it was quiet, which meant no one else was there. Douglas thanked the God of Bladders, then stared at the cubicle door, listening.

  “She’s hardly a cougar,” Ben said with a chuckle. “She's only - what - six years older than me. Ali is ten months older than me.”

  “So you've got a thing for older women?”

  “Nah, just Eve.”

  Douglas felt his skin go cold. The urge he had to go out there and punch the thieving bastard in the face was overwhelming. But he must have had enough sense to stay put, instead. Who says he was talking about Eve? It could have easily been someone else. Oh god, please make it be someone else.

  Whatever else Ben was about to say was lost as the restroom doors opened once more and a blast of some rubbish modern music filled the room. He heard footsteps and then the music became muffled once more.

  Douglas left the cubicle and went to wash his hands. As the lukewarm water hit his hands, he gave his reflection in the mirror above the trough-like sink a pitiful look.

  “There's no backing out now, son,” he murmured. “You have to find out now.”

  He returned to the party, both making sure he didn't bump into Ben or Eve, but at the same time trying to spot them in the crowd.

  Douglas found himself on the balcony which circled the floor below. It offered a good view of the guests beneath, and there were enough fellow balcony a dwellers to hide amongst if Eve happened to look up.

  Yes, he had found his wife. Almost collided with her as he climbed the steps. Thankfully, she’d had her head turned the other way, talking to a be-gowned woman Douglas didn't recognise.

  He'd been there for a good five minutes and Ben had not once appeared at Eve's side. He'd watched Ben head out the main hall with the same man he’d been with in the restroom. Probably off for a smoke. Or maybe he's into equal opportunities, he thought, remembering how Ben and Eve had left the party together.

  He swiped another glass of champagne from a passing penguin, and watched his unaware wife with growing unease and guilt. He was stalking her. His own wife. He had followed her from Liverpool, to Durham, and now Edinburgh. All the time she was unaware she was being watched.

  But what if she was aware? What if she had spotted Douglas already, and wondered why he was there, and why he wasn't approaching her?

  He felt ashamed. This wasn't right. None of it. He should have had it out with Eve the very night he had seen her kiss Ben and leave in his car. Not follow her from place to place like a creep. This was insane, what he was doing.

  Taking his mobile phone from his pocket, he went to send a text to his wife, telling her they needed to talk. But on the screen was one unread message. Part of him hoped it was from Eve, maybe sent earlier, confessing all. He just wanted to know the truth. All of this was because he wanted the truth.

  The text was from Alice:

  Stay there. I'm coming to the party. Don't do anything stupid. Or else.

  He almost smiled. He didn't want to do this alone. And if that meant leaning on the estranged wife of the man Eve was possibly cheating with, then so be it.

  He looked down at Eve again. She was now talking to two elderly men. One was in a suit, the other in a kilt. There's always one, he thought with bemusement.

  And then he was hit with such an intense adrenalin rush, he nearly lost his balance. What if she was sleeping with one of these men, too? Or both? Dear god, was he going to be suspicious of every man his wife talked to? It would drive him insane.

  He needed to just go up to her, right now and demand to know the truth. Who cared if he caused a scene? His mental health was suffering here. He had to do something.

  H
is phone buzzed in his hand. He looked at the screen again.

  Seriously. Don't you DARE do anything without me.

  Alice again. Was she able to read his mind?

  Taking a deep breath and ignoring the tremors in his hands, Douglas slipped his phone back in his pocket and made himself ignore Eve, instead studying the other guests in the hall.

  He only realized he was staring at Alice when he found himself remarking how well-fitting the sky blue dress adoring the figure of the woman who'd just entered the hall, was. He wondered where she had got the outfit from, assuming she hadn't brought it with her. Her hair was pinned up, in a half-arsed way, but Douglas always found that messy bun look quite sexy.

  Feeling guilty, he looked away from Alice, embarrassed that he was thinking of her in that way. It was a complication he really didn't need right now, even if he was finding himself....

  No, don't even think it. Or you really will lose it.

  His eyes found Eve again. She was chatting to another woman, this time. Douglas felt stupidly relieved. He cast a glance around for Alice, hoping she and Eve didn't bump into one another. Would Eve even recognize Alice?

  Alice hadn't made it too far into the hall. She was being handed a glass of red wine from a guy with gelled-back black hair and grey suit. It put Douglas in mind of a city boy from the 90s. All that was missing was an over-large portable phone.

  When Douglas reached the pair, the man was towering over Alice, a little too closely. Alice wore a look of relief when she saw Douglas approach.

  "Ah, there you are," she said, with a small smile, extracting herself from the clutches of the man.

  Douglas read the situation and acted accordingly. “Hello, darling. Thought I'd lost you.” He went to kiss her but stopped himself just in time, and gave her a peck on the cheek as Alice stood beside him.

  “Oh, are you two -?” The would-be Casanova began, his smirk fading.

  “Very much so,” replied Douglas, slipping a hand around Alice's waist.

  “Well, um, that's great. Excuse me, I think I just spotted Jeff,” spluttered the man. “It was nice to meet you... both.”

  As soon as the man disappeared into the throng, Alice angrily removed Douglas's arm from around her and turned on him.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

  He watched as her face turned crimson. “I thought you were in need of rescuing,” he explained, affably.

  “Yeah, well I didn't. I can handle myself. It's not the 1950s. I don't need a husband to protect me, fake or otherwise.”

  “I'm... sorry. I thought I was helping, that's all.”

  They stood there. Neither saying a word. Douglas stared at his half-empty glass, not daring to say another word, lest he got his head bitten off again.

  “So, any sign of them?” Alice asked, eventually. A sharpness in her voice.

  “Eve is at the other side of the room, milling about. Your estranged husband was in the men’s restroom.” He omitted to mention that Ben had openly talked about his adultery. Even though Alice was aware of his infidelities, she didn’t need the pain of knowing he was being so brazen about it.

  * THERE IS A FORMAL party for the company. Douglas decides to go, Alice decides not to. They argue about it, as Alice's feelings for Douglas become deeper. She tells him, it's futile him trying to catch them together as it will just break his heart. Later, Douglas walks in, dressed in a tuxedo. Alice visibly reacts to how he looks. He asks her if she has changed h we mind about going. She almost relents, but says no. Douglas goes to the party, mindful not to let Eve see him. He goes to the loos and encounters Ben, who mentions a woman he is with (obviously Eve). Back at the party, Douglas is on a balcony, watching the guests below, including Eve. Douglas can't believe he is staking out his own wife. Then the sight of Alice arriving at the party, catches his eye. She has found a dress from somewhere and her hair is pinned up. Douglas remembers Eve and tries to focus his attention on her, but his gaze drifts back to Alice. He watches a guy try to chat Alice up, so goes to rescue her, pretending to be her husband. Alice is annoyed and tells him she doesn't need a husband to protect her, even if it's one she never married.

  Later on (either at the party or elsewhere), Douglas and Alice are assumed to be a couple. They play along with the assumption, having fun creating outlandish stories about their marriage. Afterwards, they laugh over their creativity, with Douglas remarking that Eve could never deal with spontaneous creativity. This is the first time that Douglas really looks at Alice differently, and wonders 'what if'.

  Douglas swirled the remnants of the ice cubes around the bottom of his whisky. He had a headache coming on and felt like shit. The barman, who had been listening to his tales of woe, had given up lending an ear and was chatting to a colleague at the end of the bar.

  “Your loss, matey,” Douglas murmured, and signalled to the man to top him up.

  A hand trailled light fingers across his back. Douglas turned, expecting Eve but it was just Alice. She squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and sat down on the stool next to him.

  "I won't ask if you're okay," she began, before ordering herself a drink when the barman came over to top up Douglas's glass.

  They say in silence for what seemed like hours. Alice received her drink and took a sip.

  "Not talking?" said Douglas. "I don't think you've stopped talking since I met you." He knew it was the drink talking. She didn't deserve his cruelty, but he had to vent.

  "What do you want me to say? I told you so, again?"

  "Once was enough," Douglas muttered into his glass, then raised it. "A toast! To Ben Williams, and the secret of his success with women." He gulped down the smooth liquid. "No wonder Eve looked elsewhere," he went on, looking at his reflection in the wide mirror behind the bar. "What woman would want a fat, greying drunk as a husband?"

  Alice leant in towards him. " Is this where I'm supposed to boost your male ego and say nice things about you? "

  "Yes, please," he answered, and looked at her. God, she was looking very fuckable right now. Douglas shook his head, ridding himself of any scenarios that were threatening to form in his dirty old man-head.

  Alice leant her elbow on the bar and cradled her chin in her hand, studying him for long enough for Douglas to feel like he was in a zoo enclosure.

  "Don't strain yourself," he said, not meaning to sound as bitter as he did.

  "Your eyes!" She exclaimed. "You have nice eyes."

  Douglas frowned and looked at her. "Is that it?"

  " No, Mr Grumpy, " she said, and resumed studying him again. Douglas returned his attention to his glass which was looking dangerously near-empty.

  "Your voice is quite soothing, silky, like one of those actors in Radio 4 dramas," began Alice. "But more... distinct. Like Stephen Fry 's slightly younger brother. And you're quite funny when you rant. Not that you rant, really. It's more of a little whinge. You have lovely long pianist fingers -"

  " penis fingers? "

  "PianisT'" Alice repeated, emphasizing the T. "You have long fingers that are just in need of tinkling the ivories."

  "Is that...Innuendo?" He asked, after attempting to say ' euphemism'.

  "And you can be quite flirty, even at inappropriate times."

  " i thought these were meant to be good things about me, " he protested.

  "They are! Okay," Alice continued, " despite the lack of a six pack, I don't think you'd look as attractive if you lost weight. You see these people who lose lots of weight and they end up looking gaunt. "

  Douglas sat up a little straighter on his stool. She's called him attractive.

  "You have one single simple on your left cheek when you smile which is just cute."

  Now she was saying cute!

  "You've still got full lips, even at your age. I bet you're a great kisser with those lips."

  Douglas looked at her. Really looked at her. Despite everything going on with Eve, all he could think of was kissing Alice with his full, kissable lips.


  "And you're probably a riot in bed," she added, almost dismissively.

  He found himself struggling to sober up as he leant towards her, his hand reaching out to stroke her arm. He wanted this delectable young woman who he had once thought a lunatic. He could feel the old fella strain against his trousers. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" He murmured, closing his eyes as his face approached hers.

  He felt her gently push him away. He opened his eyes again. She was giving him a pitying look. "You're drunk," she said, sadly.

  SCENE

  "So," said Roger, leaning back in his chair. "Is this delightful young thing your daughter... Or your lover?"

  Douglas looked at Alice, who watched Roger with an air of contempt. "Alice is actually -" he began.

  "We're lovers, " Alice interrupted. Douglas gave no visible reaction. Alice looked at him and shrugged.

  "Oh, you lucky bastard," Roger said, leaning across and patting Douglas on the arm. "I bet you're knackered by the morning! "

  "Roger," His wife, Val, admonished lightly. " don't be so rude, " she added with a smile.

  "She loves it really," remarked the balding old man, and squeezed the air with his hands which only set Val off into a fit of the giggles.

  Jesus christ, thought Douglas, they've stepped straight out of a 1970s Carry On film.

  When Douglas excused himself to go to the men's room, Roger insisted on coming along. Unfortunately the two cubicles were occupied, so Douglas had to use a urinal. Roger used the one next to him, and made no bones about looking down as Douglas got his old fella out.

  "Listen, Dougie -" the old man began, looking this way and that, as if not to be overheard.

  " it's Douglas, actually. "

  "Yes, of course. So Dougie, I just wanted to ask, what do you think of Val?"

  " she seems perfectly nice, " Douglas answered, bewildered at the question.

  "Oh yes, she is. Very nice. Very nice indeed. A heart of gold, that one. Did you know she fundraises for charity?"

  " Really? " Douglas wished his bladder would open so he could get away from this overbearing man. "That's really... nice."