A BIT OF ROUGH 20140525

Sundays are strange days. Everyone seems to have a different opinion. It’s boring, it’s relaxing, it’s ‘me’ time, it’s ‘clear the loose ends’ time. For me it is ‘list time’. I daydream the things I would like to be done over the next six days and make a list. This Sunday was different, this Sunday was unique, This Sunday was chilling.

My mobile rang at 12:15 am and I saw it was ‘Lauren’ as I pressed the green icon. A pleasant feeling passed over me.

“Hello dad, how’s things?”

“Hello Lauren, lovely to hear your voice, yes, I’m fine thanks,” I said interpreting the ‘how’s things’ as a health enquiry. “What about you sweetheart, how’s life treating you at the mo?”

“Well dad it’s a bit of a curates-egg this week but OK I suppose . Daaad,” she drawled in that ductile way girls have when they tug at your love for a favour, “can you come over and fit a curtain rail for me?”

“’Course I can, will Tuesday do or what?”

“Now dad, right now, I’m desperate.” She pleaded.

My shoulders sagged, I haven’t started to potter and list yet and that new book I bought yesterday is waiting to be leaped into.

“I could Lauren but are you really that desperate?”

“Please come now dad, I need you here quickly, please.”

Then in a softer voice, “I’ve got to go dad, got to go, bye.”

She was gone. There was a strange overtone to the conversation and I was tempted to ring her back. Retracting the lazy boy I got up from the sofa and plodded to the garage to assemble all of the tools necessary. The expectation was that I only needed a drill, hammer, spirit level and a screwdriver but experience has taught me to take everything then you would find that you didn’t need them.

After 15 minutes the car was started and I was on my way to travel the 17 miles to Lauren’s place. It would have taken 30 minutes but a stop off at Wicks for plugs and then a garage for diesel plus a bar of Dairy Milk and some flowers for her pushed the time to almost an hour.

Being Sunday afternoon every car in her terraced street was parked up so that the closest I could get was 100 yards away. Walking to the house, empty handed as yet, I rang the middle bell of the cluster and waited on the steps. After a minute I rang again but again she didn’t come to let me in. Assuming the bell was broken I rang her mobile and when she answered several seconds later she said.

“Hello dad, nice of you to ring me, how are you?”

Thinking that I had got it wrong about Tuesday I replied, “I’m at your door dear, I’ve come to fix your curtain rail.”

“OK dad, I’m on my way down.”

Well over two minutes elapsed before she appeared and opened the door and then hugged me tightly. When she released me and stepped back I noticed a light Burnt-Sienna mark on her right cheek.

“You’ve got a weal on your face, what happened?” I asked smiling, expecting it to be connected to wine or D.I.Y. but neither was given.

“Oh it’s nothing dad, bumped the cupboard door that’s all.”

She led me up to her flat and as we reached her door she said. “I’ve got a friend here with me at the moment.”

Sat in the easy chair was a young man, another student I guessed. He was well built with a mop of dark hair and wearing a sports club shirt of some sort and track suit trousers that looked like pyjama bottoms. His sneaker clad feet were up on the glass topped coffee table. He had a surly look to him and he didn’t look at me nor speak.

“Hello fellah,” I greeted, “Are you a friend of Lauren’s?”

“Her boyfriend pal,” he replied in a forceful way that had I been of his age I would have taken as a warning-off.

Looking at Lauren I asked, “You have never mentioned him Lauren, was it a recent thing?”

Lauren bit her top lip in a theatrical way that was trying to convey a message without saying anything. It hit the pit of my stomach and a hint of anger flushed me. Turning to the self-appointed boyfriend I politely asked him his name. He got up and walked passed me but unnecessarily close in a challenging manner and took a bottle of beer from Lauren’s fridge. He then latched the cap on the edge of the worktop and smacked it with his left palm so that the cap violently flew off, then he put the bottle to his mouth. He was left-handed I noted, if this goes wrong I now knew where the first blow would come from. I looked at Lauren and she stared back at me with big open eyes; the anger in me rose a little more as he collapsed back into the easy chair.

“What’s your name then fellah?” I asked once again.

There was no reply for ten seconds during which I stood silently staring at his face.

“Dan,” he muttered almost inaudibly, followed by, “When are you doing lunch Lauren, I’m hungry?”

“I’m not hungry,” replied Lauren speaking to him for the first time in my presence.

I could sense the pin being pulled from the grenade. Something was about to happen. He got out of the chair and almost spitting said to me. “It’s time you went.”

That was the crossover for me, the anger took over, In any other situation, the pub, the shop, the car park, the street even I would have walked away from him suspecting drink or drugs to be his problem, but this scene had to be fought out.

“Tell you what shit-for-brains, I think it’s time you pissed off and never came back.”

His face reflected shock, my response was not in his plan, I sensed he was having to think fast about his next move. Staring straight into his eyes with a forced look of anger on my face to mask the fear I took one place closer to him. Lauren had gone behind me against the wall.

“I won’t tell you again,” he growled, “leave NOW.”

I was thinking fast now about how to disarm the situation.

“Listen you,” I said as slowly as the adrenalin would allow, “There are two ends to this and no others. You leave and I stay, or you turn to violence and the police will listen to your lies and two vulnerable witness’ matching truths and you get a police record. Dial 999 now Lauren while bully-boy here gets his brain engaged.”

We both then heard Lauren say, “Police please.”

This seemed to flatten him and he spat out;

“Fuck you and your bitch daughter, I’m off, got better things to do.” And with that he picked up his phone and jacket and walking intimidatingly slowly, then left closing the door quietly behind him. I would have preferred a slam, that would be human, normal. He likes mind games I thought.

Lauren unnecessarily ran to the door and locked it.

“Who the hell was that?” I almost shouted at her.

She started sobbing with relief and came to put her arms around me and squeezed tightly.

“I’ve only met him three times before at the Uni bar and he always seemed exciting but well grounded. He’s very popular with the crowd.” she explained. “He turned odd when we were alone.”

“Well now you know he’s a psycho so warn all your girlfriends. Now where is that curtain rail?”

“There never was a curtain rail dad.” She confessed.

ARMaidd